Holding Out for a Hero ▸ Stiles Stilinski (2)

xiv. PARALYTIC CRYSTALS

"Hey babe," I called out. Stiles spun around to face me. "Listen to this. According to South American lore, a kanima, also known as a were-jaguar, is a creature that goes after murderers."

He simply stared at me. "Carson, do you need a lesson in animals? That thing wasn't a jaguar."

"And we're not murderers either, Stiles. Look, we've been researching this and this is the first and probably only lead we're going to get on this kanima thing. It says this thing is a shape shifter."

"So?" he questioned, leaning his elbows against his knees.

"So, maybe in South American lore, the kanima takes the form of a jaguar. I've watched enough of Supernatural to know that every culture in the world has a different version of what they believe about the supernatural. There, the kanima is a jungle cat. Here it's the spawn of Godzilla. It's not enough, but it's good enough. We don't have to have all the answers tonight," I replied, running a hand through my hair.

He shook his head at me. "Yeah. But we're going to need them soon."

▿ ▴ ▿

"Will you just tell me what's wrong?" I asked Stiles, as he dragged me towards English.

I had literally been out of homeroom all of two seconds when he swooped in out of nowhere and started rambling about things that I couldn't necessarily make out. I stumbled slightly on my heels as he picked up the pace. He was taking giant steps and I, a sad five foot two, could not match his stride.

"Stiles!" I yelled. "What the hell is going on?" I stopped in my tracks right outside the door to the class. I pulled back on my wrist, causing him to stop and stumble back slightly.

"What?" he asked, slightly out of breath and highly confused. He furrowed his brow and I could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to deduce why we stopped.

I sighed. "How about you slow down a bit and tell me the problem. Because the only words I got out of your little rant was 'dad' and 'dumb ass'. And I'm really confused as at how those go together."

"Jackson retracted his statement," Stiles said slowly. "He said that he didn't see Isaac and his dad arguing the night he was murdered. My dad had no choice but to claim Isaac as innocent."

"Wait, what?" I exclaimed. "And your dad believed him?"

"Jackson is the only witness he has," Stiles shrugged.

I sighed, running a hand across my face. I glanced into the class really quickly as more people started filing in. Scott was already there, his head turned in the direction of my normal seat. Which was currently occupied.

"No," I breathed. The person sitting in my seat was easily recognizable and I could feel my heart plummet. He was back. Now that he was a free person, Isaac had decided to come back.

"Yeah, it ridiculous, I know. We have to tell Scott," Stiles ranted.

I shook my head. "Stiles, I think he already knows," I said, gesturing into the classroom with a sigh.

Stiles followed the subtle motion I made with my arm and groaned. "You have got to be kidding me."

▿ ▴ ▿

Somehow Isaac had been fully pardoned, let back in school, the whole shebang. It didn't make a difference that it was obvious Jackson had lied to Papa Stilinski. It didn't matter that Isaac busted out of his jail cell and was considered a fugitive. I was pretty sure that he should have gotten something for eluding the cops for days but apparently not. He was being treated almost as if he had done nothing wrong; like this whole thing had never happened. So now we had yet another hormonal werewolf wandering the corridors of Beacon Hills High and I wasn't necessarily happy about that. Neither were Scott and Stiles.