Chapter 8: Girls

"I have gone out, a possessed witch,
haunting the black air, braver at night;
dreaming evil, I have done my hitch
over the plain houses, light by light:
lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind.
A woman like that is not a woman, quite.
I have been her kind."
—Anne Sexton, Her Kind

Allison and her father stood in the airport, waiting in silence. All around them families were reuniting happily, running towards each other, eager for a hug after whatever length of time they'd been separated for. A few feet from Allison a couple was kissing strangely, pressing their mouths together while unable to keep the smiles off their faces.

Allison could not remember what her fathers cousin Catherine looked like. She knew she had met her once, but she had no recollections of the woman. Everything she knew about her is what her Dad had told her over the past few days. He said that Catherine was a good woman, loyal and a good judge of character. But she'd lost her husband when Allison was small, and that had hardened her. She'd drawn back from her family, and pushed away those that cared about her.

This was the first time Chris would be seeing her in over ten years.

A small nudge from her father drew Allison out of her thoughts. "There they are," He said, gesturing in the direction of a group of people walking towards them. Allison's stomach flipped; there must have been more than twenty of them. "Which one is Catherine?" She asked.

"The Chinese one in the black and white sweater," Chris said. Allison raised an eyebrow. "Catherine was adopted,"

The group of drew closer, and Allison realized they were almost entirely women. She could see two men amongst them, but that was all. At the groups front was a tall black woman with a curly abundance of steel coloured hair. She wore a sleek black pencil skirt that came to just above her knees, revealing one shiny silver prosthetic leg.

"Viola Cacciatori," Chris said quietly, nodding to the woman in front. "Their leader. Catherine says she's the most ruthless woman she's ever met,"

Allison nodded.

Catherine broke away from the group, and headed towards Chris. "Chris, holy crap it's been so long!" She cried, throwing her arms around her cousin. Allison was surprised by the hug, and by the warmth in the woman's voice. From what he'd told her, she'd expected someone less enthusiastic. "My god, you're so scruffy!"

"Catherine, you look well," Chris replied, patting her awkwardly on the back.

Catherine pulled back and smiled at him, then turned to Allison. "And oh my god, Allison! I swear you were this chubby little baby like five seconds ago!" She said, sweeping Allison up in a tight hug. "Look at you, you're like a model, what the hell?!"

Allison laughed, and hugged the woman back. Nervous as she was about the hunters being in town, she kind of liked Catherine.
They broke apart, and Allison saw that the rest of the group had caught up. Viola stood looking expectantly at Catherine, waiting for an introduction. "Right, right," Catherine said, stepping back. "Allison, Chris, I'd like you to meet Viola Cacciatori, the head of our little party," She said. "Viola, this is my cousin Chris Argent and his daughter Allison,"

Viola extended a hand, and Chris reached out to shake it. "It's nice to finally meet you two," She said, with a slight Italian accent. She let go of Chris' hand, and then extended it to Allison. Allison paused, surprised, and then shook it as well. Her skin was hard and rough, clearly the hands of someone who was used to tough work, and her grip was firm but gentle. "I understand Catherine has chosen to stay with you two?"

Chris nodded. "She'll be taking Allison's room, and Allison will be staying at her friend's house while you're in town,"
Catherine looked distressed. "Oh no, I couldn't!" She said. "I'm sorry, when I asked if I could stay with you I had no idea I'd been kicking you out, Allison,"

Allison smiled. "It's really fine, I swear," She said. Truthfully she'd been planning on either staying with Lydia, or bringing Lydia to stay at her house anyways. With killers looking for anyone supernatural, it wasn't safe for Lydia to be on her own anymore. Having Catherine at her house just gave her a plausible excuse to give to Lydia's parents about why she'd be living there for a while.

"Are you sure?" Catherine asked. "You're not just saying that because you're a great kid? If you're not sure, honestly just tell me and I will be out of there like that," She said, snapping her fingers.

"I'm sure," Allison promised.


Stiles clutched his baseball bat in his hands, keeping it hoisted above his shoulder as he walked. The bat had been a birthday gift from Scott, after his last one had been destroyed in the fight against a particularly nasty fairy back in March. The bat was matte black, with letters emblazoned in white which read Cold Steel Brooklyn Smasher. According to Scott, the bat was reputed to be unbreakable. Stiles doubted that; if there was anything he'd learned over the last few years of his life, it was that everything could be broken.

Still, he was fond of it.

The night was quiet, and there was an uneasy feeling in Stiles' stomach. "So, I've been thinking," He began, in an attempt to ignore the not-so-great feeling in his gut. "About the whole name thing, for you guys—"

To his far left, Boyd groaned. "Seriously, man?" He mumbled.

Isaac, to his immediate left, seemed to concur. "I thought you let that go,"

"I definitely never said that," Stiles said. "I just said I wouldn't make it a priority,"

"Uh huh," Boyd said, exchanging looks with Isaac.

Truth be told, he had spent more time on it than he had meant to. It wasn't his main priority, obviously. No, priority number one was research. Looking into Lydia's theory, looking into the lore of oculuses, looking for anything anywhere that could tell him what these girls might want with the brains of supernatural people. That came first.

But in spare moments, when he didn't have access to his computer or any of the books he'd collected over the last year, moments when he couldn't do anything helpful... coming up with the name had been a good distraction. Better to have that to think about, than spending all of his time worrying about how almost all of his friends were being hunted for their brains.

Stiles glared at them both. "Remind me again why we need them with us?"

"Safety in numbers," Scott, on his right, reminded. "We're being hunted. Better to double up on patrols. So what were you thinking?"

Tearing himself away from Isaac's stupid grin, Stiles turned to Scott. "I have a few suggestions, but out of consideration, I thought I'd run them by you guys before I settled on anything,"

Scott nodded. "Okay, shoot,"

"Well, at first I was looking at words in other languages—something to mean monster, or creature,"

Scott raised an eyebrow. "Monster? That's kind of rude, dude,"

"Or creature," Stiles repeated.

Scott pursed his lips. "Not less rude,"

"Well it's not what I went with, anyways, so it's a moot point," Stiles paused. "I mean, I was seriously considering mononoke, but I figured the association with the movie would be too strong, so I junked it,"

"What movie?"

"
Princess Mononoke," Boyd said. "It's a Japanese animated film by Hayao Miyazaki."

Isaac snorted. "Nerd,"

Boyd ignored him, and Stiles nodded. "Yeah, exactly. And I mean, it's a great movie, but I figure we should still go a different route. After that I started thinking about coming up with a new word, one that combined elements of other words. Bizzariant, peculien, Creaturalite... but none of them sounded right,"

"Look, Stiles, fascinating as this story is, do you mind skipping to the end?" Isaac said, raising his eyebrows. "What word did you pick?"

Stiles glared again. "In the end, I just decided to go with a word that already existed, in english." He said. "So it's between deviant and aberrant."

"Deviant has a lot of negative connotations," Boyd pointed out.

"Yeah, but I mean it in the sense of like—you guys deviate from the norm,"

Scott tiled his head slightly. "Mmm, still," He said.

"Aberrant isn't bad," Isaac said thoughtfully.

"Yeah, it's actually kind of cool sounding," Scott agreed. "It could work,"

"I don't know..." Boyd said.

"Aw come on," Stiles said, smacking him on the arm. "Pretend like you don't hate my guts for a moment and consider it objectively,"

Boyd glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "I don't hate your guts," He said, not very convincingly. Stiles raised an eyebrow. "Hate is a strong word,"

"It does kind of seem like the right word, though," Scott said, looking at Boyd.

Boyd sighed. "Fine, the name isn't bad. Still, I'm not sure I can see it catching on."

Stiles shrugged. "If it doesn't, I'll find something else." He said. "Let's just give it a while and see."


Jackson walked in line with Allison and Erica, doing their usual patrol of the town. Only it wasn't their usual patrol, because now they were all in more danger than ever. Well, Jackson and Erica at least, although he couldn't imagine anyone who attacked them would just be able to ignore Allison. She wouldn't let them, and in the process she could get herself killed as well.

He was alternately happy and not, that Derek and Lydia were back in the relative safety of the loft. Lydia, while being supernatural and yet possessing no super strength or claws to defend herself with, had opted to not come on patrol with them. In stead she was back in the loft, continuing her research.

It had been Stiles who suggested Derek stay with her. Apparently it was "villain tactics 101" to draw all of the fighters away, and then attack the ones left behind, knowing they would be unable to defend themselves. So instead of leaving Lydia defenceless, they had left her with a grumpy but capable protector.

And while Jackson was glad that Lydia would be safe with Derek, and Derek would be safe not out on the streets, part of him still wished that Derek was patrolling with him.

"What do these girls look like again?" Jackson asked. "I'd hate to accidentally attack the wrong teenagers,"

"Yeah, that'd be awkward," Erica agreed. "Although if we run into Cordie Summers, don't hold me back,"

"We're not going to attack Cordie Summers," Allison said. Despite her words, there was a small smirk on her face. Jackson could tell the idea of attacking her wasn't entirely unappealing. Jackson didn't blame her, especially after the business with Coride and Lydia in the 10th grade. Though he did understand that Cordie was likely being manipulated by the Hasting sisters when she'd attacked Lydia, it was still a difficult thing to just forgive. It might've been easier if she wasn't so much of a pain the rest of the time.

"Fine, fine," Erica said, waving her hand dismissively. "So the girls, describe them again,"

"Well, the oculus is black, and her hair is braided. She was about my height, and thin but strong looking. She had brown eyes, and they glowed blue," Allison said. "No scars or distinctive markings that I could tell, beyond the whole blue-glowing-eyes thing,"

"And the werewolf?" Jackson asked.

"She was white, long dark hair... a few inches shorter than me, thin... she was fully shifted the whole time, so it's hard to say what she'd look like out of the shift. Blue eyes,"

Jackson nodded. Blue eyes, just like him. Whoever this wolf was, she'd killed innocents.

"I wouldn't worry about attacking the wrong girls though," Allison continued. "If we find them I'll signal you guys,"

Jackson nodded. "What's the signal?" He asked.

"I'll say, 'that's them,'"

Erica snorted. "Subtle, I like it," She said.

"So..." Jackson began, trying to keep his tone casual. "The hunters arrived today, right?" Jackson glanced at Allison. She nodded. "Did
you meet them?"

"Yeah, but there's like twenty-five of them," Allison said. "I didn't exactly have time to get to know them all one-on-one."
Jackson swallowed. Twenty-five people in town who wanted to kill them. Twenty seven counting the two girls. Jackson felt dizzy.

"Well?" Erica pressed. "What are they like?"

Allison paused. "Not really what I was expecting," She said. "At least, my Dad's cousin isn't. She seems kind of cool, actually. Nice,"

"Isn't that what you thought about your aunt, too?" Jackson asked. Erica smacked him on the arm and gave him a look. "What? I'm just saying, people aren't always what they seem!"

"That was an asshole thing to say," Erica snapped.

Jackson sighed. "Fine," He said. "Sorry, Allison,"

Allison nodded. "It's fine," She said, not looking at all fine. Jackson suddenly felt terrible. He really was an asshole.

Jackson opened his mouth to apologize again more sincerely, but stopped. "Wait, I hear something,"

"Probably another car," Erica said, unimpressed. Then she too froze. "No, I hear it too,"

"What is it?" Allison asked, notching an arrow as she looked around, alert.

Jackson strained to listen. It was a hard padding noise, like feet pounding the pavement.

"Running," Erica said. "Someone's running towards us,"

"What are the odds it's someone going for a midnight jog?" Jackson mumbled. The noise stopped abruptly. Voices began to speak.

"They're saying something," Erica said.

It was two girls speaking. They sounded upset.

We lost them—

—They're out here somewhere, we just—

—Face it, they're gone!—

—Well we need to find them!—

Erica relayed what was being said to Allison, who frowned. "Lost who?" Allison murmured. "You don't think..."

"They're talking about the others?" Erica finished. "Yeah, I do,"

"Let's go," Jackson said, striding forward.


"No, no way," Stiles said, shaking his head. "You can't be serious,"

Boyd raised his eyebrows. "I'm serious," He said.

"Boyd, come on, think about what you're saying!" Stiles cried, throwing his arms up in the air.

"Alright," Boyd said, pausing as if to think. "I thought about it. I stand by my opinion,"

Stiles shook his head. "No way. No way is Kiki's Delivery Service a better movie than Spirited Away!"

"I'm not saying it's a better movie," Boyd replied. "I'm saying I like it better. Spirited Away is fine, but I just prefer Kiki."

Stiles huffed, calming slightly. It occurred to him that he was getting worked up for no reason, and he should probably calm down. "Alright, sorry," He said.

Boyd looked surprised at the apology. "It's fine,"

"Can I ask why?" Stiles asked. "I mean, not in a condescending way, I'm just curious."

Boyd pursed his lips, and didn't answer. Stiles opened his mouth to press him, but Isaac nudged him slightly with his elbow. When Stiles looked at him, he mouthed let it go. Stiles raised an eyebrow, slightly confused.

"My sister and I used to watch it together," Boyd said after a minute, staring straight ahead. "It was one of her favourites,"

"Oh," Stiles said, suddenly feeling even more like an asshole than he had a moment ago. They'd all learned what happened to Boyd's sister back when they'd been under attack by the Hastings sisters. Her name was Alicia and she was 8 years old when she'd gone missing. Boyd had taken her to the ice-rink during free skate. He'd turned his back for a moment, and she was gone.
When Stiles had first met him, Boyd had been working at that exact ice-rink. Sometimes he wondered if he'd been waiting for her to come back.

Boyd shrugged. "It's fine," He said. "It's just... it's fine,"

Stiles opened his mouth, but then closed it again without saying anything. What could he say? They all knew it wasn't fine, and it never would be. Nothing he could say would change that. Stiles knew better than most people what it was like to lose someone who meant everything to you. It was something you learned to live with, something you had to bear every day. Some days were less terrible than others, sure... but even on the very best of days, it would never be fine. Not ever.

They walked on in silence.

Suddenly, Scott stopped. He furrowed his brow, and looked off into the distance. Boyd and Isaac all stopped as well, and followed Scott's lead.

"You hear that?" Boyd asked.

Scott and Isaac nodded.

"Sounds like..." Scott began.

"Yeah," Isaac finished.

Stiles gritted his teeth, and waited for them to tell him what they were all hearing, that his pathetic human ears were too weak to pick up. He put his hands on his hips, and tapped his foot. "Okay, come seriously, what are you hearing?"

"Crying," Scott said. "A girl crying,"

"It's getting closer," Isaac said. "She's running towards us."

"Come on," Boyd said, heading in the direction Stiles assumed the crying was coming from. They went after him, and after a minute Stiles could hear the crying himself. She must have been close.

"Help me, please—oh god, someone help!"

Stiles could hear the fear in the girl's voice, and it made the hair on his arms stand on end.

"There!" Boyd said, pointing off in the distance.

Stiles squinted, and was able to make out a small pinprick in the distance. The pinprick eventually turned into the shape of a girl stumbling towards them. Her clothes were torn and her blond hair was matted with fresh blood.

The girl spotted them and waved her arms, increasing the pace of her stumble. "Please, you have to help me—!" She collapsed on the road, and they ran over to her.

Stiles knelt down in front of her, setting his bat aside, and put his hand on her shoulder. "Hey, hey it's alright," He said. The girl began to sob, and she leaned towards him as if looking for comfort. He put his arms around her almost instinctively. "What's happening, what's wrong?"

"We have to get away, we have to run—" She choked, burying her face against Stiles shoulder.

"Who did this to you?" Scott asked, crouching in front of her. "Was it two girls?"

The girl pulled her face away from Stiles and nodded. "They attacked me," She said. "I managed to get away, but they came after me..." She turned to Stiles. "We have to go, they'll find me,"

"Don't worry, you're safe," Stiles assured her. "We won't let anyone hurt you," He reached up to stroke her hair, and his hand came away bloody. There was an open wound on her head that was still bleeding, and he pulled his hoodie off and pressed it against the wound. "She's bleeding a lot, we need to get her to Deaton's,"

"Please, don't let them get me," The girl sobbed.

"We're not gonna let anyone hurt you," Stiles repeated. "But we need to get you someplace where we can patch you up, you're loosing a lot of blood,"

"Just take me some place safe, the wound is nothing," She said.

Stiles furrowed his brow. Then the obvious occurred to him. He pulled his hoodie away. "You're one of them, aren't you?" He asked, though he could see her wound had already healed. "You're an aberrant,"

The girl looked confused. "A what?"

"Someone supernatural," Scott said. "Stiles, help her up,"

Slowly Stiles and the girl got to their feet. The girl stumbled slightly, and Boyd caught her before she could fall backdown. She kept a hand on his shoulder, taking a moment to steady herself. "Thank you," She said to Boyd, giving him what Stiles thought was intended to be a smile.

Stiles waited a moment, until she seemed to have regained her composure. "What's your name?" He asked. "I'm Stiles. This is Scott, Boyd and Isaac. They're werewolves,"

The girl looked surprised for a moment. "I'm Jessy. I'm... I'm a werecoyote..."

Scott frowned. "You smell human..." He said.

Stiles glared at him. "Scott, she's in shock, stop smelling her,"

"Sorry," Scott said.

"It's something my parents gave me," Jessy said. "It keeps us smelling human, so we can't be tracked,"

Isaac nodded. "Like Marcie Daniels," He said.

Jessy frowned. "Who?"

"Never mind," Boyd said, looking around. "Look, if those girl were chasing her then we shouldn't be sitting out here. We need to go,"

Jessy nodded. "Yes, running, let's go,"

"Hey, now we're not running," Stiles said. "We're making a calculated retreat,"

Jessy rolled her eyes. "Call it whatever you want, let's just get the hell out of here, okay?"


Jackson, Allison and Erica ran towards where it seemed as if the girls voices were coming from. "Do you guys have their scent?" Allison asked, looking around with her bow drawn.

Erica raised an eyebrow. "Their scent? How the hell would we know what they smell like, they're total strangers,"

"Oh,"

"They've got to be around here somewhere," Jackson mumbled, looking around the darkened streets and seeing nothing but cars and buildings—

A flash of something blue in an alleyway.

Jackson furrowed his brow, and before he could open his mouth to say something, a knife came whizzing out of the darkness, straight for Allison. Jackson dove for her and knocked her to the ground.

From the alleyway, two girls emerged from the shadows, walking straight towards them. Jackson and Allison scrambled to their feet, and Allison snatched up another arrow from her quiver.

"That's them," She said, sending the arrow flying towards the oculus.

The wolf girl smacked it out of the air before it impacted her friends shoulder, knocking it away from them as it exploded. Allison gritted her teeth and sent two more arrow in quick succession towards the wolf, but she dodged them both and then lunged at Allison.

The oculus drew another knife from a belt on her hips and came at Jackson with it. He moved quickly, dodging her and moving around her to gain the upper hand. "Out of the way, lover-boy, our fights not with you," The girl hissed.

"I doubt that," Jackson retorted, going in to a full shift. He raised a clawed hand and swiped at her, but she dodged him, rolling onto the ground and out of his grasp. When she came back up she pulled something out from a pocket in her belt. She held up her hand and blew on it, sending something like purple dust in Jackson's direction. Instinctively he closed his eyes, and a searing pain lit up his whole body. He screamed and fell to the ground, distantly hearing Erica call his name.

The world began to turn black, and Jackson struggled to hold on. He needed to stay awake, needed to fight...

As everything spun out of control, Jackson's thoughts turned to Derek. Though he was glad he was safe, he did wish he'd been able to see him just one last time.