The lithe figure stepped tentatively out of the treeline. The silhouette stood upright, its profile slim and sleek. Breaking into a sprint it hurtled toward the mesh fence and kicking off the ground, somersaulted with ease and touched down in the dirt on the other side. The shadow paused a moment and then struck out across the yard.

Containers of all colours and markings were littered across the yard, but the silhouette walked with a purpose that betrayed a thorough knowledge of the layout of the yard. Every so often the figure paused to scan a container or pick out a marker to give it an idea of where it was within the complex. Most of the containers here had been left to rust for years and were empty. A virtual scrap-yard, it was an ideal hiding place – somewhere to keep things out of prying eyes. Unless those eyes had crossed continents in search of the hiding place in question.

"Bingo." Kate murmured to herself as she spotted the burgundy coloured container dead ahead of her. Weeds curled up out of the dirt around the container and the long abandoned remnants of a bicycle were rusting away to nothingness against the door. Nobody had been here in a long time. She strode up to the heavy metal doors of the container and pawed the heavy padlock with her hand.

She frowned and cast her head around the ground near her. Gerard's container was in a clearing amongst the sea of containers, and faced a further six sets of doors that formed the other sides of the clearing. Paying more attention to the ground there was a lot more junk than she'd spotted when she'd strode into the yard. Discarded pipes and wires littered the ground, somewhere she could smell a dead animal decomposing and there were all manner of insects crawling and creeping amongst the assorted crap littered over the clearing. After her sixth scan Kate spotted what she needed: a heavy, old wrench. Plucking it from a crop of weeds that had started to wrap themselves around it, she walked back to the container and with one blow smashed the padlock off the door. Finally the last part of her journey was over.

Noisily the container groaned open although that didn't bother Kate – it was too far from the security guards at the entry post for it to bother them and considering the condition of some of the containers, doors falling off couldn't be all that infrequent an occurrence. There was no artificial light in the container but fortunately between the vibrant moonlight and the night-vision traits of the jaguar Kate could see just fine.

It was unusual of her Father to have chosen such an unconventional 'vault'. Then again shirking melodramatic fanfare for a sly underhanded approach would wrong foot most people: especially where Gerard was concerned. Considering how much of a stickler he had been for the Code until recently she was surprised some of the things in the container were as old as they were. There were a few cobwebs to be brushed away inside the dark metal space but before long Kate had come across the weapons stash. Everything has been meticulously organised so you wouldn't find anything where you expected.

The family china had disguised the bookcase, a couch was stuffed with all manner of herbs and potions and the weapons had wittily been stuffed inside an umbrella holder. Kate fished between the dozen umbrellas and eventually pulled out the half a dozen sheathed weapons she was interested in. She layed them out on a writing desk beside her and stroked each leather sheath in turn pawing them. One was an ancestral blame of the Argent family, another seemed almost Nordic but, amongst the collection, one drew her attention above all the others.

After a moment's indecision Kate plucked the dagger from the sheath and admired it. Even in the dim moonlight the silver of the blade glinted before her and she admired the gemstones interwoven within the weapon. It was a thing of pure beauty and far more than just another antique. She couldn't be sure when Gerard had acquired it or where but regardless it was hers now.

She turned to leave but paused on the threshold of the container and traced back to the umbrella stand. She slipped the dagger holster around her waist and ensured the sheath was locked in place and then plucked a crossbow from the umbrella stand, a few trick bolts and fixed it in a tight grip in her right arm. Kate retraced her steps through the container and emerged into the clearing again and smirked.

A towering silhouette before the moonlight, Derek Hale's azure eyes glowed with menace at her and his claws quivered with barely contained rage.

"You really are getting sloppy at tracking people."

The wolf looked taken aback at that.

"Catch you next time." Kate levelled the crossbow and lanced a single bolt at him. It struck him square in the chest and knocked him backward through the air. Coils unfurled from the bolt and wrapped around Derek before delivering a sustained and high voltage charge through his entire body that fazed him out of his wolf form. Crippled for the time being Kate raced off with what she'd came for and away into the night.

As Derek's lids fluttered feebly, he suddenly caught a scent and was dimly aware of being lifted before blacking out altogether.

._._.

Lydia didn't like sleep much these days.

It had been beautiful once upon a time. A feeling of weightlessness and refuge from the daily assault of life. Then her Banshee nature had asserted itself and suddenly sleep was the last place she wanted to be. A place her subconscious could assail her with absolutely no mental defence of her own to resist it. It was a prison of sorts. A place she was defenceless and laid bare. Somewhere she felt uncomfortable.

A knock at the window awoke her with a start. Lydia sat bolt upright and felt her entire body tense nervously.

Nobody had knocked at that window since him.

She assumed it was something that gave young stupid boys a thrill but she was above grade school antics. Why knock at a window when there was a perfectly good door downstairs? It wasn't as if her Mom even cared that much. Clearly the withering gazes Mrs Martin could supply had been off-putting enough for Aidan, Jackson and whoever it was at her window at this moment.

Lydia blinked at her eyes to clear them and then turned to the window. Why had she closed the curtains? That just made this about a million times creepier. Summoning what courage she had to her in the middle of the night, alone in a room and with a seeming universe of supernatural creatures drawn to Beacon Hills thanks to the Nemeton, Lydia crossed the room and flung open the curtains.

What was on the other side was annoying rather than threatening. Nevertheless, it being the middle of the night and presumably freezing, she opened the window.

"Could this not have waited till morning?"

"It's about the boy."

"Which boy?" Lydia asked, her brow furrowing with restrained fury.

"The boy," Kira emphasised as she crept across the sill and put her feet to the floor almost silently, "the one you hooked up with-"

"Shhhh," Lydia said, "do you want my Mother to know that was what I was up to at school today?"

Kira smiled sheepishly and shook her head. Lydia gestured wordlessly to the bed and in a single graceful leap Kira was perched comfortably on the edge of the bed. Unwilling to demonstrate the lingering talents of childhood gymnastics, the auburn-haired girl walked to join her. "So what about him? If this is another DMC you can go straight back out that window."

"Werewolf hunter." Kira mumbled.

For the second time that evening Lydia's body tensed and she felt ice shoot up her back.

"Excuse me?"

"His name is Jaime," Kira added, the dark glimmer in her eyes only seeming to intensify the weight of what she was passing on, "and he's a junior hunter from the Calaveras pack."

"So you don't think it was a chance hook-up?"

"I mean…I don't know….it could be," Kira looked nervous, "I just…I mean I thought you should know."

Lydia felt like Kira was fishing for reconciliation and she had been mad, so she conceded a thankful-looking smile, she looked out of the window to avoid eye contact, "Sorry for snapping today – you were just trying to be thoughtful."

"I shouldn't have pried." Kira said quickly.

Lydia offered eye contact now, "I miss him you know – everyday: but Aidan is gone and buried. And I have to carry on."

Kira nodded, "What do you want to do about the hunter?"

Lydia shrugged, "Right now…there's nothing we can do till we find out more. We can tell the boys tomorrow."

._._.

A morgue should smell of death, decay and depression – all the things that are inevitably to be associated with it. The Beacon Hills Hospital morgue didn't though. It smelt almost eerily of nothing. Stilinski could never get used to that – the fact that liberal bleaching and refrigeration obliterated the deaths of those within. The dim lighting didn't help the gloomy feel of the place though – a token reminder of just what the place was there for.

Melissa, her tightly controlled face not betraying her inner despair, was stood beside Deaton, looking down at the metal table and staring at the two corpses spread across them. From a distance nothing looked amiss but as he drew closer, the Sheriff saw that the bodies were almost beyond recognition. Claw marks stitched their way across the chests of the two teenagers, both had throats torn out and each featured missing whole chunks of leg where teeth had sawed them away from the body. If he didn't have such a strong constitution he'd have asked for the sick bucket.

"So what was it, a mountain lion?"

"Wolves – if it was an animal at all." Deaton appraised, his medical background robbing him of any note of sympathy.

The Sheriff was taken aback by that, "Wait…do you mean?"

Melissa nodded silently.

"It doesn't have to have been someone from Scott's pack though," Deaton reminded, his voice still emotionally detached from the situation, "whatever it is, was quick – the throats were torn out before the rest of the incisions were made. Toasting marshmallows one moment and then dead the next. It would have been largely painless."

"They're still dead," the Sheriff countered, feeling his anger rising at the dispassion displayed, "and supernatural or no the person responsible has to be brought to justice."

The door opened behind them and the three turned toward it. Striding across the room Rafe McCall looked at once rattled, angered and impressively calm. "A double homicide and you didn't think I deserved to know?"

"I did tell Parrish to pass it on to you after he called it in to me." The Sheriff stated simply. If McCall really desired to follow it up, Stilinski could always cover for Parrish there and then, but at the time the excuse suited him perfectly. He doubted McCall would make a case for it though – he'd have to acknowledge the obstruction and that'd mean acknowledging the fact people didn't really like him down at the station. That'd damage the ego too much.

"Animal attack?" McCall pressed, changing tack.

Deaton offered a glance that suggested he was studying them afresh, "We don't know what attacked them though," he misled, "it could have reasonably been any number of large predators."

"Stilinski I want all your resources on this – and that includes you and Parrish. No disappearing acts this time." Having pulled rank, Rafe left them to it. There was no sense in making things worse and staying would only weaken the impact of his overruling Stilinski. As soon as McCall was gone Stilinski turned urgently to Melissa.

"Where were the boys last night?"

She bit her lip and instantly cursed giving herself away so obviously.

"Scott?" He intensified.

She shook her head.

"Isaac?"

Melissa stayed quite still and silent for a moment.

"Only for a few hours." She admitted as fast as if she were gasping a breath after being underwater.

The Sheriff turned away groaning and then looked at Deaton squarely, "Could he do this?"

"It is more a case of would than could Sheriff. There is a deep set of aggression and animalistic nature in all werewolves, and Isaac has suffered more than enough human trauma to intensify those to an extent, that frankly it's difficult to define to what extent he would go, if the brake were to be released on those tendencies."

"Isn't he still busted up from the crash?" Stilinski interjected urgently.

Melissa looked helpless, "I mean he was…but he's a Werewolf."

"He was capable of it," Deaton settled firmly, the weight of his voice cutting through the indecision of the two, "the question is whether he acted upon that capability and why."

"Well you heard McCall – I'm stuck on this until he takes the stick out of his ass."

._._.

"Derek being MIA and Kate being back isn't a coincidence," Stiles insisted, "she's taken him for…would you two try and pay attention?"

Stiles realised Scott's living room couch didn't exactly afford him much power or attention but it still should have given him more attention than he was receiving from Isaac and Scott.

"Once I've had breakfast," Isaac said between mouthfuls of pancake, "then you will have my undivided attention – healing from a car accident on an empty stomach isn't easy."

Stiles looked to Scott for help. His eyes bulged, "I mean…I guess that makes…sense?"

"Makes sense?" Stiles's eyes bulged now, "Sense? Are you for real? Scott this is like basic arithmetic – Kate plus missing Derek equals Were-Jaguar has obviously kidnapped former Werewolf lover for purposes presumed supernatural and sinister."

"Okay, okay," Scott said, being drawn out of his morning drowsiness, "so what do you think she's doing?"

At that point the doorbell rang. Scott sank back in his chair breathing a sigh of relief – it was way too early in the morning to be discussing the intrigues of Kate Argent.

"Shall I?" Scott nodded in confirmation at Stiles, "Oh okay…sure…I'll get the door." Stiles walked quickly to the door and stood back as he was pushed aside by Ethan and Danny who both swept into the room almost as if he hadn't even opened the door for them. "Good morning to you two too."

"I text Ethan." Scott clued-up to a hurt-looking Stiles.

"How come Danny's here?"

The tanned boy shot Stiles a look as fearsome as any werewolf had ever given him and he buttoned it.

"Wanna shed some light on that?" Scott fixed his eyes with Ethan's and threw a little Alpha weight behind them. Stiles might balk but he wouldn't.

"Because I'm here to help."

"With our homework?" Stiles quizzed faux-dumbly.

"With your were-jaguar problem."

Stiles eyes bulged again, "What are you talk-"

"-don't bother he knows."

"You told him? Scott demanded of Ethan, immediately on his feet and eyes a glow.

"Put the reds away McCall," Danny calmed, stepping between the two werewolves, "I didn't need telling – point is I know why those hunters are following Kate and what she wants."

Isaac straightened now, running his hands over his face to wake himself up, "Which is?"

Danny turned to him, "Kate's hit about a dozen museums across Latin America without warning – including lastly an artefact from a Museum in Mexico City."

"The Calaveras backyard." Stiles murmured aloud.

"Exactly," Danny mock-praised, "point is they're items of religious significance taken from the Aztec empire. They were scattered all over at museums but Kate gathered them all together."

"So she went souvenir shopping?" Scott prodded, only half-joking. Something about this was worrying.

Danny was about to continue when a phone – Stiles's phone he realised when the spiky-haired boy snatched it violently from the coffee table – rang out.

"Malia?" he enquired anxiously, "Where are you?"

._._.

Stiles spun the jeep into the parking lot at the south-end of the woods and threw himself out of the car the minute it had stopped.

"Stiles!" Scott called after him but his friend was already gone, racing off towards the depths of the wood where he'd find Malia. Isaac, Ethan and Danny assembled more coolly at the centre of the parking lot.

"We'll cover more ground if we head different directions," Scott decided firmly, finding the leadership instinct coming to him naturally as always, "Ethan and Danny head west," he gestured in that direction, "Isaac head east," he pointed the opposite way, "and I'll go after Stiles and then north. If you find her call – when one of us calls head that way."

"Got it." The quartet split at speed.

Scott turned north in the direction Stiles had sprinted off and broke into a brisk run. After the first few strides he was immersed in the woods and the trees began to blur together in a single mossy green and grey mass. It might have been approaching mid-morning but the daylight barely penetrated the overhead canopy giving the whole place a feel of overwhelming darkness. There was a supernatural iciness too. Something, Scott could tell, was off.

His strides were stretching wider apart now as he pressed deeper into the woods – he should have found Stiles by now but the scent trail had evaporated. He leapt clean across a river and landed in a crouch the other side, getting his bearings. Suddenly he caught an altogether more dangerous smelling scent – Kate's, he deduced after thinking for a moment. With renewed energy he set off on the trail of the scent.

Leaves flew under his feet, swept up by his running and after a moment he could feel in the wind around him the energy of the other wolves in his pack – Isaac and Ethan – converging upon him. Finally under Kate's trail he caught Malia and Stiles's scents as he crept into a clearing. Stiles's body lay inanimate a couple metres away from Malia who was tied to the ground and looked terrified. At speed Scott swept in, ripped off the bands and had wrapped Malia in the most reassuring bear hug he could offer.

He could feel her tears and anger, and a subsequent spike in her energy. He spun round and locked eyes with Kate. Her immaculate blonde locks framed her face, a sharp contrast to her Werejaguar face and the distinctly animalistic claws stretched out from her fingers. Her face was drawn into a primal snarl and in the blink of an eye Scott's werewolf sense had asserted itself, eyes glowing.

"That's right Scott – get angry," she babied, her voice laced at once with mocking and venom, "have you ever seen an animal speared to death?" In the light of the clearing, glittering sunlight caught a shock of metal. Scott drew back out of intimate distance. He felt three presences at his back – the other boys.

"Get Danny out of here." Scott said under his breath, assured Ethan would hear it.

Unfortunately Kate did too.

"Awww, you brought a plaything with you?" Kate quizzed. Like a bolt of lightning she'd grabbed Danny and wrenched him from beside Ethan, putting him down in front of Scott. "You should know better than to bring toys – I thought you were older and wiser than that." With a seemingly light push she threw Danny across the clearing, leaving him to land with a heavy thud in a heap beside Stiles.

Malia was getting to her feet and charged Kate. The Were Jaguar was ready for the aggression, batting away Malia's claws she slammed her straight in the face with a punch and then threw her over her back, taking her out of the fight.

"Three-on-one," she purred seductively, "bad odds – for you, that is." She let loose an animal cry and lunged toward Ethan. The first swipe caught him off guard, gouging into his abdomen and then an uppercut to the jaw launched him skyward. As he was coming down she moved to deal with Isaac. Tricking him with a feint she dislocated his shoulder and then knocked his legs from under him with a sharp curving sweep with her leg. Curling her left leg up she elongated and smacked the butt of her heel into his face, sending him down in canon with Ethan as he hit the deck. "Oh dear – did I say three? I meant one."

Now she drew the dagger again. It had been concealed in those duels, Scott realised, in a hip-holster.

In an instant she'd driven forward to close quarters with Scott. Moving his mid-section swiftly Scott drew apart from Kate and kept moving side-to-side to avoid jabs from the dagger. He then spun round Kate and managed to land a kick in the small of her back, sending her tumbling forward. He realised almost immediately that was an error.

Kate seized the momentum and ran out of it, turning on her heel and bearing down upon Scott. On the split second he ran toward her, as they closed on one another he pricked out his claws and extended his hands to dig in either side of Kate's ribs. The point of contact came and he ripped into Kate, tore her into the air with force of his claws and hurled her behind him. He drew to a stop behind her, legs out-stretched and ready for round two. Kate landed in a deft crouch and turned to face him, a sickening smile stitching across her face, fighting through the pain.

A stinging became more apparent at Scott's side as she stalked slowly across the clearing toward him. As she drew up close to him he felt his legs go beneath him as his strength failed, and she ripped the dagger out, causing agony to scream out in Scott's head.

She knelt down beside him and leaned in close to his ear and whispered, "Oh Scott, you were good, but not good enough," she drew back and admired the blood-soaked dagger like an accessory, "thanks for your powers though." She jabbed her foot into his abdomen and swaggered off into the woods.

._._.

This is long overdue, all written up now though and should be a new chapter everyday until completion – Acrobat x