Chapter 27 – Family Matters

"Uuhhh…"

"That's what you said, right? You said 'witch'? I distinctly heard the wii, followed by the tch-sound." Stiles practically bounced.

The candle wax started to congeal on my skin; I didn't think to take my hand away. "I – uhhh – I…" How could I even begin to explain this? Sabrina was going to kill me.

Something glittered in Stiles' eyes as he checked over his shoulder – to the door he just closed – and sidled over to me. "You're a witch?" he whispered conspiratorially.

Crap. I wasn't prepared for this at all.

"HAH! I knew it!" Stiles shouted and punched his fist in the air. At my panicked look, he lowered his voice by forty decibels and whispered, still as enthusiastic: "I knew it!"

"You what?" Apparently my brain capacity was limited to Neanderthal-language right now. "You – how?"

"Okay, so I didn't know it know it, but I knew there was something about you." He couldn't stand still, did happy little bounces on his feet. "Called it," he sang, putting both hands behind his head and grinning.

I sputtered. "You did not."

"Sure, fine, I initially told Scott I thought you were a vampire, you know, because you said you thought Derek was a vampire, probably just to throw us off your case, but then you haven't-"

"Vampire?" I finally had the sense to snatch my hand away from the candle, covered in white and black. "What the –vampires are evil. They suck blood. I don't suck blood. I'm not evil!"

"So you're saying witches are good?"

"No!"

Stiles face made a series of comic expressions before he whispered: "Witches are evil?"

"No!" I sighed at his confused face. "No, just, there's no such thing as good or bad witches, okay? You're just a witch and that's all you can be. It's about balance and-"

"Brooms?"

"What? No. Balance and-"

"Cauldrons?"

"No, Stiles, about-"

"Toads? Capes? Balrogs? Poisoned apples? Wands? Black cats and pointy hats? Spells and curses and – whoa hey, that was a spell! Just now! Am I right? You just performed some sort of spell! Hah!" He grinned widely again. "Awesoo-ome."

I blinked. I don't think I ever realized just how well Stiles would take this. "Okay, first of all, do me a favor and try to forget the names 'Harry Potter' or 'Lord of the Rings'-"

"That would be Gandalf," he pointed out, but took a step back when I glared. "Sorry."

"Or any kind of fairytale wicked witch," I finished. "Okay? It's nothing like that. I'm not some British kid with a scar on his forehead trying to-"

"No, I suppose you'd be Hermione Granger, actually. Or Ginny Weasley, you've got the same hair…sorry."

"Just…It's a lot more complicated than you think, okay?"

"Soo…you can't shoot fireballs?"

"No, Stiles."

"Lightening bolts?"

My patience waned. "Stiles…"

"Death curses?" he asked innocently.

I felt my shoulders sag. "No, just – there's rules and consequences and all sorts of stuff, I don't really have time to go into that right now. Listen, Stiles, please – you can't tell anyone."

Stiles' face twisted in contemplation. "Okay, I won't tell anyone." Pause. "But, just for the record, I can tell Scott, right?"

"No, not even Scott." I rolled my eyes.

"Lydia?" he suggested with a laugh, but it disappeared when he saw my face. He checked over his shoulder several times, like someone would suddenly be listening in. "Are you – are you serious? Lydia doesn't know?"

I shrugged, scraping of the stupid candle wax from my palm. "I don't think so. She should, but…there's all this stuff with her mom and the family and-"

"Wow, hold on. Your last name. It's Blair. And you're a witch. You are literally a Blair Witch." Stiles connected some dots in his head. "How cool is that?"

"Yeah, awesome," I mumbled, not looking up at his antics. The silence dragged on and I met his inquisitive gaze. "No, Stiles, I'm not like the witch from the 'Blair Witch Project', okay? No pentagrammed bodyparts for me. Besides, her name was Elly Kedward. Blair was just the town."

Stiles looked suspicious.

"One of my distant cousins wrote the script, okay? It's a horror movie to you, it's a parody of the witch craze to me." I managed to tug off the remaining wax. "Promise me you won't tell."

We looked at each other a long time, but he nodded eventually. Truth be told, it felt good that someone knew. A huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders, even if Stiles looked like he was bursting with stupid questions like "Do you live in a gingerbread cottage?" Makes you wonder what he asked Scott when he first turned into a werewolf.

"Gerard did that?"

Stiles' face darkened and his fingers came up to touch his bloodied cheek. "Yeah. I-I can't tell Scott. He already has his mom to worry about, I don't…"

"You don't want to be a burden."

He shook his head. "He let me go because he counted on I'd run straight to Scott. But I won't, okay? I won't play right into his hands. Hey, can you curse him?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, Stiles, I can't curse him. Or anyone."

"I still can't believe Lydia doesn't know you're a…" He didn't finish, just used his hands to mime a pointy hat coming up from his head.

"Ha-ha. Where is Lydia anyway?" I asked. It wasn't like him to leave her alone in his room under any kind of circumstance. His mouth popped open and he looked guilty as hell. Uh-oh… "Stiles?"

"She, uh, she left. I may have been a little," he held up two fingers to symbolize just how little, "tactless. And then I talked to Dad and I realized that hey, I might not be Scott with his noble honor or Derek with his vengeful anger or Isaac with his protective nature or even-"

"Stiles!"

"Right, uh, here!" He fumbled in his pocket, but produced a cell phone and showed me the last text. A message from Scott.

So Jackson wasn't dead, huh? He was evolving.

"We need to move!"

Stiles broke every speed limit and traffic regulation on our way to the school.

"Okay, okay, just stop here!"

He obliged, pulling the jeep in a half U-turn and it skidded into place. "Come on, come on!" he shouted and I jumped out of the car, quickly followed by Stiles. No sign of the werewolves. Or the Argents for that matter.

"Which is his?" I asked, staring wildly at the identical lockers and he pushed past me to spend about ten seconds opening a code lock on what I presume to be Jackson's locker. "Stiles, why on Earth do you have Jackson's code?"

"Don't ask. Here," he muttered and moved out of the way. "I'll try to call Lydia again. Hey, maybe I should use your phone?"

I handed it to him without words, my attention on Jackson's personal belongings as I rifled through it. Eww, boxers. Those wouldn't work. His shirt? No. Not clothes, those didn't matter enough. Not even to Jackson. "Think, Cassie, think."

"Still not picking up," Stiles reported. Damn it, Lydia. We needed her, I knew it. Not just because Peter said so, but it felt right – Lydia was the key to Jackson. But what was the key to the kanima? Why had Jackson turned in the first place?

"Stiles, brainstorm with me. The kanima is supposed to be a werewolf, right? Derek said so. And that means Derek gave him the bite – do you think it was by force or something? That he turned into the kanima because he couldn't stand the thought of being a werewolf?"

"No," Stiles said quickly. "No, he was dead-set on becoming a werewolf after Scott made first-line in lacrosse and especially after he made co-captain. He even figured out what Scott was and harassed him to get him the bite somehow."

"Jackson wanted to become a werewolf? Why?"

"He's always had this fixation with being better than everyone else, being the best – well, ever since he found out he's-"

"Adopted," I finished for him. "So the key to the kanima is his parents, by birth or papers. Curses, I don't see anything in here that's even remotely connected to…hang on."

My fingers stumbled onto something metallic, all the way back in the locker, and I pulled it out. A wristwatch, one that I'd never seen Jackson wear, ever. Engraved on the back were the words 'We are so proud of you. Love, Mom and Dad.'

"Jackpot."

We rushed out of the school again; time was of the essence.

"I still can't get hold of her," Stiles said as he threw the phone over to me and started the car.

The first thing we learn is to not use the craft, true – that does not mean there aren't times when you should. I closed my eyes and thought of Lydia.

"She's on the corner of Maple and Sixth."

"I'm not even gonna ask how you know," he said and pulled out of the parking lot. We drove in silence until he glanced over to me. "Are you going to...do magic? To stop Jackson, I mean."

I used string to attach Jackson's watch to my left hand and held up my hand to inspect my handiwork. "Not exactly."

We found Lydia on the sidewalk, walking in a random direction and looking very miserable. She sped up as the jeep approached, stomping angrily in high heels.

"I'm not talking to you," she sniffed, refusing to look our way.

"Lydia, get in the car," I said out the window not leaving much room for discussion. "We know how to save Jackson." Well, sort of.

I made room so she could sit in the back, where she glared daggers into the back of our heads and probably enjoyed herself immensely. She stopped sulking when she looked at what I was doing.

"Cassie?" she said slowly, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "Why are you hitting that mirror with a hammer?"

"Because I need it to break," I answered. It fractured easily, shattered all over the shirt I used to catch the shards. I rifled through the pieces to find one that would suffice.

"You know, that's seven years of bad luck," Stiles commented, not looking away from the road.

I laughed without humor, choosing a piece I'd be able to fit into my palm. "You have no idea." Oh yes, the silk gloves were off for tonight. If I was going to break the rules, I'd do it in style.

Lydia looked uncertain, but didn't say anything. I don't know how much she remembered or knew or suspected, but we didn't have time for that now.

"Scott asks about Lydia, tells us to hurry!" Stiles said after he looked at his phone again. The jeep roared as he pushed the gas pedal. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

"Not really."

Stiles swallowed. "That's comforting."

Lydia looked between us. "What?"

"You got their location?" I asked, steeling myself for the pain I knew was just around the corner.

"Yup. Warehouse district."

I couldn't help to roll my eyes. "Of course. Bet you ten bucks Derek got to pick the spot." I flexed my hand around the medium sized mirror shard.

"Guys, what are you – Oh my God, Cassie, what are you doing?" Lydia screamed as I closed my hand around the broken piece of mirror and let it cut good and deep into my hand. Blood poured out of my palm; it hurt a lot more than I thought. Don't stop, don't stop. I tightened my fist completely.

"Oh, fu-"

I ran. Dawn was coming soon, I knew it, but the carcass up the road smelt just ripe enough to fill my belly for the night. Of course, I wouldn't always feed on road-kill, but the hunting had been slow tonight, like the foodstuff could sense some current in the air that kept them hiding and now I-

Now I…

Damn it!

The fox's body stopped in the middle of the road, looking around in the darkness. To a bystander it would appear quite comical to see the normally elegant animal have a mental breakdown, jumping up and down in a futile attempt to regain control of its own limbs.

I made the jump.

Seriously, just the tiniest bit of pain and blood and I catapulted out of my own body, left it to its own fate, left it to sit in the car like a morbid mannequin. Gods, Lydia would need additional therapy just from her freaking out right now.

It was probably just my body's defense mechanism. I started to bleed, the body threw out my Self, my heart rate slowed down to almost a complete stop – and voila, no more bleeding.

I wanted to blow air out of my mouth in irritation, but the fox merely managed a dog-like snort. Where was I? Foxes didn't see so good, nothing like an owl, and right now all I smelled was the mouth-watering carcass of an opossum just up ahead.

The distant roar of an enemy had me – sorry, the fox – crouching instantly and I let it follow its instincts and sneak off the road. The fur rose on the back of my neck as the giant, loud thing zoomed past.

The jeep. That was the jeep!

"Hey, wait up!" I wanted to yell, but it came out in weird, foxish yips. My legs were blurring as I raced after it. If I could only get close enough, if I could feel the pull my own body had on me, if I could just open my-

"HUAA!" I sucked in breath, my body desperate to get the blood back and flowing. Lydia was screaming, Stiles was shouting and my hand was bleeding like crazy.

Lydia sounded angrier than scared. "What the hell just-"

"Is she a zombie? I can't tell-" Stiles tried to sit as close to the opposite door as possible, away from me.

It took a few seconds for the world to stop spinning and for my brain to suppress the ridiculous instinct of baring my teeth to the loud teenagers in the car.

"I'm oka-"

"Cassie, what the hell?" shrieked Lydia, right in my ear.

"Sorry, sorry, I just…" Holy shit my hand hurt. Deep breaths, deep breaths. "I got a really low pain-threshold."

"Dude, you were gone-"

"I checked your pulse-"

"I mean, whoa, you stopped bleeding and-"

"You didn't have a pulse!"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Lydia looked insane: eyes wide, hair sticking out and pale as a sheet. "It better not. Because I swear, Cassie, if you die I'm gonna kill you!"

"Owww," I complained, holding around the wrist of my injured hand, fighting to not relax my grip, to not let go off the broken mirror.

"And what the hell is that about?" she snapped, waving her hand at my blood-covered hand.

"We have a plan," I mumbled, trying to count inside my head to distract myself from the very, very overwhelming feeling of pure agony in my palm.

"And that plan involves mutilating yourself?"

"And getting blood all over my seat?" Stiles asked, but cowered before Lydia's glare. "Sorry, sorry. Not important, right."

"Sort of," I admitted.

We told her the plan

She didn't particularly like it.

"Heard anything else from Scott?" I asked between labored breaths.

Stiles checked his phone. "Nope, nothing."

"You think there's a chance the kanima already got to them?"

"Trying not to think about that."

"Are we getting closer?"

"Cassie, are you asking stupid questions to distract yourself from the torn up carnage that used to be your hand?"

"Kinda." I swallowed heavily. "We're sort of running out of time." In the distance, I could hear battle drums. "I'm losing a lot of blood here."

Stiles paled, but amped up the speed. "Hang on, it's – it's supposed to be here."

The drums played louder. Faster. Stronger.

I tried to take deep breaths, but failed. I pressed myself back in the seat, tried to look out the window without throwing up. "I don't see anyone, Stiles. I don't see anything!"

Lydia kept quiet in the back, all her attention focused to something she kept touching in her hand.

"I don't see a way in!" Stiles shouted and drove us around the building. "Damn it, the gates are closed, I can't-"

"Stiles, we need to hurry! I can't hold this much longer!"

Drumming tore at the edges of my mind.

"He's here!" Lydia said dreamily, surprising us both. She stared right ahead, at the closed wooden doors. "He's right here, he's – Stiles, he's right here!"

"I DON'T SEE HIM!" Stiles screamed, looking around wildly, expecting the kanima right outside the window.

"He's right here, I can feel him! STILES, JUST DRIVE!"

"What, the door's cl-"

"DRIVE THROUGH THEM, HE'S RIGHT HERE!"

"STILES, DO AS SHE SAYS, for Frigg's sake, DRIVE!"

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and kicked the pedal all the way down. We jolted in our seats as the jeep sped forward, right at the very solid looking wooden gates.

"HANG ON!" Stiles cried.

The Jeep crashed through the planks – splinters and chips flying. Instinctively we tried to cover our faces, but the Jeep proved solid enough. Thank gods we wore seatbelts!

"Keep going, keep going!" Lydia screamed and he did.

"Holy shit-" That's all I got time to say. The Jeep hit the kanima with a solid bang and I nearly smashed my forehead into the dashboard.

We sat there in aftershock and panted. Stiles breathed like a woman in labor and finally had the guts to open his eyes. "Did I get him?"

The drums changed beat – we were nearing climax. The rallying songs of ancient civilizations, of shamans and witches and wise women of every age, increased pace.

The Jeep dipped in the front and we stared at the kanima, looking completely unscathed…and pissed-off.

It screeched.

Lydia screamed, clambered over me and out while Stiles let out the most terrified howl before he too pushed me back in the seat to get out as fast as he could. I felt faint, my entire arm covered in my own blood.

Blood to blood

"CASSIE!"

Stiles' cry woke me up, but drowned in the roaring of drums. It was like moving in slow motion, like I saw every strand of hair move behind me, dancing in the wind only I could feel.

Out of the car, I held up my hand.

Blood to blood.

I bind thee.

My left hand, with Jackson's old watch on, shards of mirror deeply embedded in my palm, covered in blood.

Blood to blood.

You will obey me.

"Kill her!" a grotesque voice shouted, but diminished into wet coughs. The kanima stopped mid-screech, eyes transfixed by my hand – by my blood.

Lydia may be the key to Jackson, but I held the key to the kanima. It wouldn't kill me, wouldn't hurt me, wouldn't do anything I didn't tell it to.

Its head tilted, the yellow eyes blinked, following the movements of my palm like a cobra. Good.

A thousand shamans' drums played a beat only I heard. Only the kanima and I.

There were voices in the background, confused and scared and angry, but they didn't matter. Right now, there was only the kanima and I.

Small patches of human skin showed through on its torso. Its tail retreated.

Black of blood and flesh of blue

Vengeance has been done for you

Leave this shell and come to me

May you rest…peacefully.

I held out my right hand – clean and human – and felt Lydia put hers in it.

"Jackson."

Kanima.

Jackson's eyes turned to Lydia, turned to the golden key she held up as an offering. The kanima's eyes never left my hand.

I stepped back, let go off Lydia's hand, let her handle it from here. She knew she could save him – I just gave her a chance.

The kanima left Jackson, slowly, half his skin back to normal.

"Mmhn," I groaned as I got far enough away and opened my hand. The mirror piece, slick with blood, fell clanking to the floor and smashed, a flash of yellow eyes disappearing with it. I massaged my wrist, but knew I had to stop the blood soon. "Ooooh."

Jackson, naked and glorious, stepped back from Lydia. What was he doing? Less than a third of his body was scaled, what was he-

Derek, previously forgotten on the floor, got up without a sound. Jackson closed his eyes, his human eyes, and accepted his fate. My face blanked – Derek and the unmentionable Peter Hale stormed forward, simultaneously, and pierced Jackson with their hands from either side of his body. They killed him!

Lydia let out a small gasp. Jackson let out a choked death rattle. I swear I saw Peter Hale grin as the life left Jackson.

My soul now clean and yours on fire

You mess with a witch you burn, you liar

They stepped back at the same time and Jackson fell into Lydia's arms. She lowered him to the floor as he closed his eyes for the last time. My right hand clutched at someone's jacket as I witnessed my cousin's heart breaking, shattering, just like the mirror on the floor. Isaac covered my hand with his, but didn't look at me.

I couldn't hear Jackson's final word and I felt sorry for those who did. I didn't want to know, didn't want to see, and didn't want this at all. I cried, but not like Lydia, whose whole body shook as Jackson's head fell onto her shoulder.

And I heard a car in the distance. But unlike the drums, it was real. It was coming this way.

Isaac's hand squeezed over mine and a warmth passed through me as the pain of my hand subsided a little. It did nothing to the pain of my heart.

Jackson didn't have a scale on him when Lydia gently laid him on the floor. Human. Innocent. Lydia got up, still with her back to us, and Isaac held onto me so I wouldn't go rushing forward to her. He was probably right. She knew she wasn't alone, but no one could help her through this but herself.

The car's wheels screeched. It couldn't be long now.

"I have to leave," I whispered, but I don't think anyone heard.

Lydia turned our way, wiped her tears like it would do any difference. Stiles went to meet her – we all froze, Isaac's hand instantly clutched firmly over mine. There was a faint, but very real, scraping sound of Jackson's nails on the floor. No, not nails, claws. But how was that possible, the kanima wasn't in him – it couldn't be – I took him out, he went with the mirror, this isn't possible!

But it was. Lydia trembled, eyes wide in disbelief, and turned just in time to see Jackson's eyes fly open. They were cold, cobalt blue. And very much alive. He rose inhumanly, his body folding upward, like the reverse of when he sagged down. And he roared, fangs bared, his ears pointed. I felt like I could breathe again. He was just a werewolf now.

"Oh!" was all Lydia could utter as she fled into his arms. We watched in silence, a subdued feeling upon us all. I still held onto Isaac, but he must've sensed my heartbeat shifting because he turned his head to me in a curious manner.

"I have to go," I croaked out, tried to smile through my tears.

"What do you mean you have to go?" Stiles was on my right, wiping away tears or sweat, I don't know.

"I'm sorry."

The muffled roar of an engine closed in on us – Derek and Scott automatically crouched down in attack mode, but I just watched. A sleek, red car sped into the warehouse, through the huge hole made by the Jeep just minutes before.

"Is – is that your car?" Scott asked Derek and my eyebrows rose as I noticed that it was indeed the scarlet version of Derek's car. It came to a screeching halt, stopping just inches away from the collapsed body of Gerard Argent, who still laid in a pool of black goo.

"Who-" Scott started, but a hush fell over the assembly as the door opened and a pair of black stilettos hit the concrete floor. She had an indescribable ability to get the attention of a room. Her long, smooth legs came next, followed by the curve of a black pencil skirt. She elegantly stepped out completely, adjusted the black blazer discreetly and lit a long French cigarette. A wide-brimmed hat and a pair of expensive-looking sunglasses covered most of her face, so all we saw were her immaculate red lips.

"Whoa." Stiles' jaw almost hit the floor.

I rolled my eyes – Sabrina always had this effect.

Her heels clicked on the concrete floor. Tears burned in my eyes as I squeezed Isaac's arm one more time.

She stopped a few feet in front of us, striking an intimidating pose with one hip to the side and taking a long drag of her cigarette.

"Get in the car." Her voice was smooth like a dagger.

"I'm sorry, I have to leave," I told the guys, untangled my fingers from Isaac's. "I have to – I have to go."

"But you're coming back, right?" Stiles managed to tear his eyes off Sabrina, who watched us without a sound. "Right?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but she cut me off.

"Get – in – the – car," she said slowly, pronouncing every word to perfection. "Or I'll put you in it."

She was angry, I could tell by the flicker of her cigarette. I bowed my head in respect and moved over to the scarlet-colored car. Sabrina didn't turn, she swung around like a wielded axe, striding over to Lydia and Jackson.

"You get one minute," she warned and Lydia followed her movements with tearful eyes.

"Sabrina?" she choked out, but my sister ignored her.

Again, her shoes' clicks echoed in the hall, where everyone seemed to have lost the ability to speak at Sabrina's entrance. I'm not going to lie, I understood them completely.

Sabrina, tall, beautiful and dangerous, stopped in front of Peter Hale, blowing smoke out of her mouth as she said: "Peter Hale."

He gave her a charming smile. "You know, my nephew could take a few pointers when it comes to makin- AAAH!"

Sabrina stubbed her smoldering cigarette in Peter's face. A collective flinch as Peter roared in pain and I tried to swallow my gag. The stench of burning flesh and beard spread quickly. She held the cigarette between two painted nails and pushed it down, forcing him to kneel in front of her expensive stilettos.

"There are rules," she said, all delusion of calm gone from her voice. Sabrina leaned in closer, but spoke clearly enough so no one missed a word. "You will father no children. You will bite no mortal. You will pay the price when it's due. These are the Rules, and they are not open for negotiation." She twisted the cigarette around in his burn and he groaned, but still glared up defiantly. "And this is a promise, Peter Hale, that I hereby swear to keep. You come near my cousin, my sister, anyone of my family again, and," her voice changed once more, ragged as a chainsaw, "I'll burn you alive."

Peter collapsed when she stomped away. He didn't heal. Probably never would.

"Lydia," she ordered. "Get in the car."

"W-what, no, I…" Lydia protested, still encased in Jackson's arm. "I-"

"Now." Sabrina's voice of command sent chills up my arm and another pulse of dull pain shot through my left hand. With a last tearful look at Jackson's confused face, Lydia walked my way, to the car.

"I have to leave," I said again, not sure how I could explain, not with her here.

"But you'll come back, right?" Stiles sounded desperate now. "Right, Cassie? It's just for a little while?"

Isaac caught on a lot faster than Stiles, facing me with dark eyes under his curls. "Will I – will we see you again?"

"Of course we will, you'll be back, right? Cassie?" Stiles looked lost and alone as I opened the car door, Sabrina stomping our way like a soldier to war.

"I- I don't know," I stuttered, tears falling free, halfway inside the car.

"In." Sabrina opened the door to the driver's seat, but waited for us to get in first. Lydia obediently ducked her head and sat in the back.

"But you can't leave, not now, we just, we still have half the semester left, you…Cassie!" Stiles protested, looking to Scott and me and even Isaac. "Cassie! Cassie!"

"Good bye," I said instead, my heart breaking as I closed the door. Stiles kept on shouting.

"CASSIE!"

Sabrina's mouth curved and she tore off her sunglasses, staring down Stiles with a look of contempt on her face. "Her name," she snarled, "is Cassandra."