Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf
Two-Pack II
"Are we ready?" Agravaine asked as he took a swig out of his hip flask, and Malakai nodded, his eyes dancing with malice.
"Yep, we've done it. And Eoghan and Ciara are scouting out the place for later. How do you know we'll need to do it though? I mean, if they do it..." he said, and Agravaine patted his shoulder.
"My dear boy, none of those are meant for our little true Alpha. And I highly suspect that they'll be able to kill anyone in his pack, even with our help, they are simply there to play mind games. Remember, we can't move too fast, at least not until the corruption of the nemeton takes a greater hold on the town, and that will require patience." He said, heading to the sort of melted looking chair that he had made for himself and dropping into it, while Malakai pouted.
"It isn't fair, why do we need to sneak around like this?" he grumbled and Agravaine toasted him with his flask as he took another sip.
"Ah my eager little murderer, I know you're eager to test yourself against the pack, and you will, all I need is a little bit more patience. A direct confrontation would undermine what I'm trying to do here, and that would make me angry, and as I recall, no one likes it when I'm angry." He said, his voice still silky smooth, but his eyes flashed to their foul, burning yellow and Malakai bowed his head, looking cowed.
Agravaine sighed and beckoned him closer, Malakai going down on his knees beside his chair, allowing Agravaine to run his hand affectionately through his long black hair, Agravaine's yellow eyes boring into him.
"I appreciate your bloodlust my boy, and I know these sorts of things strain your patience. You prefer to do things, and have no respect for the long game. It's what makes you such a lamentable chess player. But I swear, a day at most, and you will get your chance to test yourself against the best that Beacon Hills has to offer." He purred and Malakai looked up at him in excitement.
"Really?" he asked, the thought of blood enticing him as he got back to his feet and Agravaine chuckled, nodding.
"Yes my boy. Now, run along and do another scout of the nemeton, you and your brother are the natural choices and as he is with Bonnie getting us everything we need for our plan, that means you are my best man." He purred, and Malakai grinned before leaving the building.
Agravaine watched him go. He and his brother Rhyley were the newest members of his pack, and Malakai was his most lethal servant. Tall, broad shoulder and well built, he was dressed in a black tank top with a turtle neck, revealing his bulging arms and the tally mark tattoos he had on his arms. Very loyal, there was only one person he was more loyal to than Agravaine, and that his younger brother Rhyley. Agravaine had taken them both from the orphanage that they had been in, bringing them into his pack and ever since they had most lethal additions to his little clan.
He appreciated his impatience, and his blood lust. But Agravaine didn't get to where he was, what he was, by being impatient. Above all else he was a very impatient man. He knew some of his pack, Bonnie mainly, questioned his alliance with Peter Hale. Malakai only questioned it because, as he had noted, he preferred to rip his enemies' throats out first and think second. But that wouldn't do, not in this case.
No, there was too much at stake. Power was to play for, the ultimate power, and he was not going to be denied now, not now when he had the key to victory in his grasp. Scott McCall was the key to the future. He had no care for the two great behemoths that would be fighting over the boy. No, the boy would be his.
And then, his future was assured.
Forever.
XX
With both Natasha and Gareth already looking for a new hunt to go on while he dealt with his business here, Argent knew he didn't have much time. However before he found that arrogant privileged idiot otherwise known as Mr Whittemore (who had clearly passed his less than pleasant qualities onto his son), he needed more information.
When he had woken up this morning he had found a text from Isaac, informing him that the house had been attacked by a whist. Argent had scowled upon learning this information, whists took powerful dark energy to conjure, and he knew for a fact that it was far beyond the abilities of anyone in the pack, and he also knew that the Pombero and even this flying thing that Isaac had mentioned had nothing to do with it. Whists needed a connection, something had to link them to the person controlling them, more than just the malevolent energy that was needed in order to create them in the first place.
There was something going on here. Jackson's kidnap, the presence of the Pombero and this flying thing, and now whists appearing in town, there was no way that they weren't all connected. But if he was to make good on what he had promised Allison, if he was to keep the promise that he made over her grave, that he would protect her pack, protect the boys she loved, protect the town they lived in, then he was going to have to learn more. A malevolent force was clearly in Beacon Hills, and regardless of what they were after, that meant they were going to come into contact with Scott and his pack, particularly if Scott was the one they were after.
The town of Biddenden was close yet far from London, a small village of the sort that made up much of rural England. And it was here that he had come, seeking advice from an old friend. Problem was, that old friend probably wouldn't be happy to see him. Well him in and of himself, she would hopefully be happy to see. Him, the son of Gerard Argent and the brother of Kate Argent, well, maybe not so much.
Off the main street there was a house that backed onto a heavily wooded area, with a pond behind the house. This house was the one he now pulled his rented car up to, readying his gun. After all, with everything his father and sister had done, and his own suspicious nature, going into a potentially unfriendly situation without the proper equipment wasn't going to help anyone. He climbed out of the car, his eyes scanning for any potential trouble. Sensing none he walked towards the house, not able to shake the feeling that he was being watched.
He approached the door, and was just about to knock when he heard a round chamber behind his head.
"Not so fast." A cold voice demanded, the cool steel pressing into his skull.
"Hello Amanda. Long time no see." He said calmly, wondering if she was going to force him to take action.
"Don't sound so pleased to see me Argent, I made it perfectly clear after that screw up in France that I never wanted to see you or any one of your family again." She snarled, digging the gun further into his head, and he rolled his eyes.
"And as I told you at the time, I had no idea Victoria had found out where your informant was. Or what she was. Did you really think she wouldn't kill a coinchenn? They're dangerous, as you knew full well before you fell in love with her." He explained, and she growled, but to his relief he felt the gun tremble a little as she pressed it into his head.
"She was harmless! She didn't want to be what she was, and she was useful to more than just me, even Natasha used her at times!" she screeched and Argent nodded.
"I know, which proves to nearly everyone that she was harmless considering how trigger happy Natasha is. And I'm sorry Victoria killed her, she wouldn't have stopped to think." He justified and Amanda snorted dismissively behind him.
"I hear that's what got her killed." She said coldly, and he felt the searing pain of losing his wife blossom in his heart once again, remembering as her eyes glowed blue before she plunged a dagger into herself, leaving him without a wife, his daughter without her mother, and his father with the way in he needed.
"You could argue that." He told her, and she sighed, though he could feel the scowl replacing the barrel of the gun at the back of his head.
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry about what happened to your daughter. I might have happily killed your wife, sure, but your daughter..." she tailed off as he turned around to face her.
Slim to the point of almost being skeletal, her hair tied back in a severe ponytail, clad in jeans and dark clothes that accented her dark skin, her lips blood red, she stood glaring at him as if it was him who had killed the woman she loved.
"It's good to see you Amanda." He said, extending his hand, which she surveyed suspiciously before nodding.
"You too." She said rigidly, and he jerked his head towards the house.
"When did you become Maggie's bodyguard?" he asked, praying that she hadn't come here just after Victoria had killed her lover, he didn't want to dance on those toes again.
Amanda shrugged, uncaring.
"A year or so ago." She said easily, though her voice was filled with hidden meaning, making him wonder, just why did Maggie, who albeit slightly older, was more than capable of outgunning any punk hunter she came across?
"Where is she?" he asked, and she jerked her shoulder irritably, beckoning him to follow her around the garden towards the pond.
"Out here, she likes to have access to all avenues of communication." She informed him and he smiled in amusement, but then hesitated, if she was at the pond for communication...
"Then..." he began and she nodded, cutting him off.
"They use her as a consultant, which is understandable, she's the most knowledgeable of all the hunters in Britain, and because of how the community respects her, she's also the dispatcher for various hunters, so they contact her if they need a job done but want to keep their hands clean, or avoid any attention they could do without." She elaborated, heading down the small incline towards the pond edge, scattering a couple of geese that were in the way, and Chris smiled as he saw a canopied chair, blocking the wintery sun from its occupant, beside the pond edge, little pieces of bread feeding the ducks that were quacking at the water's edge.
"We have a visitor." Amanda reported as they approached the chair, and the stream of bread petered and died, earning the occupant reproving looks from the ducks.
"Who?" a strong voice asked and Chris smiled.
"Chris Argent. It's good to see you Maggie." He said, figuring if she was going to go for her gun she'd have gone for it now, and all he got was a sniff of disapproval for his trouble.
"Chris Argent, and what could possibly bring you to my door?" Maggie asked, resuming feeding the ducks.
"I need information. For centuries, the Argents were experts on werewolves. The Evans family were experts on dogs, and that's what I need help with." He explained, and Amanda glowered at him.
"Seriously? Dogs? Do you have to rub it in?" she asked icily, fingering her gun and he winced as Maggie held up a hand.
"Well if you want to know about dogs..." she began, getting to her feet, and Chris reached forward to shake her hand.
A stout woman, she had brown blonde hair, her face a little worn, but she was still in excellent shape, clad in a warm fleece, her gun and a knife clearly visible and he knew full well she would have other weapons stored around her body somewhere. But as she turned, his hand faltered, as did the smile on his face as beheld what had happened to her.
Four savage gashes were carved into the right hand side of her face, running from her temple down to her jaw, her eye now a lifeless milky white, the attack, whatever it was, having ripped through the eye as well, the four gashes still looking fresh and real.
"Then you've come to the right place." She said with a smile, extending her hand as he tried to get over the shock of what had become of her.
XX
"Are you ok?" Parrish asked a shaking Lydia as Natalie rubbed her daughter's shoulder tenderly.
Lydia gave a weak nod as the coroner shook his head and wheeled the dead boy away, Natalie's eyes focused solely on her daughter while various other deputies took the statements of the other kids who had seen the poor boy.
"Do we know his name yet?" Elba asked with a heavy sigh, he always hated suicides but one so young, at a school no less, that just made the entire thing all the worse than it already was.
Natalie sighed sadly and nodded.
"Yes, his name was Ewan. Ewan...Ewan Pilton, he was a freshman. He's been off for a while, I had no idea he was this bad. I heard he was having some problems at home, but they were meant to be getting better, I don't know why..." she said, her voice cracking and Lydia squeezed her hand in sympathy as her voice shook.
Elba nodded gruffly, patting her shoulder and leading her away to get some composure while Parrish squatted down so he was eye level with Lydia.
"Was this a feeling?" he asked, clearly pleading for it not to be, but then she nodded and he deflated, looking supremely disturbed.
"I tried to stop it, I could hear it about to happen but by the time we got here...ahh, if I just knew how to control these stupid powers!" she yelled in frustration and Parrish took her hand, squeezing it.
"You can't blame yourself Lydia, there's no way you could have stopped it." He assured her, getting to his feet.
But that's the thing. She could have stopped it. If she had any idea on how to control these damn stupid powers of hers, she might have been able to save the life of a young fifteen year old boy.
"Lydia?" a hesitant voice said behind her and she turned to see Malia looking at her worriedly.
"What?" she asked, her voice lifeless, and Malia drooped a little.
"I want you to know I don't think it's really your fault, I know you don't have..." she began, but Lydia shook her head.
"No, you were right. If I knew how to control these stupid powers of mine, then I might have been able to save him. I-I keep thinking about him, hanging there, looking at me." She whispered, her voice shaking and a second later, Malia wrapped her in a hug as she shivered in disgust and misery, Ewan's dead eyes burning onto her brain as she considered the full weight of her failure.
Melody looked at the slip referring her to Morrell with the vaguest traces of amusement. That would be an enjoyable session for both of them. Mind you, it could be useful. After all, Morrell wasn't like other druids, she had different beliefs than the rest of her kind, taught to her by Talia Hale, who had been well respected even by the king himself (shame about her brother but you couldn't have everything). And besides, Morrell was formerly the twin's Emissary, that alone made her a useful pawn.
But...something about the boy's suicide was niggling at her. Having grown up in the Alcazar all her life, with legions of soldiers and servants coming and going, one of her mother's fondness for sacrificial magic rituals, the other fond of offing anyone who annoyed her, and of course her psycho brother's many conquests and kills, sometimes both, well, she was more than used to death, so much so that she considered it a slow day if she hadn't witnessed at least three deaths before lunchtime. But the boy's suicide, something was off about it. It was just, a general feeling of unease that she had, but there was something clearly off about the death, this suicide. It wasn't murder, that much was clear, he had wanted to kill himself, but there was something just out of reach...
Perhaps a trip to Morrell wouldn't be wasted after all.
"You ok?" Aiden asked Garrett, who still looked very white, and the younger boy nodded.
"Yeah, it's just...he sat behind me in biology, he never said anything to me, or Liam or Mason, but he was there you know?" he asked, his lip trembling, and Aiden wondered what he should do, Scott was good at this sort of thing, not him. But he asked himself what Scott would do, and he nervously hugged Garrett to him as the younger boy coped with the first time of seeing a dead body.
"Want me to take you home?" Stiles asked Lydia, and she nodded uncertainly, Malia standing by her shoulder looking anxious, and Stiles led the two girls from the room, Natalie looking as if she wanted to hold Lydia back.
No, that wasn't a conversation she needed to have here. She couldn't reveal to her daughter everything she knew, everything her grandmother was, here at school, especially not right after she had just witnessed a young boy's suicide. But they did need to have a conversation, and now that she knew her daughter had indeed inherited the powers of a banshee from her grandmother, it was too late to do anything else. She should have seen it before, the reaction to Peter Hale biting her, the way it all happened, she should have known she would become a banshee. But now, she had missed her chance, she hadn't warned Lydia. But there was still time. Judging from the way that she had reacted to the suicide, Lydia was still coming to grips with her power. That meant she had time to warn her, to prepare her, to tell her everything that she should have told her so long ago.
She only hoped her daughter would forgive her when she was done.
Garrett sniffed as he got himself back under control, and muttered an apology to Aiden who now that he had been struck with his flash of inspiration as to what Scott would have done, was at a total loss at what to do next.
"Thanks." Garrett said, and Aiden nodded uncertainly.
"Hey, it's always a shock. You might not have known him but you still knew him if you see what I mean. Losing someone you know is always hard, especially when you find them in, well, looking, you know what I mean." He finished awkwardly, and Garrett nodded.
"Yeah I know. I'm too young to remember much of what happened to my parents, but that." He said, his voice stopping abruptly, and Aiden nodded, looking grim.
"It's a shock. Come on, I'll take you home." He offered and the younger kid nodded, then looked at Aiden suspiciously.
"How come you're not as bothered by this as everyone else is? Lydia's a state, Malia too, Melody's off, but you and Stiles, you two seem a bit, different about all of it." He asked, his eyes narrowed, and Aiden frantically searched for an answer to that question.
Stiles was easy enough to justify, but himself, without revealing his past, which as Danny had shown never went over particularly well, but how could he do it without bringing all that up?
Then he had it.
He pulled up his tshirt, and Garrett stared in shock at the scar that the Oni had left in him when it had run him through, the long, thin gash across the top of his stomach.
"A few months ago, I got ran through by a guy with a sword. After that...not much tends to phase you as much as it used to." He explained and Garrett looked at him in awe.
"I had no idea, I'm sorry, I..." he spluttered, but Aiden shrugged.
"Hey, to someone who's just seen a dead body, you're kind of entitled to be wondering why I'm not as phased by it all. And Stiles, well, he saw Allison get killed, she was a friend of ours, the same guy who stabbed me got her and she...she didn't make it." He explained, stretching the truth a little, the real reason was Stiles had seen numerous dead bodies around town and had also caused some of them as the Nogitsune but Garrett didn't need to know that he was freaked out enough as it was.
"Sorry." Garrett muttered, but Aiden shook his head.
"Don't be. I get why you're freaked, after seeing something like that, you're bound to wonder why someone else isn't freaked. And besides, it's Beacon Hills. Crap happens." He said grimly, and Garrett gave him a hesitant look before Aiden beckoned the younger boy, and with that Garrett followed him out of the room, his mind abuzz with what Aiden had told him.
XX
Isaac stretched tiredly, stroking the back of his neck as he laid out on the couch, watching tv, his history books on the table beside him. It wasn't as if he particularly liked it when Scott was out, after all it meant there was no one to kiss or cuddle up to, but he also did kind of like having the place to himself. Allegra must still be at the library and Melissa was taking a reduced shift at work today, as the new doctor, Dr Dunbar (who he had figured out was Liam's stepdad even if Scott hadn't) had all but ordered her just to work a normal shift and go home and get some rest.
Rest, fat chance. With whists and Pomberos and bird people running around the town, he had a horrible feeling the entire pack wasn't going to get much rest for much longer. Despite the various comings and goings in town of the last three months, they hadn't had an actual crisis to deal with until now, but now, with the Pombero attacking Lydia, the bird thing attacking Aiden and finally the whist attacking Allegra, it was clear that their reprieve, such as it was, was over. He looked at the tv, currently advertising for life insurance, and he felt a significant shiver pass over him.
This was the first threat they had faced since they had freed Stiles and stopped the Oni, the first threat since Allison had died. Everything had changed when she had died, there was no denying it, and only sheer luck and Scott's own stubbornness had kept Aiden from joining her. Now, as Stiles had so kindly pointed out after their encounter with the Pombero, the entire pack was now in danger again, very real danger and, it was like, something had changed. Knowing that Allison was dead, gone, it had impacted them all significantly, it was like the aura of comfort, of safety had gone forever along with her. He rubbed his arms to warm himself up, trying to stop himself thinking about it.
Sure they had had several close calls. Derek numerous times. Jackson after his final fight with Peter and Derek. Scott had been poisoned by Victoria, and almost killed by the twins. Lydia had almost killed by Jennifer. Stiles by the Nogitsune. And he himself by thousands of volts of electricity running through his body, but they had always somehow managed to come out of it in one piece. But when they had lost Allison, something in the pack had changed, something had been lost that they could never get back, and that made a new supernatural threat all the more daunting.
Particularly when it involved targeting Lydia (who attracted enough of her own amount of trouble) and headless dog zombies. This town had enough crap going against it, and the death toll was already rising with this latest batch of newcomers, and it was their job to protect it. But how could they protect the town when they couldn't even protect themselves?
Sighing, he got to his feet, contemplating getting his pen and starting his history homework. He did like studying with Scott, and the rewards were rather great, but he was also too interested in history to wait. Besides, he liked being the one in the know, it meant that when Scott stumbled or struggled, he got to have his way with his boyfriend, and that was always rather fun.
Isaac contemplated his homework, and decided that if he was going to get started on it then he needed to get something to eat first. He headed through to the kitchen, but as he did so, he stopped, something clearly not right.
The door was open. He had shut the door, and he had locked it, after all, the whist had nearly got Allegra and he had no desire to go up against a headless dog zombie. Besides, Melissa would freak and if he got so much as a scratch, Scott would freak even more. Isaac edged towards the door, slowly extending his claws suspiciously, wondering if he was indeed just being paranoid or if there actually was something to worry about. But as he approached the door, his nose got wind of scent that made him wrinkle his nose in disgust, it was damp, smelling of decay, of stale alcohol and smoke. Isaac quickly moved to shut the door when he heard a noise behind him.
Isaac turned, eyes glowing golden as he snarled at the intruder, vowing to make it rue the day it ever came in here to cause trouble but to his surprise there was nothing there. Alright this was getting creepy now. He snarled in annoyance, turning back to shut the door, when the source of the noise shoved the door wide open, his haggard bespectacled face sneering in disgust at Isaac as he entered the house.
It was his father.
"You know, I'm going to have to punish you." He growled, his voice guttural and harsh and Isaac could feel his heart rate increasing, his breath coming in short panicked pants.
It couldn't be, his father was dead, he was gone, he'd watched them seal his coffin under six feet of earth. Jackson had ripped him open, the one good thing he had ever don for Isaac but here he was, his father, standing right in front of him, as if nothing had ever changed.
"No, it isn't you." Isaac growled, well at least he tried to, but the fear of seeing his father again was making his voice quiver as he backed away from his dead father, who, other than the rips in his clothes and the mud on his glasses, looked as though he had never even died in the first place.
His father smiled as he advanced on him, the sadistic smile that he always used to get before he started punishing Isaac for some perceived slight or wrongdoing. Isaac prepared to pounce, no, his father was dead, he wasn't going to let him destroy his life again!
Mr Lahey lunged towards Isaac, but months of training and of running for his life from various monsters had made him much more agile than he had used to be. Lunging backwards out of the way of his father's grasping, gnarled hands, Isaac backflipped, landing cat like, eyes burning gold as Mr Lahey shook his head, the sadistic glint in his eye only growing.
"You're only making it worse for yourself. Come here!" he demanded and Isaac rolled out of his way, rolling into the living room and making a run for it.
Mr Lahey took off after his son, Isaac panting in panic as his father pursued him through the living room. To his alarm, Isaac noticed his father was right behind him, and his father seized him by the front of his tshirt, jerking his face down into his waiting fist.
"Wasting money on crap like this, this wasn't how I taught you to behave!" Mr Lahey snarled, Isaac reeling back, his jaw aching as Mr Lahey swung at him again, this time catching him a glancing blow and sending him crashing into one of the cabinets against the wall, shattering the glass behind him, small shards getting embedded in his back as he screamed.
"Look what you did! Get that cleaned up, now!" Mr Lahey roared, Isaac whimpering as he advanced upon his son, and he ducked just in time to avoid a plate that his father had grabbed and thrown at his head with all the might he could muster.
"No, you're dead, leave me alone!" Isaac screamed, his entire body shaking in fear as his father got closer.
"So that's a lack of respect as well. You know what that means don't you?" Mr Lahey hissed malevolently, as Isaac backtracked towards the window, wondering if he should just run for it, his mind swirling in panic and fear, his father was alive, he was back, he was never going to let go...
"No, I'm not going back in there, I haven't done anything, leave me alone!" Isaac roared frantically, leaping at his father, claws ripping into his father's gaunt face.
Mr Lahey screamed in rage as Isaac forced himself off him, running into the kitchen, determined to escape his father, his world spinning around him in panic, gasping, tears running down his face, pleading for his father to be dead like he was meant to be, pleading for something, for anything, for Scott...
Isaac then screamed as his father's gnarled hand grabbed him roughly by the hair, pulling him back with such force that it knocked him off his feet, slamming him to the ground, whimpering and crying in pain as his father dragged him to the wall by his hair, slamming his head against it before pulling him up by the hair, Isaac whimpering, crying and clawing at his father's hand but the hateful old man simply punched him in the stomach before grabbing his face and slamming him back against the wall, tears running down his cheeks.
"Really? Did you think you could escape me? Did you think you had friends, that these people cared about you? That you could ever escape me? I'm your father, and you, are nothing but a waste! You're worthless," he screamed in Isaac's face, punching him in the stomach with ever fresh accusation, "pathetic, weak, no good, little piece of shit!" he finished, delivering a final punch and dropping a shaking, crying and nauseous Isaac to his knees as he struggled not to throw up, panting and crying, and he screamed as his father seized him by the hair again, hoisting him up.
"Scott..." Isaac whimpered, and Mr Lahey looked at him in disgust.
"So, what, you waited till I was gone and showed your true colours did you? Turned gay did you? We'll see about that, you know I'm going to have to punish you more now!" he spat hatefully as Isaac struggled, trying to curl himself into a ball, knowing what was about to happen but he felt so weak, so powerless, so scared, his father was right, he was worthless, he was pathetic.
He then screamed as his father slammed the door shut on his shaking fingers, shattering the bones in them.
"Other hand you little queer!" his father demanded, Isaac still trying to curl himself into a ball, to make it go away, to make the pain go away, wishing he could go away but as he tried to protect his other hand, his father smacked him in the mouth, making him lean on his mutilated and broken hand, making him whine in pain as his father slammed the door shut on his other hand, crushing the fingers as he screamed.
"What? Did you think this boy loved you? Why on earth would he love someone as pathetic and worthless as you?" his father sneered as Isaac curled into himself, whimpering and crying, wishing it wasn't true, wishing his father wasn't real, wishing he wasn't telling the truth, wondering why he had ever thought Scott could love him back, his father was right, he wasn't good enough for Scott, he wasn't good enough for Allison, he wasn't good enough for any of them, his father was right, he was worthless, he didn't deserve to be here, to be their friend.
"Are you going to apologise?" his father demanded angrily, leering above him and Isaac curled tighter into himself, shaking, wanting it all to end.
"I'm sorry!" he screamed as his father pulled him up by his hair again.
"And you should be, you just wanted me out of the way so you could show how weak and pathetic you really are, couldn't wait to cosy on up to these stupid people, wanted to think you were something more than a waste of space did you? Well you aren't! These people would never like you, not someone as worthless as you! Did you think that even if the boy was just as abnormal as you are, why on earth would he ever settle for you?" Mr Lahey screamed down at his shaking, quivering, cowering son who was curled into himself, sobbing, begging for it to end.
"He shouldn't!" Isaac cried weakly, and Mr Lahey nodded savagely.
"You're right, he shouldn't because there's always someone better than you!" he spat, and then grabbed Isaac by the hair once again, Isaac crying and begging to be let go as he dragged him into the hall, Isaac's feet flailing under him, trying to break free, wanting it to end, wanting to be left alone but as he saw what his father was aiming for he started struggling, trying to break free.
"No, no, no!" Isaac begged desperately as Mr Lahey reached for the door handle to the cupboard under the stairs.
"No freezer here, so this will have to do, now get in there and think on what you've done, and if you even think of coming out, you'll need to be punished all over again!" Mr Lahey snarled as he threw open the door to the cupboard and dragged Isaac up so he was standing on his feet, before kicking him in the back of the legs, sending a screaming and crying Isaac stumbling into the cupboard, crashing into the hoover and knocking the contents of a shelf down on top of him as he did so.
"Please, no, dad, don't, let me out!" he begged, but to his great relief he saw that his father wasn't blocking the door, if he could get free, if he could get out...
He made a break for it, and screamed in panic as a glass shattered on the wall right in front of him, peppering him with shards of glass that cut into his face, making him cry out in pain.
"I said get in!" his father stormed, and shoved Isaac back into the cupboard, glass shards embedded in his face and he shoved his son back in.
"No, dad don't!" Isaac pleaded but Mr Lahey gave him a cold smile.
"It's for your own good son, and you know it!" he snarled and with that, he slammed the door shut, Isaac whimpering and crying, begging to be let out, scratching at the door in panic with his broken fingers, whipping himself into a panic and screaming in terror as he realised what a small, dark, enclosed space he was in, his father's evil laughter ringing in his ears as he moved something in front of the door to keep his screaming, terrified son locked inside.
XX
Jackson was going round the bend. Yeah, he now had clothes, had put some weight back on, the wolfsbane was mostly out of his system and thanks to Danny his hair now looked perfectly cool and acceptable, but he was stuck inside Danny's house all day, and since Danny had gone back to school, he had no one to talk to or nothing to do. He wanted to be doing something, he needed to be out there, finding out who the hell had done this to him, not waiting for McCall to get his ass in gear and figure out who was after him, he wanted to know who had done this to him, he wanted to find out what the hell was going on with his arm, and he wanted to get even, but instead, he was trapped indoors, playing video games and watching Netflix all day, and it was driving him insane!
Admittedly, he had started watching Game of Thrones and he had already finished the first season, but he didn't want to risk overdoing Danny's subscription, at least until he found out about his plan. But even then, there was only so much tv you could watch in a day, and daytime tv sucked majorly (though having the American channels again was an improvement on endless episodes of Bargain Hunt back in London (mind you, he quite liked Bargain Hunt, which was a guilty pleasure he would take to his grave, but that wasn't the point)) and he was going crazy being stuck inside all day, not knowing anything and just waiting for Danny to get home so he could find out what wise words he had from his wonderful new Alpha.
He scoffed. Scott, his Alpha, and Isaac, his prime beta. How ridiculous, at least Derek had seemed the part, but despite what he told Danny, if they thought he was going to be all nice and submissive to Scott like Isaac and the twins were, they were going to be in for a major shock.
He sighed, running his hand distractedly along his fauxhawk when he tensed, thinking he heard water dripping. He looked around musingly, trying to discern where it was coming from but nothing was particularly jumping out at him so figuring it must be coming from the bathroom, he crossed the room, he was going mad as it was, he didn't need a constant dripping on top of that. He threw open the door irritably, and he froze as he saw who was on the other side of the door.
Matt smiled at him, the disturbing, insane grin that he had on his face so many times when he ordered Jackson to kill another person who he blamed for his 'death', the one that he got on his face when he mentioned Allison and being with her, and he was standing there, right in front of Jackson, even though he was dead. The sound of the water dripping was coming from him, but he didn't understand it, he looked perfectly dry, his hair styled at the front, looking as though he was simply going out rather than someone who was meant to be dead. He smiled darkly as Jackson took a shocked step back.
"Hello Jackson." He said in that fond manner, like talking to a pet, that he had always used when he was the kanima and he then lashed out, slapping him across the face and sending Jackson stumbling back, crashing into the bed and falling onto it, his former master on him in seconds.
Jackson growled in shock, Matt was dead, Gerard had killed him, drowned him, he was dead, there was no way he could be here, this wasn't real. But as Matt's hands clamped around his neck, choking him, Jackson realised that he was indeed really, possible deadly real.
He extended his claws, trying to raise his hands to claw at Matt, but the grinning face of his former master was mocking him as he tried to raise his arms, and for the first time since coming out of the crate, he realised just how weak he had become in the time he had spent in the box. His arms were so weak, and as he tried to raise them to force Matt off of him as he strangled him, his legs kicking beneath his attacker, Jackson's eyes rolling as he struggled for air under Matt's assault. He couldn't raise his arms, burning pain was travelling up one of them and the other was shaking like crazy, hardly able to try and hold Matt off as he throttled the life out of his former slave. Jackson tried to shove Matt off, but the burning in his arm meant he was only at half strength, and his other arm meant that he virtually had no strength at all, he had become so weak, so feeble. He struggled, gagging for air, his eyes rolling as Matt throttled him and rather than try to shove him off, Jackson plunged the claws of his shaking arm into Matt's hands, making him recoil in pain, loosening his grip on Jackson's neck. And while his arms were a lost cause, his legs weren't, and with a powerful kick he sent Matt sprawling to the floor.
Jackson crawled backwards across the bed, his arms burning with internal fire and he let out a cry of pain as he felt his blackened arm surge with blistering hot heat, running up his entire body, feeling like his entire body was on fire as it happened. As his vision cleared, his blackened arm rebelling every second he realise he had lost track of Matt, who suddenly appeared behind him, knocking him back onto the bed.
Matt was on him again however this time Jackson was ready, and despite the flaming pain that was immolating whatever it was that existed within his arm, he reached up and forced Matt away from him.
As soon as he touched Matt's skin with his blackened arm, both of them gave howls of pain, Matt leering off as his face seemed to burn with a white hot handprint for a second before it returned to normal. Jackson, his head pounding with pain as fire burned through his arm, feeling like he was burning from the inside out and puzzling as to what the hell had just happened, pulled himself to his feet as a furious Matt charged at him, going right for his neck, but this time Jackson was ready for him, shouldering him over his back. Matt gave a yelp of surprise as he bounced down onto the bed and rolled to the ground, Jackson taking advantage of his setback to leap onto the bed, roaring in challenge, claws extending as he struggled to fight through the pain that was consuming him.
But despite his confidence, he knew he couldn't last much longer. He was weak, his blackened arm was burning and the other was too weak to do any serious damage. And Matt...Matt had been his master. He had controlled him for months, using him as a weapon to exact vengeance for his supposed 'death'. Matt was the one who had made Jackson into a killer. Matt has used and abused him, using him as a weapon of vengeance, ripping people apart for their slight against him, using him to carry out the murders he couldn't do himself. Matt had helped to make Jackson what he was. But Matt was dead, he had died, Gerard had killed him and had taken Jackson for his own. But now his former master was here, he was back, and he was trying to kill him, and worst of all, he couldn't do anything to stop it. He looked in panic at his arms, both of which betraying him as Matt got back to his feet and advanced, ready to go again and he gave Jackson a callous smile before he screamed in pain, blue electricity running over his body and Jackson looked into the doorway in relief as a furious Danny, armed with his cattle prod, glared at Matt.
"Aren't you meant to be dead?" he hissed, lunging at Matt as Jackson leapt down, ignoring the pain in his arms to slash at his former master.
Matt snarled in annoyance, not having expected to be faced with both of them and seized Danny's wrist as he lunged at him with the prod again. He then seized Danny by the neck, Jackson giving a furious roar as he did it but before he could stop him, Matt flung Danny bodily from the room, Danny crying out in pain as he slammed into the wall outside his room then ricocheted down the stairs, whimpering and yelling as he tumbled down them with a final nasty sounding crunch at the bottom.
Livid with rage that someone would dare hurt Danny like that, Jackson leapt down from the bed, his claws going right for Matt's throat, he didn't care that Scott didn't want his pack killing, as far as he was concerned Scott wasn't his Alpha. He didn't care that he would be killing again, he didn't care that this was the one who made him a killer in the first place, he just wanted him dead. He roared in fury, his swipe, despite the immolation his arm felt like it was suffering, about to take Matt's head off, but Matt swung at him, catching him in the stomach and winding him, and as Jackson toppled to the floor, wheezing for air, Matt ruffled his hair fondly and ran from the room, thundering down the stairs, making Danny yelp as he slammed open the door and vanished.
Winded, coughing as he tried to get everything to work properly as he got back to his feet, Jackson pulled himself up, one arm quivering the other feeling like it was burning. He looked at both of them, his own body betraying him with either pain or weakness, and leaving both him and Danny open to an attack by someone who was meant to be dead. His arms were shaking, one from the pain, the other just from weakness, and he wrapped them around his body as he headed downstairs, panicking slightly as he reached the bottom of the stairs, finding Danny in a heap.
"Danny, you ok?" he demanded, his fear beginning to rise as his friend remained unresponsive, but to his great relief, Danny groaned and sat up tenderly, a large bruise on his temple which he rubbed gingerly.
"Ow, no, the bastard kicked me in the head on his way out the door. Are you ok?" he asked worriedly, seeing how scared Jackson looked and Jackson hesitated a little before he nodded, but Danny, despite the massive bruise on his forehead, wasn't fooled.
"Jackson?" he asked softly and Jackson showed him his two shaking arms, biting his lip worriedly as he did.
"Look at them, I can't stop it, this one feels like it's on fire," he complained, showing Danny his burned arm, "and this one is just shaking and weak." He explained, showing him the other, and Danny looked at him in fear.
"Jackson, that's...that's not good." Danny said worriedly, taking Jackson's hand to help him get back to his feet, and Jackson nodded.
"Too true. I need to find out what the hell is going on with my body, I just felt...powerless. I should have been able to stop...to stop whatever Matt was with my strength, I'm a werewolf for Christ sake. But I was so weak, I couldn't do anything, I could barely keep him off the time I did." He whispered, looking untrustingly at his own limbs, and Danny bit his lip.
"Ok, this is getting us nowhere. Let's get cleaned up." He said, suddenly all business, and Jackson looked at him hopefully.
"And then we can try and figure out what's wrong with me?" he asked, but to his surprise, Danny shook his head.
"No, instead, we warn the others. If Matt has somehow come back, let's just say he isn't the only dead person who could be back and causing trouble. After we alert the others, then we can focus on you." He said nervously, much more concerned with Jackson's predicament than Matt's reappearance, after all, there was no way he could be back, he couldn't be back.
But with whists walking around the town, who was to say others wouldn't be back as well?
And...someone he loved had a lot of skeletons in their closet, and if the dead were somehow coming back, those skeletons might be looking for revenge.
XX
Malia had wanted Stiles to stay. After seeing that kid, Ewan, hang himself like that, well she hadn't even felt the need for sexy stuff, she just wanted Stiles around to talk to. It wasn't as if she wasn't used to death, after all, she had ripped her own mother and sister apart because she couldn't control her transformation, and she had killed plenty of animals during her time as a coyote. But, this death, unlike the others, there was just no reason for it. She had killed animals to survive. And, awful though it was to believe, the death of her mother and sister had been an accident, due to her being a coyote, but that still made sense in some way that this didn't. Why would this boy want to take his own life? It didn't make sense. According to Mrs Martin he had been struggling a lot but his life had been getting better. But the entire thing still didn't make sense, how could someone's life be so bad that they thought death was the only out? And if their life was getting better, then why would they want to do it?
Malia sat on her bed, her mind abuzz. She just didn't understand it. And why couldn't they save him, how weren't they able to stop the bodies becoming bodies, why did they always have to find them after the fact? It wasn't fair, especially on Lydia, all she saw was an ever increasing body count that she had been unable to stop. Malia hung her head in shame. She hadn't been particularly understanding with Lydia. She did get that Lydia's power didn't work as their did, but now that this Martagh was in town, didn't she stand a chance to learn more about her powers? If she was flailing in the dark as Lydia was, she would take any help she could get. She understood that because of Deaton, the pack were fairly hesitant to trust anyone, and Martagh came under that heading, after all, her appearance was kind of late anyway, but still, she was offering a chance for Lydia to do something other than find the bodies for once, and she just didn't understand why she wasn't taking it with both hands.
Malia wiggled back onto the bed, wrapping her arms around her. Her dad had insisted that she had to go back to school, and regretfully told her that if he knew a bit more, and if he could afford it, he would get a tutor to help her to catch up to the levels of everyone else, after all, she was about eight years behind the rest of them, and she was struggling with school on top of everything else. She had Stiles, and she loved him, and he would do anything for her. Lydia and Kira helped with catching her up with some things, Isaac and Scott with others, and Scott was her Alpha on top of that. But...while the school thing was hard enough, there was everything else that went along with it on top of it. And now, she had just witnessed someone's suicide, and it was bothering her.
Malia wondered if she should go and talk to Stiles. Bad though it sounded, he was more used to death like this than she was, and she just didn't get it, why the boy would kill himself, and why they weren't able to save him. What was the point in them protecting the town if they couldn't even save some kid from hanging himself?
She reached for her phone, when someone knocked on her bedroom door. Curious, she stopped. Her father was out of town today, he was away on work business, no one was meant to be in.
"Stiles?" she asked hopefully, hoping he had come back to see her so she could talk to him about what was on her mind.
However as the door opened, the air left her as she beheld the person on the other side of the door with shock.
She was slightly taller than she was, around the same height as Stiles. She had long dark hair that ran past her shoulders, with red and auburn strands intermingled around it. She was slim, dressed in clothes of mottled colours, and her face was still quite youthful, if a little worn, with gleaming bright green eyes, and as she saw Malia, she smiled sadly.
And for the first time in eight years, Malia laid eyes on her mother.
"Mom?" she asked hesitantly, getting up from the bed.
It couldn't be, her mother was dead, she was the one who had killed her after all, yet here she was, standing right before her as if she had never been gone, as if she hadn't lost her life in the crash, which she had caused, eight years before.
"Malia," her mother said, looking at her in wonder, "look at how grown up you are, how beautiful you became. And Stiles, he seems a nice boy. I'm so proud of you, of what you've built...off of your sister and I's corpses." Her mother said harshly, and Malia, who had been edging closer to her mother, hardly daring to believe it, recoiled.
"Mom, I'm so sorry, I had no control, I would never have hurt you if I could have controlled it!" Malia insisted, but her mother, who was looking at the picture of her and Stiles together when Malia was sitting on Stiles lap, scoffed, sending a look of distaste at her daughter.
"Really? So, you kill me, kill your sister, but you somehow avoid killing this Stiles? Can't help but feel your family are the ones who got the worst deal." Her mother sneered and Malia, tears in her eyes, crossed to her mother, standing in front of her.
"Mom, I'm so sorry! I've learned since then, I'm better, Stiles and the others, they help me! I'm so sorry mom! I never wanted to hurt either of you, but I did, and I hate that I did. Please, please don't go away again, stay here with me, with dad, we can be a family again, please!" Malia begged, tears streaming down her cheeks, taking her mother's hand in her own and putting it onto her wet cheek, and to Malia's delight, her mother rubbed her cheek, her face kind and smiling again.
This was her mother, she had come back. She didn't care about the niceties of it, she just knew that the very thing she had wanted ever since the crash, the dreams that had haunted her even as a coyote, were finally coming true. Her mother was alive, they could be together again, a family again, she wouldn't be a killer anymore. Her mom was back, and she was here. Yeah she was angry at Malia, but considering what she had done, she couldn't blame her for that.
"Oh Malia...my poor little girl. I know you never meant to hurt us sweet pea," her mother said, stroking her hair as she rocked her crying daughter, "but you did. Your father, when he finds out the truth, I can't even imagine how he'll react." She chatted, stroking Malia's hair still, but Malia, beginning to feel unsure of herself, pulled away from her mother, looking scared.
"No, please, dad doesn't know about me being supernatural! It would kill him if he found out I was the one..." Malia begged, her voice failing her as she looked imploringly at her softly smiling mother, a horrible glint in her eye as she beheld her daughter.
"Well yes, that would destroy him, that's true. But that isn't all that would destroy him. Imagine if he found out the real truth, that the real reason his family was dead was nothing to do with him." Her mother purred, and Malia looked at her in confusion.
"Wait, what do you mean?" she demanded, scared, and her mother laughed.
"You really don't know by now? Oh Malia...not only a murderer but a stupid one at that! There's so much you don't understand." She chided, and Malia took a step back, shaking her head as she finally realised the truth.
"You're not my real mother!" she challenged angrily, tears of rage forming in her eyes as her claws grew along with her fangs and her mother clucked her tongue in disappointment.
"Actually I am. Your father on the other hand...do you think he would love you if he ever found out that a little outcast like you is why his wife and daughter are dead?" she queried, malice giving her face an evil glow, and Malia gave a roar of rage and leapt at her mother, who simply moved out of the way and kicked her in the back, crashing her into the wall.
Malia, her blood pounding in her head as tears of hurt, shame, rage and fear streamed down her face looked across at her smirking mother, who picked up the photo of her and Stiles, the first gift Stiles had ever given her. She remembered how nervous he had been, and remembered wondering why he wasn't wanting to get naked and do stuff that they liked when he gave her it, and then remember his smile of relieved delight when she had told him she loved it and pointed out that it was handy for looking at his cute face even when he wasn't there.
"Put that down." Malia bit out, getting back to her feet, looking at this impostor hatefully, trying to convince herself that it wasn't really her mother, even though it was, it really was, this was her mother, she had made her into this...
"Oh this? So, you care more about this boy than you did about me and your sister? What if I do...this?" her mother asked in a deadly, playful voice and with all of her might she shattered the photo frame in two, ripping the picture apart as well as she did so.
"NO!" Malia roared angrily, her claws going right for her mother's throat, but her mother simply slapped her down to the floor, landing her in the shattered glass of the photo frame which she poked at with shaking, quivering hands.
"You broke it...you destroyed it." Malia whispered sadly as her mother advanced towards her, towering over her.
"Just like you did with me and your sister. Am I supposed to care about this boy?" she sneered as she approached and Malia looked up at her desperately.
"Mom, I, you aren't my real mom!" Malia yelled desperately, even though she knew it was, it was her mother, but this was the mother that she had made when she had inadvertently destroyed her family. This was her punishment, what was the word Stiles had used? She looked at his ripped face and the word came to her. Karma. This was her karma for what she had done.
Her mother gave a cold tinkling laugh and squatted down beside her daughter, petting her shoulder, her face nice again but her personality anything but.
"Actually my baby, that's not true. I am your real mother. But, you want to know the best part?" she asked, reaching to her back for something as Malia growled menacingly, about to rip at her mother, mother or not, her fault she was like this or not, she was going to make her pay. "I might be your real mother, but-" she gloated before she screamed in pain, writhing back in alarm, an action Malia copied as she watched a sword impale itself right into where her heart should be and slice into the centre of her chest, her mother's scream cutting abruptly short as the sword sliced into the spine and her body collapsed to the floor, the flesh already disintegrating around the sword as it fell, and by the time it hit the ground, it was nothing more than a pile of blackened bones, Malia's mother's skull's eyes boring into her as it settled on top of the ripped picture of Stiles and the knife she had been about to plunge into her daughter's back clattering dully against the wall.
Kira panted in disgust, and then, glaring at the pile of rotten bones, crouched down to the floor and wrapped a crying Malia in a tight hug, wincing as Malia screamed as she saw what her own mother had been about to do with her.
"That was my mom, I made her that, I made her want to kill me because of what I did to her, she hates me, I destroyed her, that was my mom!" Malia cried, letting the broken shards of glass from her photo frame fall from her hands and crying onto her friend's shoulder as Kira rocked her, hushing her.
"Shh. No it wasn't, your mom is dead Malia, that, I don't know what it is, but it's not her! That is someone fucking with you, and I promise, we're going to find out who's doing it, and then, we'll make them pay. You hear me?" she asked insistently, taking Malia's face in her hands and looking deep into her eyes, their faces right next to each other, and to her relief, Malia nodded.
"Yeah. What are you doing here?" she whimpered, and Kira, still holding her and hushing her, stroked her hair.
"Stiles asked me to come and check on you, he told me what happened at the school and said you were kind of freaked out. Good thing I did huh?" she asked, indicating the pile of bones and Malia sniffed sadly.
"Yeah. Thank you." She said, her voice wavering, and Kira sat down beside her as Malia sadly played with the broken photo frame, but Kira let it lie, after all, she had just watched her best friend technically kill her mother to save her, even if it wasn't really her mother.
"We'll get you a new one ok?" she asked sweetly, and Malia sniffed and nodded, staring at the ripped picture of her and Stiles and wiping her eyes, only nodding, before her eyes glowed blue in anger at whatever sick game this was that the new big bad was playing.
"We're going to make them pay right?" she ground out, and Kira nodded.
"Definitely." She assured her, and Malia growled angrily, roaring at the pile of her mother's bones in her fury.
"Good." She snarled viciously as Kira hung awkwardly behind her.
XX
Stiles looked at his phone in alarm. He'd asked Kira to go and check on Malia while he cleaned up and got his own head on straight before he went and helped her get her head around this, but far from being confused or worried about the suicide they had accidentally witnessed, she had instead been attacked by her eight years dead mother who had tried to kill her and had played some serious mind games with her.
Stiles let out an animal snarl, it wasn't a wolf, or even the sound of a fox, but it also wasn't human, just like him. Someone had set out to hurt her, to hurt his girl, to hurt his Malia, and now the leftover Nogitsune inside him was crying out for vengeance, to cause chaos, pain, suffering, to make whoever did it, pay. He could feel it, the urge to hurt, to inflict vengeance, to inflict pain, and boy did he want to.
But no, he wasn't the Nogitsune anymore, no matter how much of it was leftover, he was a human, and he would storm, he would rage, and he would help the others get even with whoever had done this to her, but he wouldn't get revenge directly. That wasn't him, he wasn't a monster.
Well, he wasn't an actual monster with powers, claws and fangs anymore, he was just a monster because of what he had done, of all the people he had hurt, because of the friends he had killed.
Shaking his head, he picked up his keys and texted Kira that he was on his way, closing the door behind him. He was about to lock the door when his eyes caught his jeep, and he turned to look at his car in fury. All the tyres had been deflated, all four of them, and he only had one replacement, and his poor jeep was looking rather woebegone looking all deflated as she was.
"What the hell?" he demanded, crossing angrily to his jeep.
This wasn't the first time this had happened, a couple of thugs with a vendetta against his father had done this once before, only to be arrested for doing it again, and he had done it in order to try and stop the Nogitsune from hurting anyone else when he had been possessed, but this, this was all four tyres, come on, his girlfriend's mother had just come back from the dead and had tried to kill her, he needed to get to Malia like five minutes ago!
As he bent down to inspect the tyres, he frowned. These hadn't just been let down, these had been slashed, ripped all the way down to the rim. He swore violently under his breath, checking each one, and he was right, all four of them had been slashed. He looked at the cut, it had to have been done with a knife or something, and he swore once again, figuring he should leave it till his father came home, after all, this was a crime.
Or was it? He stood up, looking in the mirror, frantic for any signs that he looked like he was possessed again, but could see nothing. Could he have done this? He didn't think so, no, he hadn't been here long enough to have lost time, yeah, he can account for every minute, more or less, that he had been home. He shivered, trying to shake the fear that this actually was him who had slashed the tyres. No, it wasn't him, it was gone, the Nogitsune was gone, it wasn't coming back, it couldn't, Isaac had immolated it, he was safe!
Shaking his head in despair, he turned away from the window of his woebegone jeep and was just about to get his phone from his pocket when he heard a whooshing sound that sounded very familiar, a second before an arrow plunged into his stomach. He screamed in pain as he was jerked back against his jeep, blood splattering up the side of the car as another arrow embedded itself in his shoulder, making him scream all the more as he slid down the side of his car, shaking, bleeding and gasping, pain burning every one of his nerves as his bloodied hands held the arrow in his stomach, his tshirt and jeans getting soaked with blood. Tears of pain were in his eyes, which were rapidly losing focus as he tried to retain consciousness, the arrow in his stomach burning in his gut in such a way that he hardly noticed the one in his shoulder. He looked down, panting in pain and fear, at his bloodstained front, the long shaft sticking from his flesh and he looked fearfully at where the arrow had come from.
But he didn't need to. As soon as he had first been hit with the arrow, he knew who had fired it at him.
Karma really was a bitch.
He looked up, his eyes sliding out of focus and back in with the pain he was going through, as she approached, looking exactly as she had the night she died, her face pale, her raven hair bouncing in the wind, her lips and nails red, a bow in her hand and a quiver of arrows on her back.
"Hello Stiles." Allison said coldly and despite himself, and being propped against the car, Stiles struggled to move away from her, fearing what was to come, trying to get his blood soaked legs to get him to his feet as she advanced upon him, crouching down before him.
"Allison..." Stiles whimpered in fear, and she narrowed her brown eyes at him.
"Miss me? You should...seeing as you killed me." She spat, and she viciously twisted the arrow in his gut, her eyes boring into him as he reared his head back, screaming in terrified, frantic pain, blood gushing over his hands as she twisted the arrow further in, his screams echoing into the air as he found himself at the mercy of one of his many victims.
And since we no longer have Teen Wolf to watch (Major Crimes will sustain me for nineteen weeks though). here's another chapter to keep us going!
Well, the season is over, and now we have ages to wait till the next episode. But, why the hell do we still not know where Danny and Isaac are? Werent we promised Danny by Jeff Davis, so he basically told us that so he could get out of comic con without being lynched? What the hell?
Never mind, someone else can deal with him and im sure well get many fan theories on where Beacon Hills hottest wolf and hottest human in the know are (Isaac and Jackson are hanging out in London, Danny is with Ethan on a romantic break in London so the four of them all wind up together possibly?)
Well my dissertation is finally finished, so I am free to write as much as I want by and large, which will start kicking in on Thursday hopefully, I've had a week of blowing up Star Destroyers to take the edge off. So all being well episode three should be finished soon!
Now onto the actual chapter, its been so long since I tortured characters, weve done quite well to get to chapter 11 of the story without any major torture, but theres much more to come! I told you we had some unexpected guest appearances, so Isaac's father, Matt, Malias mother (who I see played by Gabrielle Anwar) and last for now, Allison, all of whom are out for vengeance. What are they? What are they meant for? Who conjured them? And most important, is it truly them or some sick twisted perversion?
The hunters, both of whom are in the cast list, that Argent is visiting, what do they have to contribute? And will the suicide of the poor lad encourage Lydia to take up Martagh on her offer? And just what is going on in Garrett's head? And the main question os of course what the hell is Agravaine up to?
Right, after I update my other account, I shall start the next chapter straight away while the iron is lukewarm. But lovely people, I would love to hear what you think of our unexpected cameos and the chapter, so please, as always, favourite, follow and most importantly review, I will be eternally grateful, and remember to vote in the poll, which will last the duration of episode 3!