┌─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───┐
chapter thirty-two!
VIBE CHECK
└─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───┘

( illuminated, pt. ii )

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

THE LOFT IS alive in the dead of night. The black light fixtures illuminate everything bright enough to glow, dousing faces in darkness but causing their clothes to shine. Strobe lights flicker near the DJ stationed by the window, flashing into the hoard of dancing teenagers jumping to the beat of the electronic music. It's so loud that the floor shakes, pulsing under their feet, making the room feel alive and excited along with them. Empty plastic cups litter the floor while the sharp scent of alcohol taints the air.

Many of the partygoers are adorned in neon paint. You can see the designs on someone before you can actually see their face, swirling on chests and lips and across foreheads. Some people have worn bright wigs, clothing, or other miscellaneous accessories, proving that a blacked-out town can't stop them from being loud and radiant.

Vera is at the paint station with Isaac situated on the chair in front of her. She stands close enough to get the details on his face just right, meaning she has to be between his open legs, her face dangerously close to his as she drags a brush dipped in green paint across his cheekbone.

Her heart is well-aware of their close proximity. It pounds against her ribs, making her hands tremble ever-so-slightly, forcing her to grip the handle of the paintbrush tighter to prevent mistakes. She doesn't even care that Isaac can hear. She's sure his senses are overloaded anyway, what with the scent of her perfume and the deafening music in combination with the blinding neon colors plastered on everyone. It must be hell for a werewolf.

It doesn't help that Isaac is probably the worst person to be painting. He fidgets constantly, making her have to draw back before she can mess up, which becomes very annoying by the seventh time.

"Hold still," she commands as she grabs his chin and pulls him back into place. "You're gonna make me drag a stupid line across your face."

Isaac rubs at the back of his neck. "Argent's twenty-four hours are almost up. Shouldn't we tell Scott about the things that attacked me last night?"

"Scott isn't here." Vera takes an orange brush and swirls paint below his eye to contrast the blue hue of his iris.

"I know, but I just feel like we should tell him—"

"Isaac."

He looks at her for the first time since he'd sat down. She'd already done her own makeup prior to his arrival, covering the sides of her face in fluorescent pink sequins that travel down her temples and across her cheekbones like little stars. She'd applied glow-in-the-dark glitter to her collarbones, the lines of her neck, and the hollow of her throat, accentuating each feature, even the curves on her chest, but that part remains hidden under her black t-shirt. A leather mini skirt from Erica hugs her thighs and backside. Per Lydia's suggestion, she'd taken a pair of wide fishnet tights and spray-painted them bright green.

Lydia had also begged to do her hair. It's parted down the middle with both front sections tied back from her face. They're secured in a half-up pigtail style with elastics, complete with even more glitter that Lydia had dumped generously along her part. She doesn't know how she's going to get it out, but she has to admit that it looks fantastic. She looks fantastic.

Isaac swallows and avoids her gaze after his eyes rake down her throat. Vera catches the look with a knowing smirk.

"Am I making you nervous? Is that it?" she asks teasingly.

"No," Isaac replies.

Vera knows it's a lie, but pretends to believe him. She shrugs and says, "Okay," then plops down on his lap and continues to paint.

It has the intended effect. Vera has to place a hand on his chest for balance, and as she does, she can feel his heart thundering beneath her palm. It's synced to the beat of the music and the pulsing floor.

Isaac remains perfectly still after that. It's like he's afraid to move, his muscles rigid and every limb strung tightly as if he's a puppet held tight by its strings. It allows Vera to finish the side of his face quickly. Before, she'd wanted to do his entire face, but this had taken longer than she'd expected, and she doesn't want to sit here and paint him all night. She actually wants to get a chance to enjoy the party.

Once she's done, she sets the paintbrushes down on their designated table and stands. Isaac blinks, looking up at her as if zoning back into his surroundings.

"Come on," she tells him. "Let's dance."

"I'm not really a dancing kind of person."

Vera rolls her eyes. She'd figured a response like that was coming, so she hadn't revealed her full costume yet per Lydia's advice. When the two had gotten ready together, Lydia had something about Isaac being a killjoy until he sees her outfit, which will then "make him die."

So she grasps the hem of her t-shirt and yanks it over her head, careful not to mess up her makeup, then shakes out her hair and tosses it aside. The darkness of the shirt had concealed the neon green lace bralette underneath. The lines of glitter draw even more attention to her, twinkling under the lights.

Isaac's widened eyes fall straight to her chest. It happens so quickly Vera almost laughs at the sheer boyishness of the action, but she keeps her face nonchalant as she takes a step back.

"Fine, I'll go find someone else to dance with," she says. "You know, that girl with the blue hair has been staring at me all ni—"

"Actually, I'm a great dancer. I love dancing. It's all I ever want to do," Isaac says so quickly that his words jumble together.

Vera grins and grasps his hand, pulling him to his feet. "That's what I thought."

They squeeze through the throng of dancers. Vera squints as the strobe lights flash into her eyes, the music becoming louder the closer they get to the DJ. The person wears a helmet that flashes more light everywhere they turn their head, illuminating the crowd in bursts. The floor vibrates so violently under her platform combat boots that she feels the sensation traveling up her legs. The shoes give her an extra four inches of height, but Isaac still towers over her so much that it hardly makes a difference.

She locates a fairly empty spot and turns around so she's facing him again. He glances around at the people surrounding them and makes a face when someone bumps into his shoulder, his arms stiff with discomfort.

"Okay, I lied, I don't really know how to dance," he admits as he bends down to speak into her ear. His voice is almost lost to the music, but she's able to hear him.

Vera raises a brow. "That's also a lie. Remember the rave? You, me, Erica, and Jackson? You knew plenty about dancing then."

"Yeah, but that was a ruse," he reminds her. "That was acting so I could stab a needle into Jackson. I actually have no idea what to do right now."

She grabs his hands and places them on her hips. He's clearly hesitant to touch her given her topless nature, his fingers locked in place and barely grazing her bare skin. All of the confidence he'd exhibited during their first kiss is gone.

The song switches to something base-heavy and wild. The energy in the room increases by a tenfold, the teenagers around them jumping, twisting, and swaying to the beat that thuds from the speakers. It gives Vera a rush of adrenaline that begs her body to move. She hasn't been to a party in so long, and she needs to let loose.

Vera slides her hand up to the back of Isaac's neck and pulls him down until their lips meet. The second they do, he becomes less stiff, his grip relaxing on her hips. She starts to pull away but he reigns her back in with his fingertips dancing along the dips of her spine. The other hand drifts downward just enough to brush over her backside. Vera gasps in surprise at the sudden, bold movement, granting Isaac the opportunity to deepen the kiss and slide his tongue past hers.

"HO — LY FUCK. THIS IS NOT HOW I EXPECTED TO FIND OUT ABOUT THIS."

Vera knows without looking that the voice screaming to be heard over the music is Dominic. He'd chosen to go all-out with his paint, having used orange to create fluorescent flames that cover his toned abdomen, chest, and travel up his neck. It's clear that he's taking the whole "becoming supernatural" thing to the next level. But considering how she'd seen one guy with lizard scales painted on him and Aiden is wearing glow-in-the-dark fangs, he blends right in.

She blindly reaches over until she makes contact with his bare chest — she can tell it's him because of his intense body heat — and shoves him away, but not before he shouts, "HAVE FUN PLAYING TONSIL HOCKEY!"

Vera breaks the kiss and turns in his grip so her back is pressed to his front, their bodies flush up against each other. Isaac brushes her hair aside. She feels his breath ghost against the shell of her ear, then eventually his lips on her neck. Her eyes close, neck tilting to the side as her hips roll.

Both of them get lost in the music and the bubble surrounding them on the dance floor, leaving them attuned to only each other and nothing else. It takes Vera a while to notice her pounding headache. She presses a hand to her temple with a wince, causing Isaac to instantly stop.

"You okay?" he questions.

"My head hurts," she replies, her skull throbbing with a near-dizzying pain when her eyes open, sharp like a knife stabbing her skin. "I've got my bag in the next room. I'll take some painkillers— be right back."

The strobe lights and roaring music don't help her case. She pushes past glowing bodies and is almost to the door when she notices a familiar form heading in the same direction. Dominic walks with his posture coiled tight and mouth pinched, his eyebrows scrunched together. Vera hurries toward him as quickly as she can in her platform boots and places a concerned hand on his shoulder.

"Dom?" she asks. "What's wrong?"

Dominic turns and gives a pointed stare somewhere behind them. Vera follows his gaze until she notices Stiles sitting on the spiral staircase leading to the second floor, a girl in an orange wig practically in his lap with their mouths mashed together. Some of the paint on her lips has started to transfer to Stiles' face.

"Oh," she says, because that's all she can think of to say to that. If there was one thing she'd expected from Stiles tonight, it was not that. "Are you okay? Do you want to talk?"

"I'm good," Dom answers through gritted teeth. "I'm gonna go cool off."

Vera notices flames licking at his clenched fists, so he means that both literally and figuratively. She can feel the heat radiating from him. It's even warmer than usual, increasing with the riot of emotions contained within him. Apparently they get more difficult to control when he loses his grip on his feelings.

He storms away before she can get out another word. By the time she makes it to the hallway and closes the heavy metal door behind her, he's nowhere to be found. The only sign that he'd been here is the warmth that lingers in the air.

Vera rubs at her pulsing temples as she walks to the unused room beside the loft. She, the twins, Danny, and Lydia had stashed their belongings here for safekeeping. She notices Aiden's leather jacket tossed over a dust-coated chair. Danny's equipment bags are neatly placed against the wall. Locating the girls' purses is easy— Lydia's is as ginormous as a bowling bag, and probably just as heavy. Vera's clutch is much smaller and holds only her essentials.

She locates her bottle of painkillers and grabs a water bottle from Lydia's purse. As she chugs it, she notices movement from the corner of her eye. It's probably only a car's headlights streaming into the window from the parking lot, but she turns anyway.

A pair of glowing eyes stares right down at her.

She chokes in surprise. The water bottle drops from her grip, sending the lukewarm liquid splashing onto the ground. It's just how Isaac had described. The eyes, a bright yellow-green like a firefly, stare at her from behind a silver mask. It's drawn into a snarl with gleaming fangs and deep lines in the forehead. Behind that is nothing but complete darkness. The figure is clothed entirely in black with a hood pulled over the head, emphasizing their sinister appearance.

Vera's first instinct is to punch, but the figure disappears in a puff of darkness before her fist can make contact with its jaw. She turns toward the door to make a run for it. Another creature blocks her path, standing with its legs planted shoulder-width apart and a hand on the sword strapped to its side. It hadn't moved there— it's like it had come from the shadows themselves.

She turns invisible and is about to drop through the floor when the figure reaches forward and seizes her by the back of the head, causing her to immediately turn visible once again. Even when she tries to phase out of their grip, she finds her powers useless. They don't work. It's almost like they've been turned off, making her as human as she'd been eight months ago.

The gloved hand firmly grips the back of her neck, their thumb digging into the space behind her ear. Those luminous eyes bore into her own. Vera tries to fight her way out of the strange hold, but she's frozen. None of her limbs answer to her brain's order, leaving her to thrash within her mind while her body is completely still.

Vera feels like she isn't the only one in her brain. She can sense another presence inside, rifling through her memories and the depths of her thoughts. There's nothing she can do to fight them off, instead forced to comply as her mind is violated.

The place where the creature's thumb is pressed begins to burn. Vera doesn't have the freedom to even wince at the agony before they abruptly release her on unsteady legs, where she crumples to the ground. It feels like they'd dumped her in an ice bath. Her body has never felt this cold, like all the warmth has been leached from her, causing her teeth to chatter and goosebumps to prickle her exposed skin.

And the figures melt into the shadows again, leaving her alone.

She can't even open her mouth to call for help. When she tries to make a noise, she finds her voice trapped in her throat as if the figure had stolen her ability to speak. It doesn't matter. With the music so boisterous she can hear the muffled beat through the walls, nobody would be able to hear her, anyway.

Vera doesn't know how long she lies there on the cold floor. The water from her bottle seeps into her skin, making her shiver even more violently, her muscles so taut they begin to ache. But then she hears something— heavy footsteps in the hallway. Judging by how they pound against the floor, the person is irate. The metal door to Derek's loft squeals as it opens. Moments later, the music cuts off, followed by Derek's voice bellowing, "GET OUT!"

It causes a stampede. People rush out, their feet thundering on the floor in a mad dash to escape. Nobody will come in here, though. None of them would have a reason to; only a few belongings are in this room.

She finds it odd that Isaac hadn't come to look for her yet, but she soon realizes why. Though her ears ring due to the absence of the deafening music, she can still decipher a wolfish growl sounding through the wall. Then come the distinct sounds of battle. Vera wonders if the shadowy figures had decided to attack the rest of her friends as well, and what that might mean. What if they all become paralyzed like she is? How long will this last?

It seems like ages have passed since she entered this room. Finally, she detects someone running into the hallway, followed by Derek's voice calling her name.

He follows either her scent or the sound of her rapid heartbeat. Soon, he's lightly shaking her, then picking her up in his burly arms bridal-style, one hand near her back and the other tucked under her knees. His chest is warm. It's not enough. Vera doesn't think she'll ever feel proper warmth again.

"I've got her," Derek tells someone in the hallway as he carries her out. "They got to her, too."

Vera is able to make the first noise she can muster in what seems like forever— a strangled-sounding, terrified whimper that may have been undetectable to a normal person. But Derek hears it. He looks down at her, his thick eyebrows pinched in determination and concern. His harsh features soften when he sees the sheer terror in her eyes.

"Hey, it's okay," he tells her gently. "You're okay."

"Shit," Isaac curses from somewhere in the room.

"Put her by the heater," Scott commands — when had he gotten here? — and causes Derek to set Vera down with her back against the wall of the loft. Heat blasts from a nearby vent. She still shudders but greedily accepts the warmth as it slowly defrosts her.

Derek drapes his leather jacket around her shoulders, pointedly covering her chest. He keeps a hand on her arm to keep her from falling over. She still has no control over her body.

She takes a moment to look around the black-lit room. A woozy-looking Ethan is being held up by Allison, another person whom Vera didn't see arrive. The pink and blue paint on his chest makes it look like it had been slashed open in ribbons. Scott is helping Aiden and Dominic toward another vent. It seems that those creatures had indeed chosen this night to attack multiple members of their party at once. But why?

Isaac moves forward to kneel in front of Vera, but Derek holds out a hand with a fierce look. "You, back up."

It takes Vera a moment to realize that their scents must be all over each other. She would roll her eyes if she wasn't so petrified.

Instead of fighting an obviously enraged Derek, Isaac obeys and stays out of reach. His eyes still lock onto Vera's as he says, "Argent's twenty-four hours are up."

_________

a/n:

hnnggnagagewrwiojalga. that's it that's all i have to say.

in all seriousness though, i had a lot of fun writing this chapter and it's one i've had planned for a long time! i hope you all liked it. i loved creating vera's outfit because it's very 2011-ish and also cute. 

now that derek is officially back, he'll get to react to the change in vera and isaac's relationship and it will definitely be interesting. he still kinda sees her as a little girl because he was gone for five years of her life, so he's like "no SHIRT??? unacceptable" *covers her in 18 blankets*

—kristyn

thank you to remuslupout for creating this FANTASTIC signoff gif!!! i'll be putting it in every author's note so we can all gawk at its beauty every time <3

( word count: 3.3k )