Chapter 22 – Wicked
"Jackson is my fury." At those words, Matt turned his head and I snatched mine back just before he saw me. My breath hitched in my throat – Matt had turned his head to look at Jackson.
I didn't catch the rest of Matt's words, my eyes and focus locked in on the half-turned Jackson, who kept still as a statue. His human eyes were watching me, like a cobra would a snake charmer. I bent further to my left, further away from the door – yes, his eyes moved a fraction, following my movements. I had been in plain view of him the last five minutes – how was I still alive?
Matt was losing control.
His story of drowning might be true, but the way he told it, it was the last tale of someone clinging to the edges of his sanity. If I just could reach out to Jackson, get through the outer layer of the kanima and into the guy himself, no one else had to die. But would Jackson be able to live with what he had done? The human mind has an amazing capability to heal itself, but some cases were too far gone for salvation.
I maintained eye contact with Jackson and though my hands shook, I brought my finger to my lips and did a silent "Shh." His eyes flicked yellow for a second, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk.
Or perhaps it was the kanima side of him that stopped him from attacking. The way I understood it, the kanima and Jackson were two separate beings in the same body, unlike Scott who was one with his wolf. So what did it mean when half of Jackson's body was covered in scales and the other one normal?
Were they fighting or merging?
Jackson tilted his head unnaturally far to the right, not even blinking. I swallowed thickly. The only way out of here was the same way I came, but I had no guarantee that Jackson was only waiting for me to move before he struck. Moving targets might be more fun for him. Whatever Dr. Deaton expected me to do here, I doubted it would be done skulking in the shadows and hiding from Matt. I needed to take control of the situation; either get out and get help or stay here and do something myself. Scott could probably take care of himself; chances were Matt had no idea how to kill a werewolf. But why was Scott just standing there listening to Matt's crazy rant about furies and pictures?
The rock in my stomach solidified even further – Matt had hostages. Most likely Stiles, who was most likely paralyzed and that meant he was most likely somewhere not too far from Jackson. The Sheriff's office. With one entrance, guarded by the half-kanima himself. Damn it.
I didn't get to think of it further. The light flicked off and for a split second we bathed in complete darkness. A power failure? Or not. The warning lights began blinking, a siren screeched through the silence and then – then the world exploded.
If you've never been up close and personal to hear gunfire, I would recommend you keep it that way. If I ever thought Lydia's screams were loud…nothing can compare to gunshots and especially the heavy rain of machine gun fire that descended upon us. The noise alone forced me to cover my ears with my hands and then I shrieked and ducked sideways, out of the doorway as bullets hit the doorframe and splinters ricocheted over me.
Something heavy, something warm covered me, forced my head down even further and stayed there. The machine guns kept firing for perhaps ten seconds – it felt like hours – and stopped. The silence felt unnaturally ominous, not helped by the fact that the one protecting me breathed heavy in my ear and hissed a warning for me to keep still. I couldn't have moved if my life depended on it – like it probably did – my heartbeat thundering in my ears along with the echo of gunfire.
I had the feeling this was not the National Army coming to our rescue, rather than trigger-happy Argents on the hunt. I needed to find Stiles, get him out of there.
The kanima – not Jackson – hissed again, this time the meaning I got from it was 'Leave.' He untangled himself from me and rose just as a small, black cylinder tumbled through the doorway. It almost looked like a-
Click
White, heavy smoke poured out of the small container and I pulled the side of my jacket to cover my face, inching away from Jackson. He looked at the smoke like he didn't understand what to do next, but settled for going into the workroom – he probably had an instinct to save Matt. I crawled on all fours to the Sheriff's office, the smoke forcing tears out of my eyes. I could barely see.
"Cassie!"
Scott roared and I turned just as he smacked into Jackson and sprinted towards me. He grabbed hold of my arm, yanking me upright and into the office. Stiles and Derek were on the floor, paralyzed by the look of it.
"Help me with him, come on!" Scott wasn't surprised by my presence – he probably smelled it right as I came inside – and together we pulled Stiles' limp body upright. Scott left me holding him and turned to Derek.
"Take him! GO!" Derek was halfway unfrozen, struggling to get up.
Scott and I half-carried, half-dragged Stiles down the hall, away from the gunfire and Jackson. I followed Scott's lead; I hoped he had a plan.
"Cassie." Stiles' speech was slurred, his head hanging in an awkward angle. "He's got Dad. Handcuffed. Spare keys in the office."
I thought I knew fury before - I did not. Matt had the Sheriff? The Sheriff?
"Cassie, NO!" Scott roared after me as I let go of Stiles and sprinted back. I don't care if I ran into Matt or not, I would give him a piece of my mind. He threatened the Sheriff? My Sheriff? How dared he?
Scott had locked the doors behind us and I jumped back as Jackson kicked the first one open. He looked livid, but merely glanced my way before stalking after Scott and Stiles.
"Scott! He's coming!" I shouted before losing my voice to coughing. Jackson turned his head, but I jumped out of sight and kept running. He didn't want to attack me, maybe he didn't see me as a threat, and I was going to take advantage of that. My body betrayed me, lungs protesting to the smoke and I coughed my way to the office.
They burned a witch in Bingham Square
Her eyes were terror-wild
Derek roared as I entered and I backed away on instinct. He was pulling himself up by a chair and when he turned his head, I saw that he was completely wolfed out – pointy ears and pointy fangs.
"Get out!" he growled between gritted teeth, but I put my hands under his arms and heaved to help him stand. He might be the best shot to pacifying Jackson and if he happened to kill Matt along the way, I wouldn't shed too many tears. He threatened the Sheriff!
"Let go off me!"Derek barked. I immediately heeded his request, and he nearly fell down again without my aid. His arms were flexed, veins popping out and I think he pulled himself up again on pure spite.
I searched the desk, throwing papers and files all over the place in pursuit for something resembling keys. The drawers were filled with all sort of junk, including a key-chain. I held it up to the light, making sure the handcuff-keys were on there and met Derek's mad red eyes. Oh no.
"I should have killed your cousin when I had the chance."
Blood drained from my face, all thoughts of keys forgotten until a roar – a human roar – echoed through the station. The Sheriff! Derek heard it too and with a last glare my way, he bit into the air, more like a wild animal than I'd ever seen him. He tore out the office door.
She was a slight, a comely maid
No taller than a child
Overpowering both the siren and the struggling shouts of the Sheriff, the kanima screeched. That thing probably didn't resemble Jackson anymore – a human body could never produce that bloodcurdling sound. It meant it found a target; a prey; a kill.
The smoke had yet to clear and it made finding my way through the labyrinth hallways of the station even harder. I clutched the keys so hard they cut through skin and soon my hand was slick with blood, the same hand I cut to find Lydia earlier that same night. My other hand was in my pocket, fingers so tight around the knife-handle I doubt I could ever let it go.
They bound her fast against the stake
And laughed to see her fear
"I'm not afraid," I mumbled under my breath, checking around corners to see if the coast was clear. "I'm not afraid…damn it. SHERIFF?"
"Cassie? Cassie, GET OUT OF HERE!"
Everyone kept telling me to get out. Not a chance. I followed the sound of his voice and the strained roars he let out. I got to the holding cells and could just barely discern Mrs. McCall behind the bars and the Sheriff handcuffed to the wall.
"Ah, God," he groaned and braced his foot on the bench – he was trying to rip the hook out of the wall. He saw me and twisted his face, saying between grunts: "Cassie, you need to get. Out. Of. Here!"
"Hang on, wait! You're gonna tear your arm off," I said and rushed to his side so I could uncuff him. The skin around the metal was raw and torn open. I tried not to touch it too much when I got the handcuff off.
"Jesus," he mumbled and rubbed the skin himself. His hand was unnaturally white, probably lost circulation a while ago. "Not that I don't appreciate this, but what the hell are you doing here?"
"Helping?" I suggested, fumbling with the key chain so I could get Mrs. McCall out too. "We need to leave, there are-"
Her voice came out in panicked bursts. "Cassie, my son - Scott- Matt shot him- is he okay?"
I tried to keep my face neutral, looking her in her eyes so she knew I was telling the truth. "He's-"
Her face twisted in panic, pointing behind me. I spun around just to see Matt knocking the Sheriff out with the gun handle. Mrs. McCall let out a little shriek and retreated back in the cell. My fingers were numb around the knife-handle.
The Sheriff was out cold, not moving, on the floor. Matt adjusted the gun in his hand and brought it up to point it at me. "Cassie Blair," he said, with a side-smirk. "Figured you'd show up eventually."
Her red lips muttered secret words
That no one dared to hear.
"Matt? Matt, please, listen to me," Mrs. McCall begged, holding onto the bars separating her from us. "You don't want to do this, you don't want to hurt anyone else. Please, put the gun down, just…"
Matt shot Scott. That's what Scott covered up on his stomach earlier. He would heal, but Mrs. McCall didn't know that. Mrs. McCall was a mother who saw her son get shot.
"Can you please just let me see my son?"
"Can you believe how totally clueless they are?" Matt asked me, still pointing the gun at me. "They have no idea, do they?"
At my feet was the Sheriff, unconscious. And somewhere else was Stiles, paralyzed.
"And what about you, Cassie Blair?" Matt lowered his gun, but only slightly, walked around a bit. "What part do you play?"
Behind me, Mrs. McCall struggled to get words out between sobs. Matt lost his cool. "SHUT UP!" he roared at her, pointing the gun at me again. "Shut up or I shoot her next."
Mrs. McCall covered her mouth with her hands, defeated.
"Cassie, Cassie, Cassie…" Matt said mockingly, instantly retreating back to his mask of calm. "Why do I have the feeling that you're the one person in this entire town that I can't get Jackson to kill?"
"You couldn't make him kill the preg-"
"That was before!" Matt shouted, waving the gun around so I flinched. "This is now. We're a lot more…connected now. He won't be able to disobey. Unless it's about you. Why is that?"
"I don't-"
"I think it's because you and I," he used the gun to gesture to both of us, "are alike. Two peas in a pod."
I kept my mouth shut; he clearly wasn't interested in having a dialogue. My hands shook by my side, one covered in blood, the other wrapped around steel. I was furious.
"But what I want to know is," Matt cocked his head, "what'll happen if I just shoot you instead? Hm? Will you bleed and die just like any other common bastard," he spat the word, "or will I just have a pissed-off kanima on my hands?"
I nearly laughed. He thought I was a kanima. He and Derek should start a club: We Who Wrongly Suspect Cassie of Everything. This had to be a joke.
"We are alike," I said instead, my voice surprisingly calm. "You and me. We both know the feeling. The feeling of letting go."
His eyes turned glassy, looking at something that wasn't there, going down the dark alleys of human memory.
"The feeling of lungs shutting down. The pressure building up in your brain."
"I never told anyone," he said quietly. "Never. Every time I close my eyes, I see the bottom of the pool, my eyes burning from the chlorine, swallowing water. I…I keep gasping for breath, like I can suffocate any second…"
The smoke scorching your throat, the smell of your own flesh burning causing you to throw up, but they tied you so tight you start suffocating on your own vomit. You try to draw breath through your nose instead, but it clogged up, the body's natural protection against breathing in ashes and soot. You can't scream, can't escape the flames, and you stopped sweating from the heat which means the body is going into shock, your temperature is higher than the deadliest fever, you start drooling vomit, but try to swallow it instead. You can't feel your feet anymore, the nerve endings burnt off. This is the price you pay.
"ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?" Matt yelled in my face, pushing the gun at my neck, forcing me further back against the wall.
I looked him dead in the eye, but only saw the fire of my own mind. "You fall in water, you drown, you get pulled out." My voice had an edge to it. "Boo-hoo-hoo."
Matt's face turned confused and he took a step back, aiming the gun at me still. I took a step to the left and then another, walking around him in a circle. The nozzle of the gun followed me.
"We are alike, Matt, we are. We know what it's like to stand on the edge and get torn back." I successfully got Mrs. McCall out of the crossfire. "But what I don't know is what it's like to force someone up on that edge, all the way on the brink of death, and pushing them over it. Like when you killed the pregnant lady-"
"Jessica."
"Jessica, right. How did it feel when you put that pillow over her face, leave her gasping for air that wasn't there? Did it make you feel good, Matt? Did it make you feel good in a way that had nothing to do with revenge or what she did to you ten years ago? Truth is, Matt, I think it made you feel so good you just can't stop. This has nothing to do with retribution; this is just you being sick. Your mind's not just tangled, it's twisted. You're using Jackson to kill people who don't deserve it and that makes me angry."
"Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shu-"
"Want my advice, Mattie? Start running. Start running now and pray to all gods, old and new, that I don't catch up to you because then I will make you wish you drowned."
"SHUT UP OR I SHOOT HIM IN THE-"
He stopped mid-sentence; gun pointed at the Sheriff, and noticed that I wasn't even looking at him, but over his shoulder. Mrs. McCall let out a scared squeak and Matt turned slowly. Derek growled in the doorway. Took him long enough.
Matt was trapped in the corner with me and for a second it looked like he considered using me for leverage. That would have been potentially tragic, considering how high up I was on Derek's shit list. It never came to that.
Jackson – the kanima – whatever you wanted to call him now came through the other doorway. Derek issued a challenging roar and they were at each other's throats, moving faster than human eyes could even see.
Matt took the opportunity to dart out the door – running away like I told him to – but I remained frozen to the spot. I couldn't leave the Sheriff helpless like this, not Mrs. McCall either. I had no idea how to successfully use a knife for anything other than cutting herbs or vegetables, but I figured that stabbing with the pointy end would be a decent start.
It looked like Derek had the upper hand, until the kanima threw him over the desk and into the wall. Derek immediately shot up again and charged, but the kanima grabbed hold of the barred cell door and kicked Derek in the chest with both feet. That left the kanima literally less than six inches from my face and he hissed at Mrs. McCall first and then turned to me.
If I stabbed it, would it do any good? Or would it just get me my arm ripped off as payback?
With my back pressed up against the cell, trying to act as a barrier between the kanima and Mrs. McCall, I was trapped as the kanima put both arms on each side of me and leaned in. Its breath didn't really smell much, just like leather, but the multiple rows of sharp teeth were deterring enough. It leaned further in and I turned my face to the side – whether it would kiss, lick or bite me was irrelevant, neither tempted me.
Apparently that infuriated it; it screeched in my face and grabbed me with both hands, forcing my face back to- I don't know what happened. The next second we were both on the floor, the heavy scaled body landed on top and knocked my breath out so I saw stars.
"SCOTT!" Mrs. McCall let out a relieved cry. So that's what happened.
"Oof," I grunted. The kanima pushed itself off me and stood on all fours, eyeing the new challenge: Scott, wolfed out. "No, no, no, no, wait!"
It threw me over its shoulder, knocking the air out off me again, and took off down the hall. My face smacked against the scaled backside as it ran. A roar in front of me revealed that at least one of the werewolves was on our trail. Where the hell was it taking me? Back to Matt?
The thought repulsed me. It burst through the windows – the ones the Argents shot to pieces earlier – and landed on the parking lot. Just a second later, Derek Hale landed next to us. That was my cue. I gripped the knife in both hands – sweat and blood making the handle slick – and brought it down as hard as I could manage. The 3.5" blade went right in to the handle and a shiver passed through its body. It shrieked in pain.
Derek roared, attacked, and got hit in the face with about 117 pounds of adrenaline-high teenage girl. The kanima used me as a siege weapon and the force he threw me with had both Derek and I crashing into the ground. By the time we scrambled up, it was gone.
"DAMN IT!" Derek roared into the sky, his claws fully extended, red eyes glaring. He sniffed the air and leaped back inside with a growl. He left me on the parking lot.
"Are you serious?" I snapped. He just left me here when literally seconds ago, the kanima tried to kidnap me to do Mother knows what with me. I raced around the building and in through the front doors. Wonder what Allison would say when I told her I lost her gift because it got stuck in the kanima right before it took off? There were still guns in the holsters of the dead deputies in the hallway, and it was tempting, just so I wouldn't feel so exposed anymore.
I nearly made it all the way back to the Sheriff before my world exploded in blinding agony.
"AAAAH!" A white-hot scream pierced through my brain, locking out everything else, popping brain cells on its way. I clawed at my head, blocked my ears with my arms and shoulders, stumbling into the wall in my blindness. Just before I fell, just before I collapsed, just on the brink of consciousness, I felt someone's arms around me – someone who did not smell of snakeskin and blood.
"I got you, Red."