The Usurpers

Sending them straight to class was super cruel. Stiles could see how much Finstock enjoyed doing that. And worse: he actually forced Stiles to go see the guidance counselor first! Marin Morrell had dark skin, straight black hair and brown dead-fish eyes. She was the kind of person who always answered your questions with more questions. Luckily, she said nothing about Stiles's return and asked very few questions about what he had done while away. She gave him his new schedule and sent him on his way.

Malia and another guardian, Chris Argent (no relation to Gerard or Kate), escorted Stiles to the guardian's gym for first period. Since seventy percent of the people in Beacon Hills Academy were creatures of the night, everyone had to take on a night's schedule. Seeing the sun was a luxury most of them didn't have.

Once there, again all eyes fell on Stiles. He thought it was better to pretend he was a rock-god—although some of the looks he was getting made him rather feel like a circus freak. But hell if he was going to let them intimidate him. He had once ruled this school! Of course, most of the credit was due Scott's status as royal prince, but still...

Stiles scanned the crowd for a familiar face. Most of them were guys. Typical. But one of the few girls caught his eye and he grinned.

"Wipe that smile off your face, Stilinski," she said, faking annoyance. "If you're going to think about me naked, do it in your free time."

A few snorts and snickers broke the awed silence. Erica Reyes was looking good. Her wild blonde hair grew in every direction which made her look a little crazy, but Stiles had to admit it was kind of hot. She set her sexy cat-like eyes on him and everything felt like it was before.

He stepped forward with a shrug. "It's always free time for me, E."

"Well, I guess now as good a time as any," she muttered.

"It's always a good time to think about you naked, Erica," Boyd, another one of Stiles's friends, added.

Malia Tate shook her head and walked off. Chris Argent followed her. As for Stiles, he was glad. His friends made him feel right at home. The instructor barked orders for all of them and Erica picked Stiles as her partner. "Let's see what you've been doing all this time." 

An hour later, she had her answer. "Not practicing, huh?" Erica extended a hand and helped Stiles up from the mat.

"I hate you," he told her, staggering along as the class put the equipment back.

"Well, of course you do. But hey, you're still walking. That's something." She grinned mockingly. Then her face turned serious. "What are you going to do now, Stiles? There's no way you'll be able to take your trials in the spring. Not like this."

"They're making me take extra practice sessions," he explained. "I'll be ready."

"Extra sessions with whom?"

"That girl. Tate."

Erica stopped walking and stared at him. "You're putting in extra time with Tate?"

"Yeah, so what?"

"So the girl's insane! Don't you remember her? She was a foreign student, right? All quiet and antisocial? Barely left her dorm and used to kick everybody's asses? We all hated her, remember? I guess she was so lonely she put on so much extra time and graduated earlier. Man, she's going to destroy you!"

Stiles had the vague memory of the person Erica described. Only he didn't remember her being so... so... well, pretty. Or maybe he had never really noticed her... until now...

The next class covered the essentials of being a bodyguard of magical creatures. The instructor, Adrian Harris, was around his thirties and he always looked pissed off. That look intensified when he saw Stiles.

"Stilinski, what a privilege! How very generous of you to take time out of your busy schedule and share your knowledge with us."

In a great show of self-control, Stiles kept his mouth shut. He was perfectly aware that a few guardians, including Malia Tate, lingered in the back of the classroom. Outside the Academy, guardians focused on one-on-one protection. Here, they worked shifts guarding the school as a whole and monitoring classes.

"So, Stilinski," Harris said, cheerfully. "Enlighten us about your protective techniques. Presumably you must have had some sort of plan the rest of us couldn't understand when you took an underage half-breed royal out of the Academy and exposed him to constant threats."

"We never ran into any vamps," Stiles replied stiffly.

"That is obvious," said Harris with a snicker, "seeing as how you're still alive." Stiles didn't respond. "So what'd you do? How'd you make sure McCall stayed safe? Did you avoid going out at night? I suppose you slept during the day and stayed on guard at night."

Stiles hesitated. "Er... no."

"No? But that's one of the first things mentioned in the chapter on solo guarding. Oh wait... you wouldn't know that because you weren't here."

"Look, I kept Scott safe," Stiles retorted. "I watched him. He's still alive, isn't he?"

Harris crossed his arms. "Because you got lucky."

Stiles shook his head. "It's safer out there than you guys make it sound."

"Safer? We're at war with the usurpers!" Harris yelled. "A full-grown vampire could walk right up to you and snap your neck before you even noticed him. You might have the advantage of not being harmed by the sun, but you are nothing compared to the Cold Ones. They are deadly, and they are powerful. And do you know what makes them more powerful?"

"Magical blood," Stiles answered, begrudgingly.

Harris nodded in satisfaction. "Yes. It does. It makes them stronger and harder to destroy. They'll kill and drink from humans, but they want magical blood more than anything else. They seek it. They've turned to the dark side to gain immortality, and they want to do whatever they can to keep it. Groups of Cold Ones have raided academies exactly like this one. There are those who are almost impossible to kill. And that is why our numbers are dropping. We aren't strong enough."

Stiles stared at his own hands. He knew Harris was waiting for him to start yelling, throwing things, making hell. He was not going to give him the satisfaction.

"Well," Harris said, watching him carefully. "It looks like you've learned something after all: how to control your temper. Now we'll have to see if you can learn enough to pass this class and qualify for your field experience next semester."

Two classes later, Stiles finally earned his breakfast escape. He stumbled across campus toward the commons and Malia Tate fell into step beside him.

"Wanna teach me a lesson, too?" he asked.

"No," she said dryly. "I was just wondering... Was Guardian Harris right? Do you think you were fully prepared to protect Scott McCall out there?"

Stiles stopped walking. "I did keep him alive," he told her.

"How did you do fighting against your classmates today?"

Stiles didn't answer. He knew he didn't need to. He had had another training class after Harris's, and no doubt Malia Tate had watched him get beat up there as well.

"If you can't fight them—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he snapped.

"You have the necessary skills. You just need to keep yourself trained. Didn't you play any sports while you were gone?"

Stiles shrugged. "Now and then."

"You didn't join any teams?"

"If I'd wanted to practice that much, I'd have stayed here."

Malia Tate gave Stiles an exasperated look. "You'll never be able to really protect McCall if you don't hone your skills. You'll always be lacking."

"I am able to protect him," Stiles said fiercely.

"You have no guarantees of being assigned to him, you know, for your field experience or after you graduate." Malia's voice was low and unapologetic. "No one wants to waste the bond, but no one's going to give him an inadequate guardian either. If you want to be with him, then you need to work for it. You're an ideal choice to guard Scott McCall when you graduate, if you can prove you're worthy."

Malia Tate walked away, and suddenly, Stiles didn't feel like such a badass anymore. He was about to resume his way to the commons when a voice called him. "Stiles!"

"Mr. Argent... uh... Your Highness," he replied. "Hi."

Gerard Argent smiled leaning on a cane. His two guardians stood nearby. "I wanted to tell you..." He spoke hesitantly. "I understand the gravity of what you did, but I think Principal Finstock failed to acknowledge something. You did keep Scott safe all this time. That is impressive."

Stiles was surprised at that. "Well, it's not like I had to face vampires or anything."

"But you have faced... some things?"

Stiles shrugged. "A troll or two."

"That is remarkable."

"Eh... not really. Avoiding trolls is pretty easy. They're quite dumb. But I guess I was lucky. It turns out I'm really behind with this guardian stuff."

"You're a smart boy. You'll catch up. And you also have your... um, bond."

Stiles looked away. It felt weird to have others know about it.

"The histories are full of stories of guardians who could feel when their charges were in danger," Gerard continued. "I've made a hobby of studying up on it and some of the ancient ways. I've heard it's a tremendous asset."

What a boring hobby, Stiles thought, but didn't say anything.

Gerard tilted his head, curiosity all over his face. "What is it like...? If you don't mind me asking?"

"It's..." Stiles hesitated. "I don't know. I just sort of always have this hum of how he feels. Usually it's just emotions. We can't send messages or anything like that."

"But it doesn't work the other way? Scott doesn't sense you?"

Stiles shook his head.

Gerard's face shone with wonder. "I can still barely believe this. It's been so long since this has happened. If it did happen more often... just think what it could do for the safety of all magic folk. If only others could experience this, too. I'll have to do more research and see if we can replicate it with others."

Stiles was getting impatient. Breakfast hour was ticking away.

"Perhaps we could—" Suddenly Gerard started coughing, a great, seizing fit that made his whole body shake. "I'll be leaving you now," he gasped. "Thank you for speaking to me. I can't emphasize how much it means to me that Scott is safe, and that you helped with that."

They said their goodbyes. Stiles finally arrived inside the school just in time to see Scott getting punched in the face by the blond boy that seemed to hate them so much. Cursing, Stiles jumped in the middle of the chaos. He pulled the boy away from Scott and threw him over one of the tables.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Gold Guy got up, blue eyes wide and sparkling with fury. He was short and looked like a ten year old who had worked out more than he should have.

"Are you lost?" Stiles asked him. "Elementary school's over on west campus."

A pink flush spread over the boy's cheeks. "Don't you ever touch me again," he told Stiles. "You screw with me, and I'll screw you right back."

Oh man... what an opening that was. Stiles had his mouth open already when Scott stopped him from unleashing hilarious comebacks. But Stiles wasn't nearly done. "And if you mess with either of us again, I'll break you in half. If you don't believe me, go ask Greenberg about what I did to his arm in ninth grade. You were probably at nap time when it happened."

The incident with Greenberg had given Stiles a bit of a dangerous reputation, in addition to his smartass one. And judging from the look on this boy's face, he had already heard about it. With another look of pure hatred, the guy walked away.

Suddenly very pleased with himself, Stiles turned to Scott. "Any idea who I just threatened to beat up?"