┌─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───┐
chapter twenty-six!
ALLISON FREAKS OUT
└─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───┘

( anchors, pt. i )

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IT'S TWO IN the morning when a series of frantic knocks sound on the front door of the Pérez household. Vera wakes groggily, peeling her eyes open to reveal her dark bedroom and blinking against the fog of sleep clouding her brain. At first, she decides to ignore it, then remembers that where she lives, if someone is banging on their door at this hour, something is probably wrong.

She prods a sleeping Hades off of her stomach and fumbles for her glasses— now with fixed lenses from when they'd cracked in the root cellar. Her surroundings sharpen as soon as she puts them on. After tossing her blankets aside and sliding her feet into her slippers, she yawns and starts to head into the hallway.

Mai is already answering the door. She'd thrown her robe over her pajamas, her black hair messy from sleep and eyes drooping with fatigue. As Vera walks down the stairs, her mother peers through the small window beside their front door and immediately opens it once she sees who is on the other side.

"Dominic?" she questions in a voice that sounds exhausted but concerned. "¿Estás bien?" Her spine abruptly straightens as she notices something, her gaze sharpening while her motherly instincts kick in. "What's wrong?"

Vera's heartbeat quickens. She hurries toward the door, poking her head over her mother's shoulder to see her best friend on their porch in his pajamas. Dominic's face is paler than usual. His features are contorted with what looks like pain, tears clouding his eyes and running down his cheeks.

"I'm s—sorry, I know it's early," he says with his jaw clenched so his words come out clipped, "but I need a ride to Deaton's."

"Are you sure you don't want the hospital?" Mai asks. "Tell me what hurts."

Dom hesitates before slightly lifting the hem of his white t-shirt. He turns around and motions for Mai to lift it up. She grasps the material uncertainty, her brows pinching as she slowly draws it upward. She reveals nothing but the muscular planes of Dom's back at first, but when she reaches the upper portion, she and Vera both suck in gasps of surprise.

Something is moving on either side of his spine. Whatever is trapped inside pushes against the confines of his skin, stretching it before receding and trying again in another spot. Dom trembles from the pain of it, his muffled sobs causing Vera's heart to splinter.

Mai pulls his shirt back down and turns to her daughter, all traces of fatigue vanishing from her face. Her dark eyes are sharp. "Get him to the car. I'll call Alan."

Vera nods and grabs the keys to her mother's vehicle from the rack beside the coat closet. She quickly unlocks the doors before walking out with Dom, flinching when her arm brushes his.

"Jesus, Dom," she hisses, stopping him for a moment to place the back of her hand on his forehead. She has to pull it away after a second due to the intense heat. "You're burning up."

Vera sits in the backseat so she can closely monitor Dom's condition as they drive. Mai's worried eyes continuously glance at him in the rearview mirror, her cell phone pressed to her ear. His jaw stays firmly clenched and tears still roll down his face, but soon he starts to whimper. Vera's face remains pinched with concern as she watches him clench his hands into white-knuckled fists to distract himself from the pain in his back. Then he ducks his head down close to his knees and breathes heavily through his mouth. It's only a few minutes later when it turns to screams.

Mai slams her foot on the gas pedal as soon as the first shriek pierces the air. She weaves through the streets of Beacon Hills at fairly illegal speeds, her calm explanation to Deaton hardly audible over Dominic's cries. Vera feels utterly helpless, unsure of whether or not she should try to hold him. The temperature of the car increases with every passing second. Soon, droplets of sweat start to form on her forehead, forcing Mai to roll the windows down. The cool night air does next to nothing.

They careen into the parking lot just as Deaton is unlocking the front door. The bald man's head jerks up when they arrive, his brows creasing with concern since Dominic's screams are audible through open windows. He instantly rushes to help the boy out of the vehicle while Vera holds the door to the animal clinic open for them.

Deaton flicks the lights on as he assists Dominic to the examination room. The boy leans against the metal table and yanks his shirt off, then leans forward with his hands on his knees as gut-wrenching sobs interrupt his screams of agony. His hair has grown a bit damp from strain and perspiration. His beet-red face is blotchy and soaked with both sweat and tears.

Deaton's eyes instantly widen when he takes in the sight of Dominic's back. He places a hand on his shoulder and tells him, "I'm going to need you to lie on your stomach, okay? Be as still as you can so I can take a closer look."

Dom nods and situates himself on the examination table, resting his forehead on his fists so he can have room to breathe. His entire body shudders. The writhing beneath his skin has intensified, now hardly receding and merely shifting on either side of his spine, stretching his skin so much that it seems like it may tear. The sight makes Vera nauseous. Her muscles are tense with worry and fear, her gut churning with slight revulsion as well.

"What's wrong with him?" Mai questions as Deaton gently prods the moving lumps with the tips of his fingers.

The man's brows crease. "I'm not sure, Ana. I've never seen anything like this before."

"Well, aren't you supposed to be some kind of expert or something?" Vera demands before she can stop herself, the words bursting out unintentionally. Her heightened nerves have only increased her usual impulsivity. Her mother shoots her a warning look at her impatient tone.

Deaton merely glances up at her. "I'm a Druid, Vera, not a walking bestiary."

They watch as he produces a thermometer and presses the sensor to Dominic's damp forehead. When the machine beeps, he pulls it back and regards it with even more confusion. "That's alarming."

"What?" Vera asks immediately.

They all glance back at Dominic when he starts to scream again. The raw agony in his now-raspy voice makes Vera's heart drop into her stomach, her instinct to protect her friend overpowering her disgust of the squirming mass in his back as she reaches for him. But before she can touch his elbow, he pushes himself up so his knees are bent and his arms are straight out on the table. His abdomen heaves with shuddering breaths. For a moment, she thinks he's going to vomit, but then his eyes squeeze shut and he shrieks so loudly he must be shredding his vocal cords, every muscle in his body as tense as it can get.

Deaton's eyes grow impossibly wide. "Get down!"

He reaches for Vera and pulls her to the ground. She drops onto her back just in time for the horrible sound of splitting skin to greet her ears. If she hadn't been looking, she may not have believed what happens next— two ginormous, warm-colored shapes erupt from Dominic's back and knock over a few glass bottles from a nearby shelf. And in the next instant, he bursts into flames.

Heat washes over Vera from where she lies on the floor. Her mouth falls into a gape, eyes burning from the intense light of the fire dousing her friend, too filled with shock to realize that he's stopped screaming.

"Holy—" Vera starts to say, but she's cut off by the grating sound of a fire extinguisher. Dominic puts a hand over his eyes as white powder douses him from head-to-toe, the unbearable warmth in the room slowly beginning to fade as the fire dies. Mai stands with the small, hand-held device, her shoulders heaving and her hair falling into her face.

Deaton is the first to approach the boy again. He gets to his feet and waves away the chemicals in the air, peering at the oddly-shaped things that had just burst from beneath Dominic's skin.

Vera slowly rises as well. Now that she's standing, she can see that they aren't just things— they're wings. Wings decorated with orange-and-red feathers, extended out so far that they nearly brush each wall, the spaces where they meet Dominic's skin slightly oozing blood that drips onto the metal table.

Mai places the fire extinguisher onto a shelf and stares at Dominic in shock. It's rare to see her like this, without a single thing to say, as if the words had fled her brain. Her headstrong mother always has a word to put in. But as she regards Dom's heaving body and the white powder now lightly coating his body, she can't find anything to add.

"Wh—What—?" Dom asks, his voice hoarse and panicked. "Was I just on fire?"

"It seems so," Deaton replies calmly. He continues examining the gigantic wings that are still spread out. They're beautiful, but also seem painful, and she isn't sure that Dominic is even aware that they exist. That fact becomes evident when Deaton gently pokes the side of one and Dominic's entire body does a reflexive jolt.

"What the hell was that?" he questions.

"You, uh..." Vera rubs the nape of her neck, "you kinda have wings, dude."

"What?" Dom twists his head in an attempt to see them, straightening up and knocking more stuff from shelves in the process. Vera cringes when glass jars shatter to pieces on the floor. "Oops. Sorry."

"Why don't you just stay still?" Deaton suggests. His tone is polite, but there's exasperation lurking on his face as he looks down at the broken glass. "Can you control them?"

Dominic's face contorts. The wings slightly fold inward, but his skin soon flushes again from the strain of it, and he stops with a gasp.

"It — It hurts," he says. "Holy shit. Feels like... like all of my muscles have been shredded."

"Okay. Why don't you take a second to breathe, and I'll continue examining them."

Vera blinks in an attempt to process what had just happened. She'd just watched her best friend burst into flames before her eyes and turn out completely fine afterward. And on top of that, he has wings. The warm-colored feathers are slightly darker at the bottom of the pair, creating an ombre effect that's dazzling. The blood that had formed around their bases is already starting to dry.

She glances down at the half-healed scar from her sparring session with Isaac. The three claw slashes had been prominent ever since she'd received them, but after she'd sat with Dominic in her room, part of the ugly lines had disappeared. The only thing she remembers getting on them is his tears.

Healing tears. Wings. Bursting into flames. Vera had paid enough attention while watching Harry Potter to make a guess as to what Dominic might be without the aid of a bestiary.

She has a hunch that he might be a phoenix.

— ✯✯✯ —

The return to school the following morning doesn't ease Vera's anxiety whatsoever. Dominic is going to spend the day at Deaton's as the man helps him retract his ginormous wings and make sure he won't spontaneously combust into flames again, but it turns out that his new shape-shifting abilities are only the beginning of their friend group's problems— Scott, Stiles, and Allison are all experiencing awfully strange side-effects of their ritual. Stiles can't tell whether he's awake or asleep while the other two are experiencing terrifying hallucinations.

Out of their group, Vera, Isaac, and Lydia appear the most normal, which is probably the weirdest part of all. When the ex-fugitive whose dad had been killed by a giant lizard, the phantom whose guts had nearly been ripped to shreds, and the banshee are the least crazy of the bunch, it's time to start worrying.

It's early October— their plight with the Alphas has been over for nearly a month. After weeks of work, Miss Morris' sixth-period art class is finally finished with their portrait projects. Vera has to admit that the class has slowly become her favorite. There's something about it that's peaceful — that is, when Donovan isn't making her want to bash her head in — and it feels like a time where she can finally breathe. She doesn't have to focus on anything except her paint. And she has come to appreciate the hour she can spend staring at Isaac.

Something has definitely changed between them, and it's not just the revelation that she's his anchor. Vera has a habit of bending her legs and curling into the weirdest positions when she's in the zone, and once she had been doing that as she'd struggled to perfect the color of her paint. Her glasses were slipping down her nose, a few flyaways from her ponytail had been hanging in her face, and her bottom lip had been trapped between her teeth, but she'd eventually felt his eyes and had caught him looking with a small smile on his face.

"Alright, class," Miss Morris says. "Today is the day where you'll finally see the outcome of your partner's hard work over the past month. You may now trade your portraits."

Vera's leg bounces up and down. She isn't sure why she's nervous, but a furious swarm of butterflies is attacking her gut anyways. Maybe it's because she's aware of Isaac's teasing nature. Even though she'd joked about painting him abstract on the first day of their project, the truth is that she'd worked incredibly hard on her piece, and her pride will be absolutely destroyed if he makes fun of her art.

She eventually decides to just rip the bandage off and passes her painting to Isaac. Miss Morris had given her permission to use Georgia O'Keefe as her muse— a woman who had been infamous for painting fine details of flowers so the center of a daffodil would take up the entire canvas. Vera's piece involves an extremely close-up image of Isaac's side profile. She'd gotten the slope of his nose and the tiniest bit of curls on the sides of the canvas, but the main focus is his eye. Even when she couldn't stand Isaac, she'd been intrigued by the sheer beauty of their baby-blue hue, especially in comparison to her brown ones. His eye is directed toward an unseen light source that emphasizes the contour of his cheekbone.

"Wow," Isaac mutters. It takes a moment for the word to register in Vera's mind. She hadn't noticed that she'd squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation of his response, so she opens them and is surprised to see shock on his face. "In all honesty, I was expecting a stick figure."

Vera rolls her eyes. "I wouldn't do that. I want a decent grade on this project."

"It's great," he tells her honestly, causing her to beam at him. "You even captured my good side."

Before she can fire back a retort, Isaac passes her his painting. Vera is so stunned even by the first glimpse that she almost forgets to take the canvas. The version of her in the artwork is shown from the collarbones-up, and it would be a normal portrait if it hadn't been for her eyes. Somehow, Isaac had managed to capture the bright glow of her eyes that happens when she uses some of her phantom abilities, casting a faint, bluish shadow on the rest of her face. Her hair seems a bit blown back by an invisible wind— or maybe due to flight. She appears ghastly yet, in a way, beautiful.

One thing that's clear is that Vera hadn't transformed during their class, so Isaac must have relied entirely on memory to paint the phantom aspects of the artwork. The fact that he'd paid so much attention to her makes her cheeks flush a bit.

"Isaac..." she trails off as her gaze travels along the fine details of the painting, searching for the right words to say, "this... wow."

"I found an artist who had done paintings of monsters," he explains. "I couldn't resist."

"It's amazing. Now I kind of forgive you for being so secretive."

Everyone hangs their paintings in the hallway outside of the art classroom. Isaac has to help her because she can't reach her spot on the wall, so he places a hand on the small of her back and reaches up to hang the canvas. Every nerve of Vera's becomes acutely aware of the contact. If this had happened at the beginning of the year, he probably would have just laughed at her and allowed her to struggle. But now he helps without being asked, stepping in just in time, enabling them to work as if they share one mind.

This is getting to be too much for her to handle.

In an effort to get a much-needed break from boys, Vera joins Lydia and Allison for target practice in the woods. Apparently Allison has been struggling not only with terrifying hallucinations, but also with severe tremors to the point where she can hardly keep her pencil steady when she writes. For a skilled archer, this is somewhat of a problem.

Vera holds the paper target onto the tree as Lydia attaches it to the bark with pins. The strawberry blonde smooths it out until she's satisfied, then nods at Vera to put her arms down.

"Do you really think this is going to help?" Allison asks from where she stands a fair distance from the tree. Her turquoise sweater is the only thing that makes her figure discernable from her surroundings.

"I know that if you think it's not going to help, it definitely won't," Lydia replies matter-of-factly. Her heeled ankle boots slightly sink into the dirt as they return to Allison, making Vera offer her arm out because she's wearing Doc Martens and jeans. Lydia considers it for a second before accepting it, placing her hand on Vera's wrist so she can walk more steadily. Once they reach their archer friend, she clears her throat and rubs her hands together. "So get your head into it! Shoot a few and see what happens."

"You've got this, Ally," Vera tells her. "Your dad always said you were a natural."

Allison arms herself with a bow practically the height of Vera, the black gloves on her hands protecting her fingers as she nocks the first arrow onto it. The rest stay in a quiver at her feet.

She draws the string back, and, right away, Vera can tell that the shot won't be good. The sound of the arrow rattling against the bow is audible even over the rustling leaves and chirping of birds around them. Lydia hadn't been lying when she'd said her hands were unsteady, but Vera hadn't expected it to be this serious.

The arrow releases with a sharp whistling sound. It clears the distance to the tree, but falls pitifully downward and eventually embeds itself into the ground to the right of the trunk. Vera blinks; she doesn't think she's ever seen Allison miss a shot.

The second attempt hits the dirt before it even reaches the tree. Allison's cherry-red lip disappears under her teeth as she regards both misses with disdain. Lydia, however, is already analyzing the best method to fix things, her hands on her hips and brows furrowed.

"Maybe hold the string a different way," she suggests. "Try the Mongolian draw."

When she notices the surprised expressions of Vera and Allison, she gives them an annoyed look. "What? I read."

Every day is a shock that Lydia used to pretend to be an airhead.

Vera crosses her arms over her chest, pressing her leather jacket closer to her as a breeze blows by. Allison angles the bow diagonally and waits a moment. They all anticipate the shot with bated breath, only for the third arrow to clatter uselessly to the earth as well.

"Okay, um..." Lydia briefly casts a wide-eyed look to Vera before placing her hands on Allison's shoulders. "Take a second to close your eyes" — Allison does, her breath coming out in a slow exhale through her nose — "and imagine the arrow going into the target."

When the girl opens her eyes again, she immediately stiffens. Vera follows her stare in an attempt to determine what had startled her, but there's nothing beyond the afternoon sunlight drifting through the trees.

"What's wrong?" Vera asks her.

"Did you see that?" Allison questions with her brows pinched.

Lydia blinks in confusion. "See what?"

The raven-haired girl bends down to retrieve her quiver and slings it over her shoulder. Her calculating eyes stay glued to the same spot the entire time, as if looking away will cause a catastrophe.

"Wait here," she tells them, her voice slightly distracted as she begins to walk toward the unknown source of her unease.

"Are you serious?" Lydia demands.

"I'll be right back."

She sucks in an annoyed breath and hisses out, "You did not just say that!"

Vera places a gentle hand on her arm to calm her down. She looks at the three separate arrows that are on the ground, a troubled frown pulling down her mouth. This thing that's affecting them, whatever it may be, must be psychological, so there has to be a way to fix it, right?

"I'll pick them up," she tells Lydia. Leaves crunch under the soles of her boots as she makes the trek to each fallen arrow. Sometimes she has to put in a decent amount of effort to wrench them out of the ground, gritting her teeth and twisting until she finally has all three.

"Lydia?" Allison's voice calls. "Vera? Where—"

She cuts herself off as if she'd heard something else. Vera looks over to see Allison standing mere yards away from her, and yet seeing right through her as if she's not even there. She checks to make sure she hadn't accidentally become invisible, but no, she's definitely present.

Allison becomes more panicked. She alternates from side to side, clearly disoriented, calling for both girls with fear lacing her voice. It takes Vera a moment to realize that she must be trapped inside another one of her hallucinations.

"Allison?" Vera takes a step forward to help her, but is caught by a hand on her wrist. She turns to see Lydia shaking her head.

"You can't. It's like trying to wake a person when they're sleepwalking— you don't know how they'll react."

"So, what?" she asks. "Are we supposed to just watch?"

It's painful, seeing her friend become so frightened of something only she can see, unable to realize that help is right there with her. And then she stops moving altogether. For a moment, Vera thinks everything is over, but then she recognizes the same fear on Allison's face.

Lydia's hand slips from her grip. Vera takes another cautious step forward, then another, and finally, Allison's eyes lock onto her figure. Instead of relieved, she looks the most horrified she's been yet. Vera doesn't have time to yell before Allison nocks an arrow into her bow and fires the one perfect shot she's made all day directly at her head.

It's instinctual. Vera becomes intangible before the arrow can pierce her, but she hadn't realized Lydia had been a few feet behind her. It's thanks to Isaac that she ends up alive. He appears out of nowhere, grabbing the arrow in mid-air and stopping it mere inches from the bridge of Lydia's nose.

Allison snaps out of her hallucination just as Vera returns her body to normal. Her eyes grow to the size of small planets, her bow dropping to the ground as she realizes what she had almost done. "Oh my God. Oh my God, guys. I'm so — I'm so sorry."

"It was my fault," Vera assures her, her heartbeat a wild thud in her ears from the near-death of herself and her friend. "Lydia told me not to do anything, and I still moved. Are you okay?"

She tries to walk toward her, but Allison instantly takes a step back. "No!" Vera stops, watching as Allison flickers her gaze between the two girls before picking up her belongings and starting to walk back the way they'd arrived. "I can't control these things I'm seeing, and I don't want to hurt you. Please, just..."

Vera's expression softens. "Can you at least tell us what you saw?"

Allison stops, turning her head back just enough for them to see her guarded expression as she replies, "My aunt."

After she leaves, Vera and Lydia take down the practice target and start to head back as well with Isaac in tow. The air is heavy with the reality of their situation.

"We have to do something," Vera says.

"Like what?" Isaac questions.

"I don't know, but it has to be before she accidentally kills one of us for real." Vera nudges an uncharacteristically quiet Lydia in the side with her elbow. "I'm really sorry for ghosting out, Lyds. That arrow was meant for me."

Some of the life drains back into the girl as she turns to face Vera with widened eyes. "Are you kidding me? You don't have to apologize— it was instinct."

The arrow would have gone through the upper portion of Lydia's nose. Since Vera is several inches shorter than her, the thing was meant to go straight through her forehead. It would've been deadly for either of them.

It's only then when Vera realizes Isaac's random appearance. "Not that I'm not grateful that you saved Lydia's life or anything, but why are you here?"

"Oh, uh, I was just... uh..." Isaac stammers, rubbing the back of his neck, "around."

Vera and Lydia share a disbelieving glance.

"Around," the strawberry blonde repeats, "in the middle of the woods? Exactly where we happened to be?"

"Yeah, just... jogging."

Vera examines him up and down. He's still in the same clothes he'd worn at school. "Jogging in a sweater and jeans?"

"Didn't feel like changing. When you've got the urge to run..."

Vera rolls her eyes and gives up, deciding that she won't push it right now since it's clear he doesn't want to tell the truth. The rest of the walk back to the road is quiet as they all ponder what to do about their struggling friends. Maybe Vera can postpone her homework and do some research on Allison's case. Dom should be back from Deaton's by now— hopefully he's feeling better and has sounder control over his transformations so they have one less thing to worry about. Scott is already struggling to control his shift; they don't need two supernatural teenage boys letting their secret out on school grounds.

She invites Lydia over to keep her company, but she insists that she wants to do some investigations herself, so they hug and depart near the edge of the preserve. Lydia drives away in her car, making Vera incredibly thankful that they'd all driven separately because she doesn't have room for three on her bike. Speaking of driving...

"How did you get here?" Vera asks Isaac.

"I walked," he answers simply.

She stares at him. "You walked. From school. To the preserve. To 'go on a jog'. Come on, Isaac, I'm not stupid. What is it? Are you hallucinating, too? Do you miss Derek?"

At the mention of their former Alpha, Isaac looks away. Vera's expression turns serious. "Woah, hey, is that it?"

"Not Derek specifically," he admits, still avoiding her gaze, "but, I mean, Erica's gone, Boyd's gone, and now he is, too. I don't know what to do with myself."

"Oh my God." A slow grin pulls up Vera's lips. "You're attached."

"What?" Isaac looks stricken as he finally looks back down at her. "No."

Vera repeatedly pokes him in the stomach with both index fingers, one after the other, still grinning. "You're attached to me! Like a little puppy. You're attached to meeee—"

"Stop," he commands, trying to bat her hands away. "Oh my God, you're small and annoying. You're like a little gremlin."

He finally grabs both of her hands and twists her wrists to lock them in place, then turns her around so her back is pressed to his chest. Vera stays trapped in his grip with widened eyes for a moment. His sweater is warm and he's so tall that his body heat and the scent of her cologne practically smother her, his heart beating beside her head. They stand like that for a few startled seconds before he releases her.

"You really act like a youngest sibling, you know that?" Isaac asks.

"Aren't you a younger sibling?" she fires back, then immediately falters once she realizes what she'd said. Nobody mentions Camden Lahey anymore. He'd been around Derek's age, she remembers, and always well-liked. He'd joined the army after graduating high school and had been killed in combat.

She opens her mouth to apologize profusely, cursing her mouth for working faster than her brain, but Isaac manages a good-natured chuckle and mumbles, "Touché."

Vera gives him a small, apologetic smile that doesn't show her teeth and walks toward her motorcycle. "Alright, grab a helmet. I'll bring you back to Scott's. But a word of advice— next time you want to go jogging, the woods really aren't the best place."

_________

a/n:

i spent this entire chapter being upset that isaac lahey isn't real because i want a bf like him SO BADLY OH MY GOD. 🎶lonelyyyy, i'm so lonelyyyyy🎶

also yes !!! dom is a phoenix !!! some of you already guessed it but others thought he was a hellhound. i've been wanting to use other supernatural creatures who weren't in the show, so i went with a phoenix! i've actually had it planned from the beginning, which you can tell if you scroll all the way down on his section of the pinterest board. that thing is just full of spoilers but i don't care. i have some really exciting things planned for him so i'm pumped!!

—kristyn

TRANSLATIONS:

¿Estás bien?: Are you okay?

( word count: 5.1k )