The morning hum was still chaotic, but felt less like raw pain and more like frantic, restless energy. Nikolai could distinguish it now – a core human rhythm overlaid with a vibrating, unstable frequency. It was Scott. Or the wolf inside Scott, trying to figure itself out.
He dressed, feeling the subtle thrum beneath his skin. It wasn't as overwhelming as yesterday, but it was undeniably there, a constant awareness of the energetic landscape around him. His senses felt sharper than ever – the distant barking of a dog seemed amplified, the scent of breakfast cooking downstairs was incredibly vivid.
At breakfast, Eleanor was making toast. "How does it feel today?" she asked without turning around.
"Less painful," Nikolai admitted, taking a seat. "More… frantic. Like he's trying to control something he can't."
"Growth," Eleanor commented, turning with the toast. "Or the struggle against it. Either way, it consumes them, at first. This is a critical period. How they handle it, who guides them, shapes the kind of creature they become."
Nikolai buttered his toast, thinking. "You said our potential... it's different from theirs? The wolves?"
"Yes," she said, sitting opposite him. "Their power is physical, lunar, pack-based. Ours is tied to resonance, intention, the deeper currents of the earth and spirit. Their potential can often be seen in their physical strength, their dominance. Our potential… it's harder to measure. It's about connection, control, and how much you can channel. Some Ashworths were healers, others protectors, some… less benevolent." She paused, her gaze steady. "The Ashworth line has always had significant potential, Nikolai. A strong connection. But it's wild, unpredictable. Neither of us truly knows the limits of yours. Not yet."
'Significant potential,' Nikolai filed that away. 'Could I be stronger than Scott? Maybe stronger than a Beta? An Alpha? Unpredictable limits… that's a wildcard. A powerful one.'
"So, today?" he prompted. "The plan to approach Scott?"
Eleanor smiled, a glint of intrigue in her eyes. "Subtlety, remember? Don't accuse him of being a werewolf. Approach him as someone who perhaps... understands things others don't. Who feels the world differently. You can use your developing senses, your intuition, to make him curious. And perhaps," she picked up a spoon, turning it over in her fingers, "a little orchestrated circumstance couldn't hurt."
School was a minefield of sensory input. The sheer volume of distinct energies – human, technological, and the undercurrents of Beacon Hills – was a constant challenge to filter. He saw Scott flinching at loud noises, bumping into lockers, looking thoroughly overwhelmed. Stiles was a whirlwind of nervous energy around him.
He also noticed others. Lydia Martin's energy felt sharp, intelligent, but with a strange, almost mournful resonance buried deep within it that he hadn't noticed before. Jackson Whittemore radiated arrogance and aggression, but there was an emptiness beneath it, a frustrated, grasping energy. He felt a brief, faint flicker of something else near Mason Hewitt, a friendly, inquisitive energy. 'Maybe I can sense personality too?'
He deliberately walked a route that took him past Jackson and his clique. Jackson caught his eye, his expression challenging. Nikolai met his gaze calmly, offering a small, polite nod before moving on. He wasn't going to be intimidated, but he wasn't looking for a confrontation either. Not yet.
Later, during Chemistry, the teacher was writing on the board. Nikolai focused his sensing again, subtly, on Scott across the room. The chaotic energy was still there. He felt a faint pressure in his own teeth, a phantom ache, as if Scott was struggling with something physical. 'The fangs trying to come out?'
He tried applying what Eleanor had taught him about filtering, about separating energy threads. He focused on Scott's energy, trying to push the rest of the classroom's buzz into the background. It was difficult, like trying to hear one specific instrument in a noisy orchestra. But he could do it, for short bursts. He could feel the distinct, unstable energy signature that was Scott's lycanthropy.
During a free period, instead of going to the library, he went to a quiet courtyard corner. He took out the obsidian stone Eleanor had given him. He held it, focusing on its weight, its texture, the faint energy he'd sensed from it. He closed his eyes, breathing slowly, listening to the hum of the school, the distant sounds of traffic, and the deeper pulse of the earth beneath him.
He focused on the stone, then on his intent: to feel the connection, to draw energy into it. He didn't try to move it. Just to imbue it, to sense the interaction. He felt the hum intensify, flowing towards his hand, pooling around the stone. A warmth spread through his palm. It wasn't the overwhelming surge from last night, but a steady, controlled flow. When he opened his eyes, the stone seemed to absorb the light around it, looking somehow denser, darker.
'Okay,' he thought, releasing his focus and feeling the energy disperse. 'Getting a handle on the flow. Sensing. Drawing. Small steps.'
He picked up a fallen leaf nearby. He focused his intent again, imagining the life energy within it, the energy connecting it to the tree, to the earth. He gently pushed a tiny amount of his own energy into it, mingling it with the leaf's natural state. He felt a faint pulse back, a subtle exchange. The leaf didn't change visibly, but holding it felt... different. More vibrant.
'Healing or enhancing?' The thought crossed his mind. 'Could I enhance Scott? Maybe subtly, temporarily? Make the shift easier? Or help him control it?' The potential was vast, and largely unexplored. His power wasn't just about throwing things or conjuring fire; it seemed tied to manipulating energy itself, life force, connections.
The decision came later in the day. After lacrosse practice – another struggle for both Scott and Nikolai – he saw Scott sitting alone on the bleachers, head in his hands, looking utterly defeated. Stiles was off talking to Coach Finstock about something. This was the moment. Scott was isolated, vulnerable, and clearly experiencing the worst of the bite's initial effects.
Nikolai walked towards him, his heart pounding, but his steps steady. He felt Scott's chaotic energy radiating off him like heat waves.
As he got close, he subtly focused his will. Not on Scott, but on the metal bleacher Scott was sitting on, just slightly behind him. He imagined the metal humming, vibrating, responding to the energy of the earth beneath it, amplified by his own. He felt the hum intensify beneath his feet, focused it into the bleacher.
A faint, almost imperceptible thrum vibrated through the metal bench. Scott flinched, lifting his head, looking around with wide, searching eyes, as if trying to identify a sound or a feeling only he could perceive.
Nikolai kept walking, slowing as he reached the bleachers. He didn't look at the bench, his gaze fixed on Scott.
"Rough practice?" Nikolai asked, his British accent cutting through the quiet after-practice air. He sat down a few feet away, not too close.
Scott jumped slightly, startled. He looked at Nikolai, his eyes still wide and unfocused, clearly rattled. "Uh. Yeah. You too."
Nikolai offered a small, sympathetic smile. "First few practices are always the worst when you move schools. Different coaching, different rhythm." He paused, choosing his words carefully, focusing his sensing subtly on Scott again. "You seemed… especially out of it today, though. You alright?"
Scott hesitated, looking away, picking at a loose thread on his shorts. He mumbled something inaudible.
"Sorry?" Nikolai prompted gently.
Scott looked back up, his expression a mixture of confusion and desperation. "I… I don't know what's happening to me."
That was the opening. Direct, unexpected, perfect. He hadn't even needed the orchestrated coincidence, though the vibrating bench seemed to have put Scott on edge, making him more receptive to acknowledging that something was wrong.
Nikolai leaned back slightly, making sure his posture was open, non-threatening. He focused on keeping his own energy calm, steady, radiating a sense of quiet understanding, not power.
"Sometimes," Nikolai said, his voice low and thoughtful, "when you're going through something big, something you don't understand... it feels like the world is vibrating, doesn't it? Like you're suddenly sensitive to everything. Sounds are too loud, smells are too strong, things feel… different." He looked at Scott, letting his gaze convey a sense of shared experience, of quiet knowing, without actually stating anything concrete. "Like the world around you is trying to tell you something, but you can't make out the words."
Scott stared at him, his mouth slightly open. His chaotic energy signature pulsed faster, laced with surprise and intense curiosity. "You… you feel that?"
'Hooked him,' Nikolai thought, a flicker of satisfaction in his chest. 'He thinks I'm talking metaphorically, or maybe that I'm just weirdly intuitive. He doesn't know I literally feel the chaos inside him.'
"I feel... the world," Nikolai said, choosing his words carefully. "Beacon Hills has a very… distinct energy. It affects some people more than others. Makes them feel… things. Strange things. Especially after... unsettling events." He let his gaze drift towards the woods for a brief moment before returning to Scott.
Scott followed his gaze, his eyes widening further. He knew what unsettling event Nikolai was vaguely referring to – the body in the woods.
"It's been happening since..." Scott started, then trailed off, looking unsure if he should say more.
"Since the other night?" Nikolai finished softly, leaning forward slightly. "Since you were out near the Preserve?"
Scott nodded, looking visibly shaken, relieved to find someone, anyone, who seemed to acknowledge the strangeness he was experiencing. "How did you know?"
Nikolai smiled, a genuine, slightly mysterious smile. "As I said, Scott. I feel things. The world here… it hums. And sometimes, when something big happens, something that changes the tune… you can hear the difference. If you know how to listen."
He could sense Scott's uncertainty, his fear, but also a desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, this new kid with the weird accent and the uncanny way of describing what he was feeling, might have answers.
The conflict of the day wasn't an external monster; it was navigating the delicate dance of revealing just enough to be intriguing, without giving away the whole game. It was sensing the terrifying power of a fresh bite and the lurking danger of the Alpha, while presenting himself as merely a quiet observer of the world's strange vibrations.
"Maybe," Scott said, his voice hesitant, "maybe you could... tell me what you mean? About the hum?"
Nikolai met his gaze, his internal planning shifting gears. The door was open. First contact made. The path to influencing Scott McCall, to potentially recruiting him, had just opened up.
"Maybe," Nikolai agreed, standing up slowly. He felt the hum of Beacon Hills, stronger now, more complex. He felt Scott's chaotic energy, clinging to him like a shroud. And he felt the distant, cold presence of Peter Hale, watching from the shadows.
'Step one complete,' he thought, a grim satisfaction settling in his chest. 'Make the key piece curious. Now to show him the lock, and that I have the key.'
"Walk you towards the parking lot?" Nikolai offered, keeping his tone casual, friendly. "We can... discuss the local atmospheric peculiarities."
Scott nodded eagerly, getting up. The storm of energy within him still raged, but now, maybe, there was a faint flicker of direction, drawn towards the quiet kid who claimed to feel the world hum.
The true test was about to begin. Convincing Scott that magic and warlocks were real, that he wasn't just going crazy, and that Nikolai Ashworth was an ally worth having. All before the Alpha or Derek or any other complication arrived to cloud the waters.