Chapter 55: Assécher
Deaton was in the driver's seat, steering the narrow roads into the deep woods where he managed to trace Harold's phone call. Sitting in shotgun, Derek's face hardened, jaw locked as his eyes stared straight ahead. In the back, swaying with the moving car, sat Scott and Stiles.
They were unusually silent. Scott curled in his corner of his seat, forehead resting against the window, watching the limbs of trees fly past him in a sweeping blur. Everything tuned out as his thoughts drifted into the heavy darkness that pinned his heart down. All he could think was his poor mother, dragged away as Isaac laid dying. Questions continuously popped in his head. Are they going to experiment on her? Torture her? Or, worse, kill her?
These unpleasantries churned Scott's insides as he shifted in his seat. But, no matter what, nothing was going to ease the burn he felt. Not until everyone he loves is safe. After the mourning howl and placing Isaac on his bed to rest in peace comfortably, Dr. Deaton arrived. He claimed that Harold called for help and sought out Derek for reinforcement when he discovered the bullet ridden, dead werewolf loft.
So, they all gathered up in the vehicle, driving deep into the woods. No one said a word since the departure of the loft. Not even Stiles.
Deaton turned off the road, driving up a beaten path. The car shook, causing Stiles to grasp the door handle to hold himself steady, but Scott didn't bother. His head clanked against the window and, yet, he felt no pain. How could he ever feel more pain beyond losing his mother to the hands of Gerard?
The car slowly came to the halt and Deaton unbuckled his seatbelt. "Derek, if you can check the area. I'll bring Scott and Stiles through the back door."
Derek complied and got out of the car, prowling around the building. Deaton turned to Scott and Stiles. "Ready boys?"
They both nodded and, following Deaton's instructions, they moved quickly and quietly to the back door. Scott didn't understand why they had to sneak around. Gerard had taken his mother, doing God-knows-what to her. Nothing mattered. His mother was suffering because of him. If giving himself up meant sparing his mother, he would do it.
But, at the moment, Deaton or Derek wasn't planning on letting Scott do that.
Instead, they ushered him and Stiles into the Deaton's secret condo. Once inside, Deaton closed all the blinds and, shortly, Derek joined them.
"It's clear," Derek announced. "Not a single hunter in sight."
Deaton nodded and pocketed what appeared to be a burner phone. "Harold is on his way over right now," he said, eyes flickering to Derek. "It might be best if you weren't here for this. Where's Peter these days?"
Derek shrugged. "I don't know. I don't care."
"Well—you better find a place to lay low quick," he suggested. "Harold might attack you on site."
"Now or later," Derek said, somberly. "Doesn't matter. I'm a dead man walking and I might as well get it over with."
Stiles raised his hand. "May I find a place then?" he asked, which caused everyone to gape at him. "I'm not really interested in getting blood all over me."
"And you think I'm interested in being murdered?" Derek spat. "After risking my neck for you!"
"Please! I've risked my life for you multiple times."
"When?"
"You want me to count all of them?"
"No. I want a detailed description of these so-called 'rescues'."
"Will you two please stop?"
Stiles and Derek turned to the grunt voice of a remorseful, guilt-ridden werewolf. Scott took a seat on one of the nearest chairs, head bowed as he leaned over with his elbows on his knees. While those two bickered over how many times they saved each other, Scott's heart kept pulsing violently at the thought of how he failed to save his mother. And, at the moment, he didn't need to hear those two bickering.
Derek and Stiles side-glanced each other regretfully. "Sorry Scott," Stiles responded. "Didn't mean to…you know…"
Scott lifted his head up so that his strained eyes could see Stiles' concerned face. "It hurts."
"What hurts?" Stiles asked, alarmed.
"Not being able to do anything," Scott answered. "Not being able to save my Mom. Not knowing what's happening. Not able to be there for her. Not be able to help her. Protect her. It's my fault! If I didn't escape in the first place…"
"Then you would have gotten captured as well," Deaton said, throwing a blanket over Scott's shoulders. "It's not your fault. It's no one's fault. If you didn't escape, then Gerard would have gotten both you and your mother, leaving Derek, Isaac, and Stiles dead."
Stiles nodded. "The doctor is right, Scott. If we didn't leave…we would all be dead."
The possibilities didn't make Scott feel any better. He still felt like he was drowning, unable to break through the surface and breath. None of them could say anything to make him better. It only teased him of the chance at feeling better. He needed this mother to make him feel any better.
Suddenly, a flood of lights peaked through the blinds and the sounds of squealing tires coming to a halt irked the werewolves' ears. The lights faded away and footsteps pounded up to the door. Not even a knock hit the door when it burst opened and Harold stormed into the room, his hair frazzled and eyes darting around the room until he found his son.
"Scott!" Harold cried, rushing to his son and pulling him up into a big embrace. "Thank God! You're all right. Deaton told me…"
His words drifted as he hugged his only child. Harold's embrace squeezed like he was a python rather than a werewolf. Despite his breathing slowing down, Scott didn't mind. Being in his father's arms gave him a sense of relief. Though it was only a little relief.
Scott saw Harvey step across the threshold, looking disheartened as he closed the door behind him. That's when Scott knew who had died.
"Henri?" Scott asked.
Scott felt his father's body strained at the mention of Henri. He saw Harvey's eyebrows wrinkle in sorrow and eyes downcast as he responded to his nephew's question.
"He's dead," he said. "Gerard murdered him."
Scott pulled back from Harold to give his condolences, but Harold wouldn't let him. He kept his son close so that he could feel his son's heart beating against his own chest. So alive, he thought. And, that made his whole body relax. Hearing his son's heartbeat pounding assured him that Scott was very much alive and well. Unlike his father, who now laid in an abandon barn after having to wrap their father in a plastic sheet in order to carry him away from the battlefield. It was unfair for his father to be handled in such a manner, but with the Blood of the First Human coursing his body, they were unable to do much.
Blinking a tear, he glanced up to see Stiles and Derek standing aside.
And seeing Derek made Harold's eyes burn.
No longer was holding Scott. No longer was he armored by relief and love, but hatred and anger as his claws wrapped around Derek's neck. Stiles yelped and Deaton's tried to voice reason, but Harold could barely hear them. Everything was a buzzing sound as he tightened his grip on Derek's neck.
"You were supposed to keep them safe!" he snarled as Derek tried to pry the werewolf's claws off his neck in vain. "To protect them!"
Derek's face began to turn a new shade, a pale blue color that reflected a sense of fear and death. Harold needed to see Derek surrender. To die for his lack of promise. Lack of vow to protect his family.
As Derek's life began to slip away, his heartbeat barely fluttering, another set of claws grabbed Harold's ripping them away from Derek's neck. Derek dropped to the floor, his mouth gulping for air and hoarsely coughing the life back into him.
Harold spun to swipe Harvey away from him when he realized it was Scott who pulled him away from Derek. "It's not Derek's fault!"
"What?"
"It's not his fault!" Scott cried, face flustered. "It's mine! It's my fault Derek wasn't there to save her. It's my fault Mom is gone!"
Harold shook his head, confused. "What are you talking about?"
"I gave Derek the slip," Scott explained. "Stiles and I went to rescue Allison. We got ourselves caught by a few hunters…Derek rescued us," Scott took a deep breath, guilt resting heavily on his heart. "That's why Mom is gone. Because I didn't think…"
Harold stared down at his son, sensing the guilt that riddled his son. He dropped a comforting hand on his son's shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. "Hey…Scott, stop! Stop! Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault. It's…my family's fault. Not yours so…don't worry," he said. "We'll get her back. We'll save her."
Scott nodded, brushing away an escaped tear. "Yeah…yeah, but what are we going to do? We don't know where they took her."
Harold turned to Deaton. The doctor had dragged Derek out of Harold's path where Stiles helped him, muttering to the werewolf. "That's another tally on my list of helping your ass." Derek narrowed his eyes at him, but didn't say a word.
When Deaton noticed Harold had turned his attention to them, he stepped forward to meet with the Original werewolf. "I'm sorry for your loss, Harold," he said. "For both Melissa and your father."
"I haven't lost Melissa yet," Harold corrected. "She may still be alive."
"I hope she is," Deaton agreed. "What's the plan now?"
Harvey stepped from the front door, standing next to his brother as Harold looked at Deaton with raised brows. "I don't know," Harold replied. "I mean…we have nothing. I don't know what to do next."
"We gotta save Mom," Scott said, joining his family. "We're going to save her."
"Scott's right," Harvey agreed. "Gerard took her for a reason. And, I'm guessing that it will because he needs more blood."
Harold's heart raced again at the mention of Gerard, he felt the prickle of his werewolf hairs poking out from underneath his chin. "We don't know where they took her. Flynn surveyed the house. It's empty. They're not there."
"Of course they won't be there," Deaton said. "They would have moved out as soon as they killed Henri and took Melissa."
"Then there's another location," Scott said. "Another property they own." Scott turned to his father. "What about the abandon lumber factory. Where they held me?"
Deaton nicked the idea. "They wouldn't take her to a place you've been before."
"But what other property could they have?" Scott asked.
"We could look up the property records," Harvey suggested. "Then check them all?"
"It's the middle of the night," Deaton said. "Public records aren't available at the moment."
"It's not online?" Harvey questioned.
"Not yet," Stiles said, jumping into the conversation as Derek managed to haul himself up to join the circle, still noticing the glare Harold gave him. "They're in the process. Only top officials have access at the moment. It hasn't gone public yet."
"Great," said Harvey. "Then we'll just break into the public records. Find the information we need and be on our way.
Stiles stared at Harvey. "Yeah, I'm not interested in adding Breaking-and-Entering onto my criminal record at the moment."
"Then what do you suggest human?" Harvey sneered.
"I don't appreciate that tone," Stiles pointed, "but, I do have a plan that won't put us all in jail."
"Yeah?" Harvey prodded him. "What's that?"
"I use my Dad's account to access the information," Stiles said, simply. "A few minutes later, we will have what we need and no one will have to end up in jail."
Harvey squinted his eyes curiously at Stiles. "What does your Dad do?"
"He's the sheriff," Harold answered. "And, he's not very keen with me."
"To be quite honest," Stiles said. "No one here except your brother is exactly happy with you."
Both Originals glared at Stiles, red eyes flashing in the irises. Stiles backed away. "Or, you know what? That was so long ago, he probably has forgotten that he doesn't like you. I mean…who doesn't like you guys? I for one…"
"Shut it Stiles," Harold growled and Stiles clamped in his mouth shut. "Despite you being a thorn, you're plan is the best option we have."
Stiles opened his mouth to speak, but Harold snarled at him, causing Stiles to jump back and run into Derek. "So…I'll have Flynn go with Stiles to get the information—"
"Whoa!" Stiles interrupted again much to Harold's dismay. "I'm not going with an unknown werewolf, okay? That'll look only suspicious to everyone at the office."
"What are you babbling about?" Harold said.
"I can't go to the police station with a strange adult," Stiles said. "That'll just ask for attention."
"Stiles' right, Dad," Scott said. "Stiles can't go in with another werewolf."
"Fine," Harold said. "Then he can go by himself."
"But what if the hunters intercept him?" Scott asked. "They already proven they are willing to kill Stiles. Gerard even said that he'll eliminate Stiles. I won't let Stiles go by himself."
"He's going to a police station," Harold said. "What more protection does he need?"
"I want to go with him."
"Out of the question," Harold said, sharply. "You're not going back out there to risk your life!"
"But Stiles can't go alone!"
Harold raked his hair, his eyes tired, angry, and troubled at all that has happened and will come. "Fine! Derek!" he barked at the werewolf. "You'll go with him. People have seen you with them before. You won't draw that much attention."
Derek gaped at Harold. "Me? To babysit him?"
"That's not a good idea," Scott muttered to Harold, but his father wasn't listening to it.
"Yes," Harold declared. "You will go to the station with Stiles to get the information. Is there any problems?"
Harold challenged both Stiles and Derek, but neither seemed interested to argue with an Original who looked ready to chew on any gulping throats.
"No…it's a good pairing," Stiles said. "We…we always work well together and everything…"
Harold shook his head at Stiles. "Just get out of here. Be back as soon as possible. Got it?"
Stiles and Derek nodded begrudgingly.
"And, if hunters managed to track you down, don't come back here. Find another way to send the information," he said. "And stay in the police station. Hunters won't kill werewolves in a public manner."
"Haven't stopped them from trying before," Stiles muttered.
"What?"
"Nothing," Stiles said. "We're going."
Stiles and Derek moved to the door, but Scott stopped Stiles before he left. "Text me Stiles," Scott muttered to his friend. "If anything happens. Text me. I'll be there."
Stiles nodded. "Okay. I will, but I'll be fine. I promise. I won't do anything stupid. Or crazy. Or…"
"Or our usual way of doing things?" Scott finished for him.
"Exactly! Besides," Stiles said, nudging to Derek. "I'll have him to prevent me from doing those type of things."
"Just be safe, man."
"Always am."
Yet, the minute Stiles and Derek left for the police department, Scott still felt a sense of dread. Like, Stiles and Derek were both walking into a trap…to their deaths.
And, now, all there were left was Harold, Harvey, Deaton and himself in a condo that wasn't meant to hold so many people. However, shortly after Derek and Stiles departed, Deaton grabbed his hat and placed it on his head.
"I must go fetch Isaac from the loft," Deaton announced. "In case the hunters return in hopes to catch Scott. I won't let the boy's body be defiled."
Deaton reached the door, taking one last look at the remaining Originals. "I'm very sorry for your loss."
Then, he closed the door and headed out to pick up Isaac's body. Harold and Harvey stayed in a quiet somber as they both moved to take seats on the couch, worn from the battle they fought and weary of the emotional rollercoaster they were still riding.
To Scott's surprise, Harold pulled his son to him, setting Scott on the seat across from him. "Scott—I—my dad…I know you weren't really fond of him. I mean…you didn't really get to know each other well. But, I would think…he didn't want to die thinking you…"
Harold took a long, drawn breath. "My dad loves you Scott," he said. "I don't think he told you that. But, I'm sure…he would want you to know you were very special to him. That he loved you.
"And, it's a shame he can never tell you personally," Harold continued. "But, I thought you should know. And…I believe that he would find it an honor to die for you."
"I don't know if that makes you feel any better or makes me feel any better, but that's what I believe," Harold said, eyes glazed from the walled tears. "I think Dad would lay down his life if it meant keeping you alive because he loved you with all his heart."
Scott didn't know what to say. Again, Harold pointed out that Scott barely knew his grandfather. And, from what he knew of him, he was strict, controlling, and very traditionalist. But, Scott understood he did it all to protect him. To protect his family. Maybe his actions were ways of telling Scott that he loved him, worried over losing him. And, maybe if they had more time, Scott could have seen as a loving grandfather rather than a military man.
But, it was all cut short. The possibility taken away before even the idea formed. Scott would never get the chance to know Henri. All he will have would be the stories from his father, his uncle, and their soldiers. But, they will all be biased. Leaning to one characteristic. Only ever mentioning the good portion about him. Scott will never receive the full version of his grandfather.
And, that he was saddened.
"I'm sorry," Scott managed to say, "Sorry I won't ever truly know him."
Harold's lips put on a sad smile. "Me too, kiddo."
Scott's shoulders sagged as he thought about death. "Do you really think Mom is okay?"
Harold paused for a long time. "I desperately want to say yes," he said. "And, maybe that's because I want to believe it to be true. That she is safe. That she's alive. That she's not hurt. But…"
"But…?"
"She's with Gerard Argent," Harold said. "And, being with that man is never good."
BREAK
Allison tried again to open her door, but it would not budge. The guards that threw her in a tiny, musky smelling room were given clear orders to keep her locked inside at all costs. She frowned in frustration at the betrayal. She trusted her father to keep her safe for many years. Now? She can't trust him with anything.
Especially now that she knows he's willing to kidnap someone as innocent as Melissa McCall.
She had to escape. She had to get out from under her family's thumb and take Melissa with her as well.
But, in order to do that, she had to get out of her room. With the door locked and most likely guarded, she only had one option: the window.
She was up on the second floor, not a serious problem to get down, but she had to scale the wall to get to the room that Melissa was located. She opened the window as quietly as possible, checking the walls. The wooding panels had no grip for her to scale across. She scanned over the area once more, noticing the drain rail that ran above her head.
It didn't seem very sturdy, but it was her only chance.
Careful like a ninja, she maneuvered her way out the window in silence, her hands reaching up to the rail and clenching it tightly. With all the strength she had, she inched her way closer to the room she was certain held Melissa. Slowly making her way, she kept glancing back to her escaped window and the ground below to ensure no one had spotted her.
Heart beating so loudly, she wished that it would stop. Afraid that it would announce her location to all the hunters in the area. She forced herself to keep going, the railing pinching her fingers. Getting closer and closer to the lighten window, she heard voices, loud enough to hear the conversation.
"It's a shame that you decide to help the other team."
"You mean my son?"
Allison drew closer to the window, recognizing that voice. It was Gerard.
"When I learned of your lineage, I was amazed," Gerard said. "I wanted to meet you for a very long time. But, I was very hurt to learn of your son's lineage. To know you disgraced your ancestors, dirtied their blood…"
"Says a man who savagely murders a teenage boy!" Melissa spat.
"Isaac Lahey was a werewolf," Gerard corrected. "He's a monster who preys on humans such us."
"Prey? It's you who is slaughtering innocent people like Isaac and my son!"
"And it's your husband and his bloody family has murdered hundreds—no thousands! of innocent people. More than I will ever commit."
"Doesn't make your hands clean," Melissa bit.
"What I'm doing will keep the world safe! Free us from the predators that won't think twice of eating a little child," argued Gerard. "And, you're willing to stand on their side. Fight for their survival. Hell! You helped them create a new species! You betrayed your ancestors by creating a new and dangerous threat!"
"My son is not a threat!" Melissa growled. "He's an innocent boy! You're the monster hunting him down. Not the other way around!"
"You're son is the monster!" spat Gerard. "He's the reason why monsters will thrive in this world. The reason more innocent people will die. Do you want that on your hands? Do you want their screams to ring in your ears forever? The blood to wet your fingers forever? Because it will! Because you gave birth to a monster!"
"MY SON IS NOT A MONSTER!" shrieked Melissa.
Allison cringed at hearing Melissa's shriek of defense for her only child. Her heart swelled at hearing the determination Melissa had for Scott. Gerard was very wrong about Scott. Allison had known him for two years and never did she ever see Scott as a threat. He was not a monster. Never did he sought out blood and she believed there were others like Scott that didn't want blood either. Like Isaac or Boyd or others she have not yet met.
Not all monsters are monsters. Just like not all humans are innocent. Allison knew that now. Gerard taught her that even humans can be monsters too.
There was a moment of silence until Gerard coughed and spoke again. "Others will say differently," he said. "But, I must do what needs to be done. To follow through on what your ancestors represent: the savior of the human race."
Allison heard a chair squeak across the wooden floorboards. "You will help us no matter what," she heard Gerard say. "Your blood will help end the hell on Earth."
"Let's leave her be," Gerard continued and the sound of the door creaking open and then slamming closed alerted Allison to the possibility of Melissa being alone.
She began to move again, hugging close house as she neared the window. With a deep breath and reflexes ready to pull her back in case guards spotted her from inside the room, she peak through the glass.
Luckily, only Melissa was in the room, tied to a chair with multiple tubes attached to her arms and neck. Allison peered closer at the medical equipment and realized that the tubes were carrying blood to gallon bags hanging from a wire. Allison slipped a little gasp at the atrocity. With at least five tubes sticking out of her body, Melissa was being drained of her blood like a victim of a vampire. And, from what Allison could tell, Melissa was paling rather quickly.
Allison dropped her hand and caught the window's ledge, a soft thud echoing in the woods. She paused, waiting to hear the sound of rushing feet, but heard nothing. Using her gymnast skills, she swiftly balanced her body on the window ledge as she pulled the rusty window up. It was much more difficult than her own window, but she raised it high enough to slip through. Light on her feet, she crept around to face Melissa.
Melissa, tired and tears streaming down her whitening face, barely lifted her head to see who decided to visit her. When she saw it was Allison, she couldn't even smile at her.
Allison bent down, beginning to untie her from the chair. "Don't say a word," Allison muttered. "I'm going to get us out."
Melissa nodded, sniffling as Allison undid the last hold. Then, she examined the monitors, looking for the best option to stop the machines without alerting everyone else what was happening. Pondering if she should hit the off switch on the first one or maybe it them both at the same time, she heard Melissa speak.
"Unplug."
Allison turned to her. "What?"
Melissa nudged her head to the outlet. A single plug that seemed to have been the extension cord for all three machines. Allison understood. She hurried over and pulled. The plug slipped from the socket and the machines were all dead silent. No warnings rang in the room.
Allison breathed a sigh of relief and turned to Melissa to help her with the IVs.
Once the IVs were taken out, Allison realized that Melissa was too weak to do anything. All the blood loss made her ill and tired. No way would she be able to jump out of the window and survive. Not without her full strength. So, with little options left, she began typing the IV tubes together, hoping to create a strong enough rope to help them climb down to the forest floor.
The tubes were hard to tie together. Wet from the blood, Allison's knots kept coming undone. A few managed to stay together, but it took her a lot longer than she planned. Unstable and most likely to hold, she tried to think of another option. But, she couldn't come up with one. Going out the front door was never going to work. And, without the rope, Melissa wouldn't survive the fall.
Groaning at the lack of materials, Allison had no choice but to tie the rope around Melissa. "I don't know if this will work, but it's our only shot," she said. "I'm going to help you out the window and lower you down as much as I can."
Melissa eyed the tubed rope. "Not enough."
"I know, which is why I may have to drop you," she said. "But, I'll try to get you close to the ground."
Allison opened the window a little more so that Melissa could crawl onto the ledge. She leaned her head out the window to check the grounds, but immediately pulled back. A hunter walked below, whistling softly as he scanned the woodlands, marching along. Allison watched as the hunter soldier kept marching and whistling until he rounded the corner of the home.
"Okay, we have to do this quick before he comes back," Allison said.
She helped Melissa onto the window's ledge, holding the IV rope as tight as she possibly could. Once Melissa was out, she began to let the rope slip through her fingers, watching her boyfriend's mother disappear from sight. Allison could feel some of the knots loosening and she feared that Melissa would fall any minute. She began to quickly let the rope slip, hurrying Melissa's journey. She watched Melissa near the ground and as soon as Allison ran out of the IV rope, she let go.
Melissa fell a few feet, dropping with little noise on the ground. With no time to waste, Allison climbed the window's ledge and pierced her nails into the wood, splinters striking her nailbed. Biting back the pain, she closed her eyes, remembered her gymnast training as she let go.
The air rushed up in her ears and her mouth opened in shock at the freefall when her legs hit the moist ground and she went into a tumble to avoid breaking bones. Leaves nestled in her hair as she met up with Melissa, still tethered to the IV rope.
Allison grabbed Melissa's arm and pulled her into the shadows of the woodlands for cover. Once hidden from the light of the safe house, Allison freed Melissa of the rope and flung it far from them.
"Come on," Allison insisted, "we gotta get far from this place."
"I need…Scott," Melissa said, blood dripping from the open wounds from the IVs.
Allison nodded. "Yes. Of course, we'll find him."
Allison threw Melissa's arm over her should and, together, they trudged through the forests as stealthy as they could. Right at the moment the hunter soldier returned to his post, still softly whistling as he kicked at leaf.
He never noticed the two women fleeing into the forest, away from the safe house.
