Stiles Stilinski kept his effervescent state quite hush-hush, even from his father. He was no different than any other living, breathing human, mind you. There were simply complications that came with his state that he'd rather keep from people if at all possible. Neither his father, his coworkers, nor any of his friends ever noticed anything odd. Stiles seemed to them only a doctoral student and junior lecturer whose busy workload kept him focused on his research into supernatural creatures. Stiles thought it ridiculous to try explaining preternaturals to the masses when even the textbooks – standard or specialized - didn't mention them.

"Would you look at this?" Erica Reyes waved a copy of the morning's paper across a table at their favorite diner. Stiles's father barely batted an eye, too focused on cutting up the pancakes in front of them. But Stiles decided to humor her. "What is it?"

Erica pointed to a section of the paper. "Apparently Agent Derek Hale, most eligible of the city's bachelors, was at that party last night! How did I miss him? Why did I leave so early?" Stiles grabbed the paper, ignoring Erica's diatribe into the appearance of one Derek Hale.

He frowned in annoyance. He was under the impression that Hale was going to keep everything quiet and out of the papers. He refused to acknowledge that Hale's mere appearance at a party, particularly one attended by young, drunk females with cell phone cameras meant that the endeavor was practically impossible. After all, Hale's specialty was purportedly performing several miracles before the sun rose. Once he realized his name was not listed in the article, he handed the paper back to Erica.

"You disappeared for a while last night, Stiles. Did you see him?"

Stiles shook his head, but could tell by Erica's glare that she knew he was lying. "You did! You ran into Derek Hale and you didn't tell me! How many times is that now? Why do you get all the luck?"

Stiles looked at her in annoyance. "Trust me, it's not luck. I wish I never had to run into that man. I woke this morning thinking of all the rude things I could have said, but didn't have time to."

Commissioner Stilinski chuckled, a twinkle lighting in his eyes that Stiles did not want to think about.

They rose to leave the diner, the elder Stilinski leaving enough cash on the table to cover both the food and a sizeable tip. The owner looked at him. "John, you know you don't pay here."

"Just consider it a very large tip." As a beat cop, Stilinski had once saved the owner from an armed robber. The diner's owner attempted to refuse payment every time either Stiles or his father came in, but they always made sure to tip enough to cover whatever they ate.

They left, Stiles grabbing a baseball bat and glove he had leaned against their booth when they arrived.

"Stiles, do you really think you should be playing today?" Stiles's father glanced pointedly at the cut and slight bruise still evident on his head.

"Dad, I'm fine. It was just an accident yesterday. Plus, I'm the only person on the department softball team under the age of 40. If I don't show up to practice, nobody will get anything done."

John Stilinski sighed but made a motion at Stiles to continue on. "Just call me later, okay kid?"

Stiles nodded and they parted ways, Erica following Stiles.

The day was a nice one and Erica linked her arm through Stiles's as they walked the streets. Stiles was still too aggravated thinking about Derek Hale to notice. There was something about the way Stiles always spoke about Hale that roused Erica's suspicions. Erica thought he was good looking and a decent, if slightly overworked, werewolf, but was a little too dominant for her tastes. She liked to be in control.

Stiles, who had been debating with himself, finally spoke. "The reason he was there last night, Hale, I mean, was because I was attacked by a vampire." Erica turned to face him, shocked. "No wonder you stayed with your dad last night. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I stabbed him with a pencil." Erica snorted at this.

"What exactly happened?"

Stiles told her.

"You killed him?" This time Erica looked a little squeamish.

"It was by accident!" insisted Stiles.

"Well, Hale covered things up well. There was no mention of it in the paper. They couldn't even decide if he was at the party for a case or for some other reason. Although the writer hoped it was a case, because they couldn't believe he'd be at a college house party, no matter how big." Erica paused for a moment. "That's where the head injury came from?"

"Yea. I told my dad that I got injured tripping on the stairs and tried to call him and instead called Hale on accident. You know I still have his number from that werewolf case that took place on campus last year."

"You know you owe him, right?"

Stiles look as if he had swallowed something particularly disgusting. "I do not. It's his job to keep this quiet. Supervisory Special Agent of BUR in New York and New Jersey or whatever his title is. I'm under no obligation to someone who was merely doing his job. Besides, it was probably Argent that dealt with the press."

Erica felt Stiles really didn't get Hale enough credit. Simply because he was immune to the good looks and charm didn't mean the rest of the world was. Hale was not native to New York, but he had been Alpha for what, twenty years? Not long by werewolf standards, but long enough. There were rumors about how he defeated the last Newark Alpha. However, his predecessor was depraved and even the members of the pack seemed relieved when Hale had taken over. Hale might be new to New York, but he was good at holding his power. Erica was impressed.

"I think you're pretty hard on him. He did take you to the hospital."

"I can't help it. I just don't like him."

They were interrupted by a mellow feminine voice.

The voice came from a top a sleek black motorcycle. Behind the handlebars sat a tall, slim woman with dark hair and a smile. Everything clashed about the arrangement; from the girl, who wore all black leather that did not match her facial expression at all, to the bike, which seemed to be taller than she was. She had a pleasant expression, though. Unfamiliar with her, Stiles and Erica made to keep walking, already running late to Stiles's softball practice, but the woman spoke again.

"Do I have the pleasure of addressing Stiles Stilinski?"

Erica and Stiles looked at each other. Her manner of speech was highly formalized and anyone who knew who Stiles was automatically made him wary. Growing up with a highly public police officer for a father would do that.

"Yes. Who are you?"

"Beautiful day, isn't it?" The girl gestured around, ignoring the question.

"Sure," said Stiles. "Have we met?"

"I am Braeden Tandy and now we have."

"Hello. This is Erica."

Erica, upon hearing the girl's name, looked much more enthusiastic. "The singer!" she hissed in Stiles's ear. "You know! She's dating one of the twins – or both of them – that are on that cop show your dad likes?"

Stiles, who did not know, figured he could fake it. "Oh. Yea, of course. Well, what do you need?"

Braeden explained herself at last. "You see, my mistress would like to visit with you, Mr. Stilinski."

"Your mistress?"

The singer nodded. It took a moment, but Stiles finally realized what was going on. "Oh, you're a drone!"

Braeden nodded again. "Are you free this evening, Mr. Stilinski?"

Stiles didn't want to go into a hive uninformed, although he had no plans. So he said firmly, "Unfortunately, I have something else to do." He quickly decided to call Laura Hale, to see if she had dinner plans. She probably knew what this was about. She liked ridiculous scarves and more shoes than she could wear in a year, but she also liked to know things.

"Tomorrow night, then?" Braden looked hopeful. This request must have been particularly important.

Stiles nodded.

Braden handed him a sealed envelope. "Please do not share this address with anyone."

"Who should I ask for?"

"Miss Marin Morrell."

That was a name Stiles knew. Morrell was one of the oldest living vampires, purportedly incredibly beautiful, impossibly cruel, and extremely polite. She was queen of the Manhattan Hive. Stiles suddenly looked at Braeden with renewed interest. Stiles was not supposed to know many of the things that went on in Morrell's circle, let alone her hive, but he read too much. Many of the books at his father's house were left over from his mother's time. Stiles's mother clearly felt a strong inclination toward literature concerning the supernatural, so Stile had a decently clear concept of what occurred in a hive. Braeden must be something more than a singer.

Braeden smiled, climbed back atop the motorcycle and pealed off.

Erica looked pale. "You know what that is?"

Stiles swallowed. "Of course I know." But he said so quietly.

"You have been given the actual address of a hive, Stiles. They are either going to recruit you or drain you dry. And after you killed one of them! No humans have that information!"

Stiles looked uncomfortable. He was wondering how the hive might react to a preternatural in their midst. Not kindly, he suspected. "I need to talk to Laura."

She pranced into the room, teetering about on five-inch red and gold heels. "My darling, darling Stiles." Laura Hale seemed to speak predominantly in italics. "How deliciously, delightful of you to invite me to dinner."

Stiles smiled. It was impossible not to. In addition to her heels, Laura wore a shimmering tight gold dress and arms and neck draped in ruby jewelry. With fluid motion, she settled in the chair opposite Stiles.

Stiles had merely invited her over for dinner at the cramped apartment he shared with Erica near campus. It was not nearly as large or stylish as Laura was used to, nor did her clothes fit in at all. Laura, however, felt comfortable in whatever situation she found herself. Erica had taken off, trying to stay out of Stiles's business with the vampires, so Stiles had the place to himself.

Laura's entrance was appreciated by no one more important than Finstock, a retired cop and Stiles's sometimes bodyguard when his father was feeling particularly protective. Stiles had arrived home earlier to find Finstock on his doorstep. Apparently his father did not quite believe his story about tripping on the stairs.

"I hear that you were quite scandalous at a party last night, my dear." Only Laura could make killing a man sound like Stiles had been caught hooking up in public rather than possibly committing a crime.

Laura may act like a thoughtless society bimbo, though, but Stiles knew she had one of the sharpest minds in the city. Any paper would pay half its income for the information she seemed have at any given time. Stiles privately though Laura had drones working at all the city's major hot spots, to better pick up any interesting gossip.

"You know why I wanted to have dinner, then?"

"Oh, honey. You invited me because you could not bear to be without my company a single moment longer. And I shall be cut to the very quick of my extensive soul if your reason is anything else."

Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Of course, of course. I am convinced that your visit has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I killed a vampire yesterday at a party."

"Oh dear, of course it does." Lightning-fast, Laura grabbed Stiles's free hand. Her fangs vanished. Some color seeped back into her cheeks and her effortless grace seemed to take slightly more effort.

It had taken Laura just two meetings to realize he was preternatural. Estranged from the Manhattan Hive, she had never been officially informed. As a result, she took every opportunity to remind herself of what Stiles was, grabbing his arm or hand on a whim.

Stiles sipped the whiskey he had set out. "The vampire last night did not know what I was," he said. "He came charging right at me, went straight for my neck, and then lost his fangs. I thought you all knew by now. BUR certainly keeps track of me. Agent Hale appeared much faster last night than I would have expected."

Laura looked up seriously. "They do, normally. All official hives tell vampires immediately upon metamorphosis that there is a spark in New York."

Stiles winced. Spark had once only been a nickname due to the spark of extra life preternaturals were able to share with supernaturals, but soon came to denote the weapon a preternatural used to kill. Preternaturals were once used to hunt down supernaturals. Fire became the choice murder weapon for preternaturals, probably because supernaturals could not escape it even once the preternatural touch was gone. Usually Laura was sensitive to his dislike of the term. She had first used it in his presence when she realized what he was, but was usually careful not to use the term unless she had a point to make.

Stiles removed his hand from Laura's grasp. "Laura, what is going on? Who attacked me? How could he not know who I was? He was not even aware preternaturals existed at all."

"My dear, that is the problem." Laura suddenly showed her age in her face. "Since you killed the man, every supernatural believes you know the answers."

"Well, that explains her invitation, then," Stiles sighed.

"Whose invitation?"

"Marin Morrell."

Laura sat up straight and hissed. "Queen of the Manhattan Hive."

Finstock appeared in the doorway, noting Stiles's agitated demeanor, but Stiles shook his head and Finstock retreated.

Stiles studied Laura closely. She was a female rove – a hiveless vampire. Roves were rare. Female roves were even rarer. It took a lot of power to separate from a hive. Usually those females with enough power became a queen. The very few in between with enough power to leave, but not enough to start a hive became a rove. Laura, Stiles was sure, might have been powerful enough even to become the queen of her own hive, but probably would not have appreciated the tether to a single home that bound queens.

"What do you think she wants from me?"

"I am not sure. You might ask the werewolves before you see her tomorrow." Laura gave Stiles a lascivious look. Stiles was sure Laura thought there more going on between Stiles and Hale than there really was. Stiles glared at her.

However, Laura did suddenly look earnest. "Promise me that you'll talk to Derek before you meet with Marin. Do not go in unprepared."