xxv. BAD INFLUENCE
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CARTER WAS HAVING a bad week.
She knew that essentially everything had changed. The Dread Doctors were not giving up, but she had never dreamed for one moment that they had. Their appearance had only confirmed what she'd already known. No reason for fresh panic.
In theory. Not panicking was easier said than done.
Her wounds still hadn't healed; she was healing slightly faster than any normal human, but it wasn't fast enough. And she wondered if it wasn't a little foolish to sit around, weak and injured, waiting for the next disaster. It seemed too dangerous to be practically human—just begging for trouble. Someone like her shouldn't be human. Someone with her luck ought to be a little less helpless.
But no one would listen to Carter. Even after she mildly explained just how evil the men in masks were and explained that they were willing to do anything to get what they want. She even said that they would be—more than likely—planning to come after her...again.
Stiles had said, "We'd never allow anything to happen to you, Car. You know that. Please don't be anxious." And then he'd kissed her forehead.
Malia had said, "I'm really upset that you didn't stay dead. Everything's so much more life-threatening with you around."
Everyone glared at her.
Logan had rolled his eyes and said, "I'm offended. You're not honestly worried about this, are you?"
"If it's no big deal, then why was I hiding from them for six months?" Carter'd demanded.
"Haven't any of you noticed yet that Carter is just the teeniest bit prone to overreaction?"
Malakai had mentally erased all the panic and tension in her body with his curious talent of controlling her emotions—since their minds were connected. She'd felt reassured, and let them talk her out of her desperate pleading.
Of course, that calm had worn off as soon as she and Malakai had walked out of the room.
So the consensus was that she was just supposed to forget that three deranged masked men were stalking her, intent on her death. Go about her business.
Carter did try. And surprisingly, there were other things almost as stressful to dwell on besides her status on the endangered species list...
Because Malakai's response had been the most frustrating of them all.
"You need to go back to school," he'd said. "Since the news of you miraculously going back from the dead has practically spread through the entire state, the people need to see you out-and-about. So, next Monday, you're going back to school."
Sometimes she wondered if he was only pretending not to read her mind, since they had control over when they could access one another's thoughts. How else had he struck upon the one thing that she would have trouble accepting? The one thing that would expose her to everything and everyone. The one thing that would slow her down from destroying The Dread Doctors.
All in all, a very bad week. And today was the worst day in it.
It was always a bad day when Malakai was away. He had foreseen nothing in the near future that would gain him any leverage on finding Raeven, and so she'd insisted that he take the opportunity to go out and search for her. She knew how it bored him to sit around and feel useless. He needed something to occupy his mind and finding Raeven was perfect.
"Go find her," she'd told him. "And if you do, throwing in a few punches for me."
Carter would never admit to him how hard it was for her when he was gone—how it brought back the nightmares. If he knew that, it would make him feel horrible and he would be afraid to ever leave her, even for the most necessary reasons. It had been like that in the beginning, when she'd first returned to the land of the living. They had needed to follow every lead they found and it was hard to follow them when one-half of the duo had to stay indoors. So, when presented with something they couldn't miss out on, she put on a brave face and all but kicked him out the door.
She thinks that he saw through her, though. A little.
So now she had a big empty Saturday to distract her. And, of course, the oh-so-comforting promise from Scott.
"Stiles and I are staying close—we'll only be fifteen minutes away if you need us. We'll keep an eye out for trouble."
Translation: don't try anything funny just because you're alone and Malakai's gone.
Carter tried to look on the bright side, but after thinking about it, the amount of dark outweighed the bright. The main thing that had been darkening her mood were all the strange stares she'd been getting. She'd expected them, of course, but now that every single person in Beacon Hills was watching her like she was some sort of rabid animal they were waiting to attack, she just wanted to disappear. And now that she was out in the open, walking around town, she missed sneaking around and missed moving through the welcoming shadows. Spending all this time in the sun hurt her eyes.
Carter knew that everyone in the pack—well, except for Malia—would stay with her through night if she was pathetic enough to ask them to. Her friends had seemingly snapped back into old ways, like she had never died and that was kind of freaking her out. She just needed more time, more time to adjust to being around actual people again. They were all more than happy to forget the six months they spent grieving her death and Carter couldn't help but think that everything between them was still different...wrong.
But she was willing to try and make it work. She would survive this time. She had to.
It felt strange to wake up in a house that wasn't abandoned. The Sheriff and Melissa had talked her in to staying at the McCall residence until everything calmed down—not wanting her to stay alone any longer. What felt even stranger was waking up in Scott's bed and it was odd for her to wake up there because she fell asleep in the guest room down the hall. She brushed it off, claiming that after sleeping in the same bed as Malakai for six months, she was just accustomed to not sleeping alone.
Scott practically pissed himself when he opened his eyes and saw her lying beside him, curled up in a ball with her face pressed into the pillow. Carter almost laughed as she got dressed, just imagining what his face looked like when he saw her in his bed.
She didn't have any plans, trying to keep the normal things simple. She ate her breakfast slowly, one Cheerio at a time. Then, when she'd washed the dishes, she arranged the magnets on the fridge into a perfect line. Maybe she was developing obsessive-compulsive disorder. With everything else that has happened, it wouldn't surprise her.
The last two magnets—round black utilitarian pieces that were able to hold ten sheets of paper to the fridge without breaking a sweat—did not want to cooperate with her fixation. Their polarities were reversed; every time she tried to line the last one up, the other jumped out of place.
For some reason—impending mania, perhaps—this really irritated Carter. Why couldn't they just play nice? Stupid with stubbornness—a Hale flaw— she kept shoving them together as if she was expecting them to suddenly give up. She could have flipping one over, but that felt like losing. Finally, exasperated at herself more than the magnets, she pulled them from the fridge and held them together with two hands. It took a little effort—they were strong enough to put up a fight—but she forced them to coexist side-by-side.
"See," Carter said out loud—talking to inanimate objects, never a good sign—"That's not so horrible, is it?"
She stood there like an idiot for a second, not quite able to admit that she wasn't having any lasting effect against scientific principles. Then, with a sigh, she put the magnets back on the fridge, a foot apart.
"There's no need to be so inflexible," she muttered.
It was still too early, but she decided she'd better get out of the house before the inanimate objects started talking back.
She walked out of the McCall house and shuffled along the pathway, kicking pebbles petulantly on her way. The sight of Derek's Camaro sitting in the driveway made her heart clench. Stilinski'd found the car in a parking garage off the highway and since Carter's Challenger was still at the bottom of the quarry, he assumed that she would need a car.
When she approached it, she saw that there was a flyer stuck under the windshield. She was about to crumble up the bright yellow paper when the heading printed in bold across the top caught her eye. One word in particular seized her attention. She clutched the paper in both hands as she stared at the picture beneath the caption. A lump rose in her throat.
COME HEAR "OLYMPIC WOLF" LIVE
Under the words, there was a detailed drawing of a wolf in front of a drum set, its head thrown back in the act of baying at the moon. It was a disconcerting picture; something about the wolf's plaintive posture made him look forlorn. Like he was howling in grief.
And then she was throwing herself into the car, the flyer still locked in her grip. The Camaro roared to life without any difficulty.
Nobody would know that she was be heading there, because she hadn't been planning it. She was told that his parents didn't want him associating with her anymore because, to them, she crawled out of her own grave. But it was snap decision and she couldn't resist it any longer.
Carter barreled down the wet highway, turning the windshield wipers on high and ignoring the nostril singing smell of Derek. She had no clue what she was going to say when she got there, but she began to feel less worried as she passed the first few houses in the neighborhood. She knew that Scott and Stile would be getting anxious if she didn't call them soon.
She'd call them when she got to where she was headed, she reasoned, so that they'd know she was fine. There was no reason for them to get worked up. They didn't need to worry about her.
She almost turned around and went back to Scott's house when she pulled in front of the familiar brick house. The lump came back to her throat as she stared at the place. It had been so long since she'd been here.
Carter cut the engine and walked up to the front door. Before she could even knock the door was opened and Mrs. Dunbar was standing in the doorway, her face blank. Her perfectly highlighted blond hair was smoothed into an elegant twist on the back of her neck, her fingernails were polished by professionals, as were her toenails—visible through the strappy high heels.
"Good morning, Carter," she said after a long moment of silence. "I thought Scott told you that my husband and I didn't want you coming around here anymore?"
Carter was flushed, quickly becoming increasingly nervous and intimidated. "Uh, he did, like ten times," she said, picking at her nails.
"So..." Mrs. Dunbar hesitated for a moment, playing uncomfortably with her wedding ring. "You knew how we felt about you, and still, you come to our house? So, can you not take a hint or are you just intent on ruining my children's lives?"
"Mrs. Dunbar, I understand why you don't want me here, believe me, I completely understand," Carter sighed. Her shoulders tight. She was determined to see him before she left. "But I really need to see—"
"Carter?"
She heard him gasp.
"Hey, Liam!"
"Carter!" he yelled back, and the smile she'd been waiting for stretched across his face like the sun breaking free of the clouds. His teeth gleamed bright against his tanned skin. "I can't believe it!"
He ran toward her, pushing past his mother and half-yanked her through the open door, and then they were both jumping up and down like kids. Carter had been itching to see the youngest Dunbar since she found out that she wasn't allowed to see him. Out of everyone in their pack, Liam was the only that she hadn't seen since coming back. He often visited her at the hospital before she woke up from surgery, but had to stop when his parents practically put him under house arrest. They thought Carter was a bad influence, thinking that she had faked her death.
"Do Scott and Stiles know you're here?"
"No!"
"Awesome!"
"Uh, hello, Carter," Doctor Geyer stood stepped into the doorway to see what all the commotion was about. Awkwardly, he greeted the undead girl.
"I'm sorry for intrud—"
Just then her air choked off—Liam grabbed her up in a bear hug too tight to breathe and swung her around in a circle.
"You have no idea how good it is to see you!"
"Can't...breathe," she gasped.
He laughed and put her down.
"Welcome back, Carter," he said, grinning. And the way he said the words made it sound like welcome home.
After convincing his parents, which took a long time, they started walking, too keyed up to sit still in the house. Liam was practically bouncing as he moved. As they walked, she felt herself settling into another version of herself, the self she had been before the deadpool. A little younger, a little less responsible. Someone who might, on occasion, do something really stupid for no good reason.
Our exuberance lasted through the first few topics of conversation: how they were doing, what they were up to, how long she had before she had to leave, and what had brought her here. When she hesitantly told him about the wolf flyer, his bellowing laugh echoed back from the trees.
But then, as they ambled past the back of a store and shoved through the thick scrub that ringed the far edge of the Preserve, they got to the hard parts. All too soon they had to talk about the reasons behind her long departure, and she watched as the face of her—somewhat brother, sometime son—hardened into the bitter mask.
"So what's the story, anyway?" Liam asked her, kicking a broken branch out of his way with too much force. It sailed over the grass and then clattered against another tree. "I mean, since the last time we...well, before, you know..." He struggled for the words. He took a deep breath and tried again. "What I'm asking is...everything is just back to the way it was before you left?"
She took a deep breath. "It appears to be that way."
Liam's face puckered up like he'd just licked a lemon. "I wish I could just erase the image of your lifeless body from my mind."
"I'm sorry."
"I get the feeling you've been doing a lot of apologizing lately."
"Nobody's on trial."
"Maybe somebody should be."
"Not even you would be angry, if you knew the reason why."
Liam glared at her for a few seconds. "Okay," he challenged acidly. "Amaze me."
His hostility was wearing on Carter—chafing against the raw; it hurt to have him angry with her. When she came up with her plan, she was hoping none of them would be angry with her—she was stupid to believe that they wouldn't be. She took a second to compose herself.
"After Allison died, I left with Raeven because I didn't think I could handle being around the people that reminded me of her. I thought it was healthier for me if I left. Raeven and I ended up in Washington, it was where I was captured and tortured for several weeks."
Liam did a double take. He had to scramble for a minute. Whatever he'd been planning to say, it clearly no longer applied. He stared at her for a moment. His face relaxed, and his voice was calmer when he spoke.
"Scott mentioned something about Washington after you died. I don't think he meant to, it kinda just slipped. But I never did get the story. What happened?"
She hesitated, biting her lip.
"Is it a secret?" His voice took on a taunting edge. "Are you not allowed to tell me?"
"No," Carter snapped. "It's just a really long story."
Liam smiled, arrogant—like how he was before Scott bit him and he turned into a werewolf. It was no fun being with Liam if he was going to act like this. She trailed behind him automatically, not sure if she shouldn't turn around and leave. She was going to have to face Stiles and Scott, though, when she got to the McCall house...she supposed she wasn't in any rush.
They continued to walk through the Preserve. Carter glanced around, the area suddenly feeling extremely familiar. She quickly realized that they were near the Nemeton—she could practically feel the power radiating off the cut down tree.
Liam walked to a huge fallen over tree and sat down, patting the space next to him.
"I don't mind long stories. Is there any action?"
Carter rolled her eyes as she sat next to him. "I'm Carter Hale, of course there's action and it inevitably ended in my dead, so there's that."
Liam flinched. "It wouldn't be real horror without action."
"Horror! You've got that right." She scoffed. "Can you listen to me without interrupting?"
He pretended to lock his lips and then threw the invisible key over his shoulder. She tried not to smile, and failed.
"I'll have to start with the stuff you weren't there for." She decided, working to organize the stories in her head before she began. This was big step for her. This was the first time she'd be explaining the whole story.
Liam raised his hand.
"Go ahead."
"That's good," he said. "Because I literally know nothing about what happened before I was a werewolf."
"Yeah, well, it gets complicated, so pay attention. And you have to promise not to say anything to anyone, not even Logan, got it?"
Liam nodded.
"You know how Lydia predicts death?"
She kept it as succinct as possible—leaving out anything that wasn't essential. She tried to read Liam's reactions, but his face was enigmatic as she explained how she had planned to kill herself because she knew that The Dread Doctors would never stop coming after her. Sometimes Liam seemed so deep in thought, she wasn't sure if he was listening. He only interrupted one time.
"So, you planned to kill yourself by driving off Dead Man's Bridge, but they killed you first?"
She clenched her teeth together, and they sat in silence, his face expectant as he waited for her continue. She glared at him until he realized his mistake.
"Oops!" he said. "Sorry." He locked his lips again.
His response was easier to read when she got to the part about Raeven. His teeth clenched together, goose bumps rose on his arms, and his nostrils flared. She didn't go into specifics, she just told him that Raeven wasn't a good person, without revealing that she was more-than-likely the one that killed her. Carter didn't need Liam murdering her doppelgänger before she ever had a chance to kill Raeven herself.
"Now you know the whole story," she concluded.
"Huh," Liam said under his breath, and he bent over to pick up a rock. With a casual flick, he sent it flying a good hundred meters across the Preserve. "Well, she'll be back, I guess. We'll confront her about it then."
Carter shuddered; of course she would be back. Liam didn't seem to notice her reaction. He was staring across the forest with a thoughtful expression on his face, his lips pursed.
"What are you thinking about?" Carter asked after a long, quiet time.
"I'm thinking about what you told me. How you said that Raeven drank humna blood to survive and that you thought you were becoming like her."
"It's unnatural, Liam, I don't want to be like her. I don't want to survive on the blood of others." Carter whispered. "I don't want to become a monster."
"Carter," he said, his voice slow and different. Aged. She realized that he sounded suddenly older than her—like a parent of a teacher. "You were born a Pheanix, weren't you? It's a part of who you are, who your family is—it's the reason why you're still here. And to humans, being a werewolf is a monster"—he looked down at her, his bright eyes unreadable—"We are still human."
He picked up her hand and pressed it to his warm chest and placed his own hand on her cold one. Through their t-shirts, they could feel the steady beating of one another's hearts under their palms.
"Normal humans can't do what we can, Liam."
He smiled a faint, half-smile. "Normal humans run away from monsters, Carter. And neither of us claimed to be normal. Just human."
She started to smile as she pulled her hand away from his chest. "You look pretty human to me," she allowed. "At the moment."
"I feel human." He stared past her, his face far away. His lower lip trembled, and he bit down on it hard.
"Oh, Liam," she whispered, pulling him into her arms.
This was why she was here. This was why she would take whatever reception waiting for her when she got back. Because, underneath all the arrogance and the sarcasm, Liam was in pain. Right now, it was very clear in his eyes. She didn't now how to help him, but she knew she had to try. His pain hurt her, too. Liam had become a part of her—just like the rest of them—and there was no changing that now.
They sat in silence for a long while, just enjoying each other's company. The sun broke through the clouds suddenly, a surprise she hadn't been expecting, and she had to narrow her sensitive eyes when it broke through the tops of the trees. Everything changed color—the trees from dull olive to brilliant jade...it was like everything came alive.
They squinted for a moment, letting their eyes adjust. There we no sounds besides the hollow whoosh of wind. It was very peaceful.
Liam settled closer to her, so that he was leaning against her arm. He was so warm. She suddenly missed the heat that used to rage in her chest—she used to hate the fire but now she hated the cold that replaced it. After a minute of this, she shrugged out of her jacket. He made a little sound of contentment in the back of his throat, and rested his cheek on the top of her head. She could feel the sun heat her skin—though not quite at warm as it used to be.
Absentmindedly, she twisted her right hand to the side, and watched the sunlight glitter subtly off the silver ring on her finger.
"What are you thinking about?" he murmured.
"The sun."
A few more minutes passed when she realized that she should probably head back. She got to her feet, and he caught her hand as she started to walk away.
"I have to go, Liam."
"No, don't go yet," he protested, his hand tightening around mine. "Come on, we'll go back to my house."
"I really do need to go. I know Scott and Stiles are probably worried and I don't want to upset them too much."
"But you just got here!"
"It feels that way," she agreed. She glared up at the sun, somehow already directly overhead. How had the time passed so quickly?
His eyebrows pulled down over his eyes, suddenly overcome by sadness. "What if I don't see you anytime soon? I don't know when I'll see you again," he said in a hurt voice.
"You'll see me Monday," Carter promised impulsively. "At school."
He smiled at her, the warm, familiar smile that she had missed so much. She felt the answering smile spread across her face.
"I really missed you, Liam," she admitted.
"I really missed you, too, Carter." Liam's smile widened. His eyes were happy and clear. "More than you know."
As she drove back to the McCall residence, she wasn't paying much attention to the road that shimmered wetly in the sun. She was thinking about the flood of information she had shared with Liam, trying to sort it out, to force it all to make sense. Despite the darkness of it all, she felt lighter. Seeing Liam smile, having all the secrets thrashed out...it didn't make things perfect, but it made them better than before. She was right to have gone. Liam needed her.
Carter parked the car in the McCall's driveway and was surprised to find that Scott and Stiles weren't waiting for her.
She went to bed early, curling up on the living room couch again.
It was dark when she woke. She was groggy, but she knew it wasn't near morning yet. Her eyes closed, and she stretched, rolling over. It took her a second before she realized that the movement should have dumped her onto the floor. And that she was much to comfortable. She rolled back over, trying to see. It was darker than last night—the clouds were too thick for the moon to shine through.
"Sorry," he murmured so softly that his voice was part of the darkness. "I didn't mean to wake you."
Carter tensed, waiting for the fury—both his and hers—but it was only quiet and calm in the darkness of the guest bedroom. She could almost taste the sweetness of reunion in the air, a separate fragrance from the perfume of his breath; the emptiness when they were apart left its own bitter aftertaste, something she didn't consciously notice until it was removed.
There was no friction in the space between them. The stillness was peaceful—not like the calm before the tempest, but like a clear night untouched by even the dream of a storm.
And she didn't care that she went against the rule that him and Scott had laid. She reached out for him, found his hands in the darkness, and pulled herself closer to him. His arms encircled her, cradling her to his chest. Her lips searched, hunting along his throat, to his chin, till she finally found his lips.
Stiles kissed her softly for a moment.
"I was all braced for the wrath that was going to put grizzlies to shame, and this is what I get?"
"Give me a minute to work up to it," Stiles teased, kissing her again.
"I'll wait as long as you want," she whispered against his lips. His fingers knotted in her hair.
"Maybe in the morning."
"Mmm," she agreed, tightening her arms around his neck.
His hand curved around her elbow, moving slowly down her arm, across her ribs and over her waist, tracing along her hip and down her leg, around her knee. He paused there, his hand curling around her calf. He pulled her leg up suddenly, hitching it around his hip.
She stopped breathing. With his warm hands on her, she felt suddenly hot—like she had before she died. The fire in her chest growing. His lips moved in the hollow at the base of her throat. He rolled to the side, pulling her on top of him. He held her face in his hands, angling it up so that his mouth could reach her throat. Her breathing was too loud—it was almost embarrassing, but she couldn't care quite enough to be ashamed.
He pulled her face back to his, and her lips shaped themselves around his. Slowly this time, he rolled till he hovered over her. He held himself carefully so that she felt none of his weight, but she could feel the heat of his body press against hers. Her undead heart was hammering so loudly that it was hard to hear his.
Hot as the sun, his tongue lightly traced the shape of her lips.
Her head was spinning—the air was coming too fast and shallow. He let her worm herself into the circle of his arms. He took a deep breath. "Are you tired? I should let you sleep."
"No, I'm not."
His arms tightened around her. She curled herself closer to him, pressing her lips into the indentation over his collarbone.
"Don't you want to know what I did?" Carter asked, starting to be puzzled by his apparent lack of concern.
She felt him shrug. "I'm always interested in everything you do—but you don't have to tell me unless you want to. I'm sure Scott will want to know, but I convinced him to wait until tomorrow to confront you."
"But I went to see Liam."
"I know."
"And I broke the one rule you and Scott had given me."
"It's okay."
She stared toward the sound of his voice, tracing his features with her fingers, trying to understand his mood. "Where did all this tolerance come from?"
He sighed.
"I decided that we had no right to keep you away from Liam. No matter what his parents say, you needed to see him. I'm going to try to be more reasonable and trust your judgement. If you say it's safe, then I'll believe you."
Carter frowned. "For those six months that I was in hiding, I thought the Pheanix inside me was dead. I thought it died when I did because I wasn't warm anymore, it was like I'd been sitting in an ice bath for two weeks." He tightened his arm even more. "But when I got Lydia's wound, it was like all the feelings of being a Pheanix came back."
"What do you mean?"
"When I came back to life, I still undoubtedly cared about all of you but it wasn't the same as before." She murmured in a casual tone. "And when Tracy attacked Lydia...everything just came back. All the anxiety and fear of one of you getting hurt—the furious need to constantly be around all of you...it came rushing back. And Liam was the only one that I hadn't seen yet and it felt like I was gonna die until I saw him. So, I went to see him."
"So," he whispered. "Did you make any plans to go back to see Logan and Liam again soon?"
She didn't answer. His question brought back the memory of Mrs. and Mr. Dunbar's glares, and her throat was suddenly tight.
Stiles misread her silence and the tension in her body.
"Just so that I can make my own plans," he explained quickly. "I don't want you to feel like you have to hurry back because I'm sitting around waiting for you."
"No," she said in a voice that sounded strange to her. "I don't have plans to go back."
"Oh. You don't have to do that for—"
"I don't think I'm welcome," she whispered.
"Did you run over someone's cat?" he asked lightly. Carter knew he didn't want to force the story out of her, but she could hear the curiosity burning behind his words.
"No." She took a deep breath, and then mumbled quickly through the explanation. "Mama and Papa Dunbar think I'm ruining Logan and Liam's lives. That since I faked my own death, I'm a bad influence on them."
Stiles was too still for a moment, controlling whatever reaction he didn't want her to see.
Then he crushed her gently to his chest. "I'm so sorry."
"I just wish we could tell everyone the truth." Carter whispered, saddened. "I would be so much easier to walk around town if everyone knew that I did, in fact, die and somehow magically came back to life."
Carter sighed and relaxed, fitting herself to the shape of him. She reached for his face, trying to pull herself up to kiss him. His arms held her tighter; she was unable to squirm even an inch away.
"It's late," he said, murmuring, almost crooning now, his voice smoother than silk. "Sleep, Carter. I'll be here when you wake up."
He started to hum something, and she knew it was only a matter of time till she succumbed, so she closed her eyes and snuggled closer into his chest.
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wow, two updates in one week, i think that's a new record! okay, i know there isn't anything related to the show in this chapter, but im just trying to get carter back into the groove of things. i mean, she has been away from her friends for half a year, she needs a little time to adjust. and i knew that i wanted carter and liam to have a big scene because i love their friendship so much!
and carter finally revealed, sort of, what her plan had been before she died. if you hadn't figured it out in part one of this book, she was planning on killing herself, thinking that if she was dead, the dread doctors would stay away from beacon hills...but obviously, nothing went as planned.
did any of you watch last night's episode of teen wolf? i wanna petition for argent and melissa because seeing him standing in her kitchen with coffee was just...AHHH! i can't. i mean, if melissa isn't going to get with the sheriff, i sure as hell wouldn't be mad if she got with chris. and, how hot do scott and malia look this season? like, damn. the two of them are seriously killing it already and only three episodes have aired.
speaking of season six, im already coming up with how i want carter to fit into the plot and im not even close to being done with season five...i cry. as soon as i saw the first episode of season six, i knew what i wanted to happen.
well, tell me what you think might happen when carter goes back to high school! what are your predictions for the rest of the season? what do you think carter will do when malakai finds raeven? i love to hear your thoughts!