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Yvette is dropped in Beacon Hills
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Yvette has finished her latest novel a bit earlier than she expected (she ended up skimming it because the author spent far too many words on purple prose for the love interest), and there's nothing good on TV to fill the gap, wasting time arguing with people on the internet doesn't appeal, and she actually still really wants to spend time with a story, okay. Just - a better one. One that does not have a meandering mess of a plot and a romantic plot tumor that's completely devoid of personality in either member, or literally any chemistry between them whatsoever. She needs to wash away the icky book with a better one.

She has a bike route to the nearest library memorized for exactly this reason. She calls to her mom where she's going, and then out she goes, to return this waste of a perfectly good tree and see if she can replace it with something that's actually interesting.

While browsing the shelves, something catches her eye. She turns, and thinks she spots a book that has some kind of strange shimmery cover that changes when the viewer moves. Huh. Okay, bit gimmicky for her taste, but she has to at least look at it to scoff at it properly. Her fingers only brush the spine of the book for half a heartbeat before they pass through the book entirely. It, and everything else, fades to black, and the part of Yvette's mind that is not devoted to wondering whether or not this means she has to be admitted to the emergency room notices that the inky black is lit with stars. Something - twists, like someone has reached into her chest and grabbed hold of her heart and twisted, pulling it in a direction it wasn't meant to go. It doesn't hurt, though maybe it should.

The only sensible reaction to this is to open her mouth to scream. So she starts on that. As she does, the stars fade and the black lightens and gravity twists. She has the comfort of managing to get out a scream before she hits the ground. The same observational part of her mind that noted the stars discerns that the ground feels like concrete instead of cheap, easy-to-clean carpet. What?

She pushes herself up, and tries to figure out where she fell and if anyone is nearby to maybe get her to a hospital, because this is not okay.

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"I'll drive."

She gets into the car.

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Allison sighs.

"Welcome to Beacon Hills. Try not to hate the locals too obviously; most of them can kill you."

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Snort.

"I am definitely getting that impression." She considers, then looks up thoughtfully at the sky.

"Oi. Anything else bizarre and badly explained you want to throw at me today? Because so help me, if there is anything else I am going to start screaming."

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"Something weird is going on with my friend Lydia, but I don't know what.

Everyone at the party tonight hallucinated thanks to some wolfsbane in the punch. Matt is definitely a stalker, and he might not be totally responsible for all the deaths, but he definitely caused lots of them.

Lydia was attacked by Peter Hale, but she didn't turn or die. That doesn't usually happen, and we thought she might be the kanima but now we just don't know what's happening to her.

Derek and his pack have been trying to kill Jackson but they should be done. He turned them by finding kids who weren't happy with their lives, I don't know why besides to build a bigger pack.

If I think of more, I'll tell you."

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"Also, the bestiary is written in French."

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"Of course it is," she sighs. She gets in the car; she doesn't try for the passenger seat, she doesn't want to make Allison sit next to her stalker.

She looks at Allison. "Thank you. Do you have any guesses about who was responsible for the - wolfsbane? Innocent prank, or something more sinister? And I'll see about talking to Derek, and we'll have to check on Lydia, I need to talk to her anyway..."

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"We shouldn't go to her house in the middle of the night. Her mother will want an explanation, and without Lydia's permission, we have no right to give it."

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"I am not saying tonight, I am talking to myself out loud because it has been a long day for me."

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"...Yes. I'm sorry."

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Eyes on the road.

Drive, drive, drive.

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"It could have been Matt, he was there. Or Jackson, but that's the same thing. I don't know who could find wolfsbane if they weren't looking for it."

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"Matt, if it was you, tell us now before we make you tell."

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"Apology accepted," says Yvette of Mrs. Argent.

She glances at Matt, and raises her eyebrows slightly.

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"Allison, Allison, Allison. Have you ever heard the story of Narcissus and Echo?"

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"...No?"

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"Well, how about we say that I didn't spike any punch. But I know who did. And say I don't really like bondage all that much, outside the bedroom."

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"Sure. Let's say that we aren't getting any answers from you because you're a total creep who just wants to needle me. I think we're done."

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"No sexual harassment in the car please," Yvette says. "Or anywhere else. I know I've been acting grumpy at you, but I will actually try to treat you fairly before throwing you to any cops, or letting you be thrown anywhere. And you're making it pretty difficult to feel sympathy by being a prick."

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"It's not- I'm not harassing her."

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"She's feeling a bit harassed. Maybe you should cut it out before I make you."

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"Mom, please drive safely. No threats."

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Drive drive drive.

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"Now if you are having a problem with circulation, I can help you out, but you're not getting untied while we're in the car. I am however going to ask very nicely. Could you please tell us who spiked the punch?"

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