Chapter 11

The sunrise was much too pleasant, much too bright to follow the draining night Kara had endured. It was almost insulting that the sky had flared into such beauty—a blend of oranges and pinks that bathed the land in watery light—when all was not well. She turned her back on the blazing sky and locked her car before striding up the footpath to Derek's building. A yawn shuddered through her body and her eyelids dipped. She desperately wanted to collapse into bed and fall asleep. If, despite her exhaustion, she would even be able to get to sleep. Derek was still missing, and him somehow being at the loft was her last hope. Cora's last hope too.

Kara paused as a compact, red car pulled out of the building's car park and sped off down the road. It looked familiar, as if she had seen a fleeting glance of it before. Kara brushed it off as nothing—really, she had to have seen a million red cars before. Still, that car pulling out of Derek's building didn't give her a good feeling, so she quickened her pace and climbed the many stairs leading to the loft. She did a quick scan of her surroundings through tired eyes; nothing seemed out of place or askew at the landing of the loft, so she finally faced the sliding door. Kara had to remind herself to breathe as her hand gripped the door handle. What would she do if Derek wasn't inside? She had exhausted every other possibility of his whereabouts that she could think of—there was nowhere else left to look. Before her mind could spin itself into a frenzy by thinking about what it would mean if Derek wasn't here, Kara took a deep breath and slid back the loft door, steeling herself for what she would find.

Kara's eyes flitted across the loft. Nothing. Her heavy heart plummeted and sank—but then a flicker of movement to Kara's right caught her eye, and she was holding her breath as a figure near Derek's bed spun around to face her. The air whooshed out of Kara's chest at the sight of Derek's face—Derek, here and alive and well—and she abruptly started forward, as if to rush to him, but caught herself. He just stood next to his half-made bed with a fistful of sheets hanging limp at his side and stared at her, his jaw slack in a way that Kara had never seen it before. She must have looked as relieved as she felt, because something in Derek's face softened. He slowly made his way over to where she stood and Kara found herself scanning every detail of him, as if he would disappear at any given moment.

"You're alive," Kara breathed. A stupid, unnecessary thing to say, but Kara couldn't bring herself to care. She could feel her protective curtain slipping, leaving everything to show through on her face, and a panicked voice screamed at her to pull it closed quickly—before Derek saw too much. She couldn't bring herself to care about that either. "How…how did you survive?"

"It takes more than that to kill me," Derek said, the corner of his mouth quirking up into an apologetic smile. He was surprised by the stricken look on her face, and guilt rose up in his throat. He should have called sooner, let them know that he was alive as soon as he could hold a phone, but he had been…preoccupied. He shifted uncomfortably.

"I woke up on the escalator—Ennis was still there, but I thought he was dead so I left him. I managed to make it here, and my body eventually healed itself."

"Ennis is actually dead, by the way. Deucalion brought him to Deaton, but he mustn't have been able to save him," Kara said, but then her brow furrowed as her mind went over what Derek had told her. Something seemed off. It couldn't have been that easy. "How did you manage to get all the way over here by yourself? I didn't see how badly you were injured, but I'm pretty sure it was bad enough to nearly kill you."

Derek tensed. Kara was a hard person to lie to, with her piercing eyes and expectant gaze demanding the truth from him. Still, his voice was unwavering as he said, "My body had partially healed itself by the time I woke up—just enough so that I could drag myself here." Kara's face remained skeptical, so Derek added, "It wasn't exactly easy. It took a while to get here."

His voice came out a bit more defensive than he had intended, but Kara didn't seem to notice; her attention had shifted to something on the floor near her feet. Derek followed her gaze, and his eyes landed on the dried, brown spots of blood that he had been about to clean off the floor. Kara's eyes flickered to the bucket of soapy water that sat near the blood and Derek internally winced as Kara's face hardened. She looked up at him with accusing eyes. Derek picked up on her heartbeat—it was steadily rising, an indication of the anger forming in her system. He had a pretty good idea of what she angry about—he knew she was smart enough to notice the discolouration of the blood on the floor, how it had been there long enough to dry and turn a faded brown. She would have seen how perfectly fine Derek looked—no hint of injury, even though he had, as she'd said, been injured badly enough to almost kill him. He could see the gears turning in her head, calculating the time that it would have taken him to completely heal. And coming to a realisation.

"Cora went back to the mall in the morning. You must have left before that, because she didn't see you then." Her voice was a mask of lethal calm, a storm brewing beneath. How did Derek ever think he was going to successfully lie to her? But he had to—he wasn't sure why, but the thought of telling her the truth made him feel worse than keeping it from her. So he kept his expression smooth and guilt-free.

"Even if it took you a while to get here, it wouldn't have taken you just under a day to heal—you said you had partially healed before you left the mall," Kara went on, the anger in her voice rising. "You've been fine for a while, haven't you?"

Derek's silence was she needed to hear.

Kara's eyes widened with outrage. "You didn't think to call me as soon as you could pick up a phone? Call Cora?" she demanded. "When were you gonna tell us that you're alive?"

Derek's gut twisted with guilt. He should have let them know, but he had finally had some semblance of peace for a while—no one trying to kill him or plot against him. No one demanding his help. No unbearable responsibility for a few hours. It was something he had craved so badly that he had been willing to let his sister think he was dead, and that thought didn't sit well with him.

Kara shook her head in disbelief and turned on her heel.

"Where are you going?" Derek said, the words slipping out of their own accord.

"I'm going to sleep," Kara snapped. "Cora and I were out all night looking for you."

Derek stared at her retreating form until she disappeared into her room, the door shutting with a snap.

Kara stared at her reflection in the mirror, her arms hanging limp at her sides. The long, blonde hair that she had once been so proud of was an unruly mess, and in desperate need of a trim. She couldn't remember the last time she had done anything with it other than pull it back into a ponytail, the braids and twists that used to adorn her hair long forgotten. With a resigned sigh, Kara pulled a hairbrush through her knotted tresses. She studied her appearance, frowning at her pale, washed-out skin and the dark shadows underneath her eyes. Even though her hair was neat again, there was still something off, something not quite right about the person that stared back at Kara—and it wasn't the fact that she looked like she hadn't slept in days. Unease curled in her stomach, and then she saw it. Her eyes, once clear and bright, had dulled so much so that they almost seemed hollow, as if the life had been sucked out of them. Startled by the unnerving sight, Kara drew her attention away from the mirror and cast it to her white-knuckled hands gripping the edges of the sink. Pull yourself together, Kara reprimanded herself. She wouldn't be any good to anyone like this—unfocused and shaken.

Scott had called. Not even a minute after Kara had woken up from a few hours of sleep, the teenager had told her about what had happened while he was out of Beacon Hills. His wounds from the fight at the mall took a long time to heal, and Lydia seemed to think that it was because of what happened to Derek. Kara had quickly told him that Derek was alive and well; she wondered if he could hear the annoyance in her voice. Apparently, Scott and the other teenage werewolves who had gone to the cross country meet were somehow poisoned by Wolfsbane, causing them to try to hurt themselves when they stayed overnight at a motel. All of that would have gone down around the time that she was looking for Derek, Kara realised with a dry mouth. Her heart hurt at how resigned Scott sounded as he talked. It was like he was so used it by now that events like that had become normal, a regular threat hanging over their heads.

"Wait, you saved one of the Alpha twins right? Ethan? He'll owe you for that," Kara had said thoughtfully.

Scott had only sighed. "I'm not sure he'll see it that way."

"If you need me to do something, just give me a call. And keep me posted on what's going on, alright?"

"I will." A click, then he was gone.

Kara splashed her face with water, hoping that the cold liquid would wake her up more. And breathe some life back into her face. Scott's call had shaken her more than she'd like to admit, but she wouldn't sit there and do nothing to help. After all, that was her purpose here in Beacon Hills—along with finding out who tried to turn her mother into a werewolf. Although, if her suspicions were right, she wouldn't have to look far. For now, there didn't seem to be much she could do about Deucalion, so Kara decided to focus on something else instead. Something that might finally leave her with more answers than questions.

Kara was beginning to doubt her inconspicuous-following skills. She had accidentally lost sight of the car she was tailing for the fourth time in an effort to keep herself from being discovered. Kara craned her neck, searching for the dark red vehicle, and sighed in relief. Only three cars ahead of her. Kara frowned as it suddenly turned off the main road, and she hastily followed it, wincing at the beep of a car behind her. So much for being discreet.

Where the hell was Chris Argent going? Kara had managed to familiarise herself with most of Beacon Hills, but she didn't recognise the street that Argent had turned down. Still, she followed him, making sure to keep a good distance away. The distant wail of sirens reached Kara's ears, and the sound steadily became louder as a whirlwind of flashing lights passed her and turned down a street up ahead. She watched as Chris took a sharp turn and followed the ambulance. Frowning, Kara did the same. Was he purposely following the ambulance, or was it just a coincidence? No, he had turned at the last second—maybe he wanted to know where the ambulance was headed. Or if another body had been found.

Kara swallowed uneasily as the scene came into view. Red and blue lights illuminated the cluster of people and cars gathered around a crime scene, but Kara couldn't see what they were looking at. Or who. She'd have to get closer. Kara slowed and pulled up to the curb, watching as Chris Argent parked up ahead and got out of his car, headed straight for the crowd. Kara waited for a moment, then parked her car and got out. She strode up to the gawking crowd and slipped in seamlessly. The sight that greeted her was not a pleasant one. A man, his unmoving chest covered by a stained and bloody shirt, was strewn across the ground. Kara couldn't tear her gaze away from his wide, unblinking eyes that stared at nothing. Blood roared in Kara's ears, drowning out the sound of the people around her murmuring fearfully. He didn't look old—late thirties, maybe early forties. He would have had a family. People who cared about him, who would be devastated by his death.

The back of Kara's neck prickled, snapping her out of her daze. She could feel someone's eyes on her. Kara suddenly remembered that Chris Argent was here too and that she was supposed to be tailing him; watching him, not the body in front of her. There—Kara's eyes found Argent on the other side of the crime scene, standing behind a row of people. He was already looking at her, his face grim. If he was surprised to see her he didn't show it. Did he know that Kara had been following him? She held his stare, his words from the other night ringing in her ears. I hope you know what you're doing.

Argent's eyes shifted to the side, and Kara followed his gaze. It was hard to act normal, to not cower in fear at what she saw. Deucalion stood right behind the yellow police tape with one of the twins, only a couple of metres away from Argent—and right across from Kara. Her blood ran cold as the twin leaned in and whispered something into the ear of his Alpha, who gave a cruel little smile. Deucalion had probably just been alerted of Kara's presence. She inhaled sharply. It was time to go. She glanced at Argent, whose eyes were flickering between Kara and Deucalion, his face set in a deep frown. He looked as though he had noticed the interaction between Kara and the Alpha and was trying to figure out what it meant.

Heart in her throat, Kara slowly, casually, turned away from the crowd and made her way back to her car. She was all too aware of how unprotected she was right now—but surely they wouldn't try anything in a public place like this? Kara didn't want to wait around long enough to find out. She quickened her pace, sure that the werewolves could hear her frantic heartbeat. Kara couldn't help the last few jogging steps to her car, and she sighed in relief as she finally drove away from the crime scene. Away from Deucalion.

What had he been doing there anyway? Had he come to inspect the body, or had he been the one who had killed him? The body hadn't bared any signs of the sacrificial injuries Stiles had told Kara about. No, he had been killed by other means. But did that definitely mean that it wasn't a sacrifice, or had the dark druid simply switched up their methods?

Kara huffed in frustration. Once again, she was left with more questions than answers. She considered calling Scott when she got back to the loft, but decided that it could wait until morning. He already had way too much to deal with. And although Kara would never admit it, she knew she did too.

Sunlight streamed into the room. It illuminated the white sheets Kara had become tangled in, warming her legs and telling her that it was time to get up. She sighed heavily and sat up. She wasn't quite sure why she had bothered to try to go back to sleep after waking up from the dreams that had plagued her mind. They weren't quite nightmares—just strange, blurry dreams about flashes of golden fire and glowing veins. Kara supposed she was lucky she hadn't had another one of those nightmares where she had unknowingly killed someone. Still, the strange dreams that started up just after the encounter with the Alpha Pack at the mall were enough to unnerve her. Kara inspected her wrists, studying the blue veins underneath her skin. Blue, not gold as they had appeared in her dreams. Kara closed her eyes and conjured up the images she had seen in her sleep. It wasn't quite fire, as she had first thought—it was more like golden smoke, except it had the crackling energy of electricity. It was…alive. And it lived inside of her.

Kara's eyes flew open. She shoved the images away and leapt out of bed, suddenly needing to find something to do. After rummaging through the rumpled clothes in her suitcase—unfortunately, her room didn't have a closet—she pulled on a pair of black jeans and a plaid top. Kara sighed as the top fell halfway to her knees. With a pang, she remembered it had belonged to her mother, who had been significantly taller than her. The fabric was soft and well-worn, but in good condition. Kara must have taken it before her mother got really ill; most of her clothes became ratty and stained after that.

Blinking back the tears that had suddenly welled up in her eyes, Kara tied the top into a knot over her stomach. She knew she could just change into something else and save herself the reminder of her loss, but that wasn't the only thing the top reminded her of—it made her think of home. It reminded her of safety, of warmth, of coming home to a house full of laughter and people who loved her. It was something she missed so badly that sometimes she couldn't breathe, as if she were drowning in her need to take back what had been stolen from her. But then Kara reminded herself of who had stolen it from her, and the tears in her eyes dried.

Kara made her bed methodically; a familiar, mindless task. She wasn't sure what time it was, but the loft was quiet enough to tell her that it was early. A cool breeze swept in from the window and Kara moved closer to it. She gazed outside, taking in the sight of houses and buildings bathed in the early-morning, orange light. Her eyes skimmed over the tops of trees and into the distance, where the Beacon Hills reserve rested. It was a good view. It almost made the trek up all of those stairs worth it. This part of town was so quiet, and Kara basked in the peace that came over her. She leant against the wall, head resting next to the window. In the back of her mind she knew that she should do something productive—maybe go to the library to do some research—but her body didn't want to leave the window.

A knock sounded behind her. Kara turned to find Derek in the doorway to her room, holding two takeaway coffee cups. She allowed herself a second to take in the sight of him—her eyes caught on his dark, slightly messy hair and lean body that rested against the doorframe—before pulling back and raising up the wall she so carefully maintained. Kara couldn't afford to let it slip, like she had when she'd found out that he was alive. She had too much else to worry about.

Kara raised her eyebrows at the hand that held out a coffee cup towards her.

"Thought you might need this. I heard you come in late last night," Derek explained as Kara stepped away from the window and warily took the drink from his hand. Her fingertips brushed his and she had to resist the urge to jerk back. She could feel her face starting to burn and she cursed herself internally, but Derek didn't seem to have noticed anything.

She took a sip of her coffee. Other than it being slightly too sweet, it was how Kara usually had it. "Thanks," she said, wondering why Derek was being less…distant. More open. Maybe the coffee was a peace offering, and he was trying to smooth things over—she was still angry with him for letting everyone think that he was dead for an entire night. With no small amount of surprise, Kara noticed Derek shift slightly under her scrutinizing gaze. Maybe not distancing himself from her took more effort than she realised.

"The police found another body last night," Kara said, setting her drink down on her nightstand. Derek's brow furrowed, and she took that as a sign that he hadn't known. Kara took a deep breath and continued on. "I was there at the crime scene and…so was Deucalion."

"Did he know that you were there?" Derek asked with alarmed eyes. "Did he say anything to you?"

"Yes, and no. He knew I was there—he had one of the twins there, being his eyes for the night." Why did Derek sound so worried? It wasn't as if Kara had been alone with them—she had been surrounded by a lot of people.

Derek nodded tensely. "Was it another sacrifice?"

"I don't think so. It was different to the others—no sign of that three-fold-death thing that Stiles told me about."

Derek raised his eyebrows, his mouth quirking into an amused smile. "Stiles has been talking to you? He looked pretty scared of you when you first rocked up in Beacon Hills."

Kara rolled her eyes. "He's not a bad kid. Annoying, but smart. Which is something that comes in handy when you have dark druids and alpha packs running around."

Silence fell over them. Kara suddenly felt awkward, so she sat down on her bed. Derek lingered in the doorway, seeming reluctant to go. Kara supposed he probably thought she was still angry at him—which she was, but it had been reduced to a minor grudge, like she was reluctant to let go of that anger. Kara sighed inwardly. It was too early in the morning for deep psychological discoveries about her issues.

She snorted suddenly, her mind going back to what Derek had said about Stiles. "You really think that Stiles was scared of me?"

"I was surprised he didn't faint when you made all the werewolves in the room hear that weird frequency."

Kara grinned. Derek chuckled, a small smile managing to make its way onto his face. It was a jarring sight. Kara took another sip of her coffee, suddenly needing something to look at other than Derek.

"I haven't done that in a while. Still up for being my guinea pig?" Kara asked with a smirk, earning a snort from Derek.

"Sure, but you might want someone a little more…easy to practice on."

"You don't think I can take you?"

Derek shrugged casually, and the arrogance in the gesture made Kara bristle. She raised her eyebrows, challenging Derek to say something.

"Not without the full use of your powers," he said finally, the amusement gone. "How long could you hold me down with that frequency trick?"

"I'm not sure," Kara replied reluctantly, knowing that he was right. "I've never tested how long I can keep it going for."

"We need to go to Deaton. He might be able to help."

Kara bit her lip. The first time Derek had mentioned the idea, it had sounded great—a relief, really, to have someone who might know something about her powers. But the more she'd thought about it, the more she dwelled on the strange dreams she'd been having, the less appealing the idea became. What if she tried to use her powers and it got people hurt? It was different with the frequency trick—that was something she knew how to control, like the ability to command it had been ingrained in her bones.

But using other parts of her powers…that was something else entirely. She couldn't stop thinking about the dream she'd had, where someone had ended up dead because of her. She unconsciously wiped her palms on her jeans, remembering the blood that had coated her hands. Somehow, despite everything she'd been through, Kara had managed to keep herself from crumbling, but she knew that having the blood of an innocent on her hands would be what broke her.

"What is it?" Derek said, sensing that something was wrong. His voice pulled Kara out of her own thoughts, and her eyes flickered up to meet his. She found him already looking at her, searching her face. He seemed less guarded, the crease between his brows only slight and the usual, hard set of his eyes had seemed to disappear for the moment. Maybe something had finally gone his way for once.

"It's nothing, I just—" Kara broke off. How was she supposed to explain to him that she was worried about losing control of her powers? Scott had told her that it was different for natural born werewolves like Derek, that it was easier to learn control and that they were taught at a young age. Would he understand the fear of losing control? Maybe not, Kara thought. But he might understand something else. Kara was worried that losing control would make her hurt someone, turn her into something violent and uncontrollable. A monster. Had Derek ever worried about becoming a killer?

Kara was talking before she could stop herself. "I had a dream not long ago that I'd…hurt someone. Because of my powers." I saw their blood drip down my hands, she wanted to say. I heard a woman scream at me, telling me that I was a monster. The words begged to be let free, but Kara couldn't find the right way to say them. They got stuck in her throat, wanting to leave but at the same time petrified of leaving the safety of her own mind. So they stayed buried, locked away in the part of her mind where her most worrying thoughts were kept.

Derek stayed silent, waiting for her to continue. Kara wondered how he knew that there was more.

"I don't know if I'd be able to control my powers if I tried to use them. I'm worried I might…hurt someone."

Something flickered across Derek's face, too fast for her to decipher. "You won't hurt anyone."

"You don't know that," Kara said sharply. "Besides, I already have. I accidentally burned you that time, remember?"

"Only because I grabbed you. Your powers were acting on their own to defend you."

"That's what I'm worried about."

Derek set his coffee down and moved over to Kara's bed. She felt the bed dip, and shuffled over to give him more room, suddenly reminded of what happened the last time they had been seated this close together. Kara stared at her hands, at the long nails that were in need of cutting. When had she forgotten to take care of herself?

"We'll help you learn control. If you practice using your powers enough then you'll be able to control them, to choose when to use them," Derek said, his voice firm. It made sense, Kara knew, but she was still uneasy with the idea of deliberately using her powers in a place where she could hurt someone.

"Aren't you worried that I'll accidentally hurt you? I know you saw me break Peter's hand," Kara asked.

"I'll heal." Derek gave that same arrogant shrug again, but Kara found that she didn't mind it as much this time—even as a small smirk appeared with it. He didn't seem too concerned about her losing control. Kara wondered if that should make her worry or not.

"As soon as I can I'll go talk to Deaton, see what he knows," Kara said. It doesn't mean that I'll agree to practise with my powers, were her silent words.

She glanced over to Derek and was surprised to see hesitancy creep into his face, a dark cloud slowly spreading. Had he changed his mind about what he'd said? Maybe he was starting to think about what could happen if Kara lost control.

Derek winced almost imperceptibly, as if he were trying to force out the words in his head. "There's something you need to see," He said with a heavy voice.

Kara's stomach dropped. Hadn't that been what Derek had said right before he'd shown her the birth certificate taped to the loft door? She raised her eyebrows at him, searching his face for more information.

Derek jerked his head towards the doorway. "I'll show you."

Kara's heart started thumping in her chest. She prayed that it was some minor inconvenience they could manage, but the way Derek had said it…Whatever it was, it didn't sound good. Derek stood up and Kara followed suit, their coffees left forgotten on the nightstand. They were just about to step out of Kara's room when a voice rang out through the loft.

"What the hell is that?"

Kara pushed past Derek and raced out to where Cora's voice had come from. She found her standing near the loft door, staring at something across from her. At first, Kara didn't see it but then she followed Cora's gaze and her eyes landed on the window, its glass marred by a symbol that had been painted on from the outside. Not just any symbol, Kara realised with a horrible jolt. The symbol of the Alpha Pack.

She whirled on Derek, who had come up behind her. "What does it mean?" she demanded, her blood running cold at the expression on Derek's face. It was as grim as Kara had ever seen it.

"It means they're coming. Tonight."