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Chapter 9
Henley's head was pounding again. The effort of keeping the power inside her, not unleashing it, was all consuming. She needed to get away from everyone. Away from town.
The only option was back into the woods where she had been attacked. Where Peter had bit her.
Not that anything worse could happen to her. What were the odds a supernatural beast would maul her a second time?
Henley stumbled into the woods. Every sound made her jump. Even sounds she shouldn't be hearing. The movement of a bird's feet on its perch. The rustle of something in the underbrush a quarter mile away.
She pressed her hands to her ears, cursing Peter for what he did to her. Supersonic hearing or whatever this was, was not fun.
She picked up her pace. Lengthened her stride. The grass underfoot rustled so loud it reverberated through her skull.
She broke into a run.
Henley ran over the sloping hills that carried her farther into the woods. She swung her arms, pushing herself harder. The trees blurred as she ran faster. The only sound was her breathing.
She let thoughts of Peter push her harder. Memories of her dad and brother's cutting comments drive her faster. Fear of what she was turned into chase after her.
She ran until her legs ached and her lungs burned. Until her eyes stung from the wind and tears.
She reached the top a hill and doubled over, gasping for breath. Gasping at the pain that she lived with, she had lived with her whole life. She dropped to her knees. The damp ground soaked through her jeans. She let that cool the fire coursing through her veins. Her palms pressed into the earth, a rock cutting into her palm.
She just needed to breathe…to—to catch her breath…
Her fingers curled into the dirt, claws digging in.
#
Peter gunned the engine of his car, letting the sleek vehicle accelerate. He handled the turns easily on the winding highway.
Good riddance to Beacon Hills. To betas. To a phoenix. He would give Henley space, all the space she needed. He had no pressing business tying him to the city. There was a nogitsune farther up the coast who had been a useful companion when he wanted to leave Beacon Hills for a few days and find other…entertainment. And a long legged nogitsune, red hair falling to her waist and dark eyes that spoke of silent seduction sounded much more appealing than some blonde outcast who was one step away from torching Peter.
Besides, the do-gooders of Beacon Hills wouldn't be able to help themselves. They would keep the phoenix under control.
#
"So what do we do?" Stiles asked. He glanced toward the front of the classroom, then leaned in towards Scott again when the teacher turned toward the chalkboard again. "Do we just listen to Peter? Because that doesn't seem like it's going to end well for anyone."
Scott frowned. "Derek said maybe it would be better for her to have some space."
"Yeah," Stiles snorted, then glanced forward again and lowered his voice. "Of course he said that. The dark master isn't exactly the type to pull someone close and cuddle."
"Cuddle?" Scott asked, his mouth twitching.
"You know what I mean." Stiles thought of the angry young woman. He shuddered slightly at the thought of getting close to her at all.
"Is she really that bad?" Isaac whispered, turning in his chair.
"Not if you don't mind third degree burns," Stiles said. Not that he blamed her for lashing out at him and Scott. Their first impression hadn't exactly been a good one. It would be easier if she didn't know Scott was a werewolf. And hadn't met them when she was duct taped and held captive in Scott's room. He sighed. Isaac was frowning. Isaac…
"Heeeeey, Isaac," Stiles said.
"What?" Isaac looked over at him.
"Isaac, buddy. Friend. Pal." Stiles grinned at him.
Issac drew back slightly and looked over at Scott.
"You like meeting new people don't you?" Stiles asked. "Making new friends?"
"What are you talking about?"
Stiles ignored Isaac's question and spoke to Scott instead. "We need someone to keep an eye on Henley, right?"
"Yeah," Scott agreed, but it was clear to Stiles that he had no idea where Stiles was leading with this.
"Someone she hasn't met."
"Yeah," Scott said slowly.
"Someone she doesn't realize is a werewolf." Stiles looked back at Isaac and this time Scott looked at him, too.
"Yeah," Scott said, understanding dawning.
"So what do you say, Isaac?" Stiles asked.
"About what?"
"About meeting our local neighborhood phoenix? And then making sure she doesn't burn down the neighborhood."
Isaac frowned briefly.
"Look, it will be easy. Just meet her, don't let her know what you are, and make sure she doesn't kill anyone."
"Is that all?" Isaac said drily.
A sound from the front of the classroom jerked their attention back to their teacher.
"I hope I'm not keeping you gentlemen from something more important than math," he said.
"Nah, you're fine, Mr. Keenan. Thanks for asking," Stiles said. He grimaced at the expression on the math teacher's face. "We'll just get back to our practice questions," he said.
He ducked his head back down toward his paper, and waited for the teacher to be focused on the problems he was writing on the board again.
"Isaac," Stiles whispered. "Isaac," he hissed.
Isaac turned in his seat, brows lowered in annoyance.
"So you'll do it?"
Isaac stared at Stiles. Then looked to Scott. With a heavy sigh he gave a slight nod and turned back around.
"That's the spirit, buddy," Stiles whispered, giving Isaac a pat on the shoulder.
Isaac growled slightly and Stiles quickly withdrew his hand.
#
Henley wrapped her arms around herself. She shivered slightly, the day cooling as the sun set. The chill was a welcome change from the heat that had chased her most of the day.
She stumbled slightly, exhausted, overwhelmed, hungry. She made it over another rise, not sure where she was. She had no idea how far into the woods she was anymore. If she was even still within the boundaries of Beacon Hills.
She looked down the hill and saw a structure looming in the dark.
It was as good a direction to head as any. She made her way down the hill, keeping her eyes on the house in the distance. Its windows were dark, lifeless.
She listened carefully for any sound that might be coming from within as she approached, but didn't hear anything.
When she got close enough, she saw it wasn't an entire house. Not really. Just the charred shell of one.
Henley let out a snort, the irony not lost on her. A burned out building seemed appropriate.
She approached cautiously, avoiding the front door. On the side of the building was a basement window, its glass long gone.
Listening again for any life within, she lowered herself down and looked inside. There was nothing but the remnants of a basement.
Deciding it was better than wandering the woods any longer, she eased herself through the blackened window frame, dropping down to the concrete, her shoes crunching against the rubble she landed on.
She took a step, then froze.
Peter?
She turned quickly, but there was no one behind her. Her eyes had long since adjusted to the dark interior, the moonlight left outside, and she scanned the basement. Nothing. There was nothing—no one—there. But it was like she could feel Peter's presence all around her.
"Great," she muttered. She was losing her mind. Feeling him with her when he was nowhere near. And, worse than that, some part of her—a stupid, emotional, vulnerable part—wanted him near.
She felt the tingling start in her fingers and didn't fight it this time. She embraced the heat and let the flames form, hurtling the fireball across the basement with a shout of fury. She wished she was launching the flames at Peter. She wished she wasn't lonely.
She wished she wasn't realizing how alone she was, for the first time in her life.
#
Peter held the door open for the beautiful kitsune. She looked over her shoulder at him, a flash of gold light in them just for him before she dimmed them back to brown. She sashayed languidly through the restaurant door, her sequined dress skimming long legs.
Peter followed after her. They wouldn't need reservations. His money was as good as a reservation and the maître d led them to a banquette in the farthest corner.
Peter slid into the leather seat next to her and told the waiter who approached to bring the house wine.
"I was glad you called," Gemma purred, trailing a finger over his shoulder.
Peter turned slightly so he was facing her. "I was glad you answered." Not that she wouldn't have. They had a loose arrangement. Peter called, she answered, and they spent a weekend satisfying one another's more primal needs. Peter had no illusions she didn't have the same arrangement with any other number of men, and he had a handful of other women—werecoyotes, werewolves, a druid—he could pass time with when the mood struck.
Gemma leaned in closer. "Let's make this meal quick. I'm hungry for dessert."
Subtlety wasn't Gemma's strong suit.
Peter felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Ignoring it would be the most prudent choice. It stopped buzzing.
He stretched his arm out across the back of the booth behind Gemma, bringing his face closer to hers.
His phone came to life again.
An annoyed sigh escaped and gave Gemma a look intended to tell her this was only a momentary annoyance.
"What?" he answered.
"We can't find Henley." Scott McCall's voice came through the line.
"Thank you for the update. I don't care," Peter said.
"Peter," Scott said, delaying Peter ending the call. "She won't answer her phone. She's not at her apartment. She could be in trouble."
"And if she is, it is most certainly of her own making."
"Look, can you just try calling her?" the kid asked. "Please?"
"And what makes you think she would take my calls when she won't take yours?"
There was a pause, then Scott admitted. "She blocked our numbers. Stiles found her number and she's blocked all of us."
"Smart move." One Peter wished he had thought of himself. "Good bye, Scott."
He ended the call and turned his phone off, sliding it back into his pocket. He turned back to Gemma. But now he didn't see her dark eyes. He was thinking of gray eyes. Blunt cut white blonde hair. A short, petite frame instead of a leggy redhead.
Stifling a sigh, he pulled away from Gemma again. "I need to make a call. Hold that thought."
Gemma pouted, but let Peter leave the booth.
Peter turned on his phone and saw text from Scott. A phone number. He moved to let a couple through the restaurant door and stepped outside.
He dialed the number. It rang and then a feminine voice said to leave a message. No frills, nothing cute, just a message to the point. Peter appreciated that. He didn't appreciate her not answering. Not when Scott and his pack were apparently scrambling to find her. Apparently they weren't taking Derek's advice of giving her space. Not that it mattered. It was terrible advice.
Peter dialed again and again got Henley's voicemail. "It's Peter. Call me," he said.
He had done what he could and wasn't inclined to do much more. He told himself she was fine. No one had said anything about an unexplained fire or destruction. He frowned then tapped out a text.
Where are you?
He had tried. If Henley didn't answer, that was her choice. Maybe she was on her way to her family. One eyebrow twitched with interest at the thought of her father—a merciless hunter—coming face to face with his daughter turned to a supernatural.
He hoped she burned them.
#
Derek stood, no response moving his face.
"Come one, Derek, you know she can't be left on her own," Scott said.
Liam watched the two alphas face each other. He looked over at Isaac. Isaac didn't look concerned. Nerves started to prick at Liam's stomach.
"What happens if she's left alone?" Liam asked.
Both older wolves turned to look at him.
"She's less pressured, and can control her powers better," Derek said.
"Or," Stiles broke in, "she starts burning everything in her path and the entire population of Beacon Hills dies a fiery death." Scott frowned at Stiles and Stiles held up his hands. "I'm just saying."
"That doesn't sound good," Liam said.
"You think?" Malia snorted.
"She's also probably terrified," Kira added. "Can you imagine having these powers you didn't ask for and no idea what you're supposed to do?"
"Yes," Scott and Liam answered in unison.
Liam thought of how panicked he had been with everything that was taking him over after Scott bit him. And how he hadn't wanted anything to do with Scott. But they hadn't left him on his own.
"What are you suggesting?" Derek finally asked.
Liam saw the way Scott's shoulders dropped slightly, the relief at Derek listening to his concerns. He had known Scott was worried about the phoenix everyone kept talking about, but hadn't realized how frightened Scott actually was of her on her own.
"We have Isaac keep an eye on her. She doesn't know him, what he is. He just meets her and makes sure she's ok."
Liam looked over at Isaac. Isaac didn't sound surprised by the plan, but he was watching Derek for his reaction. Derek turned to Isaac.
"You want to do this?"
Isaac shrugged a shoulder. "I mean, it's better than just waiting for something to go up in flames. And she's kind of cute."
Everyone stared at him.
"I saw her at the record store where she works," Isaac said.
"And you're in high school. She's not," Derek reminded him.
Isaac straightened from the table he was leaning against. "Right. I didn't mean…" He looked at Derek's face. "I'll just keep an eye on her. That's it."
Another beat passed before Derek finally looked away from him. He gave Scott a nod.
Liam let out a sigh of relief. He didn't even know this girl, but he didn't like thinking of her alone and scared.
#