Scott McCall's Arc

Chapter 8 of 9

After the hospital, Scott drove home with his phone buzzing in the cupholder. He texted Kira about Malik's clean X-rays and the gold eyes. Kira wrote back fast. She and Lydia would ring her house in mountain ash tonight. Scott told her Stiles was crashing at his place. Two friends. Two roofs. One night closer to the new moon. Stiles fell asleep fast on the air mattress beside Scott's bed. Scott left a lamp on low. Rain tapped the window in a soft, steady drizzle. Scott drifted, then woke to a smell he couldn't name. Something old. Something like dust and smoke. He slipped past Stiles and walked out the front door barefoot. The street shined wet under the lamps. At the end of the block stood the Anubite, tall and still, gold markings glowing through the rain. Its eyes found Scott's. "I am not your enemy, wolf," it said. Its voice was calm. "I am the consequence." Scott's eyes burned red. He charged. The Anubite swung its staff in one clean arc and knocked Scott flat onto the wet pavement. Before the staff could lift again, Derek vaulted over Scott's body and landed in a crouch. He roared, claws out, eyes bright. The Anubite stared back without flinching. Then it stepped backward into the dark between the houses and was gone. Derek pulled Scott up by the arm. "You can't fight what it is by swinging first," he said. Scott wiped rain from his face and looked at the empty street. The Anubite hadn't come to kill him. It had come to warn him. And now Scott knew the thing he was hunting had a voice — and a reason.