Chapter Four:
On Sunday night, at exactly 3:42 am, Lydia Martin bolted upright and screamed. These screams lasted for precisely 38 seconds before the redhead slumped back down, once again peacefully asleep and blissfully unaware. Four hours later she was up brushing her hair and picking out her outfit for the day, her mother had made her breakfast and prepared her lunch so she was out the door speedily at half eight. She smiled at herself in her car mirror, humming as she drove. Lydia stopped by the Penthouse to pick up Allison.
"Soooo, a little birdie told me Scott AND Isaac came a knocking on Saturday!" Lydia teased. Allison blushed and swatted at her playfully.
"It was nothing like that!"
"Oh?"
"Oh stop! They were actually there to speak to the twins."
"What, really?"
"Yes! And who is this "little birdie"?
"Oh, you know… tall, mysterious, blonde…"
"My DAD? He's your spy?"
The two girls burst into fits of giggles. Lydia, rolling down her windows, made a right turn at a junction, driving through the town centre. She loved the way she turned peoples' head, catching their attention. Lydia gave Allison a pout, putting on her most devilish grin. Allison laughed at her best friend's antics and tried to slide down her seat. Lydia observed the pedestrians as they went past, grading them from nought to ten in her head. Suddenly without warning Allison was violently thrown forwards; Lydia had stamped down hard on the brakes! Allison clung to her seatbelt trying to steady herself, gasping for air she looked towards her friend who was staring; jaws open at a guy, standing on the sidewalk, sipping a latte and smirking at them.
"Jackson?!" Lydia screeched.
"Miss me?" The handsome teen smirked, smug as ever.
Beacon Hills High School:
Scott didn't want to break the bad news to his friends before knowing as much as he could, Stiles had an appointment with said teacher during lunch time. Scott first asked politely, trying to subtly imply his request was important. Stiles said no. Scott gave Stiles his best puppy eyes. Stiles said no. Scott offered his friend half his lunch, including the chocolate bar. Stiles said no. Scott resorted to blackmail, threatening to tell Lydia just how old Stiles was before he stopped wetting the bed. Stiles reminded Scott he had far more dirt on him and access to police records. Scott was stumped, why it was so important for his best friend to see the guidance counsellor was beyond him. He sighed and was making his way back into class before he spotted a familiar redhead in a daydream.
"Lydia!"
"Scott…"
"Listen, I have a favour! Could you like… distract Stiles for all of lunch?"
Lydia said no.
When school was over Scott made his way down the empty corridor towards the Languages department, more specifically Morell's office. He was more nervous than he should have been, Morell was meant to be someone you could trust but she gave Scott the creeps. Heck, Isaac had refused to come along, or even listen in from afar. Reaching her office he knocked twice before entering. She was sat there, hands held together like Mr. Burns from the Simpsons. Scott shuddered. He tried to pretend it was because of a draft as he edged towards the seat opposite the woman and sat down apprehensively. She did a slow one-eighty turn, showing Scott the back of her chair.
"The Cavere"
"Huh?"
"They call themselves the Cavere. Ka-vair." Morell pronounced carefully.
"Oh, right…"
"They will arrive like a tidal wave, destroying everything in their path. Just one night and every werewolf deemed unfit in the vicinity will be dead by sunrise."
"That's not true…"
"Maybe, maybe not. Is my heart lying? Some places with strong packs might last a week, a pack in Egypt once lasted a month. The end result is the same, Vere succeeds."
Scott had enough. He slammed his fist onto the table.
"Yes I get it! He's some stupid super-wolf. But what can we do? What can I do?"
If Morell was surprised at Scott's little outburst she didn't show it.
"Nothing, it's hopeless. Pray Vere deems you worthy" She said with a snarl.
"There has to be! You came to your brother for help! You said "to prepare"!"
"I was there to talk to you. My brother is as clueless as I am."
"If it's hopeless you wouldn't have bothered waiting for me that day, just to tell me. I know he's only after werewolves, last I check you and your brother don't have fangs. Why does this concern you?"
"That's a conversation for another time."
"We're talking right now, so here's fine. Now's good. Tell me! Why is this important to Druids?"
"No."
Scott and Morell exchanged glares. Scott finally noticed how worked up he had gotten; his chest was visibly rising up and down. His hands were clenched into fists. A bead of sweat was forming. He stood up and started pacing around in front of Morell, trying to keep his cool.
"So what are you saying? I should leave town? Flee?"
"You can't run forever."
"THEN WHAT? I WANT AN ANSWER, IS THAT SO HARD? ENOUGH OF YOUR CRAP! I KNOW YOU KNOW SOMETHING! TELL ME!"
"Deucalion's dead…" Morell offered. Scott looked at her but she showed no emotion. He was slightly taken aback by this knowledge.
"What do you mean?"
"He was trying to build a pack that could fight back. You think they would give him the time? They hunted him down like an animal."
"He's…"
"They ripped him apart. I found the body. I couldn't find the head." Morell finished. Scott took a deep breath. Deucalion had been one incredibly strong werewolf but numbers can overwhelm. Scott sighed, deep down he was slightly hoping that man could have become an ally in all this.
"Maybe if Deucalion and the others didn't murder their own packs for power they would have the numbers TO fight back." Scott spat bitterly. He still couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for the man. Even if Deucalion's actions were slightly more justifiable than a few months ago it didn't excuse his methods.
"Losing his sight warped him as a man, you know this. Maybe you should visit the man responsible."
"No, screw that. That night you said the sooner I know the sooner we can prepare. What preparations?"
"One step at a time…"
"WE'RE NOT MOVING AT ALL!" Scott yelled at her. This time Morell flinched. Scott slammed both fists onto her desk and his eyes turned a bright red for a split second.
"Find the scout." She said quietly, visibly affronted.
"Huh?"
"The scout. It's how they operate, for efficiency. One or two of the Cavere will be sent ahead to their next destination. They'll find, mark and track every werewolf in the area. When they're done the rest of the pack comes and… cleans up".
"But what if they miss someone?"
"Then a few members will return to where the pack has just been and make sure no one gets overlooked."
"How would they know? What do you mean by mark?"
"They have their methods…"
Scott calmed down. They were finally getting somewhere, admittedly at a snail's pace.
"This scout…"
"It could be anyone. They're mostly all alphas, all capable of masking themselves."
"And if I find him?"
"Make sure he or SHE, doesn't report back."
Beacon Hills Woods:
Peter leapt up the flight of stairs of the remains of the Hale family house. He flew into a nearby room and slammed the door shut behind him. Thinking quickly he dragged a burnt cupboard and used it to secure the door. He leant against it, praying his pursuer wouldn't be able to break in. He looked around in panic and realised he was in his old bedroom, the window he used to sneak in and out still in a reasonable condition. He heard footsteps coming up the stairs, the crackles as claws grew out and the low, blood curling growl. Peter honed his senses and immediately felt something was wrong, terribly wrong. The moment the intruder had extended his claws a horrible burning smell wafted into Peter's nose. His first thought was this freak could set alight his claws but that was without a doubt, impossible. His footsteps stopped on the other side of the door, Peter ran for the window, calling himself a fool for thinking a cupboard could stop a werewolf getting inside.
A sharp projectile pierced through several layers of wood; just as Peter bolted open the window. The object embedded itself deep into his jugular vein. Peter screamed as his neck felt a searing burn. He could smell his flesh being cooked. Placing a hand over his neck he ripped the claw out and tumbled out of the window of and dropped down onto the wet earth below. His eyes flashed blue, muscles ready to run. He turned back and saw his attacker standing by the window, staring at him with a small smile on his lips. The boy raised his hand as a mocking gesture and Peter could see a new claw was growing back on the boy's index. It was glowing orange. The boy pointed it at him and fired. The claw flew towards Peter at blinding speed who instinctively reached out to catch it but instead found it digging into his palm. Peter let out a roar before turning tail and running into the woods.
Cody watched from the window in fascination as Peter hobbled quickly out of sight. There was no point chasing the wounded werewolf, he had been marked, twice in fact. Cody looked at his hand, his finger covered in blood, healing rapidly. Vere explained to him when he first joined that certain genes are changed as a result of lycanthropy. One neat little trick due to these changes is an ability to collect an enormous amount of body heat into one area. In this case the blood vessels that travels into an extended claw. When the heat energy gets too much the claw will fire off, almost like a rocket. When it pierces another living being, be it werewolf or human, the virus-like, volatile, heated blood from the attacker will enter the victim, marking them permanently. Burns leave scars. This allowed the Cavere to mercilessly track down all targets in a vast area. Peter Hale was the first person Cody marked. He finally understood what Vere was trying to teach him. His head tingled as he focused, he could sense exactly where the wounded werewolf was from his own location, the distance, the direction. There was some sort of predatory link, it made one feel powerful, feel great. Cody grinned, reaching into his pocket he took out his phone to text his best friend.
5:12 pm From: Cody Black
To: Malcolm Wilkerson
Marked 1 already. Some omega. No sign of TA. When u getting here?
5:18pm From: Malcolm Wilkerson
Re: Cody Black
5 mins from the hotel. Get dinner on ur way back pls.
Malcolm was a genius, his IQ easily surpassing Lydia's own. He was a scrawny, browned hair boy, in his late teens in appearance but not in age. His head looked too big for his body. When Vere continued his crusade into Europe, Malcolm's brains hid him and his pack from the Cavere for months, even escaping several times before someone finally slipped up and they were all caught. Vere, very impressed, made him an offer, join him and use his unmatched intellect to aid his cause or be executed along with the others. It was an easy decision. Originally struggling to survive in the poorest parts of Bulgaria, he embraced his new life amongst the Cavere. It was Malcolm who designed methods for calculating the number of werewolves in a given area, saving the Cavere months of time, he made the whole operation more efficient.
Coffee shop in town:
Jackson was sitting comfortably on beautifully decorated, cushioned seats in a lovely, homely coffee shop in the nicest part of town, sipping the most heavenly coffee. He was in the foulest mood imaginable. Opposite him sat his best friend and ex-girlfriend, both latching arms with two baby-faced people who looked exactly the same. He didn't know what to make of this, he asked if this was some elaborate prank but the shaking of heads let him down. He gave Lydia his most disapproving glare but the ice princess didn't even falter. The twins smirked at each other in unison and Danny gave his best friend a small shrug.
"I don't believe this… I was gone ONE semester."
"I thought you were gone for good." Lydia replied, giving a small uncaring shrug.
"What else did I miss?"
"Oh boy… you have no idea what you're in for"
Jackson looked between her and Aiden.
"He's a rebound. He's a rebound right?"
Before Aiden could reply Lydia cupped his chin and pulled him into a long kiss. If looks could kill, Jackson would be unstoppable.
Beacon Hills Town:
Peter had made it out of the woods. His neck and left hand were still burning hot. The pain was immeasurable! He had been walking back towards the old hale house to retrieve a laptop, which had information stored he desperately needed, spells, runes and magic. Peter cursed his luck. He was a lot more knowledgeable on werewolf history than he let on. He knew with Scott's rise to true alpha-dom it would only be a matter of time before the Cavere arrived. He thought he had more time. Peter could see the town now. He ran towards the closest phone box and dialled his nephew. He waited and waited before Derek finally picked up.
"Derek! Tell me you found something…"
"What? No, not yet? Why are you calling at this hour? Cora is asleep."
"They're here. You're running out of time." Peter rasped. Derek's heart skipped a beat. Scott, Isaac… they were in danger and he was thousands of miles away in South America.
"We don't know what we're evening looking for exactly!"
"If you don't come back with something soon, ANYTHING, we can use. We're all dead."
"Then move everyone somewhere else, buy me time."
"You think they trust me? Derek… I've been marked." Dead silence. Peter knew his nephew wasn't particularly fond of him, he didn't know how Derek would react.
"I'll keep looking". Click. The call went off. Peter slammed the phone back onto its holder in frustration. He was still in pain, something was stopping him healing. He had no choice; he headed towards Deaton's clinic on the other side of town.
Meanwhile Scott had persuaded his mother to give him the house for the evening, spending his own allowance to buy her a panto ticket. He spent the afternoon texting, calling, messaging people. Now he sat on his sofa with Isaac, watching the clock tick by, waiting for his friends to arrive. The front door clicked open and Stiles entered, holding the spare key Scott gave him years ago. Scott ran up and gave him a hug.
"Thanks for coming."
"Hey buddy, everything alright?"
"Yeah, well no. I'll explain when everyone gets here."
Allison arrived next, giving everyone a small smile before sitting on the sofa across from them. Soon they heard a car pull up and Lydia strolled in, a familiar face behind her.
"Oh… he is back" Stiles mumbled. Jackson flipped him off. The twins were the last to arrive, looking a bit frightened as they entered the house. Isaac turned his head the other way when they came into the living room.
"What are they doing here?" Jackson asked. He looked to Lydia. "You said this was a welcome back party."
"Is he for real?" Aiden asked his brother as Lydia rolled her eyes and facepalmed.
"Guys!" Scott said, drawing everyone's attention. "I've got bad news."
Meanwhile:
Peter barely made it halfway towards the clinic before he was ambushed. They knew exactly where he was. Now he was on the floor, Malcolm's foot hard on his neck, keeping him trapped. They were in the parking lot behind a small block of flats. It was almost midnight.
"How could you not think of this earlier?" Malcolm asked his partner.
Cody shrugged and walked over, kneeling besides Peter. Extending his claws he shoved them hard into the older man's side. Peter's scream was muffled by the force on his trachea. Cody pushed in deeper and twisted. Peter could feel his ribs crack, small shards of bone digging into his lungs. The agony was indescribable. Blood trickled onto the pavement.
"How's he gonna speak? Move your foot." Malcolm nodded and complied, shifting his foot from neck to sternum. "I believe you know a man called Deucalion." Cody said. Peter didn't reply, he was heaving his chest up and down, desperate for some air, for some relief.
"Please, please…" he begged. Cody giggled.
"I ripped his head off." Peter turned his head slightly, the shock apparent in his eyes. Cody continued talking:
"I'm told some of his pack are still around… what do you know?"
"hurghgh ple… please."
"Not an answer." Cody flexed his claws inside Peter, causing new pain waves to spread over Peter.
"ARWAARGGHHH! Huhh… uhh"
"Come on… spilllll" Cody teased in a sinister sing song voice.
"Twwnnn… huhhh… twins!"
"Where are they?"
"Sckchool…"
"Boys? Girls? Identical? Alphas?"
"Nnnnnnnnn… ple…"
"Not an answerrrrr!"
"ff… f yuu… AWAAAAAARRRRGHHH!" Cody had pushed in even further. More twisting, more blood gushing out. Peter's left lung had collapsed, the pressure in his chest causing unmatched pain. If Peter wasn't allowed to heal soon he would die. He was taking deep, laboured breaths, his vision going cloudy. He was close to fainting. Malcolm looked bored.
"We have enough. Can't be that many pairs of twins at the school. Let's go. End him."
Cody's smile suddenly widened.
"Got an idea big boy! How would you like to be marked from the inside?"
Peter's eyes widened in fear, he could feel a sudden heat rising in his chest. A claw shifted in his flesh, pointing directly in the direction of his heart.
"no NO… wait…" Peter begged desperately.
"Last words?"
"I… know… what you're after." Peter barely gurgled out.
"I also know what I'm after." Cody replied, looking unimpressed. More heat gathering on his claw.
"I… can help. I know who he is…"
"Cody!" Malcolm interjected. "Wait…"
"He? Guessed as much. What's his name?" Cody asked.
"Leebbmme goo… pllee" Peter's eyes closed but his chest kept on heaving. He was hanging on by a thread.
"Who and where, and I'll let you go!"
"Nurgghhh…"
"He can tell you're lying, dumbass." Malcolm chastised, folding his arms. He took his foot off Peter's chest. "I take it you'll only show us."
Peter nodded as best he could.
"Malcolm, he isn't going to survive this. No way in hell. Not as a beta."
"You just had to overdo it…"
"Hey" Cody said, giving Peter a light slap. "His name, give me his name. I'll end the pain. Best deal you're gonna get buddy."
"Sccch… ohtt… mkkcall…"
Peter no longer had the strength to speak. Cody fired his mark and pulled out, taking bits of lung and rib as he went. Peter heard the retreating footsteps of his two killers fade into the distance. It had been ten seconds since the scorching claw was fired into his heart. He could feel the surging pain as heated blood circulated around his dying body. Fifteen seconds, he could feel it in his navel, his stomach, his groin. Twenty seconds now, the burn had reached his arms, thighs, knees. Thirty seconds, his hands, legs, neck. 38 seconds, the brain.