Banshee (Teen Wolf FanFiction: Derek Hale)

Chapter Three: Wanted

Click.

Pop.

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Pop.

Click.

Pop.

“Would you please stop that?” An annoyed voice asks and I pop my head up to see an irritated woman staring down at the highlighter in my hand. I offer her a sheepish, apologetic smile and carefully place the offending marker down.

“Sorry. Nervous habit,” I say in a hopeful attempt that she’ll understand and remove the hateful glare from her face. She merely tsk’s and turns away. I try not to shrink away in my seat as I notice other annoyed looks being sent my way.

I feel a surge of gratitude when the familiar face of Sheriff Stilinski walks into the café. Unlike the others in the shop, he offers me a friendly smile and actually takes the seat across from. His eyes settle on the classifieds on the table. Only a few are highlighted.

“Searching for a job?” he guesses as a teenage boy takes the seat beside him. “This is my son, Stiles.”

I smile politely at the boy with the odd name. “Nice to meet you. I’m Charlie.”

“You too,” he says just as politely. He, too, glances at the papers spread out before me.

“Wouldn’t happen to know anyone searching for a blonde with a degree in psychology?” I ask the sheriff hopefully.

“Not off the top of my head but…” he says, trailing off. I raise an eyebrow. “The high school might be looking for someone, depending on your area of expertise. There was a recent string of violence and murder and some of it has settled on the students.”

“That’s a really good suggestion,” I say as I grab the other sections of the newspapers. When I sat down an hour earlier, I had taken the time to read over the article on the front page. It talks about a woman serial killer and her own, grim murder. The funeral is set for that day. It mentions a young woman but not by name.

As I begin arming myself with an amazing pitch, the sheriff receives a phone call. I notice his son’s interest pique as he tries to figure out what’s being said on the other end of the line. Sheriff Stilinski is biting back a smirk as he keeps his responses short and to the point without giving much away. I wonder how often Stiles listens in on conversations that he shouldn’t be.

“Okay, kid, I gotta get going and you need to get your butt to school,” the sheriff says, ignoring his son’s flabbergasted look of dismay. “I’ll see you around, Charlie and good luck.”

“Thanks,” I say to him and the two retreat.

Some more time passes as I work on my job pitch. I’ve just finished when I hear another ding at the entrance of the café. Until now, I’ve dutifully ignored it. However, this time, my eyes raise as though a magnetic force is pulling them and they settle onto a guy. I freeze.

As far as appearances go, he definitely qualifies as bad boy. A very good-looking bad boy with his black hair, scruff, and green eyes. He is the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome. I stand there, staring at him long after he catches me. It isn’t his undeniably attractiveness that captures my undivided attention. I’ve seen this man before. In a dream, hours before I arrived in Beacon Hills. Before I know what I’m doing, his name leaves my lips.

“Derek.”

It’s just a whisper, so quiet he wouldn’t have known I’d spoken had he not been looking at me. Still, my lips had barely moved but the narrow, suspicious look he gives me tells me he heard me say his name as clearly as if I had yelled it. Realizing the mistake I have made by speaking, I quickly flee the café.

It isn’t until I’ve made it back to my new apartment that I realize he isn’t following me. I sigh as I rest against the door. My heart pounds against my chest and I place my hand over its incessant beating. I take three deep breaths and feel the organ calm under my fingers. If I had, had any doubt before about being in the right place, I no longer carry it. Clarity is all I have and I know I’ve arrived in the right place.

…

Beacon Hills High School is a daunting place. It isn’t the students walking in and out as some go to enjoy free periods while others go back to their Hellish classes. It isn’t even the teachers within who might potentially be my fellow staff members. It’s the cloud of darkness surrounding it. A lot of death and violence has happened here and I’m certain there is more to come.

For the first time since arriving in Beacon Hills, I feel the truthful horrors. I knew from the articles I read this morning that this town has a nasty penchant for violent deaths but until now I hadn’t felt it. Repressing the feeling a cold, fearing dread and the urge to run back to Phoenix, I walk up the steps and into the building with every molecule in my being screaming at me not to.

I find my way to the office where I’m greeted by a kind-faced secretary. She’s on the phone so I wait patiently by the desk. Finally, she returns the phone back to its cradle and smiles politely at me.

“May I help you?” she asks.

“I was hoping to speak with the principal,” I say as professionally as I can. Standing across from the gray-haired woman, I begin to feel every moment of my youthful twenty-two years.

“Regarding?”

“A job offer,” I answer. I choose to omit that it’s me offering the job.

“He’s in with someone at the moment but you’re more than welcome to have a seat,” the secretary says and so I sit.

The voices from inside the office are muffled but I focus on my miniature speech. I try not to fidget with my clothes or hair and I sit up straight and tall. When I hear the door open, I rise to my feet to greet the principal. Two boys, one being Stiles, emerge from the office first. I force myself to ignore the panicked and slightly terrified looks on their faces as the scurry away.

“Hello,” the principal says to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Stiles and his friend stop to stare.

“Hello, I’m Charlotte Kavanagh,” I say as I hold my hand out.

“I’m Principal Argent but you can call me Gerard,” he says and shakes my hand. Once again, I force myself to ignore the looks from the two boys as I step inside the office. I force my face to remain calm and collected even though the name ‘Argent’ sends a wave of alarming bells through my brain. I’m also forced to shake off the chills that break across my skin the moment our bare hands meet.

…

I walk from the office, forcing myself not to perform a victory dance. Somehow, I managed to convince Gerard to hire me on as a youth counselor for students dealing with tragedy. He agreed that having two experienced counselors on campus would be a good investment. Especially with one being so close in age with the other students.

In my elation, I completely missed the fact that I walked straight into my apartment without even turning the door knob. It isn’t until I’m shimming out of my black blazer that I realize it. I throw the jacket across the back of the couch and examine the door. The knob is broken.

My gaze travels across the tiny apartment. Everything’s exactly where I left it. The bowl I ate cereal from this morning is still in the sink. The mouth of my duffle bag is opened widely and sets on my kitchen table. My suitcases are on the floor near the couch. There’s even the previous day’s underwear on the floor near the bed where I had taken them off at. Nothing is out of place.

I turn my attention back to the door knob and examine it. At first glance, it doesn’t appear to be broken. It isn’t until I experiment with it, turning it this way and that way, that I realize it swivels in a complete circle. The latch doesn’t retract or anything with the movements.

No tool or object could have broken the knob like this.  My stomach plummet as I realizes the ugly truth. Someone did this with their bare hands.

Authors note: So, this chapter is changed. Originally, Charlie was supposed to find out about the werewolves in Beacon Hills but I changed it. Mostly, it's filler. My goal is to pace the story out a little more and I felt the original chapters were going too fast. 

Who do you think broke into her apartment?