CHAPTER 11: ALPHA PACT
It was dangerously quiet as Stiles and I tried to process what just happened. Even the wind stopped blowing for a moment. There was a lot that happened tonight that needed processing, but, as usual—
"We're running out of time," I announced, breaking the quiet. Stiles sent me a look that suggested he did not appreciate me stating the obvious. Which was fair. "And resources." Stiles nodded quickly at that. Speaking the obvious put an unnecessary bout of anxiety into the air, but we needed the push if we continued to idle. "So, let's just take a few minutes to ourselves before we make our next move."
Stiles nodded again in agreement, but the anxiety in the air continued to thicken. The sounds of police sirens interrupted our attempt to diffuse each other. That was to be expected with the gunshots from the Argents. "Or not," Stiles sighed. He opened the roof access door and gestured that I walk through first. Soon, we were heading back to the first floor of the hospital.
Unexpectedly, Stiles stopped on the second floor and darted through the fire exit door. "Where are we going?"
"Gathering the rest of our resources," he cryptically answered. His answer explained itself when we came to incapacitated Derek who was lying in the elevator alone. I watched as he squatted down next to Derek to figure out his next move.
"A good, open handed slap never hurt anybody," I offered. Stiles looked skeptical but didn't hesitate to slap Derek in his face. When Derek didn't budge, Stiles looked back over at me. "Harder, maybe?" I said with a shrug. Stiles indeed put more force behind this slap. The sound made me cringe, but still, Derek didn't stir. Stiles looked to me again with his eyebrows raised. I nodded at his silent question. His hand curled into a fist. "Oh, tuck your thumb," I advised as I walked over to correct his form. "Otherwise, you'll break it."
"Break what?" Came Derek's voice. The sound was enough to jump Stiles into a standing position.
"Uh, Charlie said to do it," Stiles stuttered out as Derek rose to a sitting position.
I didn't bother to spare a look to Stiles 'The Sellout' Stilinski. "We have, like, 2 minutes to get outta here before the cops show up."
"Where is she?" Derek asked as he stood to his feet. He looked past Stiles and I before taking in the rest of the area around him.
"Jennifer?"
"Gone with Scott's mom."
"She took her?"
"Yeah, and if that's not enough of a kick to the balls," Stiles explained with a heap of annoyance in voice, "Scott left with Deucalion, okay? So, we gotta get you out of here. The police are coming, again, right now," Stiles warned quickly.
The look on Derek's face remained confused. "What about Cora?"
Stiles and I shared a look at Derek's question. "She's with Isaac and Boyd in the parking garage. They're waiting on you and Scott."
"There's something else you aren't telling me," Derek accused. Stiles wiped his hands on his jeans at the accusation.
"She sorta stopped breathing in the ambulance—"
"What?"
"F-fo-for, like, a second, okay? I took care of it!"
"Took care of it?" Derek repeated in a stiff tone.
"Can we, like, walk and talk at the same time?" Stiles asked in a rushed tone. He took off back toward the stairs before anyone had a chance to say anything else. Derek and I exchanged a look before following him down the stairs and toward the emergency room. We came to a stop in the hallway that brought a crossroad of the emergency room and parking garage.
"We can hold off the police while you get Cora," Stiles offered.
Derek nodded at that. He turned to leave but turned back around as if he wanted to say something else. When nothing came out, he turned to leave this time. Stiles and I went in the opposite direction.
"So, what's the plan?" I asked as we walked toward the array of blue, flashing lights.
"We were stuck in the elevator, no idea what happened," Stiles recited as if he rehearsed the excuse in his head already. "Can you manage that?"
"Why does everyone think I'm such a bad liar?" I mused in a pinched tone. "I lie all the time."
"That doesn't make you a good liar," Stiles argued.
"Whatever," I scoffed. "Not all of us are born with special skills." I crossed my arms as we turned a corner. "Like, life-saving mouth to mouth action, misappropriating, lying—"
"I would be happy to teach you all of those things," Stiles interrupted in a much more intense tone. "But right now, I kinda need you to forget what I said and just shut up."
I stopped in my tracks at Stiles tone and request. But before I could scold him, my caught a familiar, tall figure in a black suit. The FBI badge confirmed the person heading toward Stiles and me. "Holy shi—is that?"
"Scott's dad," Stiles finished. "So—"
"Stand still, look pretty, got it."
"A Stilinski and Daehler at the center of this whole mess. What a shocker," Agent McCall greeted. A frown immediately crawled onto my face. "Think you two can answer some questions without the usual level of sarcasm?"
"T—"
"If you ask the questions without the usual level of stupid," Stiles countered. Instinctively, I had to laugh. It was more of a chuckle rather than a full-blown laugh. I didn't want to completely embarrass Scott's dad in front of his work buddies. Well, I did, but I was too unpredictable and truly anything could come out my mouth.
"Charlie, this is Agent Hartford," Agent McCall introduced. A shorter and sweatier man who looked more nervous than I did walked over to the three of us.
"Hello," he greeted with an outstretched hand. Instead of bothering to acknowledge Agent Hartford, I looked up at Agent McCall.
"I'm not answering any questions without my mom—sorry, lawyer here," I declared. If I learned anything from her lectures, it was that. Unfortunately, it felt like it wouldn't be the last I would say that phrase.
"And where is she?" Agent McCall asked. I looked to Stiles who nodded with a slight smirk on his face.
I looked back to Agent McCall and smiled. "That sounds like a question to me."
"I'll be happy to answer any other stupid questions," Stiles offered with a raised arm. Both agents exchanged looks between Stiles and I at our noncompliance. "But I am her ride home, so, we should probably get this over with."
I watched as Agent McCall led Stiles over to a waiting room chair. Agent Hartford remained close by but didn't ask any clarifying questions. I listened carefully to the back and forth of Agent McCall's questioning. Surprising no one, Agent McCall had attempted to hit a low blow. Stiles didn't seem deterred by this, though. He remained steady on his ground.
I updated my mom and asked if I could stay at Allison's for the night. I was audibly surprised when she said no. Agent Hartford shot me a suspicious look, but I remained silent. My mom clarified that she had something she wanted to speak with me about. I promised I would try to be home soon.
"Let's get the hell outta here, please," Stiles pleaded with a heavy sigh. I took a long look at him as he ran a hand over his tired face. He couldn't look more like his dad in this moment if he tried.
"I'll drive," I offered, though, it wasn't up for debate. Stiles handed off his keys as we walked out the emergency room doors. The chaos that went on just an hour ago was behind us, but a much more intense impending doom still loomed. "Do you mind if we stop by Derek's?"
"I'm reall—"
"C'mon, I won't be able to sleep if I don't know if he's in our corner." A half-truth. I know that Derek wasn't probably going to be able to help us. I wasn't ready to go home, though.
"Fine," he sighed again. "But we're keeping the car running."
"The key to a perfect Irish goodbye."
Most of the ride had been silent. This was pretty out of character for Stiles at least. My guess was that he was still trying to process the shit storm of the last 24 hours. I was hoping we could move past most of it and keep our attention on the important parts.
"Are you mad at me?" Stiles suddenly asked from the passenger seat. I glanced over as I slowed to a stop at an intersection.
"Should I be?" I questioned back with a confused look on my face. "I'm not sure if I have the capacity to feel anything else tonight." I added as we took back off when the light turned green.
"What does that mean?"
"That I might explode if I have any more feelings," I said in a casual tone.
"So, that means you aren't mad at me," he clarified.
"Is this about you taking care of Cora?" I asked, looking over at him. "Because I'm definitely not jealous of that. If anything, I'm jealous that your mouth-to-mouth action has a 100% survival rate. I'm totally regretting sleeping through that part of health class."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah, sometimes I have trouble sleeping at night and I get tired during the day—"
"No, the jealously part," Stiles corrected.
"I mean, yeah, okay, I was definitely a little jealous of Cora at first—not because of that, but because she called you when Derek went hiding. It was dumb, but I think I moved past it."
"Why didn't you say anything before?"
I laughed at Stiles question as I pulled the Jeep into the building parking lot. The look on Stiles's face told me that his question was serious. "There was something more pressing."
"That doesn't mean you have to bottle it up and keep it to yourself. Talk to someone—me, Scott, Lydia, Allison, even Jackson," Stiles scolded.
"I just said that I moved past it." I crossed my arms and leaned on the driver door. "Are we still talking about the same thing?"
"Charles, c'mon," he prodded with a tilt of his head. "The operating room with Jennifer."
My face flushed at the embarrassment of that. I immediately dropped my head back on to the window of the driver door. "That was…" I struggled to find the words to describe my lashing out. "She did it on purpose to get a rise out of me and—"
"And it worked!"
I picked my head up off the window and stared out the passenger window. "I don't know what you want me say."
"I don't want you to tell me what you think I want to hear. I want you to tell me what you're thinking, how you're feeling," he explained.
"I do!" Stiles sent me an unimpressed look at my rebuttal. "Sometimes, I do," I corrected. Stiles still didn't look convinced. I went over this before. No dumping on Stiles. But apparently, I was bad at finding a balance between dumping and not dumping. "Okay, fine, right now I feel tired, frustrated, scared, paranoid, anxious, and a little bit hungry. Feeling all of those things at once is still new territory for me and, much to my demise, the mention of Matt's breakdown triggers me into the same frenzy that he was in the night he slaughtered the starting five of Beacon Hills Police Department."
Stiles didn't say anything at the end of my ramble. Not a sound. He looked caught in the headlights. "I want to be honest with you, but this is one of the reasons why I promised myself no dumping."
His face came alive then. "Dum-dump—who said anything about breaking up?"
"No, no, no. I mean, letting everything build up and then me dumping it out on you."
The corner of his mouth twitched before he spoke again. "I rather you take a dump on me rather than let things get backed up."
"That's disgusting," I scolded with a laugh at the very back of my throat. Stiles let out a small laugh as well. This let some of the tension out of the Jeep. I reached my hands out toward Stiles which he instantly took. We instinctively moved closer to each other. I ran my hands up his arms until I reached the back of his neck. He took his time to look into my eyes. He studied my face with an intensity I'd never noticed before. "What is it?"
"If you're here to talk to Derek," Isaac's voice suddenly came from the other side of the passenger window. A very, very sour look worked itself way on my face at the interruption. "Don't bother because he's too busy of perfecting the art of doing nothing."
A groan left Stiles's throat as the buried his face in my neck. I whispered a very sincere apology low enough for Stiles to hear.
"Lahey's right," came Jackson's voice from behind me. "And it's totally illegal to smash in a car that's parked in a public place."
"Don't be gross, Jackson," Boyd reprimanded from behind Isaac.
"They're the ones being gross."
Stiles groaned even louder this time and I couldn't help but to let out an annoyed sigh as well. "I promise I'll make it up to you later," I offered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just need 10 minutes."
Stiles rose back into his own seat at the offer. "Five minutes, Daehler," he counteroffered with an outstretched hand. I took it and shook it firmly. Before I could let go, he tugged my arm to pull me in for a quick kiss. I was surprised at the gesture but followed Stiles's lead and got out the Jeep. The blush on my cheeks disappeared as soon as the cool air hit my face, but Jackson didn't look very impressed.
"Don't look at me like that," I scolded as I walked past him and to the other side of the Jeep where the others were gathered. The Jeep was still running as promised. Stiles was leaned on the passenger door with his arms crossed with annoyance clear on his face. Isaac mirrored Stiles's expression and stance while Boyd and Jackson looked less than excited to be here. The air was overwhelmingly negative. But we had to work with the little time we had left.
Boyd was the first to speak. "Is it true?" He asked. "Did Scott really go with Deucalion?"
Stiles and I nodded together. "Right after he let Jennifer take Scott's mom," I elaborated.
"Why the hell would he do that?" Isaac asked, confusion apparent on his face.
"Because he's a raging narcissist who's trying to get Scott on his team by playing hero when the alpha pack find Scott's mom and Stiles's dad."
"I thought Deucalion was into Derek and not Scott," Jackson asked. "I mean, Kali gave Derek that insane deadline to kill one of us before the next full moon."
"Yeah, he's not even pretending to be into Derek anymore," Stiles agreed.
"Rightfully so," Isaac interjected in a miffed tone. "He realized that Derek is useless much faster than we did."
"That's debatable."
"What's the deal with Derek?" Stiles and I said at the same time.
"He said that he doesn't know what he's going to do about this, about Cora, or anything," Isaac explained with a wave of his arms. "So, basically nothing."
"You can't be mad at him for sitting this one out," Boyd defended.
Isaac's jaw dropped at that as he turned to Boyd. "How can you say that when he couldn't protect you?"
Boyd remained calm despite Isaac's tone. "Because he's trying to make up for it."
"That's debatable," Jackson said again. I had to agree with Jackson and Isaac. Not because I'm running the 'I Hate Derek' parade, but because Derek did have a habit of leaving us out to dry.
"As someone who gave Derek a chance before things got out of hand," I began. "I think it's safe to say he's not the dude for the job."
"Maybe not, but I think it's not fair for you guys to count him out," Boyd defended again. Isaac tossed his hands up again at that. "Hear me out. The night we tried to get ahead of the alpha pack, I woke up at the animal clinic. Deaton was there and didn't tell me anything except Derek had dropped me off and left. When Derek did decide to show his face, he came to my house. He told me his plan to Trojan Horse Deucalion and his pack. I thought it was stupid, but our options were limited."
"Then I approached Deucalion and told him I was willing to kill Derek and, later, all of you. Deucalion wasn't interested until I mentioned Scott. I told him Scott and Derek would never suspect me to do the dirty work of becoming an alpha. He knows that Scott has more potential than Derek, so we made an agreement to push Scott in Deucalion's direction. But Deucalion is still a hydra. Meaning he only thinks about himself first and foremost."
"So, he only told me what he wanted to give up. It wasn't much, but it was enough to minimize any close calls. The teacher revealing herself as the source of the sacrifices threw a wrench in his plan. I don't know why, but he's very, very suspicious of who she's claiming to be. And now he thinks Scott has enough motivation and vulnerability to join his pack willingly when the time comes. Derek said he wasn't worried about Scott falling for Deucalion's politics, but now I'm not so sure."
The low roar was the only noise that could be heard from Stiles's Jeep at the end of Boyd's monologue. Shocked was just the tip of the iceberg of what we were all feeling.
"What?"
"What the hell?"
"How?"
"Literally how did this happen under our noses?"
"Does anyone else know?"
"What's Deucalion like when he's not being a complete dictator?"
"Seriously, what the hell?"
"Are you really going to kill us?"
"Is Deaton a witch?"
"Does Deaton know something we don't?"
"Obviously."
"What the hell?"
"Would you kill us, like, seriously?"
"You're seriously good at keeping secrets, Boyd. Like, seriously good."
"So, where does Deucalion hang out?"
"You know, I've always said you have a trusty face."
"I would just like to say, one more time, what the hell?"
The array of questions and comments came from the four of us at the same time. Boyd didn't bother to decipher them, though. He remained silent as he let us get it out of our system. It eventually became quiet again.
"Well, that explains why you're always defending Derek," Jackson finally said. "I thought you were in love with him."
A general noise of agreement came from the group. Boyd rolled his eyes at that. "I just wanted to say that he's trying—at least he was trying. Cora is his only family left and he wants to do better."
"And what about Peter?" Jackson asked.
"What about Peter?" Boyd repeated.
"Wait," I interrupted before the topic could change. "What does Deucalion expect from you now that he has Scott?"
Boyd shrugged at that. "He told me to hang back while he works on Scott."
"Nothing about that sentence sounds good," Isaac stated.
I wanted to agree but the air was starting to get negative again. "This is good, right? I mean, we lost Derek—"
"And Scott."
"But we have some insight to Deucalion."
"What do we do now?"
The only answer anyone could come up with was nothing. "Since the alpha pack has a sudden interest in Ms. Blake, I say we just let them kill themselves chasing her down," Jackson suggested.
"Two things," I countered. "One, Deucalion thinks he has Scott and Boyd at his side, and I'm not interested in seeing how many times we can come back from the dead." Jackson mumbled something under his breath that I couldn't catch. "And two that sounds a lot like doing nothing," I continued. "The same thing we just railed Derek for."
"Our nothing is different from his nothing," Isaac said.
"I don't think we're going to come up with some earth-shattering plan tonight after all the crap we've been through," Stiles concluded in a flat tone. "Plus, the FBI is here and soon they'll realize that my dad is missing, and I should probably at least pretend that I'm not up to anything suspicious."
That grim, but realistic, explanation closed the door to any more potential plotting tonight. We bid each other goodbye with promises of not traveling alone and checking in once we were safe at home.
The next morning, I woke up before my alarm and an empty spot in my bed. It worried me that Stiles didn't want to stick around and stay the night. He insisted that he needed to be home just in case someone came to tell him about his missing dad. My mom wanted to speak with me about something, so I was caught between a rock and a hard place. Still, I managed to cat nap throughout the night.
I rolled over to grab my phone off the nightstand and checked my phone for any missed texts or calls. I let out a sigh of relief to learn I missed nothing of substance. I got out of bed and quickly headed to the bathroom to get ready.
Once I was clean, I picked out a practical outfit for any potential ass kicking that Beacon Hills would inevitably throw at me today. I headed to the living room to make myself a breakfast for champions. To my surprise, my mom had made a full spread of eggs, pancakes, bacon, hash browns, and toast. "Uh, good morning," I greeted, though it came out more like a question.
"Good morning, sweetheart," she greeted cheerfully. She wasted no time engulfing me in a hug. "How did you sleep?"
"Good," I answered skeptically as we pulled away.
"Really? I didn't hear you talking as much," she noted as she headed back to the stove. I took a seat at the bar as she placed a plate in front of me with enough food to feed a small army. I double checked the time on my phone and decided I had more than enough time to eat a huge breakfast.
"Why am I the last to know that I talk in my sleep?" I asked as I went straight for the bacon.
"It's cute! Like, quirky like that show you like. The, uh, the one with the girl and the glasses," she poorly described.
"New Girl?"
"That's the one!"
Despite having a mouth filled with bacon, I still let out a laugh. "Aren't you gonna eat with me? Or are you too busy thinking of the next show that you can halfway describe?"
She turned around to glance at the wall clock and made a face that I couldn't quite place. I couldn't sense whatever she was feeling due to the food that was recently made. "I have a flight to catch."
"A flight?" I repeated with furrowed eyebrows. A stone immediately dropped into my stomach at the thought of her leaving again.
She walked up to the counter and took both my hands. "I'm so sorry and I hate to leave you alone again, but there's a really difficult case that they want me to consult on back at the Phoenix firm."
I couldn't look at her. Not after she tried to butter me up with food. The feelings of disappointment and anxiousness about her leaving were swirling around me. My eye caught my forgotten and still dead plant in the corner as a reminder of more loss. I wasn't sure if I could handle my mom leaving again. But she was good at it. I'll give her that.
There was an upside to this, though. A third sacrifice was still waiting to be taken. My mom was technically a guardian which meant she was in danger. As much as leaving town hurt my feelings, it was for the best.
"Charlotte, please say something," my mom pleaded suddenly.
I didn't realize how long I had been sitting there in my head. "It's fine, mom," I assured with a smile that didn't reach my eyes. I let go of her hands and looked back down to pick at my food. "When are you leaving?"
"Um, soon."
That had to be code for now.
"What time are you leaving?" I corrected.
"Fifteen minutes."
"Mom, come on!"
"Cha—I'm sorr—"
Instead of staying to listen to her apologies, I stood up from the barstool and headed to her room. As suspected, her luggage was ready to go. I pulled the two bags out of the room and to the door. I circled back to the living room and went to the window to look down at the street. "Your town car is here now," I announced in a bitter tone.
"Charlotte," she said in a warning tone.
I hadn't heard my name said like that in years. Years. It did make me stop in my tracks, but not for long. I headed back to her room and l went to her desk. "You have your phone charger? Neck pillow? Laptop?" I asked in a rushed tone. "Great! Let's get you outta here. I would hate for you to be here any longer than you absolutely need to!" I insisted in a sickly-sweet tone.
"You know what? Fine, I'm leaving," she announced with her hands up. She put her shoes on at the door and grabbed her carryon from the coat closet. I opened the door and shut it behind her before she was barely out the door.
It only took a second for the guilt to settle in. I swung the door back open and saw she hadn't moved an inch. Her face looked apologetic. Still, I didn't budge. I just wanted to make sure she made it the car safely. I grabbed both suitcases as well as the carryon and headed toward the stairs. She would never take the stairs in those shoes.
My prediction was right when I beat her to the town car. The driver tried to take her luggage from me, but a dirty look put that to bed. My mom eventually caught up with me. "Have you been working out, honey?"
"Please call me before and after you land."
It's possible I was more upset than relieved that my mom was leaving yet again. The harsh goodbye was probably an overkill, but it was the truth about how I felt. I watched the town car pull away. I didn't linger any longer and headed back inside. I took the stairs two at a time to help channel my feelings somewhere else. Once back into the apartment, I was already dreading the quiet it would bring. I shut the door behind me and leaned against it. I shut my eyes to take a deep breath. "She'll be fine, and everything is going to be okay."
I got to school after aggressively finishing my food and cleaning the rest of the kitchen. My disappointment and general sadness still lingered about my mom's departure, but I kept reminding myself that it was for the best.
My third apology attempt text was erased again as I sat in the school parking lot. I was just about to start my fourth attempt when there was a knock on my car window. I recognized the shirt to be Stiles. I immediately grabbed my things and exited the car. Before Stiles could say anything, I tugged on his shirt to pull him down for a deep and overdue kiss.
Ahem!
"Dudes, cut it out before you get detention," Jackson warned. We pulled away to see a teacher sending us a disapproving look.
"Sorry," we meekly apologized in unison.
The teacher took our insincere apology and left. As she was leaving, Lydia walked up to join the three of us.
"Lydia?" I called out as if she weren't already approaching us. It was a surprise that any of us showed up to school in the first place. "Are you o—"
"I'm fine," she finished. I couldn't help but to stare at the bruising around her neck. "My mom tried to convince me to take a sick day, but I thought I would be much more useful here." None of us said anything as we continued to stare at Lydia in awe. In fact, the warning bell rang and none of us moved. First Boyd and now Lydia. Who's next for an insane amount of resilience and secrets? "Well, is anyone going to tell me what happened last night, or...?"
"Oh, right," Stiles finally said, snapping Jackson and I out of our staring contest. "Funny story—actually, a couple of funny stories."
The rest of the school day went on as normally as it could have. The auditorium was still closed with deputies and agents in and out of it throughout the day. The group chat had been suspiciously quiet with minimal updates from Allison and Isaac who were out looking for Jennifer with Allison's dad. Boyd was spending the day trailing Deaton to see if he could find any information on how to trap Jennifer. Unfortunately, still no word from Scott.
Just landed in Phoenix and I think I'm already dehydrated.
The low roar of the cafeteria was comforting since it provided a sense of normalcy. It brought me back to the days of wondering where I was going to sit at a new school every other year. I'd give anything to make that my most important problem. I quickly typed out a reply as I let a few students cut in front of me in the cafeteria line. I wasn't that hungry anyway.
Stay safe.
I stepped out of line and decided to head to the nurse's office for a nap before my next class. If anything happened in the next 35 minutes, surely it could wait until I was awake.
Allison's dad just gave himself up to Jennifer.
Or not.
I stopped in the middle of the cafeteria to read and reread the text again. My first instinct was to call Isaac and Allison to confirm what happened, but both calls went directly to voicemail.
I headed toward the exit again but was stopped by a wall of a person. I immediately recognized the scent and cologne that could only belong to Jackson.
"Did you see this?" We asked at the same time as we held up each other's phone to the other.
"Do you think it's legit?" I asked, looking back down at my phone.
"Do you think Lahey would lie about something like that?" Jackson asked in a short tone.
I shrugged my shoulders at that rhetorical question. My next move was to call Stiles. There was a slim chance he would answer since he was with Lydia in the library. Still, I began to worry when he didn't answer. "Do you think Stiles got the message?"
"It went to the group, didn't it?" Jackson asked back.
I sighed shortly when my I didn't get a concise answer from Jackson. "So, the time we thought we had, we don't actually have." Jackson opened his mouth to give out a sure to be unhelpful answer, but I shushed him. "Why would Allison's dad give himself up to Jennifer knowing we're running on a deadline? He just cut our time in half—"
"Less, probably."
"Jackson, I swear to god—"
"Listen," he interrupted again. "I'm supposed to meet Morrell in her office in a few minutes. Since Boyd is digging with Deaton, maybe Morrell knows something we don't, and she'll be willing to spill a detail or two since we're out of time."
That was surprisingly helpful. So helpful that was speechless. Jackson took note of this and led me out of the cafeteria and to the direction of the guidance counselor's office. "Since when do you see Morrell?" I asked as we entered the office. The door was open, but there was no one inside. The cheerful assistance was also away from her desk.
"Since I got back," Jackson answered as he took a seat in the student's chair. "She's loony, but a decent replacement until I can find a real therapist."
"That's rude," I scolded in a flat tone. Jackson merely shrugged at my comment. I took a seat behind the desk where Morrell would normally sit. "What's it like?"
"It's invasive and sometimes she asks too many questions which is annoying, but it's worth it," he answered in a tone that was almost genuine. "You could use a few thousand hours yourself."
"That's rude," I scolded again with more feeling this time. As usual, Jackson didn't seem concerned with halfway hurting my feelings. "What time was this supposed to start?"
"Five minutes ago."
"And is she normally late?"
"This is the annoying part I was talking about with all the questio—" Jackson cut his whining off short when he realized the time. "She's always here, she always beats me here," he soon realized.
The day of me snooping through a faculty member's computer finally came. Under dire circumstances, sure, but the time was now.
"What are you doing?"
Weirdly enough, her computer was unlocked, but most things remained password protected. "I'm trying to figure out if she may be somewhere else. Maybe she went out for lunch, let her dog out, a doctor's appointment, a waxing appointment, whatever."
"No way she keeps it in there," Jackson denied as he stood up from his chair. He circled around the desk and easily rolled me out of the way. I protested but was ignored. "She writes everything down. Like, everything," he explained.
I got up from the chair and shut the office door and locked it. While Jackson ransacked one side of the desk, I took the other. "How much trouble do you think we'll be in when we get caught?"
"If. If we get caught."
I didn't have a lot of faith in what Jackson just said. Instead, I hoped his hearing was more in tune than mine as we continued shuffling through desk drawers.
I found a set of keys at the very back of a drawer and immediately headed to the file cabinets tucked away in a corner. It wasn't long before one of the keys unlocked a cabinet. "This is way too easy," I boasted as I brought over a few stacks of folders to the desk. We rummaged through the records that turned out to be permanent records. "Greenburg is actually super smart," I said out loud as I thumbed through his folder. Jackson took the small stack from me even though I wasn't done skimming it. I scoffed and tried my best to read over Jackson's shoulder but a knock on the door made us jump. Instinctively, we both stepped out of the view of the small door window. A familiar flash of red hair and a plaid shirt came into view.
"I think she's out for lunch, or something," Came Stiles's voice from the other side of the door.
I let out a sigh of relief and stepped from behind the desk to open the door. Stiles and Lydia looked surprised to see Jackson and I in the office. "What are you d—"
"What are you doing?"
The four of us exchanged looks for a moment before I gestured them to come in. Once they were in, I checked the hallway to make sure we were in the clear before shutting and locking the door. "Morrell's missing," Jackson announced.
"She's late, we don't know if she's missing," I corrected.
"Late probably means missing," he argued as he walked back over to the unlocked filing cabinet.
"Are you going through private files?" Lydia asked as she sat down in one of the student chairs.
"Yeah, here's yours," Jackson said as he held out an impressive stack of papers held in a folder. He sat down at the desk and continued clicking through the desktop.
"Jackson said that Morrell writes everything down, so we're looking for clues as to where she might be," I explained. "We got a little distracted along the way."
"You guys are looking for Morrell, too?"
"We're kinda pressed on time since—" I stopped myself to choose my next words carefully. "We shouldn't leave any stones unturned, right?"
Stiles and Lydia looked apprehensive at our snooping, but it didn't take long for Lydia's curiosity to get the best of her as she reached for her folder. While they were engrossed in that, I turned to Stiles. "Are you okay?"
"As good as anyone who's running under a ticking clock for their dad's sacrifice," Stiles said with a heavy sigh.
Right, stupid question.
I reached up and placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. Stiles kept his eyes locked on the floor. I moved my hand and gently grabbed the point of his chin. "Hey," I softly called out. Stiles finally looked at me with glassy eyes. My eyes couldn't help but to sting at the that. "We're going to find him. We're going to find everyone. I have a feeling."
Stiles frowned at that. "A feeling?"
I stepped and closed the small space between us to lightly kiss him. His lips were unusually sticky. I let go of his chin and reached for my own lips. I tried to keep a frown off my face. I certainly wouldn't want someone frowning after they kissed me. But I had a weird feeling about this kiss. "Yeah, a feeling," I repeated softly.
"Lydia, what the hell is this?" Jackson suddenly asked.
"They're trees," she answered simply.
Stiles looked past me and to Jackson and Lydia, back to me, and then back to Jackson and Lydia. I continued staring at him with a half frown on my face. I wanted to ask if he was okay again but didn't move or speak.
"Yeah, no shit," Jackson spat back. This made Stiles breakaway from our silent interaction, and he headed over to Morrell's desk. "It's the same tree over and over again. Why are you drawing the same tree over and over again?"
I eventually followed Stiles and gathered around the desk with everyone else. It was covered with drawings of the same tree as Jackson had stated. "Why would Morrell keep these? Why would she take them in the first place?"
"I don't know, I like drawing trees, apparently Morrell likes trees," Lydia huffed, pushing away a few drawings.
Without warning, Stiles reached into Lydia's bag and dug around until he found a binder. He pulled several more drawings of the same tree and placed them on the desk. We all looked to Lydia to see if she had any answers. The realization that something was wrong had settled on her face. "What is this?"
Stiles reached into his own bag this time and pulled out a familiar notebook. It was the notebook filled with information about the sacrifices, the Darach, and the alpha pack. "Peter told us this story about how Derek's eyes changed color, but left out a ton of details that I had to get from Scott who got them from Gerard—"
"Cut the fat dude, we talked about this," Jackson interrupted.
Stiles rolled his eyes but flipped through his pages until he found what he was looking for. "A nemeton—the Nemeton."
The three of us exchanged confused looks before looking back to Stiles. "Okay, maybe don't cut the fat this time."
"Derek accidently sacrificed his girlfriend back in high school according to Peter—"
"He did what now?"
"Peter told him to bite her, it's a whole kids in love, be together forever thing, whatever—just listen. It happened in a root cellar," he explained, flipping the trees upside down to make it look like a ton of roots. "When Derek did that, he messed with the root cellar—aka, the Nemeton."
"So, we think the Darach is keeping future sacrifices at the Nemeton?" I finished.
"Exactly."
"Does this mean this is still Derek's fault?"
Yikes.
No one wanted to answer the rhetorical question. Unluckily, the door handle began to rattle and the sound of it unlocking soon followed. "When," I stressed, looking back to Jackson. The four of us scrambled to cover the desk that was covered in private files. Unfortunately, the file cabinets were still open, and half the folders were forgotten as they laid on top of the open drawers. "Lydia, you take the blame," I insisted as the door opened.
Her record was mostly clean aside from the absences and weird drawings. No one argued with me as the door finally opened.
A loud groan came from Stiles as Agent McCall and his colleagues entered the guidance counselor's office. I mumbled a few curse words under my breath as my head dropped.
"Why am I not surprised that I would find you two in the middle of this again?" Agent McCall rhetorically asked.
Instead of anyone entertaining him with an answer, Stiles gestured for the four of us to huddle into a tight circle. "Lydia, Jackson, you two go to Derek's and see if he or Peter can remember where the Nemeton is," he ordered, shoving a drawing into Jackson's chest. "Char, you and I are heading to Deaton's as soon as we handle Agent McDouche."
"Who?" Jackson asked.
"Someone annoying and irrelevant," I answered. "But a major pain in the ass."
"How long do you think it'll take for you to deal with that?" Lydia asked.
A loud throat clearing briefly interrupted our not-so-secret meeting. Stiles turned to back to Agent McCall and sighed loudly. "I promise you will have my undivided attention in, like, two seconds."
"Stiles, you probably shouldn't talk to him like tha—"
"Okay, this is me cutting the fat," Stiles interjected as he turned back to our circle. "Just listen to me, okay? Go to Dere—"
"Why are you being so bossy?"
"Oh, my g—"
Another throat clearing came from behind to remind us that our time was running out. I stepped out of the huddle first and smiled at the small group of agents that were now gathered in the office. "We were just leaving," I announced.
"Not before answering a few questions about what happened last night in the auditorium," Agent McCall retorted. "If you cooperate, we can forget about the fact that you're skipping class to violate privacy."
Okay, that was a solid deal.
"It's lunchtime," I reminded in a flat tone. I glanced up at the clock to see that we maybe had 30 secon—
Ring! Ring! Ring!
Okay, now lunchtime was over. "I thought Stiles answered all your stupid questions," I asked in the most innocent tone I could muster.
"I only have a few questions for you all."
"I don't have any answers for you, sorry."
Not sorry.
"Both my parents are lawyers, so, I'm not answering any questions either," Jackson added as he walked and stood next to me. Right, strength in numbers. Lydia was next to stand on the other side of me.
"What happened last night is too traumatizing to talk about. In fact, I shouldn't even be here. I only came to talk to the guidance counselor who's gone, obviously," Lydia said in a much more convincing tone than mine.
"And I already answered all of your stupid questions," Stiles repeated as he stood on the other side of Lydia.
The four of us were silent as we took in the expressions of the agents' faces. Most of them looked annoyed that we were trying to dodge them. The silence went on for way too long until Agent McCall spoke again. "You three," he gestured, pointing to me, Lydia, and Jackson. "Get back to class. Stiles, you come with me. There's something you need to know."
It was time the four of us to exchange looks now. I hoped the news he was referring to was Stiles's dad was missing and only missing. Surely, he wouldn't deliver the news about his father. "Today, please," Agent McCall egged on. Jackson was the first to move as Lydia and I followed behind. There were more important looking people in the hallway. We silently decided to take the gym exit out of the school to seem less suspicious. We made it to the parking lot before anyone bothered to say anything.
"Should we wait on Stiles?" Lydia asked as we approached our parked cars. "Also, who was that guy in there?"
I shook my head in response to her first question. "You guys go to Derek's, and I can meet Stiles at Deaton's."
"Alone?"
I tossed my backpack into the backseat of my car and shut the door. "Yes, alone. We don't have time." Before Jackson or Lydia could argue, I was in the driver's seat and throwing the car into reverse. Jackson knocked on the window before I had a chance to take my foot off the brake.
"Tuck your thumb."
I arrived at the animal clinic in record time. Luck was on my side considering I was speeding and texting while driving. Hopefully, the universe wouldn't punish me for that.
Even though it had punished me already.
I was texting back and forth with Boyd to see what he and Deaton had come up with. He wouldn't tell me much aside from, be prepared. I told him he had been with Deaton too much. I also updated Allison and Isaac about the loose plan in motion to gather more information about the Nemeton. Allison was elbow deep in her dad's office looking for research and Isaac stayed behind with her.
I texted Boyd I was here as kicked my car door shut. I only brought the drawings that Lydia had done in hopes that Deaton would recognize them, but otherwise, brought no other research. I hated the idea of going in empty handed but Stiles was dealing with a major pain in the ass back at school still.
I heard the back door creak open as soon as I entered the animal clinic. "What exactly is a Nemeton?" I asked Deaton in lieu of a traditional greeting. He shut the door behind me and led the way to the back of the clinic wordlessly. There was an array of books and noted spread across the silver examination table. Boyd was quietly flipping through a book titled, 'Ancient Druids and Their Tales'. From the look on his face, there wasn't any helpful content in the book.
"It's a dangerous and sacred place that I don't recommend any of you going to," Deaton advised. He paused for so long that I thought he might've heard something I didn't.
"But?" Boyd asked as he shut and tossed the book on the table.
Aside from Deaton's warning, Boyd and I got a 101 lesson on the Nemeton and what it means to Jennifer and all of the sacrifices. It made much more sense when Deaton explained compared to Stiles.
"If it's so old, then why is it so hard to find?" I asked.
"People who typically find the Nemeton don't come back the same or even at all," Deaton explained.
The answer didn't sit well in my gut. It was both too specific and not specific enough. Boyd must have sensed my uneasiness. "Can you be more specific?"
Before Deaton could clarify himself, the bell on the front door of the clinic rang. I checked my phone and hoped the person at the door wasn't an unwelcome visitor. I was immediately relieved when I heard both Stiles, Isaac, and Allison greet Deaton with questions.
The four of them wasted little time once they were gathered in the back with the rest of us. Allison unrolled a map of the city that had markings all over it. Stiles was next to pull out his stack of research that had grown over the past couple of months. But before anyone could say anything, the bell rang out again. The sound of the gate soon followed before Deaton could go check out the front.
I had to admit that I was a little surprised to see Lydia and Jackson so soon. It likely meant that they had no news. "Derek was useless—as usual," Jackson announced to no one in particular.
We all looked to Lydia for more clarification. "He and Peter said they don't remember going there because Derek's sister took their memories," she explained.
"Why?" I asked.
"Said they didn't want them going back."
That explanation matched perfectly with Deaton's evasiveness and warnings about the Nemeton. "So, what do we know?"
"It has to be on a telluric current," Stiles began as he reached for his personal stack of research. "Or maybe even at the axis of two or where they all intersect. I just know it's where Derek took Paige to die."
Allison reached into her bag and pulled out a black light and illuminated the map. I recognized it as the map of the currents from the night when Deaton went missing. Several locations were marked. "My dad and Gerard were there once. But Gerard said it was years ago, and he couldn't remember where it was. And my dad obviously isn't here to tell us now," Allison relayed.
Great, the only time Gerard's memory failed. I wanted to question Allison about their interaction to see if he was telling the truth, but—
"We don't have time."
"If we split up—"
"Now, Stiles, you already know that's a terri—"
"I know, I know, but we don't have time. And we're down a person and we aren't even close to finding an old tree in the woods!"
"Okay, what about the preserve?" Lydia offered. "Derek has made you guys run it, like, a thousand times, right?"
Isaac, Jackson, Boyd, and I all exchanged a contemplative look at that question. Was it a possibility that we ran across the Nemeton?
"It's unlikely that any of you would remember it consciously," Deaton said.
"Consciously?" Isaac repeated. "There's no way I'm getting into another ice bath. No way."
"Not you," Deaton assured in his usual calm tone. "The children of the missing."
There was an uproar of objections and desperate shuffling through the small mountain of research. Deaton was patient enough to wait as the group settled back down. This had to be what Boyd meant. There was no way this was safe for any human to do. And who's to say it would work?
I guess it worked with Isaac and he came back okay. I looked over at Isaac to get a good long look at him.
"You did it," I recalled with a shrug. "Do you feel any different?" I asked, but before he could answer, I continued. "You definitely look different. That might be because of the bite, your dad, the kanima, Ma—Derek, Gerard, the alpha pack, the Darach—okay, it could be a lot of things other than a cool dip in the tub, right?"
Instead of anyone answering my question, they all turned to get a good look at Isaac. "I think we should ask Scott."
We were all in agreement about Scott. He was there in record time. It didn't take long to update him since he learned about the Nemeton through Morrell. Unfortunately, we learned that none of the alphas knew where the Nemeton was either. Deaton then explained his theory about accessing information subconsciously. "It worked on Isaac, right?" Was Scott's initial reaction. "How was it?"
"Cold."
"Are we really considering this?" I asked.
"I agree with Charlie, two out of three are human. What if they get really sick? Or worse," Lydia argued. "There's so many outcomes—hypothermia, of course, shock, frostbite, delirium—I mean, someone stop me!"
"And what if they go through all of that and it still doesn't work?"
"What if it does?" Scott asked without missing a beat.
"Exactly," Jackson spoke up, "what if it works? Who gets there first? We obviously can't fight Jennifer alone."
"He's right," Boyd agreed, "she's taken down nearly a dozen of people for her cause. Who's to say she won't take out a couple of teenagers when she's this close to the finish line?"
Scott sighed deeply at that. "There's no way I can face Jennifer alone, I know that. So, I have to tell Deucalion."
"I think we should refocus on finding your parents first," Deaton gently reminded.
I ran a hand over my face in frustration at our last resort. "Okay, we die for our parents," Stiles summarized. "Then what?"
"If it goes right, the three of you will be dead for a few seconds, but there's something else you need to think about. This is a dangerous thing for more reasons than one. You'll be giving power back to the Nemeton, a place that hasn't had power for a long time. This kind of power is like a magnet. It attracts the supernatural, the kind of things that a family like the Argents can fill the pages of a bestiary with. It will draw them here, like a beacon."
"There's worse things out there? Worse than a Kanima?"
"You'd be surprised at what you have yet to see."
"Okay, so, make plans for an out of state college," Isaac quipped. "What else?"
"It'll also have an effect on the three of you. You won't be able to see it, but you'll feel it every day for the rest of your lives. It'll be a kind of a darkness around your heart, and permanent, like a scar."
"Like a tattoo."
You could always get a tattoo removed if you didn't like it, right?
"You'll need something personal that ties you to your parents. Something significant."
While Scott, Allison, and Stiles were off gathering items that tied them to their parents, the rest of us, Boyd, Lydia, Isaac, Jackson, and me, stayed behind to help Deaton prepare.
My guess was that Deaton didn't want to lug around pounds and pounds of ice from the car to the clinic. I couldn't blame him for that—work smarter, not harder.
"I can't be the only who thinks this is the worst idea ever," Jackson announced once the last bag of ice was pulled from the back of his car. Isaac made some sort of noise of agreement as the bag was tossed to him.
"Obviously," Lydia agreed. "But if you have any ideas—now is the time." There were a few moments of silence as we watched an array of expressions melded on Jackson's face. "Yeah, that's what I thought."
"Whatever," Jackson mumbled as he crossed his arms. "Even if this works, we still have the same old problems."
"Maybe, but Jennifer won't expect us to have this upper hand," Boyd chimed in. "She's been holding this information over our heads the entire time."
"That's a good point," I mused. "This bump in the road could keep her down long enough for our other problem to take care of her. They nearly killed Scott just to get to her."
Speaking of Scott, the Jeep creeped to a stop in the animal clinic parking lot. No one moved to jump out of the car. No one moved to head back inside the clinic. There was a heavy, somber feeling in the air as we all stood too still and too quiet. Deaton was the only one to put the sense of urgency back into the group.
As the last bag of ice was poured into the ice bath mixed with mistletoe, I couldn't help but to ask a few questions. Unfortunately for Isaac, he was standing closest to me.
"Did it hurt?" I asked as quietly as I could to Isaac.
"Did what hurt?" He countered in an equally quiet tone.
"You know what I'm asking," I huffed.
"And you know the answer."
I did not care for Isaac's answer or tone. Of course, it was going to hurt. Your lungs hurt. Your head hurts. Your muscles hurt. Your…everything hurts.
"How long did Deaton say they would be…?"
"Dead?" Isaac finished. "Like, a couple of seconds, I think."
"And that should be enough time?"
"What am I, an expert in surrogate sacrifices?" He snapped. I quickly narrowed my eyes at his lack of patience. He dropped his shoulders to relax. "Sorry, I'm just—"
"Yeah, me too," I shot back. I moved from Isaac to sit on the exam table alone. I crossed my legs and hung my head in my hands as I watched Allison, Stiles, and Scott kick off their shoes and socks.
I could hardly remember the last time I was alone with Stiles. The last conversation we had was interrupted by werewolves with the world's worst timing. To make matters even worse, our last personal conversation was about constipation.
Con-sti-pa-tion.
I have faith that Stiles will come back from this. He was more than a useless human and I needed him more now than ever to prove that. To prove that he was more than baseball bats and piles of research. I know he's more than that. I know he can do this. I know they can do this.
But what if they can't?
What if they can?
What if Deaton is right and they don't come back the same?
This relationship can't handle two hot messes. It can hardly handle one.
What happens when an unstable chemical compound mixes?
"Charles?"
I lifted my head out my hands to see the only person who ever called me that.
Stiles.
Stiles who would soon be lying too still in a too cold tub of water, ice, and mistletoe. "What are you thinking about?" He asked in a quiet voice. His hand went to smooth the deep lines on my face from the frown. His thumb then swept away a tear that I was trying to ignore.
I grabbed his hand from my face to intertwine it with mine. I moved my gaze to our hands instead. "Would you believe me if I said constipation?"
"Would you believe me if I said the same thing?"
I picked my head up again to see a sad, but soft smile on his face. I couldn't help but to grin at that. Another tear slipped but I swept it away before he could. "We're both gonna end up with emotional hemorrhoids." That managed to make us both laugh despite the soon to be grim situation. My smile left my face when I caught a glimpse of the tub again. I took a deep breath and grabbed both of his hands. "Tell me you'll come back."
Stiles gave me a look similar to the one he gave during our last conversation. It was deep. Intimate. Almost too intimate. I was scared to look at it too long. Yet I couldn't look away. He then leaned into me and the cold table that suddenly turned hot. The sounds around me faded into muffled nothings. He truly kissed me as if we were the only two people in the room. This wasn't the kind of kiss that you give someone if you were coming back. The realization only put more tears into my eyes. I wanted to pull him closer. Pull him into me. I wanted him safe forever. With me.
I didn't want it to end.
But it had to.
A watch. A badge. A bullet.
"The three of you will get in. Each of us will hold you down until you're essentially... Well, dead," Deaton explained in his usual tone of calamity. "But it's not just someone to hold you under. It needs to be someone who can pull you back, someone that has a strong connection to you, a kind of emotional tether."
An emotional tether?
Sounds more like a huge, detrimental responsibility. Like, life or death. Something I didn't want to be a part of.
Scott and Stiles were the first to look at each other. That wouldn't work for obvious reasons. Stiles turned to look at me and I couldn't help but to make a face of panic. He made a face of understanding and then looked to Lydia who looked more willing than I did. Not much more, but enough.
Lydia then looked to Allison who nodded in agreement. I wasn't sure what that meant just yet. Allison turned to Scott and then to Isaac. There was feeling of awkwardness that clouded the anxiety in the room. Scott sighed but didn't object. He then looked to Lydia. She still looked more determined than me. Scott then looked to me last. I could only stare back.
Isaac was the first to step in front of the three tubs. We all waited in anticipation to see who he would choose: Allison or Scott. He walked behind Allison to make his choice known. Everyone looked at me next.
With our streak of bad luck, my history with people being underwater, and general doubtfulness in myself, I was confident that I was not cut out to do this. In fact, I was ready to run again. "Is there any way I could, like, be a backup emotional tether? You know, like, a tether to tether—an anchor, if you will," I rambled, as I took a few steps back.
I felt a hand on my back. It wasn't a push, but rather support. I quickly learned that the hand belonged to Lydia. She didn't say anything, but underneath her understanding expression was a hint of disappointment. She went to stand behind Stiles. He looked scared. I wanted to comfort him, but I couldn't back pedal. Deaton went to stand behind Scott.
"Ready?"