vii.

                                    

                                          
vii. WICKED WAYS
                          
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PACING BACK AND FORTH, Carter explained, "The last time I saw Scott act like that was during the full moon." Her eyes dancing between Lydia, Stiles, and Allison.
                          
Stiles nodded in agreement, "Yeah, I know. He was definitely a little off with me, too. But actually, it was Boyd who was really off. I watched him put his fist through the vending machine." He then baled his hand into a fist, making a slight punching motion.
                          
"See, it is the motel," Lydia insisted, trying to convince her friends that something was seriously wrong with that place. "Either we need to get out of here right now or someone needs to learn how to do an exorcism ASAP before the werewolves go crazy and kill us." Lydia continued, opening a drawer and snatching a Bible out of it.
                          
"Okay, just hold on, all right?" Carter held up her hands, thinking back to her little hallucination about being locked inside of a freezer when she had coughed up the mistletoe. "What if it's not just the motel? The number in the office went up by three, right?"
                          
"You mean like three sacrifices?" Allison asked, hands on her hips as she looked toward the brunette.
                          
"What if this time it's three werewolves?" 
                          
Allison's eyes widened as realization crossed her face, "Scott, Isaac and Boyd."
                          
"Maybe we were meant to come here," Carter muttered, the warnings that her body had been giving her were intensifying by the second, making it harder and harder for Carter to focus - but at the same time, it made her completely aware of everything going on around her. Like her abilities were shutting off the rational side of her brain and allowed her senses and instincts take control.
                          
Lydia's frustration only increased with their words, "Exactly! So can we get the hell out of here now?"
                          
Stiles moved his eyes away from Carter, his attention falling on the Bible in Lydia's hands. "Wait, hang on. Let me see this," Stiles requested, snatching the book out of her hands before she could protest.
                          
A wrinkled piece of paper had been sticking out of it, the three girls gravitating toward Stiles as he opened the Bible and revealed a newspaper article in the middle of the pages. Carter leaned in even closer, cocking her head to the side in confusion. It was an article about a suicide.
                          
The word caused a chorus of images to flash through her mind. A young man was hanging from the ceiling, a rope twisted tightly around his neck. His stiff body hanging there for hours before the cleaning lady found his lifeless body the next morning strung up by the neck.
                          
"What is that?" Allison asked softly, the sound of her voice causing the image to disintegrate and store itself in the darkest parts of Carter's mind.
                          
"Twenty-eight-year old man hangs himself at the infamous Glen Capri." Stiles read aloud as his eyes skimmed across the headline of the article, Carter's body stiffened--that had been the image she saw in her head. He set the article down on the mattress, beginning to flip through the pages of the Bible, soon holding it over the bed and shaking it, allowing several more articles to fall out.
                          
"Look at these two, they both mention the room 217," Carter announced. "These are probably all the suicides that happened in this room."