A/N: I wanted to reiterate this note that I originally left on chapter 60 since it's likely been awhile since people have read it:

Heads up you guys…things are going to get progressively worse for the characters in the next dozen or so chapters as the second major arc of the story goes into full swing. I won't be tagging or warning for the specific things that happen because I want them to have maximum impact, so please just consider this a blanket warning that anything could happen moving forward.

Iron Claws and Fragile Hearts

Chapter 67: Hemorrhage

"Liam, what's happening?" Mason whispered in a feeble voice as more blood soaked Ethan's shirt and more pain twined around Liam's arm.

"I'm a werewolf," Liam whispered, closing his other hand around Mason's and rubbing it. "And I think you're my anchor."

Mason's wild-eyed gaze darted to the black lines shooting up Liam's arm, to his bloodied abdomen as Ethan attempted to staunch the flow, and all around them in a frantic loop at the steps and sidewalk. "I-I must be going into shock."

"No." Liam shook his head and the vines of pain thickened. "It's true. I'm a werewolf and–"

Ethan cleared his throat and shook his head. "He is. He's going into shock."

"But that…That's like really bad." Liam let out a shaky breath and rubbed the back of Mason's hand as Mason's trembling intensified.

"We need to get him to a hospital. Now," Ethan said. "Isaac, find a phone and call nine-one-one."

Isaac jerked his head, snapping back to the present moment. He had been passively watching things play out, watching Mason die, feeling helpless to alter the outcome. But he wasn't. He could do something. He could call–

"WHERE?!" He clenched the thigh of his gym shorts in frustration and snapped his head around, scanning the area. "Where can I get a phone?"

Ethan didn't answer. He was speaking in soothing tones to Mason as he kept his blood-soaked shirt pressed against the injury site. "Hey, stay with us, okay? Look into Liam's eyes and focus on this moment. I know it sucks, but focus on what's happening." He glanced at Liam. "Ease up on the pain leaching."

"What?!"

"He needs to stay alert and present. The pain might help."

Isaac was about to take off toward the locker room to get his phone, unable to think of a closer option, when the school doors opened and Malia hobbled out clutching Aiden's arm, Scott and Lydia following behind them. Lydia was disheveled, but seemed unharmed.

"That asshole dropped a bookshelf on me!" Malia's eyes glowed blue.

"Oh god." Lydia took one look at Mason and the others on the steps and grabbed Malia's elbow. "Did he break your phone?"

Malia pulled it out of her pocket and shook her head as the screen lit up. "No. I–"

Lydia snatched it out of her hand. "I'll call an ambulance."

"I don't think we have ti-me!" Liam shouted, his voice breaking. A sheen of sweat had broken out across Mason's face and neck, and his breathing was a labored rattle.

Aiden and Liam's eyes met, and an ounce of tension eased from Liam as Aiden nodded.

"Give me your keys. I'll drive him," Aiden said, holding his hand out, palm up to Lydia.

"This is a bad idea. The paramedics can give him fluid and try to stabilize him," she said even as she pulled her keys out of her purse and handed them to Aiden. He bolted to the parking lot at breakneck speed.

"Lydia's right," Scott said softly as he crouched next to Liam and rubbed his and Mason's shoulders. "There are things the paramedics can do that–"

"NO!" Liam shrieked with blazing amber eyes and his fangs out. "Aiden needs to drive him. And my dad has to be his surgeon."

"Liam–"

"Call my dad!" he shouted at Lydia as he slapped Scott's hand away from his shoulder. "Call him! Make sure he's ready!"

Lydia sighed and tapped at Malia's phone. "I'll call the hospital and have them page him."

"What do I do?" Isaac asked quietly, wringing his hands to keep from reaching out and rubbing Liam's back. It was obvious that no one could calm him down…least of all Isaac.

"Go get our phones and keys from our lockers," Scott answered. "Once Mason's on the way to the hospital we need to go after Stiles."

"Ethan's too," Lydia added, holding the phone against her chest as the hospital's automated phone tree listed non-emergency selection options. She nodded with her chin to where Ethan was holding Mason's stomach. "I'll do that while we're in the car. We need as many werewolves as we can get tracking Stiles."

"I'll go after him now." Malia peeled her shirt over her head and unzipped her pants. Aiden was already backing Lydia's car up to the steps.

Isaac watched for only a fleeting moment before dashing away toward the locker room on his mission. A few seconds later there was a bark and a gray coyote bounded past him and straight onto the track where the cross country team was still practicing. A frenzy of whoops and shouts erupted in her wake.

At least that would keep everyone occupied and out of the locker room.

Isaac's task turned out to be much easier than anticipated. He found his locker twisted and hanging open as he entered the room, his things strewn on the ground in front of it. He understood why the instant he saw it. He had been holding Stiles' keys in an attempt to keep the darach from getting into the Jeep and retrieving the knife in case he surfaced at school. That hadn't exactly worked out…

He found his phone undamaged in his pants pocket and his keys on the floor beneath his shirt. He wrenched off his shoes and yanked his pants on over his gym shorts for the sake of having pockets to carry everything, then rushed to Scott's also broken locker. He was relieved to find that it still contained Scott's things, and that apparently though Coach Finstock had just assigned Scott a new locker, he hadn't come back to actually move his stuff into it. On the other hand, if he had done that he might have caught the darach in the act of breaking into Isaac's locker, which could have been a good or bad thing depending on how that would have played out.

Isaac shook his head, clearing it of irrelevant hypotheticals as he finished digging Scott's phone and keys out of his pants and shoved them into his own pockets. Ethan's things were next and…

Isaac shrugged to himself and ripped Ethan's locker door off its hinges. He'd might as well join the broken locker club too, and Isaac didn't have time to try to listen to the tumblers click into place the way he had planned to do with Scott's locker the previous night before Malia had grown impatient.

After gathering up Ethan's things, Isaac ran back to the front steps, careful to stay out of view from the field as much as possible.

Scott had just finished sopping up the worst of the blood with Malia's clothes and was dumping them into a trash receptacle by the front steps. Isaac frowned but decided Malia wasn't the kind of person who got overly attached to clothes, and he supposed that at least this way they wouldn't have to worry about hiding or keeping track of the discarded garments. Although someone, probably Lydia, would need to meet her later with a fresh outfit.

"Here." Isaac held Ethan's keys and phone out to him, eying the dried blood that caked most of Ethan's arms from the elbows down. More blood was spattered and smudged across his abs and chest.

Ethan took his phone but refused his keys.

"We're gonna split up. You take my bike. I'm gonna go get Aiden's keys." Ethan said it neutrally, but a tinge of apprehension circled around the edges of his scent.

"Ethan," Isaac called after him as he jogged back in the direction Isaac had come. He stopped and turned. "Be careful."

A small smile lit Ethan's face and he nodded. "You too."

"Ready?" Scott asked as Isaac handed him his things.

"Are we splitting up too?" Isaac asked, apprehension now thick in his own scent.

Scott nodded. "Yeah, we need to cover as much ground as possible. Lydia suggested some places the darach might go based on what she read in his journal. I'm gonna go to the Nemeton, Ethan's gonna go to the building where he used to work downtown, and I want you to go to the neighborhood where he used to live."

"Okay, where did he used to live?" Isaac asked as they walked to the nearby parking lot where Scott's and the twins' motorcycles were parked.

"Lydia's not sure exactly. He didn't, like, write his address in his journal, but Lydia said in one entry he mentioned walking to a bakery by his house. She looked it up and it's a coffeehouse at Broadmoor and Taylor now. So if you could search around that area…"

"Will do," Isaac answered without looking up as he threw his leg over Ethan's motorcycle.

Scott's hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed. "We're going to find him."

"Do you think Mason's going to be okay?" Isaac asked, even though what he meant was, Do you think Stiles will be able to live with himself if Mason dies? And, Do you think Liam will be okay if he doesn't pull through?

Scott frowned and shrugged as he climbed onto his bike. "I dunno." And that seemed to answer all three questions.

"Scott…"

Scott paused with his key in the ignition and looked up.

"I have a bad feeling about all this."

"We'll figure it out," Scott said with characteristic reassurance. "We always do."

Useless piece of shit.

Isaac puttered down Orchid Drive, a side street off Taylor Avenue, slow enough to pick out individual heartbeats in the rows of closely packed, rundown houses. Stiles' Jeep would have been obvious in one of the driveways, but the darach could have hidden it in one of the little one-car garages.

You didn't do a damn thing but watch as Mason lay there bleeding out and Liam lost his shit.

He reached a cross street and turned. He'd double back and go down the next little residential road.

You didn't even accomplish getting the keys and phones. Ethan still had to go back for Aiden's.

Isaac's mouth pulled into a scowl as the name entered his head. Aiden had been much more useful in the crisis. But hell everyone had. Ethan had probably saved Mason's life, or at least kept him alive a little while longer if he didn't end up pulling through. Liam had taken his pain and comforted him. Lydia and Malia had leaped into action. Scott had been his usual calm, commanding presence. But Isaac had just stood there like a dumbass, then failed to even get everything they needed when he went to the locker room.

Iris Drive proved as devoid of dark druids as Orchid Drive had been. And worse it was the final road that could reasonably be considered within walking distance of the cafe on Broadmoor and Taylor. Maybe people walked further in the 1940s and Isaac ought to check Carnation Drive just to be sure…or maybe that was a waste of time and he should start over and retrace his route in case he'd missed something.

He was spared from making a decision as his phone rang in his pocket. He pulled over to answer it. The caller ID indicated it was Malia, but it was probably Lydia instead. His stomach clenched as he realized she must have been calling with an update about Mason.

"Hello."

"Are you with Ethan?" Aiden's voice held an urgent edge that instantly filled Isaac with dread.

"No, I–"

"He's hurt. Bad."

"What?! How do you…" Isaac trailed off. Right, pain transference. But Ethan and Aiden also had the ability to sense and find each other. "Where is he?!"

Aiden hesitated before answering. "Somewhere south of the hospital."

"Ugh!" Isaac raked a hand through his hair, trying to figure out where he himself was in relation to the hospital. He thought he was south of it. "Can you be more specific?"

"It's not fucking GPS." Aiden growled under his breath. "I'll find him."

"Wait, I'll–"

He had already hung up.

Isaac roared and threw the motorcycle back into gear and sped to the cross street, then down to Broadmoor and Taylor. He'd go downtown. That was the last place he knew Ethan was going.

Fucking red light, are you kidding me?!

Isaac craned his neck, trying to determine if he had room to squeeze past on the narrow strip of pavement alongside the two cars waiting in front of him. There was no shoulder.

His phone vibrated with a text.

It was from Ethan! He opened it and found a GPS pin with Ethan's location. A second later another text came through.

Ethan: Hurry!

Isaac tapped to load the address into his map, relieved that he was only about seven minutes away.

Seven minutes was a long fucking time, and Isaac wasn't sure he breathed even once while he was on the way. He was too busy racking his brain trying to figure out what could have happened and desperately searching for any sign of life between his and Ethan's packbond. It was no use. He wouldn't know until he was close enough to see Ethan. He couldn't stop to call him and there was no way he could carry on a conversation on a motorcycle. It would have been dumb to divide his attention like that anyway. He just had to get there. He had to find him. He had to make sure he was okay. And Ethan had to be okay.

The GPS led him to an unfamiliar part of town. His heart pounded in his chest as he turned into the parking lot indicated on his map. It was some kind of religious or cultural center, a bright red and white building with Eastern-style architecture. The front parking lot was empty, so he pulled around to the side.

He gasped. Stiles' Jeep was parked with the driver-side door hanging open. A few feet away stood an agitated circle of people – no, werewolves based on their glowing eyes and vicious growls.

Isaac's claws extended and he roared as he slammed the motorcycle into park and leaped off, ignoring that it toppled over and hit the ground with a scraping thud. He was ready for a fight.

He didn't get one.

"Let's go!" shouted a girl with pale blonde hair.

Everyone turned and ran into the woods that abutted the back of the property. As they dispersed the bottom dropped from Isaac's stomach.

Ethan lay on the ground in a thick pool of blood. Stiles knelt bare-chested beside him, blood gushing from a wound on his arm as he pressed his shirt against Ethan's torso.

"He's bleeding out!" Stiles screamed. "I can't stop it."

-000-

End Notes: Happy New Year everyone! I hope your 2020 is off to a great start!

Feedback is greatly appreciated!