Chapter 11: Motel California
On March 5th, 1977, a pickup pulled up to the Glen Capri Motel. The man that stepped out was Alexander Argent. He was given a room for the night and he moved off for Room 217. He immediately went to the bathroom and checked at his side for the great bite mark on his side. He then went to the window to get a glimpse of the full moon. His eyes full of both fear and resolve. He went to his bag and took out his shotgun and loaded in a shell. He placed it under his chin and as soon as he felt the burn from the moon and his eyes glowing, pulled the trigger.
Over thirty years later, a bus full of teenagers was pulling up to the Glen Capri. Scott, Stiles, Allison and Lydia came out and gave the motel a grim look.
"I've seen worse," Scott tried to shrug off.
"Where have you seen worse?" Stiles asked as he kept his eyes on the gloomy and run-down looking place.
But before anything else could be said, a familiar whistle blew.
"Listen up," Coach said to everyone. "The meet's been pushed up until tomorrow. This is the closest motel with the most vacancies and the least amount of good judgement when it comes to accepting a bunch of degenerates like yourselves." He then held up a bunch of room keys. "You'll be pairing up. Choose wisely." One by one, the keys were taken as people paired off to head for their rooms. "And I'll have no sexual perversions perpetrated by you little deviants. Got that?" he warned. "Keep your dirty little hands to your dirty little selves."
Allison moved to head for their room but she noticed that Lydia was still standing in the same spot, looking out at the place. "Lydia?"
Lydia just kept her gaze on it. "I don't like this place."
Allison gave the motel another hard look and smiled. "I don't think the people that own this place like this place," she laughed out. "And it's just for a night."
Lydia took a deep breath. "A lot can happen in one night."
Scott and Stiles got into their room at 213 and quickly threw their stuff down and laid down with their backs flat on the beds.
"Alright," Stiles said. "So now I have four."
Scott looked over. "Four? You have four suspects?"
"Yeah. And trust me, they're all compelling cases."
"And who's your first one, Harris?"
"Yeah. You said it yourself, remember? Just because someone's missing doesn't mean he's dead. And so far Harris has been at the center of both The Hale Fire and The Kanima Killings." He had coined that phrase himself. "Now this. Fits, things in threes. And you know all about things in threes."
Scott narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Okay, so if he's alive then that means that our chemistry teacher is out there somewhere secretly committing human sacrifices?"
Stiles tightened his jaw. "Yeah, I guess that sounded way better in my head."
"Well, what if it's someone else from school? Remember Matt, we didn't know that he was killing people."
Stiles quickly rose up from the bed. "Scuse me? Sorry, what?" He then got to his feet. "Uh, yes we did. I called that from Day 1 actually."
Scott then rose up onto his elbows. "Well yeah but we never actually thought it was Matt."
"I was serious. I was quite serious actually. Deadly serious. No one listened to me."
"Who are the other three?" Scott said trying to move this along.
Stiles rolled his eyes. "Derek's sister, Cora. No one really knows anything about her or what she's been up to for the last 6 years. Not my strongest suspect but gotta keep our possibilities open."
"Okay," Scott nodded. "And the others?"
"The other two are actually my strongest suspects. The first, your boss."
That made Scott straighten and sit upright. "My boss? I thought he was helping you solve this."
"Yeah, well that doesn't rule him out. For starters I don't like that whole Obi-Wan thing he's got going on. It kind of freaks me out." Scott was staring at him blankly and Stiles could smell the confusion leaking from him. "Oh, my, god, have you still not seen Star Wars?"
"I swear, if we make it back alive I will watch the movie."
Stiles shook his head. "Unbelievable," he mumbled before shaking it off. "Anyway, there's also the fact that he seems to know a little too much of what's going on but keeps it to himself most of the time. Up until it gets forced out of him. And-" Stiles froze.
"What? What is it?"
Stiles looked straight in Scott's eyes. "I get the feeling that he knows something, something big, and he's trying to keep it from us. It's like a vibe or something. The way he's been looking at me when he thinks I can't see it."
Scott felt something cold run up his spine. He wouldn't admit it, but he was starting to get that feeling from Deaton too. Sometimes he would catch his boss giving him a look that he tries to brush off. It hadn't really been bothering him, he had actually thought it was just in his head. But if he was doing that to Stiles too, maybe it wasn't just in his head. But Scott wanted to steer this away from Deaton. He really liked the guy and didn't want to believe that he was secretly some kind of mystical killer. "And the other one?"
Stiles sighed. "Lydia," he said in a low voice. He then moved to sit back on the foot of his bed. "She was totally controlled by Peter and she had no idea what she was doing. And, I found her at one of the bodies and she says that she had no idea how she got there or why."
The two of them just sat there and weighed all the facts that were just laid out on the table. Neither wanted to admit it but it was a strong possibility that whoever was doing this was someone close to them. They both then dropped down and let their backs hit the beds with an exhausted huff.
Jennifer pushed on the latch and pulled the metal door open as she moved to get Derek inside. It wasn't easy as he was heavy for her and he could barely help support himself.
"This is a bad idea," she grunted. "I should be taking you to a hospital."
"No hospital," Derek weakly mumbled out. "No hospital."
As they started on inside, her grip on Derek was starting to slip. "Derek," she gasped. "I…I can't hold you anymore. I'm losing you," she said right before she lost her grip and Derek fell to the ground. "Derek!" she cried as she moved to his side. "Derek."
Stiles remembered seeing a vending machine before as they headed to the room so he left to get himself a little snack. As he walked out of the room, he froze when he heard a howl sound off in the distance. It didn't sound too far away. He huffed and just kept on going. He moved down the steps towards the corner where he remembered the machine was and found that there was already someone there, Boyd.
"Yo," he said to him but Boyd didn't respond. He just moved to make his selection. Peanut Butter Crackers. "Oh, that's what I was going to get," he said trying to be friendly. But Boyd still stared on ahead as his selection got stuck. "Oh, hang on. I've got a patented method for this."
Stiles then moved to grip the top of the machine to shake Boyd's crackers free but Boyd just went and punched his arm right through the glass and took the entire slide of crackers away. He then walked off with them. Stiles stared after him, feeling puzzled. He looked back at the machine and hoped that no one would ask too many questions about that. Then, he shrugged and went to grab some crackers for himself.
He felt that he should probably talk to Scott more on both Boyd and Isaac. He managed a few steps away from the machine when he heard the howling again, but this time it was louder and closer. He heard some hard animal-like breathing surrounding him. It seemed to be moving about and Stiles moved to be in the center of the parking lot so that nothing could sneak up on him. The breathing then seemed to settle behind him and he slowly turned to see a pair of bright gold eyes shining in the shadows from a corner. Stiles' own eyes widened as they started to move into the light. A giant wolf, over twice the normal size, started to prowl out closer to him and snarl. Its deep brown fur flapped in the breeze and its golden eyes were locked completely on him. Stiles was starting to sweat and his breathing quickened as he went to take a step back. At that, the wolf barked and broke into a run before it quickly pounced. Stiles quickly tried to back away but slipped on a small crack in the pavement. He fell onto his back and quickly shielded his face with his arms but there was no feeling of attack. He then moved his arms away from his face to see that the wolf was gone. Stiles hard breathing echoed in his ears and the sweat was dripping from his face.
Scott was looking at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth when he felt a sudden twitch in his eye. He went to take a closer look but as he looked, the iris of his eye shined red. He jumped back as he saw that it was not back to normal. He then started to move off out of the room. He moved to open the door to Room 217, Allison and Lydia's room. He heard the shower going in the bathroom and heard Allison's heartbeat. Lydia seemed to have stepped out so he stepped on in and closed the door behind him.
From inside the shower, Allison heard the door close so she peeked out of the shower curtain. "Lydia, did you get any towels?" she asked out before putting her head back in. Soon footsteps echoed inside the small bathroom. "Lydia?" Allison moved her head back out of the curtain and she jumped back to cover herself when she saw that it was Scott, not Lydia. "Scott? What are you doing?"
"Looking for you," he said simply as he just stared at her.
"Well, you found me. In the shower. Slightly naked if you didn't notice."
"I've seen you naked before."
Scott's blank tone started to make Allison feel kind of nervous. "Okay, but remember, we're kind of not together anymore."
But Scott took another step forward, not taking his eyes off her. "We're still friends right? We could just be, closer friends," he said to her in a predatory whisper. "Maybe, we could fix things between us?" he said moving in even closer and reaching for her. "Between all of us."
Scott went to touch her hand but something was wrong. Unlike in the past, his reaching for her hand made her feel calm and safe. Now, she felt slightly put off. Scott was clearly not acting like himself and was even starting to scare her.
"Scott." She pulled away from him. "What are you doing?" At that, Scott seemed to blink and he settled a bit, almost like he snapped out of something. "Are you okay?" she asked him.
Scott started to back away. "Uh, yeah. I was, um…sorry. I don't remember." He then moved to leave the room.
Allison wondered what all that was about.
When Allison had gone to take a shower, she noticed that the towels smell of cigarettes. Lydia went to take them to the front desk to exchange them for new, cleaner ones. She reached the window and knocked on it.
"Excuse me," she said to further pull the desk lady's attention. "The card on the dresser says that we're in a non-smoking room but, somehow, all of our towels reek of nicotine," she sighed.
"Sorry about that sweetheart."
Lydia's eyes widened when the lady fully turned around to reveal that she had a breathing aid attached to her neck, which she knew were for smokers. Suffice to say that meant one egg for her face. She moved her eyes away and noticed what seemed to be a number on the wall. "What's that?" she asked. "That number."
"It's a kinda inside thing for the motel that my husband insists on keeping it up."
"What do you mean?"
"It's a little bit morbid to be honest, sure you want to know?"
"Tell me," Lydia insisted. After everything she's seen and been through, morbid was a very loose definition.
"We're not going to make the top of anyone's list when it comes to customer satisfaction."
"Obviously," Lydia mumbled.
The desk lady continued. "But, we are the number one in California when it comes to one disturbing little detail. Since opening, more than any other motel in California, we have the most guest suicides."
Lydia looked over at the number again. "198?"
"And counting," the lady smiled at that little bit.
At that moment, Isaac was in his room in front of the television. It was on Channel 198. There was nothing but fuzz and he flipped the channel up and stopped at 201. A dazed look was on his face as he stared at the number. He then flipped it twice more and then turned it off.
Chris Argent was walking through the empty abandoned mall where he noticed signs of recent heavy activity. Calmly, he was able to put together a picture of what happened with every spot of blood, every footprint, scratch mark and sign of damage. There had been a full out battle here, between werewolves. A lot of them. It would seem that Scott, Stiles, Derek and the others must've fought the Alpha Pack here and very recently.
His phone then started to ring and he saw that it was Allison calling him. "Sweetheart? Are you back at home?"
"No," she said to him. "We kind of got held up. The car was also out of gas so we had to hop a ride with the rest of the team on the bus."
"Want me to come and pick you up? I don't mind a late night drive."
"No," she said dismissively. "It's okay. We're at a motel."
"The school paid for that?"
"Yeah, yeah. It's not great but, it's just for a night."
"What's it called?" he asked.
"The Glen Capri. What, do you know it?"
His eyes narrowed. "Sounds familiar. Listen, sweetheart, I'm going to hop in the car and come and get you guys." Chris then started to pace.
"No," Allison said. "Dad, seriously…it's okay."
"If there's something you feel like you can't tell me, I just want you to know you can talk to me. We don't have to keep anything from each other."
"I know," she softly said. "Good night."
"Good night," he said back to her.
He then hung up his phone and went to touch the hole on a nearby pillar that had singe marks on it. The kind that would be made by a flash bolt arrow. It seemed as if werewolves weren't the only ones that were here during all the commotion.
At the loft, Jennifer Blake kept standing vigil over Derek as he lay on a makeshift bed. He was breathing quite hard as he tried to stay awake. She carefully lifted his shirt and exposed the wounds he had on him. Some were still bleeding.
"How bad," Derek asked her after a moment.
"Uh, to be honest, the 'oh my god' would be for your unbelievable physique if it weren't for the fact that…you're bleeding black blood," she stuttered out. Derek then let his head slump down. "Derek? Oh god, you're not dying are you?" she cried at him. Derek then was still as a statue. "Derek, please don't die. Derek!" Jennifer then went and put her ear to his chest and relaxed a bit when she heard the faint sound of his beating heart. She let out a relieved gasp. "Not exactly how I wished for a first date."
Derek let a small smile tug on the corners of his lips. His nose then twitched as he inhaled deeply. The sweet smell of honey filled his senses. "You smell nice," he mumbled.
Lydia got back to the room and quickly told Allison what she had found out at the front desk. Allison was mortified to say the least.
"198?" Allison asked as she dried herself.
"Yes," Lydia huffed. "And we're talking 40 years. On average that's like, 4.95 suicides a year which, actually to be expected. But who commemorates that with a framed number? Who does that?"
Allison then stepped out, fully dressed, and went to her bag before looking back at her friend. "All suicides?"
"Yes. Hanging. Throat cutting. Pill popping. Both barrels of a shotgun in the mouth suicides. Now, I don't know about you but me, I-" Lydia stopped when she started hearing a man talking. He was asking someone which one they wanted. "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?" asked Allison.
But Lydia didn't answer. She heard a woman answering the man. She said that he should pick. The voices seemed to be coming from the vent on the wall and Lydia walked on over to it to hear it better. As they spoke on, it looked like there were deciding on dividing something. But then the woman asked if he would be counting or if they should just do it. But the guy said that he would count, to three. He then started counting. Lydia gasped when the girl said that after three would be when they pulled the trigger.
Allison froze when she saw how she was acting. "Lydia?"
But Lydia was still not moving away. She was starting to freak when the pair said they loved each other before the guy started counting. On three, there was a loud gunshot and Lydia pulled back and covered her scream with her mouth.
Allison rushed to her. "What is it Lydia? What happened?"
"Didn't you hear that?" she cried.
"Hear what?"
"The people, in the other room, they shot each other." Lydia then ran out the door and headed for the room next door. She quickly went for the door and noticed that it was unlocked and then opened it to find it dark inside. "Hello?" she called out.
Allison was right behind her. "Lydia, what are you doing?"
Lydia walked on inside when the lightswitch wasn't working. She stumbled inside and found a work light so she switched it on to reveal the room was empty and under renovation. "It had to be right here," she said to her. "There was a guy and a girl, they sounded younger, but they were here." She then looked pleadingly to Allison, hoping that she believed her.
"I believe you," Allison said unflinchingly. "After everything we've been through, I believe you."
Lydia gave the room another look and her eyes fell on the wood panels of the walls. She took a closer look and felt that the shapes in the wood greatly resembled a person screaming.
Back in Stiles' room at Beacon Hills, his father the sheriff, flipped the lightswitch on to illuminate the dark room. With Stiles now gone overnight, he figured that now would be the best time to try and find some answers to make some semblance of sense for what was happening. He noticed that the board that he saw his son set up was now gone.
He then started to look around, starting at the closet. "C'mon Stiles. Just what the heck is going on with you?" he mumbled as he moved things around. "With all of you."
He then spotted a plastic bag with clothes in it and reached in to pull them out. He saw that they were his son's, but they were torn and ripped in a few places. A pair of jeans he pulled out had a piece ripped out from the back of the leg and there was a heavy spot of blood surrounding the rip. From the look of these clothes, it seemed his son had gotten mauled by an animal but that didn't make sense. He had seen him before he left that morning. Stiles had seemed fine, no visible marks or injuries on him at all. His father put it all back and then kept looking around.
He pulled up the covering from Stiles' made bed and noticed that a board was hidden underneath them. He pulled it out and laid it in front to get a better look. In the middle was a diagram of some kind of symbol. It had five circles and two of them had his son's writing in it. One read Virgins. The other read Warriors. A yellow string connected the Virgins circle to an outer circle he drew that had pictures of the three first victims of the latest homicides. Likewise, there was a yellow string that connected the Warriors circle to three other pictures. One to that kid found dead in the woods by the school. Then there were two others next to it of teachers. One of them was Adrian Harris and the sheriff knew that these two people were recently declared missing. At the top right hand corner of this board, there was a picture of a flower, Mistletoe. He had remembered that Stiles and Melissa McCall had been talking about that. There were notes about it being found in all the victims and wherever they were taken. There also seemed to be a note that Stiles made to himself that read: Watch for its scent. Below all of this was a drawing of a silhouette with a question written inside that read: Who is the Darach?
The sheriff was now even more confused and baffled than before. None of this made any sense. He then went for his laptop and opened a Search engine. He typed in the word, Darach.
Boyd had a bucket as he went over to the motel's ice machine. He started to scoop up some ice when he heard a girl's voice. It was familiar.
"Don't," it said. "You weren't supposed to leave me."
"Alisha?" Boyd muttered.
"Why did you leave me?" it said.
It seemed to be coming from inside the machine. "Alisha?" he cried before he began to dig into the clumps of ice.
He began to push the ice out and dig his way in before he then revealed a girl's face. It's dead and lightless eyes staring right up at him. Boyd gasped and dropped more ice out and even the bucket that he had filled, spilling ice cubes everywhere.
Lydia was frantically gathering her things up. "There's something wrong with this place," she said as she moved about. "We need to leave."
Allison was trying to calm her. "But they were suicides. Not murders. And its not like this place is haunted, right?"
Lydia stopped and just looked at her. "Maybe it is. You know, I bet that couple made that suicide pact in that very room. Maybe that's why they're renovating. Maybe they've been trying to scrape brain matter off the wood paneling."
Allison nodded. "Maybe we should find out."
The two of them moved for the front desk but saw that the lady was gone. She left a sign saying that she would be back in a half hour.
"There goes that," Lydia mumbled.
She looked over at Allison but noticed that her face seemed confused.
"Didn't you say that the sign read 198?" Allison asked her.
Lydia looked at the number and saw that it had changed. It now read 201. "It was 198," she said. "I swear to God that it was 198."
"Okay, what does that mean? That there have been three more suicides?"
"Or three more about to happen." Lydia then pulled out her phone.
Allison watched as she started up a message. "Who are you texting?" she asked her.
Lydia spared her a small look. "Stiles," she said before finishing the message. She looked back up to see Allison's face had hardened. "Well, who else should we go with this?"
"Scott," she said.
Lydia rolled her eyes. "Right, because that worked out so well last time," she said before she started stomping back for their room.
Allison let out a heated breathe but moved to follow after Lydia. She was still feeling a little irritated at just the thought of the guy. Even annoyed when, after Scott had easily caught her strikes back at her room, did she realize that Stiles had let her slap him back during their little fight. She just wondered what he wanted to prove or wanted her to prove?
Isaac was trying to sleep but he opened his eyes when he heard a faint thumping.
"Boyd?" he called out.
But there was no answer and the sound seemed to stop. He then guessed he misheard so he tried to go back to sleep but now there was the sound of scraping metal. And the thumping got louder. Isaac sat up as he tried to find where it was coming from. But he stiffened when he heard his father's voice.
"Hand me the 7/16 wrench." There was then a pause and his father's voice got annoyed. "What the hell, this is the 9/16 you moron. You do know what the difference between the 7 and the 9 is don't you dumbass?"
"The difference between the 7 and the 9 is, it's the strip bolt," Isaac said back.
"A strip bolt!" his father spat.
Isaac shrank. "I'm sorry. What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to shut up."
"Shut up. You shut up. Shut up." He started babbling before he stopped. "What can I do? I can't fix this now. I can't."
"I can't even keep it closed," his father complained. "Grab the chains."
"What?" he said frightfully.
"Are you not hearing me son? Get in the damn freezer! Get in!"
At that, Isaac went to jump back and curl under his pillow. He tried to block it all out but he quickly found himself not laying on a bed but inside the freezer. He screamed as the door shut and sealed him inside.
Scott was drying his face as he had gone to splash it with cold water and he heard his phone ring. He went over to his bed and picked it up to see that it was his mother.
"Mom?" He said into the phone but there was silence. "Mom?" he tried again.
"Scott," his mother said meekly, like she was crying.
He tensed. "Mom, what's wrong?"
Her mom then started speaking in a cracked voice. "I'm sorry. He just came in the house. I tried to stop him. I'm sorry,"
"Who? Mom, where are you?"
"Outside. Look outside," she said.
Scott quickly moved for the window and quickly spotted his mother out in the parking lot, being held at clawpoint by Deucalion.
"Scott, can you hear me?" he asked calmly as he held his mother hostage.
"What do you want?" Scott quickly asked.
"Isn't it obvious? You're an Alpha now Scott."
"I'm…I'm not. Derek, he could still be alive," he tried to argue.
"He's dead. You know he is, no matter what anyone tries to say. So now, I'm coming for you. You and everyone you love. Your best friend was supposed to be first." He then looked down at his mother. "He'll have to settle for being next." He then ran his claws and tore out his mother's throat.
Scott gasped in horror as he watched his mother's body fall flat on the ground.
"Hey Scott, you okay?"
Scott quickly turned his head to see that Stiles was at the door, looking at him in concern. Scott quickly looked over at the parking lot to see that it was empty.
Stiles wondered what was wrong before he moved to try and fan his face with his shirt. He was starting to feel quite hot. He went to wipe off some more sweat from his face when he felt his phone vibrate at his side. He took it out to see that Lydia sent him a text. It was asking him to come to her room. It said that they needed to talk. Stiles looked from it to his friend. Scott was just staring out into the distance of the window with a forlorn look on face. He then felt head get light again but Stiles went and shook it loose and wiped the fresh set of sweat that gathered at his brow. He then moved to head to see what Lydia needed to talk about.
Over in Ethan and Danny's room, the two of them were lightly making out. They were getting into it when Danny's things fell off the front of the bed.
"Sorry," Ethan said.
"Don't worry," Danny shrugged off. "It's just books."
"You've got homework? I should let you get back to that," said Ethan as he moved to lay on his side.
But Danny pulled on him. "Hell no," he said before they kissed again.
As they made out, Ethan began to kiss down from his lips, to his jaw and then his chest when he felt what seemed to be deep and old scars on Danny's torso. "What's that?" he asked.
"Oh, it's from a surgery. I had cracked, misshapen cartilages. I had a bar put in when I was fourteen. Stayed there for two years, to support my sternum so my heart and lungs wouldn't be crushed."
Ethan gave the scar a look. "Well, what if there was a way you could make them disappear?" he asked innocently enough though the thought he had was anything but.
But Danny shook his head. "I don't want them to. They make me feel like a, survivor."
Ethan looked at him sadly. He knew a thing or two about how tough survival truly was. "I really hope you are."
He went to kiss him again when Ethan started to feel something at his back. It felt like something trying to burst from his spine. He then jumped back.
Danny widened his eyes. "What?"
"Just give me a second." Ethan said before running to the bathroom.
He quickly looked in the mirror and saw that his back seemed to be fine. He guessed that he must've imagined it or something but then he felt it again, this time in his gut. He then looked and saw what seemed to be something trying to claw its way out from the inside. It looked like…a face. He then ran out and grabbed his shirt.
"Ethan, you okay?" Danny asked him concerned.
"I'll be back in a minute," he gasped as he quickly left.
Stiles knocked on the door to find Lydia waiting for him. He moved on in and she closed the door behind him but stopped when he saw Allison was also there, seemingly waiting for him as well.
"I thought you said that we needed to talk," he said looking back at Lydia accusingly.
"Yeah, we do," Lydia said giving him a look that clearly said that the 'we' didn't mean just the two of them.
"I'm not in the mood for this right now," he mumbled.
"This is important Stiles," Allison said drawing his gaze back on her. But Allison narrowed her eyes at him. Stiles looked like a mess. His face seemed to be a bit pale and looked like it was glistening. She quickly realized that he seemed winded. "Are you okay?"
Stiles rolled his eyes at her. "I'm just a little hot, that's all."
Lydia moved over to him but quickly backed away. "A little hot? Stiles, you're like an oven. I could practically see the air around you bending from the heat."
Allison quickly went to the bathroom and soaked a towel in cold water before moving to hand it to him. As she gave it to him, she was able to feel a warm draft as if she had gone to stand next to a heater. "Are you coming down with something? It is pretty cool out."
"Can't be. Werewolves don't get sick," he said before wiping himself with it.
"Then why are you burning up?" Lydia asked him.
Allison thought back to what happened earlier with her and Scott. She had an eerie hunch. "Uh Stiles, by any chance did anything weird happen with you tonight?"
"Define weird," Stiles said as he wrapped the towel around the back of his heated neck.
"Like, if since we got here, you found yourself in a daze or ended up somewhere and didn't know how you got there?"
Stiles froze. "Uh, actually I did. I thought I saw-"
"What?" Allison asked.
But Stiles shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Turns out what I saw wasn't actually there."
It looked like Stiles wasn't in the mood to share something, probably personal, with Allison despite the tense atmosphere going on. Allison guessed that she was lucky that they were, at the moment, able to be civil, somewhat. That actually was progress.
"I knew it," Lydia muttered. "There's something not right here with this place. It messes with people's heads."
"What are you talking about?" Stiles said. Lydia then began to frantically tell him about the motel's history with suicides and about the counter at the front desk. She also told him about hearing the couple kill themselves in the next room. "Okay, but what does any of that have to do with what happened with me?" he asked them.
"Not just you." Allison spoke up. "I think you should know something. Earlier Scott, he came into our room, while I was in the shower." Lydia raised her eyebrows at her but Stiles narrowed his own eyes. "It's not what you think. Something was wrong with him. The way he looked and spoke, he wasn't himself. And when I yelled at him, it was like he snapped out of a daze."
"You mean, like he was in a trance?" Lydia asked feeling the tension start to come back.
"Yeah," Allison said as she started pacing. "And the last time that Scott had acted like that was during the full moon."
Stiles folded his arms up. "Yeah, he was definitely a little off around me too. But actually, it was Boyd who was really off. He went and put his fist through the vending machine."
"See?" Lydia cried out. "It is the motel. Okay and either we need to get out of here right now," She moved to open a drawer and pulled out a bible. "Or someone needs to learn to do an exorcism ASAP before the werewolves go crazy and kill us."
Stiles held up his hand to calm her down. "Alright, just hold on. What if, it's not just the motel." A horrible thought then came to him. "You said that the counter went up by three, right?"
"You mean like, three sacrifices?" Allison asked.
"What if, this time, its for three werewolves? And he has his fair share of choices."
Allison's eyes widened. "You, Scott, Isaac, and Boyd," she muttered.
