So first off major thanks to my beta Elle, who's been a peach and an A+ beta.
Also! This week marks the 1 year anniversary of WK! I started writing it way back last year on July 10, and am just now actually starting to reach the end.
(On a completely different but related note: how about that TW premier last week? THE MARRISH IS KILLING ME Y'ALL!)
00000
It's far too early in the morning when Peter finds himself in the bathroom, clinging to the toilet and throwing up the contents of his stomach for no reason he can discern. It's not like he could get food poisoning. So he's a little worried. Granted it might be better than the nightmares he's been having.
He finds himself even more worried when Lydia joins him a few minutes later.
Had someone managed to slip past Aldans and Vee and put poison in their food? It's a worrying thought, especially when he has no idea who that unknown enemy might be.
Distantly he can hear Jordan's rapid approach and one of Jordan's warm hands rests itself on the back of Peter's neck. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Jordan's other hand hold back Lydia's hair. "Are you both alright?"
Listing to the side Peter rests his head against the cool tank. He's breathing raggedly and his throat feels like it's been scoured with sandpaper but he's just grateful he doesn't feel like he's going to hurl anymore. "I think I'm fine," he says quietly to spare his throat. Reaching out he gently takes Lydia's wrist and starts leeching away her pain.
She gives a tiny whimper, but doesn't try to pull away as she joins him in absorbing cool from the tank. "I don't know," she whispers, her eyes glazed. He doesn't like it at all.
Worry starts coming from Jordan as well as he lets go of Peter to flush the toilet and turn on the overhead fan. "Come on you two," he says gently. "Let's get you both back in bed."
He helps the both up and doesn't protest when they lean heavily on him. Somehow they manage to only stumble and stagger towards the bed before Jordan helps Lydia collapse onto the blankets then Peter. He leaves them, and Peter tracks his footsteps as they head back into the bathroom and start running water in the sink.
Knowing Jordan's got whatever he's planned probably well in hand, Peter focuses on Lydia. He rolls closer and reaching out again puts a hand on her shoulder, taking her pain again.
She sags and sighs. "Thank you," she murmurs. "I feel like shit."
Weak laughter is about all the humor he can manage. "Well we're in the same boat then."
"Pretty sure you're not as bad off as me," she mutters. "My breasts hurt and I've got cramps." She buries her face in his shoulder and he finds himself going still. "I want to call it the flu, but I didn't think I could catch that."
And Peter knows he can't catch that.
But Jordan's back before he can think of a response, with glasses of water and cool, damp, towels. "Drink slowly," he cautions as he hands them both glasses. "So this is obviously worrying." Peter can't even work up the energy to sass Jordan. "Any idea what it might be?"
Finishing his glass, Peter sets it off to the side and shrugs. "I was thinking poison in our food."
Jordan shakes his head. "But I'm fine and so are Vee and Seph." Hmmm, he's right. Vee and Seph's breathing is still sleep-even; and the three of them ate the exact same things as he and Lydia did.
"I want it to stop," Lydia moans softly. "I don't exactly care what it is."
Making soothing noises Jordan rubs Lydia's back for a few minutes; but he pulls away his face thoughtful in the dim pre-dawn light. "I'm going to call Melissa and see if she can come over to check you both out, unless you think you can make it to the hospital?"
Peter vehemently shakes his head, the less time he spends in hospitals the better he'll be in the long run. Though he hardly likes the idea of Jordan calling Melissa McCall in the first place.
"Shouldn't wake her up." Which is mighty thoughtful for Lydia.
"Don't worry Lydia," Jordan soothes. "I'm pretty sure she's at the hospital on shift right now. I was just going to call the main desk and talk to her there."
Lydia hums and snuggles closer to Peter.
Leaning over the both of them Jordan gives them each a forehead kiss before getting up and leaving the room. Faintly Peter call here Jordan's phone ringing as he calls the hospital. He hears the click of connection, but decides it's not really worth the effort to try and listen in on the full conversation.
"Hey Melissa, it's me, Jordan Parrish." Lucky Jordan to not have to worry about convincing someone to put Melissa on the line.
Jordan's silent for a few moments before speaking again. "Look I know you probably have no reason to trust me, but I wouldn't be calling if I didn't need your help."
More silence as Melissa replies.
"It's Lydia and Peter. Something's wrong with them."
Melissa's voice gets loud enough that Peter can hear the angry cadence of it.
Jordan cuts her off before she can really get started though. "I don't care if you think Peter should rot in hell. I quite like him where he is and would rather he not die from something completely preventable." The warmth in Jordan's voice is touching, if a smidge misplaced considering Peter's feeling worlds better already; although it's clear Lydia's not. "At least come over and take a look at Lydia please." Peter would much prefer it if Jordan wasn't begging.
Silence again and Peter finds his worry returning. Finally though Jordan speaks again. "Thank you Melissa." Relief is obvious in Jordan's voice as he gives her their address.
As Jordan returns, Peter sits up, ignoring Lydia's murmur of protest. "Well?"
"She said she'd be here in half an hour when her shift ends."
Peter nods and gets out of bed, padding over to the dresser, grabbing one of his shirts and pulling it on.
"Peter?" Jordan steps in front of him before he reaches the door.
"I was thinking it would be better if Melissa didn't ever see me while she's here." He can hid out in the kitchen and hopefully put his nervous energy to good use.
Jordan is clearly unhappy about it, but eventually nods. "Alright. I'll be down soon to meet her at the gate."
Leaning in Peter gives Jordan a soft kiss. "It'll be alright," he promises. It gets him a weak smile in response.
Before he leaves he returns to Lydia, sitting on the bed and giving her the same kiss he'd giving Jordan. "I'll be back when Melissa leaves, alright sweetheart?"
Her eyes flutter open and she frowns. "Peter…"
"I know, but it'll be less stressful for everyone." And he won't have to worry about angry glances and catty comments filling a space that should be focused on getting Lydia better.
He pulls himself away and quietly descends the stairs, being careful not to disturb Seph and Vee.
Once in the kitchen, he ignores the overhead lights in favor of opening the curtains, letting in the growing dawn light,which is more than enough for him to see by.
Going into the pantry he roots around, collecting what he'll need to make chicken noodle soup. Setting his finds on the counter he does the same with the fridge and freezer.
Jordan stops in the doorway for a moment, giving Peter a little waves before heading outside.
But Peter mainly focuses on building up his stock, letting the simple task consume him. The less he focuses on Lydia, the less he'll worry...probably.
Footsteps draw his attention away from the pot, and for a second he thinks it's going to be Lydia, but when he actually looks up he sees it's Vee. "I hope we didn't wake you."
She shrugs, yawning at the same time. "I thought I was the one who did the cooking? Something wrong?"
"Lydia isn't feeling well." He doesn't protest when Vee joins him, turning on the mixer and starting the dough for egg noodles. "Will we be calling the queen?"
Peter pauses in his stirring to rub the bridge of his nose. Great. Something else they clearly need to think about. "Once we find out what's wrong," he answers. It's cagy, yes, but for all they know it's something simple like the flu or a cold, and nothing to worry over, or tell Lydia's mother about. "Jordan called someone to come over and check her over."
Vee nods and returns to her dough. "I hope she'll be well."
Peter hopes so too.
He tenses when he hears Jordan enter with Melissa in tow, tracking their voices as they head up to Lydia. His nerves ratchet up when they door to the master closes, cutting off all but the bare murmur of voices.
Vee bumps his shoulder, hard, distracting him. "Noodles are ready."
He gives her a grateful smile.
By the time they finish the soup Melissa still hasn't left, and Peter shifts his weight, uncertain of what to do next.
"We have heavy cream, right Hale?" Vee's question draws him back again. He's fairly certain she even did it on purpose, not that he isn't grateful.
After a few seconds thought he nods.
"Good, we can start ice cream then."
They've finished three different flavors—mint chocolate chip, raspberry, and sea salt—and been joined by Seph,who'd immediately started washing dishes after she found out what was going on, by the time Jordan shows Melissa the door.
Once again Jordan stops in the doorway. "Peter, Lydia's got something to tell you."
Great, now he feels even more nervous. Still, after Vee gives him a hefty shove, he goes. "At least tell me if it's bad or not," he says as they head up the stairs; he wants to know if he should prepare himself for the worst or not.
"Technically it's good." He's not sure if he likes Jordan taking a page from his cryptic book.
They reach the bedroom door and Jordan gestures for Peter to go first. When he enters he's grateful to see Lydia upright, even if it's because she's propped up against the headboard, wearing one of his shirts. She smiles at him, "hi."
He goes to her, climbing into bed and curling up against her legs, settling his head in her lap. "Well?" He needs to know.
Lydia starts carding her fingers through his hair. "Melissa wants me to come into the hospital to make sure, but she's confident her guess is right."
"Lydia…" She at least doesn't sound unwell anymore, but he wishes she wouldn't drag it out like this.
"Sorry Peter." He can hear the smile in her voice. The bed shifts as Jordan joins them. "But I don't think I've ever seen you so anxious before." He doesn't get a chance to snap a reply since she continues. "And really I'm kind of nervous too. It's not like I'd thought this would happen so soon. Granted we're all at fault for this one at least."
He pulls away enough to look at her. "Just tell me, please."
"Okay." He watches as she takes a deep breath. "Peter, I'm pregnant."
His brain breaks, and all he can do is gape at her.
"Peter?" Almost distantly he can hear Lydia's voice, concern clear.
A large, warm hand—must be Jordan then—gives his shoulder a shake. "Peter?"
He comes back to himself, at least enough to be aware that both of them are looking at him worried. "I," shaking off Jordan's hand Peter climbs off the bed. "I'll be back." He feels like there are walls closing in on him, threatening a darkness he doesn't remember, but still fears.
Once outside the house he dashes to the front gate, leaping over it easily and continuing on to the preserve. He lets himself wolf out and just runs.
000
Lydia knows she should have told someone she was going to Oak Creek, but she just couldn't, not even Seph, Aldans, or Vee, who knew nothing of it's significance at all. Overall she's not really sure why she decided to go, only that now felt like the right time. It helps that she wants some time alone as well, some relative peace and quiet from the current hectic state the lake house has been in since Melissa had stopped by yesterday and told Lydia she was pregnant.
Somehow it looks even more abandoned than it did last time—not that she remembers much from last time beyond the yawning chasm of sorrow and the shouting of the Nogitsune. There isn't much in the way of sounds; no birds or crickets, or any signs of wildlife at all really. But Oak Creek still echoes with noise. There are hundreds of dead here, and all keep trying to talk over each other. In fact there are so many competing voices that for once she can't actually 'hear' them; they've become a sort of white noise.
There's a spot of earth that looks like all the others, nothing special about it at all. But it's still the place Lydia stops and kneels in front of. Putting her hands on the dry ground, she moves to rest her forehead on her hands, looking down at the spot where Allison died.
She lets her tears fall freely. "I'm sorry Allison," she manage to sob out. "I...I should have been clearer with my warning. I should have made you understand what was going to happen..." her words quickly turn back into sobs.
Sobs that dry up the instant she feels too-cold hands brush her shoulder and hair. "...there are ghosts after all and you never know who'll come back and when." She doesn't want to look, fearing that it's just another spirit drawn to her emotions.
'Shhh, Lydia.'
Her tears return full force. "Allison, I'm sorry," she chokes out.
'Hey, it was my choice. Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger eux-même, remember? How could I call myself your friend if I left you, helpless and afraid, in the clutches of a monster?'
"A friend that would be alive," a hint of anger creeps into her voice. "You could have still protected me without throwing your life away."
Allison's ghostly hands turn so cold that even Lydia thinks it's too much. 'That too was my choice Lydia. I might not have know I was going to die, but I knew I might not survive either. The warrior mentality. I made my choices and I want you to respect that. Don't ignore them just so you can feel even more sorry for yourself.'
Slowly Lydia uncurls her fingers, dirt and rocks slipping from her hands. After a few seconds she pushes herself upright and finally looks at Allison.
Not that there's much to look at, it's as if Allison's been done in runny watercolors, all blurry and indistinct. It's still clearly Allison though and Lydia's heart breaks a little. But most of what she feels is relief. Jordan had guessed right after all about her feeling guilt about not being able to save Allison, but her friend is still here after a fashion. Even if it's not the one Lydia would prefer for her.
"Why are you here?" From what Danu's told her the dead aren't tethered to any one specific place, so Allison choosing to be here must have some significance.
Allison gives a shimmery shrug. 'It isn't that bad really. Sometimes Mrs. Yukimura comes, and sometimes an older Japanese lady comes. Sometimes they come together and talk. Occasionally they play go. Despite all the chatter it can be peaceful here. Also...'
"Also what?" Lydia presses.
'There's something...wrong with the rest of Beacon Hills. All the pain and anger here...blocks it for the most part, it's...safer here, than anywhere else. Especially compared to the Nemeton.'
Lydia thinks she hates that blasted tree. If it weren't already dying the slowest death possible, she thinks she'd cut it down and try to kill it herself. But Allison's words worry her, because if there's something wrong with Beacon Hills then it means they have to deal with it. And right now it feels like she's got more than enough problems in her life.
Like her current pregnancy, which at least had taken all of them by surprise. Though it seemed to be a good one from the view of her retinue, if the happiness that had filled the house in the past few days was any indication. Still, Lydia dreads telling Morana. Though she has no doubt that her mother will be overjoyed.
Her own feelings on it are...mixed. On one hand, she's always wanted kids. On the other, those same children always happened in a distant 'later', not right as she's about to head off to college. On the other, other hand, these past six months or so have been a roller coaster ride of unexpected life changes, so what's pregnancy compared to that?
Still, at least Jordan and Peter, and Vee, Seph, and Aldans, have been there for her. Even if Peter refused to talk about why he'd run off after being told; and personally she's afraid to dig through the memories he gave her to see if the answer is in there somewhere.
Beyond them she hasn't quite worked up the courage to tell anyone else—and for a brief moment she can only think of how Natalie will react when she finds out—but she swears she will soon.
Add to that Scott's, and thus his pack's, irrational hatred—at least in her eyes—of Peter, and Lydia feels beset from all sides. The only people she feels she can trust already surrounding her and standing at her side.
Which does bolster her, but that doesn't mean she's not looking forward to moving to Cambridge and just getting away from it all. So despite a part of her clambering not to Lydia asks: "What about the Nemeton?"
'I, I guess I don't know know my connection to it all that well.' Hazy eyes dart away. 'But it doesn't feel the same as it did when I was alive.'
Lydia finds herself recoiling. "You're still connected to the Nemeton?" Lydia can't quite put her finger on why, but she's horrified. The thought of her best friend, like this for who knows how long? She shivers. Finding that's a fate she wouldn't even wish on Scott and Stiles at the moment.
Allison nods. 'Yes. That's why I'm...still here. I think.'
Gods, why does that make everything seem worse? Her best friend's still here, but against her will. Her stomach threatens to revolt and she stands. "I'm sorry, I've…" She hugs her arms around herself. "I need to go."
She doesn't look back as she runs away. If she looks back she doesn't know if she'll ever stop crying.
...
Lydia hopes she doesn't annoy Danu too much by never calling ahead to tell her she's headed over; she's just never felt sure she's going over until she's already halfway there.
Today though she's not hoping for a lesson in general; this time she had specific questions, questions brought about by her visit to Oak Creek yesterday. So her knock on the door is a little more insistent than usual, a tinge more hurried.
It feels like an eternity before Danu opens the door, her face showing it's usual lack of emotion. "Hello Lydia, come in." Like her face, her voice betrays nothing on whether or not she's pleased or perturbed by Lydia's sudden appearance. Her hair's been pinned back in some sort of complicated braid that Lydia wishes she had the hair to pull off, and Danu's wearing yet another indigo dress, this one Regency looking.
Lydia manages to hold her questions in long enough to take off her sandals, hang up her purse, and follow Danu into the almost painfully tidy kitchen, taking a seat at the breakfast nook; in a tucked away dog bed Brian the pig sleeps peacefully. "Can a spirit be tied to an object?" She blurts out as Danu puts a kettle on to boil.
"Yes," is her simple answer as she takes down mugs and begins setting up for tea.
As Lydia's shoulders slump in relief, her mind begins to race on if she could undo it for Allison. Or was her best friend's tie to the Nemeton too strong? "How? And why?"
Danu shrugs as she sets out various cookies. "The reasons can vary. There are certain spells that can only be completed by tying a soul to an object; there are ways it can be done as punishment." Her right hand rests briefly on the bracelet she wears. "Sometimes for safekeeping. As to the how," she breaks off as the kettle shrieks. The next minute or so is spent finishing up tea Gratefully Lydia accepts her mug and takes a shortbread cookie from the plate.
"For most applications," Danu continues as she takes the other seat. "The soul must be willing and then it is only a matter of finding a proper receptacle and filling it with intent to pull the spirit in question into it." She wraps her hands around her mug and seconds later it's only barely steaming. Lydia copies her, sending the barest tendril of cold into her mug to cool it to the perfect temperature. Would it be rude, she wonders, to ask how Danu does it?
"Since they are willing, it's impolite to bind a spirit tightly. Though if the intent is to punish then you bind as tightly as possible, so there's no chance of the spirit escaping, save by your own deliberate hand. In such a case you must entice them in such a way that they do not know they are being trapped, at least not until it is too late."
Lydia takes a sip of her tea. "Will you show me?" While she's primarily asking because of Allison, she can see how the knowledge would be useful in the long run.
Taking a gingersnap from the plate, Danu bites it in half. "After tea." Slightly belying her words though she stands and walks out of the kitchen; Lydia trusts that if she wants Lydia to join her she'll call out. She soon returns, a scrimshawed animal bone—easy enough now for Lydia to tell the difference—in her hand. Offering it to Lydia, she sits; before taking it Lydia finishes off her cookie. The carvings press lightly into her hands as she turns the scrimshaw over.
"This is a spirit spell for protection," Danu says. "Feel it as thoroughly as possible. See what you can find out on your own."
Before she dives completely into it, Lydia sets down the bone and wraps her hands once more around her mug; after taking a sip she begins pulling out the cold—strangely a much harder task than cooling—so her tea won't get tepid while she's distracted. Once it's steaming again she picks up the bone and runs her fingers over the carvings, sending out threads of her own banshee power as she does so.
Immediately she can feel the usual bone sparks and the spirit bound to it as well. After some more investigation she gets a flash of insight: the spirit is tied to the sparks, which makes them stronger, extending the length of the bones use and powering the spell. A sort of nearly self-sustaining circle. She also thinks she knows how to do it, but she'll still wait until after the practical demonstration. "So the spirit tied to the sparks makes the spell nearly indefinite?"
Danu inclines her head slightly, "Indeed. Only one spirit may be tied to an object at a time, but when the object itself begins to fail you can move the spirit and spell to another object."
"Is it always bone?" Putting down the scrimshaw she takes another cookie. If it is only bone she's going to have a hard time finding ones she can explain it away easily to outsiders.
"No actually, though bone is best. Any sort of ancient item will do: stones, fossilized wood, antiquities. Though like with bones, some will last longer than others."
Lydia has a few more questions, but she'll save them for during or after the demonstration; well all except one: "Is there a spell like this that can be used to stop nightmare?"
"I don't see why not." Danu pops a chocolate truffle into her mouth, before taking a sip of tea. "The 'spell' portion is inspired by your intent, so if you intend your object to ward off bad dreams then that is the shape the spell will take. Have you been having nightmares?"
She takes a sip of her own tea. "No," she shakes her head; not since she came back from the mound. "But Peter is. Erwann said that he'd had them back when the two of them lived together, but that they're more frequent now." Not that it's hard to notice that, what with the way Peter thrashes into wakefulness almost every night.
For the next few moments the only sound in the kitchen is Danu's nails against her mug—and the occasional piggish snore from Brian. "What sort of nightmares, if you do not mind me asking?"
Lydia stares pensively into her tea. "Peter doesn't talk about them, but Jordan said before we returned from Court they were usually of the event that killed Peter's family." Now of course, they can't be; all of those memories are locked tight within her own mind, to deal out to Peter as she pleases.
"But he's always angry and argumentative afterwards, usually more towards everyone outside the household." Which is good considering Seph is shy enough as it is. But she's seen sales clerks jump when he follows her into a store.
Danu hums and the surface of her tea dances. "These hardly sound like the usual nightmares." Lydia knows, but until minutes ago she didn't think she could do anything about them.
Part of Lydia wants to down the rest of her tea, and get started on the practical part of the lesson, but she has one more very important question she needs to ask first. "I'm pregnant. Will...will that affect my powers? Or will using my powers affect the baby?" She needs to know, one way or the other. There's a 98 percent chance that the necromancy won't. After all she's just passively listening, but what might the potential effects of using necrotheurgy be?
A hint of a genuine smile passes Danu's lips. "I know. It is cause for much celebration. Not to speak ill of our kind, but conception this quickly is rare." Lydia will not blush. "It took your parents twenty years to conceive you. Sometimes between one child and the next can lie centuries." Danu's pointer finger traces the rim of her mug. "A safeguard, she once told me, to prevent us from overrunning those whose planet this is." She? Oh, Lydia realizes, the Progenitor.
"As for the answer to your question," Danu continues before Lydia can get a question edgewise. "Your child is still of you for as long as they reside within you; your powers will do nothing to them, nor will they affect them."
Lydia doesn't bother to hide her relief.
In one swallow Danu finishes the rest of her tea, apparently content to let that be the end of the conversation. "Come, let us go and I will show you how it is done."
Abandoning her own tea, Lydia still snags a chocolate chip cookie as Danu picks up the scrimshaw and leaves; this time Lydia follows. They make a brief stop into what looks like it might have been a study, where Danu leaves the scrimshaw and picks up a few more bone fragments. That done, Danu leads Lydia outside and down to the shore.
"Despite different purposes, the tying of a spirit to an object will always be the same. So, you only need to learn the one to learn the other. If you are punishing then you'll also need to figure out an enticement, but that will vary for each spirit." Danu hands off all her bones to Lydia before stepping into the water, her dress looking as if it doesn't even get damp.
Deciding it's just best for her to remain on the shore, Lydia tucks her own skirt under her and sits in the sand, decidedly glad it's not a windy day. She sees a few people nearby, and deciding to be safe she draws a camouflage glamour over herself. Danu soon returns and Lydia can feel a spirit hovering around her. "Bone please," Danu holds out a hand.
Picking one at random she puts it in Danu's hand. "Now watch and pay attention." Lydia focuses her eyes and her powers on Danu as she begins the process of shaping the spell into the bone and tying the spirit too it.
It looks more complex than Lydia thought it would, but she still thinks she can do it. "Now you try."
Lydia nods and sets the remaining bone fragments down before standing. Walking a short distance away she starts reaching out with her powers.
'Soon, soon, it all comes tumbling down.'
'That woman in the ocean goes to die willingly.'
Ignoring the chatter of the spirits as best she can she sends out. . .feelers? To try and see if any of them would be receptive to her using them.
'I princess,' she feels a spirit settle around her. 'George Jakobson.'
Thank you, she thinks at him, lightly she carries him back to Danu.
"Good, now pick an object." Danu gestures at the bones still on the sand.
This time uncaring of being decorous Lydia kneels and picks up one of the larger fragments.
"Feel it in your mind, and focus on what you want it to do, then begin tying your spirit." Danu says.
Nodding Lydia stares at the bone in her hands; I want us to be safe from nightmares, she thinks picturing herself, Jordan, and Peter. I want us to have peaceful sleep. Over and over she repeats those two thoughts as she begins weaving her power into the bone; halfway through the fourth repetition she begins tugging on George, gently adding him to the pattern, over and over and over again until there's no more of George to add. She feels her shoulders sag and part of her wants to curl up in a nice shady spot and nap for a few hours. "I'm done," she says as she stands, or at least she hopes so.
"May I?" Danu holds her hands out and gently Lydia sets her spelled bone into her mentor's hands. She watches nervously as Danu inspects it turning it over in her hands, testing it with her own banshee senses. "Well done." The barest hint of a smile lingers around her lips. "It will serve its purpose nicely. As a suggestion perhaps put it under the mattress instead of under the pillow—less likely to move."
Lydia nods, taking the bone back. "I appreciate the thought." Even though she's passed the test there's still a small bundle of nerves in her chest. "You mentioned moving the spell and spirit to another item, but what if the spirit's been bound to a...living object?" She's pretty sure she could have worded that better, but she can't think of how at the moment.
A tiny sigh escapes Danu as she settles into the sand. "I was wondering when you might ask after that tree."
Not bothering to hide the surprise on her face, Lydia sits again. "You know about the Nemeton?"
Danu nods. "Even though we are Banshees, I've been on this Earth for long enough that I can sense such loci, and despite it's...rancid feel, this one's influence is large." She makes a sweeping gesture. "Even here it makes itself known, and I dare say the only reason it's halted here is because of the ocean." She sets a hand on the sand and Lydia watches as a stream of water goes against the retreating tide to wrap itself around Danu's arm. "No tree, no matter how strong, can grow in salt water." The water slithers back down and returns to the ocean.
"So there is a spirit tied to it?"
Lydia nods. "About a year ago,"—she can't believe it's been that long—"there was a Darach making sacrifices to the Nemeton, and to prevent her from getting more power three of my," her throat locks up on the word 'friend'. "My peers, tied themselves to it. A few months after that one of them died." She rubs a hand across her eyes to stop the gathering tears.
"I hadn't even realized she was still around until yesterday."
An arm wraps around Lydia's shoulders, shocking her, she turns her head to see Danu's black eyes staring at her intently. "I know you want me to say that you can do it, that you can wrench her away from that rotting tree and keep her with you always." Danu's thumb begins rubbing circles into the crook of Lydia's neck. "But what she did was different. She willingly bound herself to it in life; even if she didn't quite know what she was agreeing too. There is no way to break her free." Lydia appreciates Danu's brutal honesty, but hates it all the same.
Pulling her legs up to her chest, she buries her face in her knees and lets the tears she tried to stop earlier loose. The whole while Danu embraces her, thumb never ceasing.
When the tears cease she doesn't feel any better, but still she uncurls herself and does her best to make herself presentable. That done she finds she has a different question for Danu. "What would happen if you shattered an object a spirit was tied to?"
Danu pulls away, resettling herself as if she'd never even touched Lydia. "You know, I have no idea. I will be back momentarily." She takes another bone fragment as she stands and once more walks into the ocean. A much greater length of time passes than last time before she comes back.
Again she sits and uncurls her hand to show the bone in it. Lydia watches as Danu focuses completely on the bone to the exclusion of all else; just in case, Lydia extends her camouflage to a ten foot radius around them. That done she returns her own focus to the bone, watches as it begins to grow cracks, shards of it beginning to fall away.
Until with a bang it shatters completely, bone flying everywhere. Still Danu is silent for the next few moments. "Hmm."
"What?" It comes out more impatient than Lydia would like.
"The spirit's gone, completely."
Even though she's the one who asked the question, Lydia doesn't know how she feels about that.
000
Scott and Stiles stand outside the new gates leading to the completely rebuilt lake house; they're both kind of gaping. "Wow."
Stiles has to agree with Scott on that one, this place is a complete 180 from the last one, hell there's even a scarecrow watching over abundant garden beds.
They've been standing here for about the past half an hour, vaguely trying to figure out what to do. They want to get inside, but from the way Lydia's been acting around them they're certainly not going to be invited in; and there are vicious looking hedges surrounding most of the property. So their only real option is to jump the gate.
Granted they're damn lucky that Melissa was willing to give them the address, though she refused to say anything about why she'd been called over the other day. "Come on Scott," Stiles wheedles, "just boost me over and then you can use your awesome werewolf jumping skills."
Scott rolls his eyes, but like the best friend he is he makes a cradle for Stiles's foot. Then he's over the gate and Scott's beside him soon after, eyes darting around for any potential threats.
They approach slowly, taking in the changes to the lake house: the oaks lining the driveway, the beds full of vegetables and herbs flanking those, the actual house itself.
It's actually kind of amazing, but Stiles has to wonder how Lydia managed to keep all this from them. But he shakes his head. No, she couldn't have been able to hide all this from them. It must have wholly been Peter's doing, and he'd just pulled Lydia and Parrish into it.
Beside him Scott tenses, "What?" He hisses.
"I thought I heard something," Scott whispers in reply.
Now Stiles finds himself straining his hearing as well, though for a he knows whatever Scott heard was in the house. All Stiles can hear is the sounds of the occasional car behind them and the wind in the trees…
Except he can't feel a breeze, so how… He looks around to see that yes, all of the trees are swaying in some unfelt wind. He jerks Scott's shirt to catch his attention. "The trees," he mutters. Although it seems that more than just the trees are moving.
"Trespassers?" A voice that reminds Stiles of windy grass fields speaks from behind them. "You are both lucky that I am not allowed to kill you."
Stiles doesn't know whether to feel afraid or get mouthy like he seems to do with every other person that threatens him. But before either he or Scott can whirl around to see who their mystery voice belongs to, something wraps around his ankles, and Scott's too—which is how he finds out it's vines—and they're both being hoisted up, ending up upside down.
"So let us see what is to be done with you," they start moving.
While he's still not able to 'turn around' Stiles can turn his head, behind them all he can see is a mass of vines, but Scott's clearly trying to escape, all wolfed out and struggling, but all that does is get more vines wrapped around him.
They don't go into the house, but around it. To an expansive back porch.
Where Peter's sitting at a table, typing away on a laptop.
This just keeps getting better and better, Stiles thinks bitterly. He twists, trying to surprise Swamp Thing, but it doesn't work. "Hey Peter, if you're gonna deal with us the least you could do is give us a fighting chance!" The neighbors next door probably hear his shout, but Stiles hardly cares; in fact that might be a good thing.
Peter looks up from his screen, expression growing angry before his shoulder slump in a sigh...then he turns his attention right back on his screen.
"Hey!" Scott joins in on the shouting.
But before they can harass Peter any more than that, they both get a shake. "If you do not quiet I will gag you," ST says.
Stiles falls silent, more because he'd rather not figure out how Swamp Thing would gag them.
All of his blood feels like it's in his head by the time Peter finally seems to finish and actually turn his attention to them. He stands and descends the stairs. "You can put them down Aldans." Wait, this is whoever that weird Envy-woman was talking about? Where the fuck did Peter drag Lydia and Parrish that they'd meet something like Swamp Thing? "And you might as well be gentle."
"Thanks." Scott being sarcastic? Stiles feels so proud.
Aldans does actually lower them gently and Stiles doesn't feel any sort of head rush when he stands up on his own two legs, next to him Scott looks ready to attack. Even if Peter doesn't, asshole.
"Thank you Aldans, you can go now." Peter doesn't even look at them.
And because Stiles can't not know he turns his head as far around as he can, to see the scarecrow he'd noticed from the gate, well, walking away. What the actual fuck?!
"So," Peter's barely annoyed tone brings Stiles back to the problem at hand. "Give me a good reason why I shouldn't call the cops and have you arrested for trespassing?"
Scott growls. "What? You killing us here not dramatic enough for you?"
Peter has the audacity to roll his eyes, "Why on Earth would I want to kill you, Scott? What purpose would that serve me?"
"You'd be an Alpha again," Stiles answers quickly.
Peter actually laughs. Doubled over, tear inducing, laughter.
It'd be funny if it weren't so bizarre.
When Peter straightens he looks more like his smug, asshole self. "Thank you for the suggestion Stiles, but no, I don't need to be an Alpha anymore." And Stiles doesn't want Lydia anymore; please, if Stiles didn't already know Peter was the lyingest liar to ever lie, hearing that would've cemented the idea.
"Now," Peter crosses his arms. "Are you two going to leave the property willingly or am I going to have to call the sheriff?" Despite his dad not trusting Peter anymore than he does, Stiles knows if the department gets called he'll be in major shit.
But before he can say something along the lines of 'we'll go but fuck you' Scott speaks. "We'll go."
Peter tilts his head. "Thank you. Now I'm sure Aldans will be more than happy to make sure you both leave the way you came." It isn't surprising at all that they're getting the bum's rush. Though Stiles is pretty sure there's something werewolf-rude about the way Peter turns his back and heads up the stairs, like he doesn't consider them a threat at all.
They leave quickly though, not daring to speak to each other until Scott pulls his bike off the side of the highway back into Beacon Hills. Scott takes his helmet off while Stiles is still fumbling with the strap on his own—it's hard okay?
"That was…"
Stiles finally yanks his helmet off. "Freaky? Pod People-y? Something to freak the fuck about?" Anger sparks in him. "I mean seriously 'I don't need to be an Alpha anymore.'" He gives a derisive snort.
Scott actually looks worried. "Stiles, he wasn't lying when he said that."
Say what now?! Stiles shakes his head. "I don't believe it. Hell it wouldn't surprise me if Peter's perfected the art of lying to werewolves. If anyone could do it, it'd be that bastard."
Relief and confusion war on Scott's face, and his heart goes out to his bro; after all, Scott's got a helluva lot more responsibilities than most seventeen year olds. Raising his hand he claps Scott on the shoulder. "Come on man, this is Peter we're talking about. The Big Bad. The Ganondorf to your Link."
A smile twitches at Scott's lips. "Not a Star Wars reference?"
"No. Though I guess by werewolf standards Peter could totally be Darth Vader," if Darth Vader didn't have a redemption arc. "Now come on, let's head back home and eat. Then we can talk about what we want to do about Swamp Thing and the house."
Scott gives a sharp nod before turning back around, the both of them slipping their helmets back on before Scott starts his bike again and they're pulling back onto the highway.
As they head closer into town Stiles' mind churns with ideas. Deaton's been teaching him a lot of cool tricks recently, some of which he thinks would even take Peter by surprise.
00000
Next time: marking and planting.
So there won't be a new chapter next week folks! (which should give you all time to recover from the feels I tossed your way at least) It's my birthday and I'll be taking a well deserved break!