The Girl Who Knew Too Much: Part 1

The double doors clang open and Deputy Tara Graeme rushes into the shadowy, eerily quiet school corridor. With one hand on her shoulder mic and the other on her sidearm, she slows. Breath held, she hears an unexpected sound...music.

The whisper of strings and brass, a classical melody weaving its way through the corridor. With a nervous glance back, Graeme takes a tentative step forward.

Inching down the stairs, Graeme pauses when the music abruptly stops. She cocks her head, listening close. Leaning forward as--

A door slams open. Several students pour into the corridor, each carrying musical instrument cases. Graeme stops Danny.

"What are you guys doing here so late?"

"Practice for a recital tomorrow night. Why? Something wrong?" Danny notices Graeme's hand at the holster of her gun. "There is something wrong, isn't there?"

"Someone made a 9-1-1 call. All of you need to leave now. You see anyone else? Tell them the same thing."

Danny nods and quickly follows the others to the exit. Turning to the empty corridor, Graeme presses the button on her shoulder mic.

"Dispatch, this is Unit 10, do you copy?" Static simmers back at her. She presses the button again. "Dispatch, do you copy?"

Graeme holds still, listening to the static diminish to a soft white noise. Ear turned to her shoulder, she begins to hear something else coming through the mic's speaker...

voices. A strange, rhythmic chanting. Louder and louder, it rises from a quiet hum almost to a scream--

Static blares from the mic. Startled, Graeme flips the switch, turning it off. A door clangs behind her and she whirls around, gun drawn.

Down the hall, the second door to the locker room stands open. Two feet in black shoes lie just outside the threshold. Slowly the feet are dragged the rest of the way into the room.

Frozen by fear, Graeme tries to keep the gun steady while the locker room door quietly drifts shut.

Stepping through the door, Graeme whips the gun about the darkened room. One of the showers can be heard running, steam gently drifting out to the lockers.

"This is Deputy Graeme with the Sheriff's Department. Step out with your hands in the air." She waits. No response. "This is the Sheriff's Department. Come out NOW."

Fingers tightening around the gun, Graeme spins around the corner and finds a body sitting propped against the tile wall just underneath a shower lever. The body is her. Garrote around her neck.

Eyes widening at the sight of her own murder, Graeme begins to gasp. Then choke. The gun drops to the floor. A wire now tightens around her own neck as she turns to look at the scarred face of the Darach behind her.

Graeme staggers forward. She hits the shower wall and begins to slide. Her hand wraps around the shower lever, but all she manages to do is to turn the water on, creating the same tableau that she first witnessed--

Dying in exactly the same position as she saw herself.

~~~~~~~~

"Don't you have school?" Argent asks his daughter.

"Yes," Allison says as she holsters a gun on her hip. "But I'm skipping today to help you."

"Help me with what?"

Allison gives him a look. "I read your note book when you forgot it at the meeting table yesterday."

Chris sighs knowing his been caught. "Allison..."

"Going after the Darach alone? When you have a house full of Hybrids to asks to go with you, really?" Allison says.

"I'm just trying to follow a hunch, Allison." Chris tells her.

"Even so going alone at a time like this is very risky." Astrid says as she enters the office.

"Not to mention reckless," Alison adds folding her arms.

"I'm not leaving alone am I?" Chris says and they both nod. He smile, "Alright then,"

~~~~~~~

Jennifer Blake walks the aisle between desks as she lectures.

"Idioms, analogies, metaphors and similes. All tools for the writer to tell their story."

She pauses at Lydia's desk, noticing her drawing a picture of a leafless tree in her notebook.

"Lydia, I wasn't aware you had so many hidden talents."

"You and every guy I've ever dated."

"Oh uhm, that was an idiom by the way."

Unimpressed, Lydia goes back to drawing.

"Idioms are something of a secret to the people who know the language or culture. They're phrases that only make sense if you know key words. Saying

"jump the gun" is meaningful only if you know about the starting gun in a race. Or a phrase like "seeing

the whole board."

"Like chess." Stiles mutters.

"That's right, Stiles. Do you play?" Jennifer asks.

"My father does."

She nods and continues with the lesson. "Now when does an idiom become a cliché?"

As hands go up in the classroom, Scott leans over to whisper to Stiles. "I think I can get to Ethan. I'm

pretty sure I can make him talk."

"What do you want to do that for?" Stiles asks.

"The Emissaries are Druids, right? So what if the Darach was an Emissary to the Alphas?"

"First of all, I can't believe we've gotten to the point where a sentence like "what if the Darach was an Emissary to the Alphas" actually makes sense to me. Second, there's a huge problem with getting to Ethan."

"What's that?"

"Going through Aiden. Since he's been back in school they're always together. How are we supposed to separate them again?"

Scott thinks for a moment. Then both of them turn to look at Lydia sitting behind them.

She glances up from her drawing and sighs. "What now?"

"Can you and Bella distract Aiden while we talk to Ethan?" Scott asks.

~~~

As Aiden is walking down the hallway he is dragged into an empty classroom.

"What the hell do you guys want?" He exclaims looking at Bella and Lydia.

Bella shrugs. "Nothing really. We are just here to keep you in this room and give Scott some alone time with Ethan."

Aiden growls his eyes glowing red.

"Do you really think you can take me by yourself?" Bella asks her eyes going completely white.

Aiden calms down and sits down on one of the chairs. "What are you guys anyways? You're nothing like the normal supernaturals we've seen before."

Bella gives him a smile. "The answer to that will come in time."

The classroom door opens and Cora walks in. Bella gives her a confused look.

"What are you doing here?"

"I got bored at the loft so I left."

"Why here though? You could have gone to the Pack house."

Core sits on the teachers desk. "That's the first place I went to but no one was home. So I came here."

"Right, I forgot that Akira and Athena where out of town to pick up Bonnie. While Astrid and Allison are with Chris."

"What are we doing?" Cora asks looking at Aiden.

"Babysitting the mean twin,"

~~~~~

Hurrying into the tunnel connecting the school grounds to the athletic field, Jennifer slows as a silhouette appears out of the shadows. She takes a cautious step back.

But then Derek steps into the light. With a relieved breath, Jennifer rushes to him, kissing him.

"You had me worried that you lost interest in me when you didn't return my calls or texts." Jennifer says.

"Sorry about that. I've been a bit busy the last few days and lost track of time. But I'm here now and trust me I haven't lost interest." Derek responds.

A strong breeze whips across the ground, swirling leaves into the tunnel. Shivering, Jennifer pulls closer to Derek. But the bell rings for the next class, interrupting them.

"I swear to God, some days I want to take a sledgehammer to that bell."

"Why don't you just come back with me?"

"I can't. I've got three classes left and I put this recital together tonight. I organized it to honor the losses at school and--and it sounds really stupid now, doesn't it?"

"No. It sounds perfect."

"What are you going to do? I mean where are you going to be?"

"Waiting for you."

She nods and kisses him again, holding her lips to his for a long moment. Finally, she pulls away and Derek watches her hurry back to the school.

~~~~

Morrell and Scott sit across the desk from each other, the intensity of their stares matched only by the quiet aggression in their voices.

"Why are you bothering with me, Scott? When you know the clock is ticking? When you know someone else is about to be taken?" Morrell asks.

"By you?"

"Come on, Scott. Shouldn't you leave the interrogations to someone like Stilinski?" Morrell says.

"Are you the one killing people?" Scott asks.

"Are you listening to my heartbeat?" She leans forward and whispers her answer. "No. I'm not the one killing people."

Scott holds still, listening. Then, with a frustrated breath, he starts to get up.

"The truth is, I'm all that stands between Deucalion and the lives of your friends. I've been the one pulling the leash taut when they're salivating for a bite. Although I'll say that friend of yours Astrid is doing a good job at that as well."

"What do you mean?"

"He wants a True Alpha in his pack. He thinks it's you. And a little distraction like a few human sacrifices isn't going to dissuade him from the prize." Morrell explains.

"I'm not an Alpha."

"But you're well on your way, aren't you?"

Scott stands, calm facade disappearing as he approaches the desk as if to attack. Morrell rises to face him.

"Then what's he waiting for? What's he want me to do?" Scott asks frustrated.

"He wants to make a killer out of you. That's what he does."

"But I can't be a True Alpha if I kill someone, right?"

"Exactly. You want the psychologist's perspective? He's an obsessive who both desires you and is threatened by you. If the obsessive can't have the object of his desire, he'll choose to destroy it instead. You'll either willingly become part of his pack or he'll make a killer out of you, destroying your potential to be a True Alpha."

"Neither of those is ever going to happen." Scott says.

Morrell leans back. "If this conversation had takan place a while back I would have told you not to be so sure. But with Astrid and Derek throwing all of Deucalion's plans out of place you and your friends have a chance to survive. So my advice stick to her."

~~~~~~

Chalk swipes quickly across the board. A History teacher named Mr. Westover transcribes headlines from his notes for the next day's class.

Pausing to look at the text of an open book, Westover steps away from the board. Then turns back with a shocked gasp. Lowering the chalk, Westover stares at the board. All of his notes have vanished, replaced by one strange image...

A five fold celtic knot.

The chalk slips from his fingers. It rolls across the floor, right out the open door and into the corridor.

It finally stops, hitting a girl's shoe. Slowly bending down, Lydia picks up the chalk. Eyes strangely unfocused, she walks into the now empty classroom.

She raises the piece of chalk to the Five Fold Knot and writes the number 2.

~~~~~~

Stilinski slowly drags his hands down his weary face. He look on the numerous chess pieces placed across the board. Each one has a colored post-it with a name on it from the Hales to the Argents to the Mikealson pack.

"Scott and Derek are werewolves?"

"Yes."

"Kate Argent was a werewolf--" Stilinski says.

"Hunter." Stiles corrects.

"Along with Allison and her father but they're with us now," Cora adds. She frowns felling light headed.

Trying to remember Stilinski asks. "Deaton, the veterinarian, is a Kanima?"

Stiles shakes his head, "No. He's a Druid. We think."

"Who was the Kanima?" Stilinski asks frowning in confusion.

"Jackson." Stiles answers.

"No Jackson was a werewolf." Stilinski says.

"He was the Kanima first. Then Derek and Peter killed him and he came back to life as a werewolf." Stiles explains.

"Who's the Darach?"

This time Cora answers him as she rubs her head in discomfort. "We don't know yet."

"But the Darach was killed by werewolves."

"Slashed up and left for dead." Stiles says.

"We think." Cora adds.

"Astrid and her pack are Werewolf/Kanima hybrids." Stilinski says.

"No Astrid and Allison are a werewolf/vampire hybrid the rest of her pack are vampire hybrids." Stiles explains.

"Why was Jackson a Kanima?" Stilinski asks getting increasingly confused and angry.

"Because sometimes the shape you take reflects the person you are."

Stilinski nods. "What kind of shape does an incredibly confused, getting angrier by the minute father take?"

"That would be more of an expression. Like the one you're currently wearing." Stiles says.

"Yeah." With a frustrated breath, he gets up to leave.

"Dad, I can prove it."

Stilinski throws a wary look back. Stiles gestures to Cora.

"She's one of them. A werewolf."

"Stiles, I've had enough."

"Just hold on, Dad." He turns to Cora. "You ready?"

Cora nods. As she rises to her feet, Stiles turns back to his father with a confident smile.

"Watch this."

Behind him, Cora collapses to the floor. Seeing his father's look, Stiles turns around. They both rush to her. Stilinski puts his ear to her chest to listen to her heart, and then looks up.

"Call an ambulance."