Author's note: set in 1x02.
Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf. No financial gain is made from this. This is for entertainment purposes only.
"Imogene!" I heard Kenneth call my name. I came down the ladder and met him at the door.
"Good morning, Kenneth," I told him with a smile.
"Newspaper," he laughed, motioning to the eleven newspapers by his feet.
"Yes, about that… I don't want the newspapers anymore, Kenneth."
"What?"
"I, um… I said I don't need the newspapers anymore. Thank you for all these years, but I won't need you to bring me those anymore."
"Why?" he asked, confused, so his thick eyebrows almost touched.
I shrugged. "It's not my thing anymore."
"I have to say that it really saddens me, Imogene," Kenneth said, "One last hug?"
I laughed. "Kenneth, we'll see each other. It's not like I'm leaving Beacon Hills." I hugged the man. "I'll miss you here every morning, old man."
He laughed in his adorable Santa laugh. "I'll miss you too, young lady. Don't break many hearts."
"I don't make any promises!" I shouted back.
My father stared at me. "You don't want any newspapers?"
I shrugged. "I figured I have better things to occupy my time with."
"Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?"
I chuckled, dusting off some upper shelves. "It's not such a big deal. I just realized there's more to life than meddling in other people's business."
"Did something happen?" Parents and their innate ability to read their progeny like an open book.
"I have been thinking… about what you told me, about college…"
His dark eyes brightened. "You have decided anything yet?"
"I don't know. I suppose I wouldn't mind studying Law or Psychology…"
My father smiled. "Psychology! That's a new one! I like it. I think my second cousin studied Psychology… or it was your aunt Clementine?"
I rolled my eyes. "I'm not promising anything. I'll just take a look at some universities and such…"
"I'll bring you information," my father said.
"Dad, you don't have to." I smiled. "And I have retrieved the book from Stiles. I'll deliver it to Chris Argent after we close, if you don't mind."
"No, not at all." My father kissed my right temple. I hadn't seen him so proud in years. "I have the best daughter."
I smiled at him, but somehow it felt forced.
I didn't give the book to Chris Argent that day.
Not that I didn't want to; I had forgotten to take it with me when I left home that morning.
The next day, however, I decided to go to the Argents before my father opened the bookstore, that is, very early.
And what other thing it is delivered very early? Newspapers.
And thus, I found myself staring at the newspaper laying on the Argent's grass, clutching the red book.
I read the article another time.
'Hair found on dead body confirmed to be animal hair…' '… the hair belongs to a member of the Canidae family…' '… hair confirmed to be from a wolf…'.
The front door of the Argent house opened and I hid the book behind my back.
Chris Argent exited, along a girl a few years younger than me, but much more beautiful.
"Imogene! Good Morning! What brings you here?" he said.
I shrugged, trying to calm my nerves. "Not much."
"Have you met my daughter, Allison?"
"I don't think so. Nice to meet you, Allison."
The girl smiled the sweetest smile. "You too."
"There was anything you needed? I have to drop Allison off at school or she'll be late," Chris said.
"Um, I just came to inform you that my father hasn't found the book you wanted yet, but that he's working on it," I told him. And of course, I failed to keep my mouth shut. "Is there any chance you wouldn't want any other similar book?"
"Oh, no. That book is very special. I don't think there's any other similar book out there."
I whistled. "It sounds like a really interesting book. What makes it so special?"
"Well, it's really old. A limited edition, you could say." I frowned. I could have sworn I used those same words a few days ago. "I'm afraid I have to go. Thank your father. Goodbye, Imogene."
I squinted as I saw them leave in their SUV. I inspected the book in my hands.
People use to underestimate books. They are paper and ink and little more. They are fragile, they grow old as people, their words fade away.
But in that moment, standing in the middle of the street, I felt like that simple worn book was the key to much bigger things and my father's words echoed in my mind 'Never underestimate the power of knowledge'.
Wednesday saw me revisiting the red book. I was sure I had read every single word several times by now. As I was sure some important detail was evading me.
The book provided an interesting take on werewolves. It explained in detail the way a pack was formed and the hierarchy beneath it. From Alpha to Omega, the lone wolf. It also spoke about the different ways of being turned into a wolf and the existence of entire families of natural born werewolves. A whole chapter was dedicated to werewolves' powers: enhanced speed, strength, healing…
But it all belonged to fantasy and myths.
How was this supposed to help me solve a crime?
Yes, I had reverted to my old habits and I was dead set on shedding some light on the Hale's business. As long as I could keep away from Derek Hale, I would be fine.
My encounter in the hospital with him had indeed had an effect on me. Instead of taking up again my investigation from the point I left it, I took a turn to a new perspective. If I couldn't continue digging up into the Hale's fire, I would focus on the other elements of the diagram.
The bell by the door alerted my presence in the bookshop. Mia was by the counter, chewing gum and reading a magazine. "You are late. Why? You are never late," she said.
"I had things to do."
She looked up. "You look like shit," she informed me, though I already knew it. I hadn't slept in two days, spending my nights in translating Latin parts from the book.
"I know." I sat in a stool beside her, careful not drop my bag. I didn't want the crystal tubes filled with aconitum to break. I had picked up a thing or two about werewolves from the book.
"What have you been up to?" she asked.
"You wouldn't believe me."
"Try me."
"I'm starting to believe werewolves might be real."
She gawked at me. "And that's why you never get a boyfriend."
I ignored her. "Mia, what do you know about Stiles Stilinsky?"
She casted me a naughty smile. "Why do you want to know? You have a crush or something?"
I rolled my eyes. "Or something. Say, what do you know?"
"Well, he's a nerd. He plays lacrosse… well, more like sits on the bench. Not very good grades. He's in love with Lydia Martin, school's queen bee, who is dating the hottest boy-"
"Mia," I interrupted her. "Focus."
"Best friend is Scott McCall, who just discovered that is a pro at lacrosse…"
I narrowed my eyes. "What do you mean 'just discovered'?"
She waved a hand vaguely. "It's weird, actually. All these past years he was the worst player ever. And I mean it. He was really bad. Asthmatic and uncoordinated. I don't even know how he got into the team. And this year, he happens to be the best player. You should see him." She sighted dreamily. "He's even better than Jackson."
I chuckled. "You make it sound like he got superpowers."
"Kind of." She returned her attention to the magazine. "Anyway, he's now dating the new girl, Alice or Alisha or something…"
I leant forward. "Allison? Allison Argent?"
Mia snapped her fingers. "That's it. Allison! Do you know her?" She didn't wait for my answer. "A shame, if you ask me. Scott could do much better. He's quite handsome, you know. Charming… oh, look! Photos of Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart going for a walk!"
"Mia."
"Aren't they cute?"
"Mia."
"He's too good for her."
"Mia."
"I'm more beautiful."
"Mia!"
"What?!" she snapped back.
"You usually go to the lacrosse games, don't you?"
"Yes, of course, the hottest guys always go."
"When is the next game?"
"This Saturday. Cody is taking me." She giggled.
"I'll go with you."
"No."
I frowned. "No? No what?"
"No, you can't come. It's a date! You don't bring your friends to a date unless you don't want anything with the boy. And believe me," she snickered, "I want something with Cody. Lots of things. "
"C'mon Mia. You're always complaining I don't want to go out with you…"
She hesitated. I didn't like a bit her wicked smile. "Okay, with two conditions."
I nodded.
"One, I get to give you a makeover."
I made a face. "Fine."
"And two, it's a double date. You go with Cody's friend Paul."
I groaned.
"Don't look so gloom. He's nice."
I buried my face in my hands. The things I do for curiosity.
Finding information about the Argents proved to be more difficult than I had expected. And trust me, I had expected it to be very difficult.
Luckily, Mia was a social animal and she had practically the whole population of Beacon Hills with access to internet added on facebook. It wasn't difficult to hack into her account when her password was '123456789Mia'.
Through that, I found out that Allison Argent had barely lived more than a year in the same place. After that, I checked online news from each one of those places she has lived on. Some fires near where she lived caught my attention, but nothing important enough to draw conclusions.
If the Argents were behind those crimes, they were very careful and methodical.
So I had to be even more methodical and spent my day researching the Argent family history. Somehow I ended in the library, reading about 'the Beast of Gévaudan'. Those years studying French and holidays in Paris, all under the wishes of my mother, paid off.
I let out a small shout of excitement when I found a direct connection with the Argent family. They were descendant of the hunter that killed the beast, described as a wolf like creature.
Several heads turned towards me, since I couldn't stay still. Suddenly everything seemed to click together. I dropped my head and took my notebook. After scribbling some final notes, I headed home.
The streets were quiet as I travelled them on my bicycle. I was soon overwhelmed by restleness and nervousness, but I pegged it to my natural frightful nature. I used to avoid going out so late at night, but I hadn't notice time pass as I learnt more and more about the Argents and werewolves.
You know that feeling when you're being watched? Well, it is much more unnerving when you are out alone, you cannot find what is following you and you just discovered that werewolves might or might not be real.
I sped up to the point that my calves hurt. I could already see my house.
And then it retreated. I could sense it. Going away, the feeling of safety taking over.
I could barely keep my hands from shaking to open the door. Once inside, I closed it and rested against it, trying to catch my breath.
"Sweetheart, are you okay?" my mother asked from the living room. She was watching some romantic comedy while my father read.
"Yes," I stammered. "I got a little carried away with the bike."
"Great," she said. "You could join me next time I go jogging."
I let out a puff of air. "I'll think about it."
I went upstairs to my room, tied my short hair and took a chalk.
This time the diagram I drew was different.
In the right side it read 'Werewolves' and in the left 'Hunters'.
Weekends were always welcomed with joy and anticipation. Not only because it meant I didn't have to work – minus some days we used to do a bookstore clean-up -, but also because the Wise family got to spent some quality time together.
This usually came in the form of my mother dragging my father and me to do her every wish; shopping, hanging around her brainless friends, picnics, trips to other cities… It was sometimes excruciating, but other times it could turn out real fun.
Like today. Today my mom had decided that we should put some order in the attic and remember old times with photos, useless stuff and worn out clothes.
I rolled over the dusty floor, bent half in laugh as my father tried on some old tight leather pants and matching jacket.
"Tell me that isn't yours!" I exclaimed.
My father looked at himself on a cracked mirror. "It still fits."
"Those were dark times for fashion," my mom said. "It was cool back then. Your father used to have this bad boy vibe thing that was really attractive."
"Dad? Bad boy?" I snorted.
"Hey, I used to ride a bike!"
"And he had long hair," my mom added before her pager went off. We saw her grab her phone, which never abandoned her side, and call. "Hi… yes, it's me… murder, you say?... Derek Hale?... No, I don't remember it… Alright, I'll be there in thirty minutes." She hung up. "I need to go. Duty calls me," she sang song.
I rose. "I'll go with you."
"No, no. I can't take you there," she said, grabbing her stuff.
I followed her into her room. I knew I had at least fifteen minutes to convince her while she put on makeup. "Mom, I have been thinking about going to Law school. But I'm not sure. This is the perfect chance to get a feeling of it."
"No, Mimi. I'll take you other day."
"But mom…"
"Why don't you take her? If you take her on a boring day she won't want anything to do with college," my father agreed.
"It could be dangerous."
"It's a police station! It's filled with cops. It's the safest place in Beacon Hills," I told her.
She finished putting on her contact lenses before turning to me, hands on her hips. "Okay, but I'm leaving in five minutes, better be ready by that time or I'm leaving without you."
I smiled widely. "Thank you, mom." I kissed her cheek and ran to my bedroom.
Ten minutes later I was still waiting for her by the door.
I paced.
Since we arrived my mom had been talking with Derek Hale in a locked room. No one was allowed inside. That meant me. Since then I had gone through sitting in silence, tapping my fingers over my knees, reading every poster and paper on the police station walls and finally pacing.
I needed to find a way to get inside and face Derek Hale or my trip to the police station would prove useless. And now, talking with Derek Hale was crucial to my investigation.
"Coffee?" the policewoman at the front desk asked me.
If I took some coffee now I would turn into a rabid chipmunk. No thanks, my nerves were bad enough. I glanced at the closed door and my bag filled with aconitum. "Yes, please."
With a shot of coffee and sugar my pacing turned into almost running. I collided once with a policeman, who dropped a bunch of papers. Formularies, I noticed as I helped him pick them up. Suddenly, I got an idea. A very bright stupid idea. I took several formularies with me.
"Thank you very much," the young policeman smiled.
"You're welcome."
God, when had I become such a criminal? This was nothing like me, little coward bookworm Imogene. But the adrenaline was back and my tension was sky-high and I needed to do this. This past week of no sleep and translating old texts deserved it.
Three hours spent my mother inside with Derek Hale. Whatever he said, my mother didn't like it.
"Mom-" I walked to her.
"Later, Mimi," she said and went straight to the Sheriff's office. Yes, he had pissed her off badly.
I snuck a glance at the door, guarded by a cop. I closed my eyes and tried to convince myself that I could do this. It didn't work but I went with it nonetheless.
"Excuse me," I said to the policewoman, "can you tell me where the bathroom is?"
"Yes, third door on the right."
"Thank you."
I grabbed my bag and marched towards the bathroom. I didn't get to open the door and moved towards the room where Derek was kept.
Of course, the guard didn't approve of me being there. "No one can go inside."
I took the papers the other policeman had dropped and thrust them in front of his face so I almost slapped him with them. "Do you have any idea what these are?"
"No," he stuttered.
"These are some very important papers the detainee has to sign," I growled at him. "Let me in now or Diana Wise will have your head on a spike."
"Only she can go inside if he is to sign anything." I had to give him some credit.
"Look, I'm her daughter and a Law student. She has sent me herself to do it." He stared at me, I tried not to flinch. "It will be only five minutes."
"Only five minutes?"
"Maybe less."
He sighted and opened the door for me and closed it behind.
It was then when I realized that this was definitely a bad idea. Derek Hale was intimidating even when handcuffed.
He looked up and grunted when he saw me. "What are you doing here? I told you to leave me alone."
"Relax," I told him, trying to mask my discomfort and fear with a new found cockiness fueled by the adrenaline. "I just came here so you can sign a few papers. My mother is your attorney and she sent me."
I scattered the papers in front of him. I hadn't even read what they were about and I hoped he wouldn't. He didn't take his eyes from me, so I began to cherish some hope.
And now, the final trick. My only ace. The all-in.
I took the golden pen from my bag and handed it to him.
"What are these about?" he asked.
"Um, you know, your regular juridical stuff." He flicked an eyebrow, so I elaborated, "it says that you accept my mother as your lawyer and you'll tell her the truth and things like that…" He narrowed his eyes and kept glaring at me. I could feel my heart beating frenetically against my chest. "Oh, sign it already, for God's sake, so I can leave."
That seemed a good enough prospect, because he took the pen. My eyes widened in anticipation.
He looked up. "Where do I have to sign?"
I sighted frustrated and pointed at random blank spaces. "Here, here, here and here."
He pursued his lips and his jaw tightened. He fixed me a last hostile glare before putting down the pen to sign.
My nails dug into the palms of my hands under the table. A dormant instinct kicked in and told me to prepare to run for what was to come.
He looked up and I could have killed him.
He cocked his head slightly to one side and sneered. "Did you really think I was going to be as stupid as to sign with a wolfsbane filled pen?"
My blood freeze.
I glanced at the closed metallic door. Would the policeman be so quick as to come inside and save me?
Think quick, act faster.
"That's what plan B is for," I said and smashed one full vial of wolfsbane on the table. I sat up and moved to the further wall of the room from him, the one behind me. It had been surely the most daring thing I had done in my whole life. But I hadn't time to pat myself in the back, as something out of my worst nightmares developed in front of my eyes.
I didn't know where to look, if at the growing claws, the bared fangs or the glowing blue eyes. I was paralyzed by terror and wonder.
And just then I realized my plan sucked. I hadn't thought what I would do if Derek indeed was a werewolf because I didn't fathom the idea that werewolves could be more than creatures from novels and fairytales.
Think quick, act faster.
I couldn't let anyone find me in a locked room with a werewolf who was, by the way, charged with murder, and a table dripping with poison. I took off my cardigan, prayed it was thick enough and draped it over the table, taking with it the soaked papers and trying to clean the surface.
Derek had already regained some control, but seemed to be fighting to stay human.
"This is not going to work," I muttered. What if my mother came in next and leant over an aconitum soaked table?
"Move back," Derek snarled.
I obliged. And he hit the table. With his bare arms. And the metallic table bent in an acute angle. I yelled. He then took it by the legs and threw it up against the ceiling. Bits of it fell. The door opened. He looked almost as frightened as I felt.
The policeman, and its two companions, aimed their guns at him. He raised his hands.
"The ceiling fell!" he exclaimed, pointing to the rubble and the destroyed table.
Very smart.
"Don't move!" the policeman shouted.
I saw the scene almost like an outsider. I thought about those articles I had read about shock, but my mind was in override and I couldn't process any coherent thought.
In the distance, I heard my mother scream. And the Sheriff.
"What happened?" he asked. I knew Derek needed me to play my part for this to work.
"The ceiling fell!" I yelled. I took my bag and put my jacket on it quickly, rushing out of the room between bewildered cops. "It all happened so suddenly! One moment it was up and the next it was down!" I was being loud and flailing my arms. I didn't care if everything that came out of my mouth sounded dumb; it was supposed to. Less questions.
"Calm down, calm down, Mimi," my mother shook me, her hands firm in my shoulders. "I'll take you home. Wait here."
I sat by the front desk draped in a blanket some policeman had given me. Ten minutes later, I sat in my mother's expensive SUV.
Her driving had never been the best, but I knew she was agitated by the way the car lunged forward violently.
Eventually, she turned her head towards me. "Why were you there?"
I considered playing dumb, but my mom was already too furious. I looked down, ashamed. I hated lying to my mother, but she wouldn't understand. No one would understand if I tried to tell him or her that I had seen a werewolf. "I wanted to interrogate him about the fire."
She hit the steering wheel with balled fists. "Damn it, Imogene! Don't you understand that you can't go around interrogating potential murderers? Taking delight in other people's pain? Their tragedy is not for your amusement!"
I kept quiet. Somehow I knew she was right.
"You are not an investigator! You're only obsessed with crime and mystery novels, but you have to realize that books are not reality. This behavior has to stop!"
I casted my eyes down and nodded.
"You are grounded and if I ever see you near anything remotely related to the Hales, prepare yourself, young lady," my mom sentenced.
I jumped in my seat. "But mom, today's the lacrosse game. I promised Mia I'll go with her!"
"Well, that was before my daughter decided to lie to the authorities to talk about God-knows-what with a murder suspect."
"I'm twenty one years old! You can no longer ground me."
She snorted. "Oh, as long as you live under my roof, I can ground you, and I will."
I crossed my arms and glared at the passing houses.
Well, now I had more time to think about what to make of Derek Hale being a mythical creature.
Derek Hale turned a taboo issue in my home.
The moment his name was brought up my mom grimaced and her mood turned sour. So we didn't talk about him.
The only time he had been topic of conversation was after he was released and when my mother had explained to my father why I couldn't leave his sight. The official version was that I had wanted to get a feeling of the attorney's life and had ventured to interrogate the man. It didn't differ that much from what truly happened. Minus the werewolf thing, of course.
I didn't know how to feel about Derek Hale's release. This aggravated when I learnt that the reason behind it was animal hair found on the body. And that the body belonged to Laura Hale.
I tried to rationalize it, but it didn't make sense. From my knowledge derived from the red book, werewolves were very protective of their packs and the only chance of one of them attacking another was in a fight for power.
If Laura Hale was to have power over Derek, it would mean that she must have been superior in the hierarchy, which could only mean that she must have been an Alpha. If she were a Beta, and Derek an Omega, he wouldn't have achieved anything by killing her except possibly pissing off an Alpha, which wasn't favorable and a stupid thing to do.
But the image of those glowing eyes was burnt in my mind, and even in the craziness that ensued, I could tell they were blue. Not red, not Alpha.
Which brought me to the next consideration: why? Every killer has a motive. Even serial killers have a motive, even when their motive is to get satisfaction from killing. And Derek Hale didn't sound like the type to vanish his whole family without a purpose. And following the hypothesis that the Hale family was a born-werewolf family, it was way more logical to think that it was the family with a hunters' background who disappeared after the fire who did it, instead of a member of the own pack.
To keep it simple, the death of his whole family, besides emotionally painful, was nothing but drawbacks for Derek Hale. Werewolves were stronger in packs, so it meant a lost in power. Werewolves were protective of their kind, so it meant a crime against his own nature.
But the clues suggested that Laura Hale was murdered by a werewolf. If we ruled out Derek Hale as the murderer, it meant that there must be other werewolf in Beacon Hills. And Mia was the key. I remembered our conversation prior to the lacrosse game and my scene at the police station.
She had led me to believe that Scott McCall was another werewolf. That's why I had wanted to go to the lacrosse game to begin with. And it made sense. Scott dated Allison Argent. The Argents were hunters and wanted the werewolves eradicated. They burnt the Hale's residence six years ago and almost succeed. Except that Derek, Laura and Peter survived.
Now they were back to finish their job. And what better way than by means of a werewolf. It was brilliant! People wouldn't question their presence in the town and the murders if the deaths were to be declared as an animal attack.
It could only mean one thing. Scott McCall was a werewolf helping the Argents in killing off the remaining survivors from the Hale's fire. That's why he was the one that found the body buried in the Hale's house. They had wanted to frame Derek with murder.
I tried to find information about humans controlling werewolves in the red book, but came empty handed. I concluded that Scott must be helping them so he could date Allison. Or maybe even as a truce pact so the hunters didn't make him their prey.
I looked at the blackboard. The words 'Dead girl', 'Werewolves', 'Argent family' and 'Hale's fire' were written again, but this time, they were all connected.
I smirked.
The questions were finally meeting answers. Crime was shaping into war and mystery was turning into supernatural.
And I was now in the middle of it all.
And it scared me.
Did you know?
The name 'Imogen' first appears in Cymbeline, a play by William Shakespeare. 'Imogene' is just a variation of 'Imogen'.
