I charge extra for bad attitude

Chapter 13: I charge extra for bad attitude.

The next day at school, Allison informed them that Gerard had installed new security cameras all over the campus, taking every precaution to keep her away from Scott.

That was why the trio was currently standing in an aisle of bookshelves in the library, waiting for Allison to make her way over to the other side.

Finally, she appeared, slipping a tablet through the gaps between the books. Scott reached out and took it, his eyes scanning the screen.

"It's everything Lydia could translate. And trust me, she was very confused," Allison whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Scott continued scrolling through the information. "Yeah? What'd you tell her?"

Allison made a face. "That we were part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures."

Scott snickered. Allison cracked a small smile, but Stiles remained stone-faced as he deadpanned, "I am part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures."

Allison's face fell. "Oh."

Hope bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling. He's just so adorable, his eyes are so pretty, and-STOP!

She cleared her throat. "Why aren't we telling Lydia the truth? She's obviously smart and could be a great help. And let's not ignore the fact that she's having episodes she doesn't understand. We could actually help her by figuring out what she is."

"Right now, a homicidal lizard is more important than Lydia," Allison defended. "And even if we told her, she wouldn't believe us."

"How do you know that? Have you even tried?" Hope argued.

"Okay, okay!" Scott sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration. "Can we focus, please? This is important. Stop fighting."

"I'm not fighting," Hope shot back. "Lydia is my friend, and keeping her in the dark doesn't help anyone. I've seen people die because of ignorance." Her eyes flicked to Stiles, silently urging him to back her up.

Stiles hesitated. "I don't think it's time yet. I get it, Hope, but it's really not the right moment."

Hope's expression hardened. "I see. Have it your way, then."

Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked out of the library. Stiles immediately moved to follow her, but Scott grabbed his arm. "Give her space. She'll come back after her temper tantrum."

"Okay," Scott said, redirecting their focus, "does it say how to find out who's controlling him?"

"Not really," Allison replied, shaking her head. "But Stiles was right about the murders." At that, Stiles couldn't even celebrate-Hope wasn't there. "It calls the Kanima a weapon of vengeance. There's a story about a South American priest who used the Kanima to execute murderers in his village."

"All right, see? So maybe it's not all that bad," Stiles suggested, hopeful.

"Until the bond grew strong enough that it started killing whoever he wanted it to."

"All bad. All very, very bad," Stiles muttered, eyes widening in horror.

"Here's the thing, though," Allison continued. "The Kanima is actually supposed to be a werewolf. But it can't be-"

"Until it resolves whatever in its past is keeping it that way," Scott finished, reading aloud from the tablet.

"Okay, so if that means Jackson could use a few thousand hours of therapy, I could've told you that myself," Stiles said, tapping his foot impatiently. He wanted to go after Hope.

"What if it has something to do with his parents? His real parents?" Allison suggested, frowning.

"Yeah, does anybody actually know what happened to them?" Scott asked.

"Lydia might know. Hope was right-we should tell her," Stiles insisted.

"And have her freak out, call us crazy, and insist we belong in a mental asylum? We don't even know if she has that information," Scott countered.

"I'll talk to Jackson," Allison decided.

"That is a terrible idea. I just know it. And Hope not being here is devastating. So, I'm gonna listen to my heart and invade her space. See you guys later." Stiles hurried out before Scott could protest.

He found her with Lydia. "Hope!" he called, but she ignored him. So he turned to Lydia instead, questioning her about Jackson's parents. That only made things worse-Hope was fuming now.

Lydia, sensing the tension, excused herself. "I'll leave you two to your lover's spat."

"I'm sorry," Stiles said. "I should've backed you up. I wanted to, but-"

"But what, Stiles?" Hope asked, arms crossed.

Before he could answer, Erica slammed him against a wall. "Why are you asking about Jackson's parents?"

Hope's voice was calm, but it sent a shiver down Erica's spine. "Take your claws off my man."

Erica immediately released him. "Good girl."

"Hey, Erica... haven't seen you since, you know." Hope smirked, reminding her of the time she threw her into the trash. Erica looked annoyed but didn't retaliate-she knew she couldn't overpower Hope Mikaelson.

"Jackson's parents are in Beacon Hills Cemetery. Dead." Erica finally admitted.

"Well, isn't that just great?" Hope clapped her hands. "Let's have a nice chat over hot chocolate. What's your preference, Erica, honey?"

"Coffee," Erica answered hesitantly.

"Boring," Hope muttered.

"Excuse me? Coffee is the best-"

Hope's glare silenced Stiles mid-sentence.

Before he could continue, the sound of water rushing caught their attention. The locker room door burst open-Scott flew out, crashing to the ground with Jackson on top of him, wrestling violently.

Without a word, Hope and Stiles pulled Scott off Jackson while Erica restrained Jackson, preventing them from tearing each other apart.

"What the hell is going on?" a booming voice interrupted. All heads snapped toward the source-Harris, the chemistry teacher, notorious for his unnerving lectures about murdering his student, especially Stiles. "Hey! Enough! What do you idiots think you're doing? Jackson, calm down! Mr. McCall, explain yourself! Stilinski? McCall? Anyone?"

While Harris ranted, Matt subtly leaned in to return Allison's tablet. "Here, you dropped this."

Harris snatched it before Scott could touch it. "You and you," he pointed at Scott and Jackson. Then, after a moment of thought, "Actually, all of you. Detention. Three o'clock."

Hope sighed, rubbing her temples. Next time, she'd let them kill each other. Apparently, breaking up fights just got you detention.

How fair indeed. Next time, Hope would make sure not to stop a fight and just let them kill each other-because, honestly, that would be better than detention.

They all followed the teacher to the library, took their seats, and Stiles pulled out a chair for Hope-but she ignored him, moving to the next table to sit alone. She was still furious with them, and this situation wasn't helping.

It didn't work, though. Harris ordered both Scott and Stiles to join her table because of the restraining orders. Stiles happily slid in beside her, while Scott sat across from her.

"I'm gonna kill him," Scott declared.

"No, you're not," Stiles said calmly, as if he hadn't suggested the same thing moments ago. "You're going to find out who's controlling him and then help save him."

"No. You were both right. I'm going to kill him," Scott insisted.

Hope tilted her head in mock curiosity. "Whose brilliant idea was it to talk to Jackson-who we know is being controlled-without him even realizing it?"

"I told them it was a bad idea," Stiles chimed in.

"Oh, now you did?" Hope shot back. "Then why are we sitting here, darling, instead of you stopping this stupid plan?"

Stiles rubbed his neck sheepishly. "Well... I followed you."

She sighed. She shouldn't take her anger out on him for little things like this. It wasn't his fault. They were all struggling. And how could she stay mad when he was giving her those puppy eyes-his damn gorgeous hazel ones-shining at her until she melted.

She sighed. Damn him and his stupid hazel eyes, all wide and "please don't be mad at me, I'm just a fragile idiot." Ugh.

"I leave you all for ten minutes, and here we are," she said, spreading her arms for emphasis.

Silence settled over them for several minutes. Harris had retreated to the librarian's desk while the others busied themselves. Scott put his head down, Hope tapped her fingers restlessly against the table, and Stiles stared at her until he finally spoke up.

"Hey," he mumbled. They raised their brows at him. "What if it's Matt? I mean, this whole thing ties back to the video, right?"

"Danny said Matt was the one who noticed the missing footage," Scott countered, unconvinced.

"Exactly," Stiles said. "He's trying to throw suspicion off himself."

Hope frowned, her fingers stilling as she studied Matt. Something nagged at her-like she was missing a crucial detail. Then it clicked.

"Right. It's him," she muttered under her breath. But how could she convince the others?

"But why would he make Jackson kill Isaac's dad, one of Argent's hunters, and the mechanic working on your jeep?" Scott asked skeptically.

"Because," Stiles glared, "he's evil."

"I believe you," Hope said, and Stiles shot Scott a smug grin. "See, the witch believes me."

"Not you too," Scott groaned.

The three glanced over at Matt, who casually popped a piece of popcorn into his mouth.

Scott turned back to Stiles. "You just don't like him."

"The guy bugs me," Stiles admitted, still staring. "I don't know what it is. Just look at his face."

"Looks like a spawn of Satan," Hope muttered.

"Any other theories?" Scott asked. If only he'd stop questioning her and just listen, things might have gone differently.

Suddenly, pained gasps cut through the air. They whirled around to see Jackson clutching his head, his face twisted in agony.

"You okay?" Matt asked, feigning concern.

Jackson shot up, grabbing his backpack. "I have to go to the bathroom," he choked out before bolting.

"Are you all right?" Harris called after him. "Hey, you don't look good!"

"Just need water," Jackson rasped before disappearing.

Harris stood. "No one leaves their seats." Then he followed Jackson out.

The moment he was gone, Stiles and Scott immediately slid back to their original spots beside Erica-this time with Hope in tow.

"Speak," she commanded, shutting her notebook with a roll of her eyes.

Erica hesitated, then sighed. "It was a car accident. My dad was the insurance investigator. Every time he sees Jackson drive by in his Porsche, he makes some comment about the huge settlement Jackson gets when he turns eighteen."

"So not only is Jackson rich now, but he's getting richer at eighteen?" Stiles blinked.

"Yep."

"There's something deeply wrong with that."

"You know what?" Erica leaned forward, opening her laptop. "I can try to find the insurance report in my dad's inbox. He keeps everything."

As she typed, the trio exchanged glances.

The PA system crackled to life, and Victoria Argent's voice echoed through the room. "Scott McCall, please report to the principal's office."

Four sets of eyes widened in horror. God help him-she was terrifying.

Scott awkwardly grabbed his backpack and left.

Jackson and Harris returned shortly after. Hope and Stiles hovered over Erica's shoulder as she searched for the file on Jackson's birth parents.

"Look at the dates," Stiles urged.

Erica read aloud, "Passengers arrived at the hospital DOA. Estimated time of death: 9:26 p.m., June 14, 1995."

"Jackson's birthday is June 15," Stiles pointed out.

The sound of Harris zipping his bag signaled detention's end. The students gathered their things, but Harris' laugh froze them in place.

"No, I'm sorry," he chuckled. "Yes, I'm leaving. But none of you are. You may go when you're done reshelving." He patted the carts of books. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

"I am about to commit homicide, and it's not gonna be pretty," Hope muttered. Stiles shot her a concerned look.

Reluctantly, she got to work. The faster she finished, the sooner she could leave. Scott rejoined them shortly after.

"It means he was born via C-section after his mom died," Stiles said. "They pulled him out of her dead body."

"So, was it an accident or not?" Allison asked carefully.

"The report says 'inconclusive,'" Stiles murmured.

Scott leaned in. "Then his parents could've been murdered?"

"If they were, it fits the Kanima myth," Stiles said. "It hunts killers."

"But for Jackson? Or for whoever's controlling him?" Allison whispered, making them rethink everything.

Scott's eyes widened in panic. "We have to talk to him. We have to tell him."

"He won't lis-" Allison started, but Scott was already rushing toward Jackson.

He stopped when he spotted an open book on the floor. Then he looked left-and froze.

Matt lay sprawled on the carpet, books scattered around him as if he'd been fighting. A surgical cut marred the back of his neck-the kind only the Kanima's claw could make.

Jackson's monstrous form lunged over the aisle, smashing into a light fixture. Sparks rained down as books flew off the shelves.

Chaos erupted.

Erica and Scott shifted. Hope's eyes darted around, searching for Jackson. When a bookshelf teetered, Stiles yanked Hope and Allison to the floor, shielding them. Hope struggled against his grip-she needed to help Scott-but Stiles held tight.

Erica's scream pierced the air, sending panic through Hope's chest.

Jackson-now a grotesque hybrid of human and Kanima-slammed Scott into a cart. Scott crashed to the ground with a groan before scrambling back to shield the others.

Jackson's body went slack, his hand dragging chalk across the board in jagged letters:

STAY OUT OF MY WAY OR I WILL KILL ALL OF YOU!

Then he hurled himself through the window, glass shattering in his wake.

The group stood slowly, the flickering lights casting eerie shadows. Then Stiles spotted Erica-convulsing violently on the floor.

"She's having a seizure!" he yelled.

But Hope frowned. Werewolves shouldn't have seizures.

As Scott and Hope rushed to Erica, Allison checked Matt's pulse. "He's alive!"

"We need to get her to a hospital," Stiles said, cradling Erica.

"No, I can heal her," Hope said, pressing a hand to Erica's forehead. "Shh, you're okay."

Golden light shimmered around Erica as the healing spell took hold. Her body stilled, her breathing steadied, and her eyes fluttered open.

"You... healed me," she whispered.

Hope smirked. "Don't get used to it. I charge extra for bad attitude."

The house stood before her, She hesitated at the threshold, her breath catching in her throat when a voice drifted through the silence.

"Over here."

Lydia turned sharply, her heart stammering in her chest. Standing just beyond the doorway was a boy-no, not just any boy. He was young, eerily familiar. His blue eyes burned into hers, filled with something she couldn't quite name. "It's your house." Lydia asked.

"It was." He answered and walked towards her "I'll tell you all about it but first, did you bring the flower?"

"I couldn't find it" Lydia faltered, her mind spinning.

The boy smiled, his lips curving with an unnatural softness. "That's okay," he murmured, stepping closer, "Since you don't have it, I'm gonna need a kiss."

She swallowed thickly as he reached for her, his fingers ghosting over her wrist before sliding up to cup her cheek. His touch was cool, feather-light, yet it sent a shiver down her spine.

The moment their lips met, a wave of warmth flooded through her, lulling her into a strange sense of tranquility. It felt real-tangible-until she opened her eyes and looked at the mirror behind her.

The world around her twisted, the dim moonlight flickering like a dying flame. The boy in front of her-his smooth, unblemished skin-morphed before her very eyes. His face stretched, aged, and burned, scars running like deep, molten rivers across his flesh. The young boy was gone. In his place stood Peter Hale, older, ravaged by fire, his lips still pressed to hers.

"Is something wrong?"

Lydia gasped and stumbled backward, her hands flying to her mouth in horror. The illusion shattered, and with it, the true state of the mansion became painfully clear. The walls were crumbling, the air thick with the acrid scent of smoke and decay. Shadows clawed at her vision as she turned, her breath coming in panicked bursts and all she could do was scream.