Hello long, lost friends! I cannot believe it has been about FOUR YEARS! As a general update, (hopefully quick notice and slight plea for understanding) I had a TON happen to me the last few years. Beyond COVID, which I hope everyone and all of your loved ones are doing well, I have had a couple of promotions AND got engaged. Crazy... I'm old now, you guys!
Regardless, I have never forgotten about this story, Charlie or the amazing people Fanfiction has graciously allowed me to connect with.
I sincerely hope each and every single one of you are doing well, THRIVING and are happy / healthy.
So without further (4-year-gap) ado, chapter FOUR of Blood Moon is here!
I may be a bit rusty, but at ALWAYS, feedback is much appreciate for this particular writer and story-teller. LOVE YOU ALL ENDLESSLY 3
PS - It's Hell-ah good to be back :D
- Block ITALIX are flashbacks to Charlie's "lovely" time with dear, old Auntie Ava... hehe (MORE TO COME)
CHAPTER FOUR: FIGHT LIKE GODS
It's like an earthquake.
You sense the destruction before you can actually see it.
Something stirs from way out in the distance, the vibrations so subtle they're almost negligible. But soon enough, this impending threat moves closer. It grows stronger and stronger, commanding your attention as the very ground shifts beneath your feet.
Yet as soon as this danger becomes palpable, the instant the world begins to splinter, it's already too late.
Devastation has come, swallowing up everyone and everything in its wake, leaving nothing but infinite darkness behind.
I have felt this before, the looming presence of death.
It was there the night I went to rescue Stiles from Gerard Argent, as well as the evening of Winter Formal. I recall its icy breath fanning my neck as my peers and I escaped school the night Peter nearly pushed Scott to murder, or how it squeezed the air from my lungs once I realized Laura would never return our phone calls.
Yes, I had grown quite accustomed to this sensation during my time as a werewolf; however, it was Ava that made me see the truth: the Bite never granted me this uncanny ability.
Super speed and strength, unnaturally quick healing, the claws, the fangs, the fur. That was all part of my father's lineage, the Hale family curse.
But the clairvoyant nature of my powers, the way I could sense danger as it approached from miles away, feel its thunderous footsteps long before others even noticed that the earth had cracked open and devoured them whole, that was a gift passed down amongst the Lorccán tribe's females.
That rite, as Ava called it, belonged solely to a völva, and it was my last connection to my mother. It was also the only reason my dear aunt didn't shoot me dead the instant I stepped foot on Tuscarora Reservation.
"Stupid half-breed. We do not kill our own," Ava's caustic words bounced around my brain as I impatiently stared out the large wall of windows in Derek's loft. "Though I know that concept is foreign to something like you."
Half-breed: one of the lovely descriptors that woman used when referencing my very existence.
Then there was mutt, mongrel, abomination…
"Hey freak," Peter's grating voice interrupted my personal ruminations. "It's 5pm. Where's your merry band of outcasts?"
"They'll be here," Derek replied for me, casting the recently resurrected werewolf a warning look, which he merely shrugged off.
"You sure about that?"
My cousin emitted an exasperated sigh: "What are you getting at?"
"This is more of a suicide mission than a rescue mission, right? So why would Scott risk his life for Erica and Boyd? They were never part of his pack, and it's not like he exactly trusts the two of you," his steely gaze landed on my sour form. "Not that I blame him."
I growled, eyes flashing precariously, but before my father could fit in another jab, we heard both teens' voices as they clamored up the staircase.
"O-okay, but… what would a pack of alphas… want with Erica and Boyd?" Stilinski huffed and puffed. "Do you… do you think they're recruiting or something?"
"I don't know."
"Do you think they… kidnapped Heather? To… turn her?"
"Maybe. Derek did say it's easier to turn teenagers," McCall responded thoughtfully as they reached the landing, their heavy footsteps falling silent. "But I just don't get it. Why would a pack of alphas need three betas?"
Good question.
Why were they taking betas?
If I were them, I'd be focused on eliminating the biggest threat. Well, maybe 'closest competition' since we're talking about Derek here, but still…
Striding past my cousin and father, I made a point to ram into the latter on my way to the emergency stairwell.
"S-Scott. I don't know… and I don't care. All right?" Stilinski was apparently still quite winded. 'Tthis girl… our moms were best friends before mine died, okay? We used to take fricken bubble baths together when we were three. I gotta find…"
His breathless and urgent pleas halted the instant I opened the door, my lazy gaze drifting from the red-faced boy's perspiring form to his unphased counterpart.
Stepping aside and allowing them admittance, I arched a brow as I pointed at the freight elevator just beside me: "You know you could have just used that, right?"
Hunched over as he gasped for air, Stiles let out a string of swears and shot his buddy a vexed gaze: "They have… an elevator?"
"Um, yeah," Scott chuckled sheepishly. "I guess so."
"Stellar observational skills. Really," I dryly quipped, plucking the bundle of papers from Stilinski's arms before addressing the larger group: "Shall we get started?"
Blueprints snatched away almost instantly, Stiles bounced towards the table, clumsily unfurling the large sheets and laying them flat.
"Okay, you guys see this?" he pointed at a rather unimpressive section on the building's roof. "That's how they got in. It's a rooftop air conditioning vent. Leads down into the wall of the vault, which is ugh… which is," Stiles fumbled around with the papers excitedly, "is here!"
"Okay, but how did they actually get into the vault? Looks like a great place to get trapped and starve to death," I mused aloud.
"Or suffocate," Derek added thoughtfully.
Stilinski was not the least bit amused as he pulled out a red Sharpie and continued, now tracing his thought process onto the paperwork.
"One of the robbers was lowered into this shaft," he ran the marker down our point of entry to the vault wall. "And this space is so small, it took him about 12 hours to drill through that wall, which is solid stone, by the way," he scribbled within the gap until it was solid red. "Then, throughout the rest of the night, they siphoned the cash up to the guys on the roof," his ADHD was in full affect now, his scribbles quickly covering most of the page. "Boom!"
And before the hyperactive dork could draw one more line on the document, I yanked the Sharpie from his triumphant hands, earning myself yet another glower from the human.
"What? We still need to be able to read this thing, don't we?"
Caramel eyes drifting from my flat face to the no longer blueprints, Stilinski then conceded, shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down at his sneakers.
I bit my cheek and swallowed my amusement.
"Can we fit in there?" Scott asked, brows knitted together.
"Yes, we can, but very, very barely," Stiles' head shot back up, his embarrassment short-lived. "And they also patched the wall, obviously, so we're gonna need a drill of some kind. I'm thinking maybe a diamond bit…"
"Forget the drill," my cousin silenced the boy's premature tangent.
"S-sorry?"
"If I go in first, how much space do I have?" I could see the wheels turning behind those forest green eyes.
Stiles let out a loud snort: "What do you think you're gonna do, Derek? You gonna punch through the wall?"
"Yes, Stiles. I'm going to punch through the wall," he responded through clenched teeth.
"Okay, big guy," Stilinski unwisely goaded the Alpha, squaring up to him with a challenging tone. "Let's see it. Let's see that big ol' fist. Make it. Come on. Don't be scared."
McCall ran an exasperated hand through his hair, knowing full well that his best friend was setting himself up for failure; and while he seemed nervous, I was quite eager to see what would happen. Even Peter watched on with an air of interest.
At this point, Derek rolled his eyes and lifted his fist.
"Big, bad wolf. Yeah," Stiles lifted his own hand, holding it up a couple of inches from my cousin's. "You see this? That's maybe three inches of room to gather enough force to punch through solid co…"
SMACK!
Apartment reverberating with the sound of Derek's fist crashing into Stilinski's palm, the human flew into the table, the loud squeak of his sneakers against the floor making my father erupt in laughter.
"Ah… ah!" he gripped his wrist, walking it off as he croaked: "He can do it… he's got it…"
Small smirk disappearing as quickly as it had spread across his stubbled face, Derek asked gravely: "I'll get through the wall. Who's following me down?"
"I guess I haven't had any near-death experiences in a while, so sure," I sighed, crooked grin tugging at my lips. "Why the Hell not?"
"Not you."
My face immediately fell.
"What do you mean, 'not me'?" I hissed dangerously. "You've seen how strong I am now, and that wasn't even with the full moon to tap into."
"Exactly."
Scott and Stiles inched back a little after that reply.
"Oh for the love of God, I already told you I can handle it," my frustration, though apparent, was still in check.
"I think what Derek's trying to get at is the fact that there's zero chance some little cross-country walkabout taught you control," Peter's eyes twinkled maliciously.
"You're right."
The room fell silent, confusion & surprise etched across everyone's faces as I calmly continued, "A simple little road trip wouldn't teach anyone control. However," I paused, my sharp gaze narrowing as I let the cat out of the bag, "a family reunion at Tuscarora Reservation certainly might."
"Tuscarora Reservation?" both teens innocently repeated in unison, while Peter's heartrate immediately spiked, the veins in his neck becoming quite prominent.
I shared a quick, albeit triumphant look with Derek, who was watching my fuming father closely. But it wasn't just anger radiating off his stiffened form. I sensed trepidation, too.
"Ah," Peter's voice & expression were deceptively unphased, "So you finally met Ava."
Again, a thoroughly lost Scott & Stiles asked: "Who's Ava?"
"Mhmm," I wicked smirk decorated my face. "I'd say she says 'hi', but she seems to hate your guts even more than I do."
Jaw clenched with fury, Peter's icy stare floated over to Derek, for he was now markedly aware which family member the Alpha was most loyal to.
"But I digress," I breezily brought us back to the topic at hand and addressed the three spectators, "If my self-control is still in question, I invite you all to consider the fact that I have successfully ignored every, single urge to punch Peter in the face since I've been back. I'd say that's pretty impressive, wouldn't you?"
McCall and Stilinski simply nodded their heads in silent agreement, while Derek stifled his own grin.
Pushing past me, Peter masked his anger with a dirty look before turning to Derek: "Do I have to remind you what we're up against here? A pack of alphas, all of them killers. And if that's not enough to scare your testicles back into your stomach, try to remember that two of them combine bodies to form one giant alpha."
Mind flashing back to what I sensed at the warehouse, the image of two shadowy figures merging into one suddenly made much more sense.
"So I'm supposed to just let them die?" Derek spat, disgusted by his uncle's cowardice.
"One of them's already dead," he shrugged.
"We don't know that!" the Alpha barked.
"Look, I'm sure Erica and Boyd were sweet kids. They'll be missed," Peter feigned mournfulness, though his eyes still held a glint of sadistic glee.
"Could someone please kill him again?" Stiles was the next to speak up, equally revolted with the werewolf standing across from him.
"Already suggested it," I listlessly stated, forcing Peter's murderous gaze from the human, back onto me.
"Derek, seriously? Not worth the risk," he gave one final attempt to talk my cousin out of the rescue mission, but when Derek stood firm, Peter simply shook his head, folded his arms and skulked away.
"What about you?"
"Yeah, if you want me to come," Stilinski replied, but once he saw where the Alpha's gaze was fixed, he quickly blurted out: "O-oh, yeah. You, um, you mean Scott. Makes sense…"
"I don't know about Erica, but if Boyd is still alive, we have to do something," the Beta fearlessly stated, staring right into Derek's equally resolute face. "We have to try."
An intense and violent shock was sent throughout my body, like thousands of tiny, white-hot knives were stabbing me all over, their razor-sharp blades raking across my bare skin.
I inhaled sharply, yet the second I did so, that searing pain gave way to an oppressive cold that suddenly flooded into my system.
I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't remember.
Opening my eyes, my black and white vision saw beams of light dancing overhead, the serene glow in stark contrast to the panic I felt setting in.
Disoriented, I flailed around, my head pounding as my lungs screamed to take another breath.
My arm hit something hard and slick, my fingers stretching to find anything to grab onto.
But then I saw the rippling image of someone peering down at me, her silver hair showing brighter than the blinding light that masked her face.
She threw something down to me, which I instinctively seized the moment it was within reach.
I was close to blacking out again, but somehow managed to pull my weakened form up, and as my head broke through the water's freezing surface, a strangled cry erupted from my chest.
"Have you completed your task?" the woman's words seemed too far away to have left her lips.
Blinking furiously, my vision reverted back to color as I desperately tried to catch my breath: "W-what?"
"Have you faced yourself?" she impatiently clarified over my violent coughs.
"I-I… I don't know," I couldn't think straight. My head was throbbing & I barely had enough strength to hold myself above the poisoned water.
"Then you will remain in there until you doknow. You will remain in there until the next full moon," her cold words dripped with disgust.
"N-no! Please!" I pled, but soon the rope slackened, and I was submerged within those icy depths again.
"I can't take waiting around like this, you know? It's nerve-racking. My nerves are racked." Stilinski continued to pace about the room, but I paid him no mind.
My thoughts were elsewhere, trapped in that hellish pit, but when the nerd impeded my view of the glass of water sitting on the counter before me, my vacant stare eventually traveled up to his anxious face. "They're severely racked. Racked!"
"I could beat you unconscious and wake you when it's over," Peter offered from where he was lounging on the couch.
"You think Erica's really dead?"
"You think I really care?"
"I w-won't last until the full moon," I hopelessly called up from between my chattering fangs, my pruned & blistered hands gripping the rope Ava had thrown back down to me.
"Do you think I care?"
I wasn't sure how long I had been down there for. The days & nights had blurred into one long nightmare, but I had to assume it had been a couple of weeks, at least, based on the number of claw marks marring the slick walls.
"P-please… please let me out," I croaked, my throat horse & lips chapped from dehydration.
"Why?" Ava asked, craning her neck over the edge, her ghostly eyes looking down at me with such scrutiny. "Why should I help you?"
"Because I-I can't take it anymore! I'm going to die down here!" the desperation in my echoing voice sounded so foreign to my ears.
The old crone fell silent for a moment, relighting her pipe as she ruminated over my plight, but as my sizzling skin continued to shed from my body, I couldn't help myself: "Ava, please!"
But the woman just pursed her wrinkled lips, disappointment written across her withered features, her stubborn silence enough to force frustrated and desperate tears from my eyes.
"PLEASE LET ME GO!" my thunderous roar shook the crumbling well walls as I clawed at the moss-covered stone.
Gray eyes piercing through the veil of smoke that always seemed to shroud her face, Ava then disappeared from the top of the well, with nothing to say beyond a simple and devastating: "No."
"I just don't understand the bank, though. Like, why wouldn't they just chain them up in some underground lair or something?" Stiles didn't notice the visible shiver run up my spine after he posed that question. "They're an alpha pack, right? So shouldn't they have a lair?"
"They're werewolves, not Bond villains," Peter clenched his eyes shut, attempting to remain calm given Stiles' incessant chatter.
I needed a drink. Too bad Derek had all the booze on lockdown.
Getting up from where I was seated at the kitchen counter, I moseyed over to the table, figuring I could distract myself with looking at the blueprints for the fourth time.
"Wait a sec. Wait a sec. Maybe they're living there, you know? Like maybe the bank vault reminds them of their little wolf dens!" his elation over such a hypothesis was hard to bear.
"Wolf dens?" I asked painfully.
"Yeah," Stiles nodded with sincerity. "Wolf dens."
I could do nothing more than shake my head and turn back to the papers.
Next time, I was going with Derek and Scott whether they liked it or not…
"Where do you live?"
"In an underground network of caves hidden deep within the woods," Peter's deadpan response stopped Stiles in his tracks.
"Whoa, really?"
"No, you idiot," he chuckled. "I have an apartment downtown."
"Which is odd, cause he never seems to be anywhere but here," I didn't even bother looking over my shoulder to see my father's satisfying glare.
"Okay, fine, but still… that just proves that there's something up with the bank. And why wait around for the full moon, huh? Why not just kill them whenever they want to?" Stilinski wasn't dropping it.
"Maybe they think it's poetic," Peter was obviously losing any semblance of patience.
"They've already had three full moons to be poetic," Stiles persisted.
"And here you've only had one full hour to be so an…" Peter droned, but then his pulse suddenly quickened.
"No, go ahead. Finish what you were saying. I'm annoying. That's what you were gonna say, right?"
Peter stood upright, ignoring the human's prodding as he demanded: "What are the walls made of?"
"What?" Stiles looked around, taken aback by the arbitrary question. "Um, I don't know? Wood and brick, or…"
"No, the vault, the vault walls," Peter urgently clarified, but rather than wait for Stilinski to catch up, he rushed over to me as I began sifting through the papers. "What are they made out of?"
"Where would it say that?" I looked up as Stiles scrambled over to us, my own pulse rising. "Where would it say the materials, the type of stone?"
"Oh… h-hang on," he leafed through the blueprints at lightning speed, only to locate a little note in some obscure section and throw it back down onto the tabletop. "Here! It's gotta be here!"
And as I scanned the minute scribbles, Peter spoke the name of what we had both hoped wouldn't be listed: "Hecatolite."
"I-is that awful?" Stilinski's eyes darted between us as we exchanged knowing looks.
"Well shit," I felt my chest tighten, the familiar sensation of panic setting in.
"That sounds awful."
"Get them on the phone. Call them right now!" Peter commanded, the direness of the situation outweighing our ill-will towards one another.
"Okay," Stilinski fumbled around his pockets, trying to locate his phone as he stammered: "B-but why?"
At this point I had thrown on my vest, grabbed my car keys off the counter, and had dragged the fretful teen to the elevator doors, punching the down arrow as I shared the grave reality: "Cause Boyd and that girl aren't going to kill each other. They're gonna kill Derek and Scott."
And as we stepped inside the elevator, hearts racing wildly within our chests, I exchanged one last look with Peter before the steel doors closed.
"Goddammit, Scott! Pick up your phone!" Stilinski cried out in frustration as the Camaro careened down the dark road. "Why can't he ever just answer my calls?" he asked, mostly to himself.
Stiles and I had not been alone together since my arrival back in Beacon Hills, and I could tell just how uncomfortable the lanky human felt.
I probably should have been experiencing some level of discomfort or awkwardness as well, given how things were left off between the two of us, but I truly wasn't the least bit fazed.
Over the course of the past four months, I had learned and grown so much. My prioritizes changed as quickly as my abilities, resulting in a new mindset that simply didn't make room for unnecessary stressors.
Sure, I had been devasted the day I left this crummy little town, but upon returning, I could honestly say I felt none of those residual feelings anymore.
Stiles was in love Lydia, and that was okay.
He had been thrown one hell of a life-changing curveball the night Scott was bitten, and since that fateful evening, Stilinski had faced numerous, mortally dangerous situations. It was a lot for anyone to take in and cope with, let alone a teenage boy.
Hell, I even snapped under the pressure so badly that I lost my humanity, so if Stiles had had enough with all the supernatural bullshit my family and I had going on, that was okay, too.
I had my orders. I knew my path, and I needed to remain focused on the task at hand.
So why was I feeling this small, nagging sensation in the pit of my stomach?
"Do you really want my opinion on that?" I replied, half-joking as I tried to ease the palpable tension.
"No," he grumbled, hitting the re-dial button for what was probably the fourth time.
"I'm sure he's fine," I muttered, glancing at the anxious boy riding shotgun beside me. "He's with Derek."
"That's exactly what I'm afraid of!" Stiles replied as McCall's phone went to voicemail again. "Everyone dies around that guy! Or gets hurt, or kidnapped!" Caramel eyes drifting to my impassive face, Stilinski quickly added: "N-no offense."
"Oh, I don't care. My family's pretty much cursed. It's a known thing," I shrugged. "But what I meant was, if I were a pack of alphas, I'd be more focused on killing my cousin rather than Scott."
Mulling over my words, Stiles' nerves seemed to momentarily subside, so I continued: "As long as he doesn't try to be the hero, he should be fine."
Stiles immediately froze, and as what I had said fully registered, I myself, became a bit more worried for the young, altruistic Beta.
"On second thought, maybe you should call him again."
Nodding vigorously, the spastic teen tried to contact his best friend once more.
"Stiles," McCall finally picked up and whispered impatiently into the phone, "now is not the best time."
"Scott, you need to listen to me, okay?" his words were earnest. "Look, you gotta… you gotta get out of there, man!"
"What are you talking about?"
"The walls of the vault are made with a mineral called hecatolite," I spoke up, eyes focused on the road ahead as I explained: "It scatters the moonlight".
"What? What does that mean?" the confused Beta asked in a hushed voice while I heard Derek addressing someone in the background.
"We're here to get you out, okay?"
Crap. They made it inside the vault already…
"It keeps the moonlight out. That means they haven't felt the full moon in months," I pressed, trying to convey the true danger both wolves were in.
Before Scott could even voice the fact that he was still not grasping what was about to happen, Stilinski chimed in: "Think of it like the gladiators in the Roman colosseum. They used to starve the lions for three days to make them more vicious, more out of control..."
"And Deucalion's done the same exact thing," I simplified even further, my clammy hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. "He's kept them from shifting for three full moons. They're gonna be stronger, more savage, more bloodthirsty!"
"Scott, they're the lions," the dread dripped off my mortal companion's words. "They're the starved lions, and you and Derek just stepped into the colosseum."
The lightbulb must have gone off, for soon we heard Scott's terrified voice address my cousin: "Derek, we have a problem. We have a really, big problem."
But before anything else could be said, a deafening roar reverberated through the phone, only for the call to abruptly drop.
"Scott! H-hey, Scott!" Stiles helplessly shouted back into the darkened cellphone, as I merely hissed with frustration: "Dammit!"
"That… that didn't sound good. This isn't good!" Stiles' full attention was now focused on my unsettled face. "How far away are we?"
"15 minutes."
I could practically hear his heart stop and sink into his chest.
"We're not gonna get there in time," he breathed.
Determination flooded my system as I quickly shifted gears: "Oh yes we are!"
I floored it, and unlike the last time Stilinski was riding shotgun with me, the kid didn't make a peep.
The silence in the speeding car was thick, like the air had been sucked from its steel bones.
I knew how worried Stiles was. I could hear it in his pulse, see it on the fine droplets of sweat that now matted his hairline. And I had to admit, I couldn't blame him.
My cousin and McCall were in deep, deep trouble, and if the grave reality of their being trapped in a cage with two crazed werewolves wasn't enough, it was also likely an entire pack of homicidal alphas were lurking about to ensure no one would come out of tonight alive.
I glanced down at the speedometer: 110 MPH.
Pushing the accelerator down as far as it could go, we continued our mad dash across the county at breakneck speed.
We needed to get there in time.
I needed to get there in time.
They needed serious backup, and while they still didn't think I could be trusted, I knew that if I had gone with them, their odds would have been much better.
Frown stamped upon my face, my eyes then drifted up to the full moon ahead.
I was weak. So weak and so tired from the weeks I had spent soaking in this festering well water, with no food, no drink, not even sunlight.
I had no idea how I managed to hold out for so long, but at this point, I couldn't even derive a sense of pride for surviving this torture.
The only thing that I could feel, beside fatigue and agonizing pain, was an ever-growing sense of dread.
Hazy eyes looking up, the full moon was almost at its apex.
Whatever that crazy bitch wanted from me, she was going to be sorely mistaken for not letting me go like I had asked.
The white wolf wanted out. I could feel her viciously clawing at my insides, trying to scratch her way to the surface of my consciousness.
And as my skin continued to bubble from the burning liquid, so did the rage slowly overtaking my fear.
My color vision was fading, as my fangs slowly descended, and I knew that all hope of my holding on was slipping away.
I wasn't going to be able to control the shift. Not with the dream root and wolfsbane. Not with the full moon and certainly not with how weak I was in body and spirit.
La louve fantôme was going to take over. It was inevitable.
There was no stopping this. There was no stopping the beast within me, for I knew that letting her in would be the only way I would survive this night.
But who exactly would survive, the second Charlie bowed out?
Ava was certainly the first on the hit-list, but what about my humanity?
Would this turn be my last? Would I forever be swallowed up by my inner demon, never to return again?
As I felt my bones involuntarily break, aligning themselves into my darker self, woeful tears escaped my eyes.
"Please," I tearfully whispered what was likely to be my final 'Hail Mary' up to the moon above, clawed hands slowly morphing into those snowy white paws, "please…"
And as my back let out a sickening crack, my echoing sobs soon become bloodthirsty howls.
"There! There! I see it!" Stilinski's frantic shouts bounced around my head and pulled me back into reality.
The shadowy bank had indeed come into sight, having rolled up towards us from behind the horizon like an ominous, stone-walled adversary.
Speeding up as much as possible, I commanded that Stiles try to call Scott or Derek one last time.
The teen's heart was beating as loudly as the car engine at this point, and as he whipped out his cellphone, we had arrived at our destination.
But just as we made it to the dark entrance of Beacon Hills First National Bank, the jolting sound of a window shattering rang out from just above us. Large shards of glass rained down upon the Camaro, and as we screeched to a halt, Stiles and I merely exchanged mystified looks with one another.
"What the hell was that?" Stiles' sheet-white face was paler than usual.
However, before I could even offer a response, our ears were met with the deafening sound of two monstrous howls.
Whirling around, Stiles and I gaped at two amber-eyed werewolves glowering at us through the rear windshield.
My heart stopped.
"Oh my God…" was all I could manage while watching a rabid Boyd and once nameless beta dash away into the night.
"That… t-that was Boyd," a breathless Stiles stammered, his wide-eyes taking in my undoubtedly dumbfounded face, "but w-who… who was that?"
I couldn't believe it…
How was this even possible?
Mind going a mile a minute, I heard the human anxiously repeat himself, but all I could do was stare dumbly at the spot in which she once stood.
How could that possibly be her? She was dead… wasn't she?
"Charlie!"
"M-my cousin," I breathed in utter disbelief over what I had just witnessed.
"What?" Stilinski asked, utterly confused. "Unless Derek suddenly became un-Alpha-ed or shrank to a size 50x smaller, I don't think that was him."
"That's… that's his sister," I finally voiced the impossible. "That's Cora."