Hi all, and thanks for the reviews last chapter. I want to make up for keeping you guys waiting last year so I'm going to try to update more regularly from now on. Well, not exactly from now. I'm about to go overseas, so this will be the last update until next month. But THEN I will update more frequently. That's about all you need to know, so here's the chapter. Enjoy!
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It's not often that Lydia's wrong, but when she is, she doesn't just get it wrong – she gets it horribly, spectacularly wrong. Like convincing her friends that a sociopathic werewolf hunter has risen from the dead and has been stalking her for weeks, when in fact that same werewolf hunter is currently resting in her grave. Which they just dug up. This doesn't feel like just a mistake – it's more like a disaster. Lydia's banshee powers have once again screwed her over, and this time she brought her friends along for the ride.
"I'm sorry," she says as Scott and Isaac start shovelling the dirt back on top of the now-closed coffin.
"It's not your fault," Kira assures her, but there's not much comfort the kitsune can give her. This is her fault, and no matter how many people tell her it's not, she's never going to believe it.
Nobody else responds to her, although Stiles gives her a look that's part confusion and part sympathy, and they finish filling in the grave in silence. When it's over Scott clears his throat and the pack automatically gathers around him. Lydia can sense the unease in the group, and Isaac and Ethan keep glancing over at her, but she tries to ignore it.
"So Kate's still in the grave," Scott says, which by now they all know. "Which means…"
"I was wrong," Lydia says quietly. She feels Kira's hand on her shoulder, but it doesn't do much; especially because she can also see Stiles and Malia holding hands, which makes her feel things she hadn't known she was capable of feeling.
"It's okay," Scott says, reassuring and optimistic as ever, but this time nobody really buys it. "There's not much else we can do tonight, but we can talk about it more tomorrow. Is everyone okay with that?"
They all agree, and start to go their separate ways. Scott's the first to leave, taking Kira with him. The kitsune tries to bring Lydia with them, but she refuses. Stiles and Malia leave next, without a word, and Ethan disappears too, mumbling something about a math test he has tomorrow. Lydia sits down by the grave, hardly aware of the cold air or the increasing wind. She's beyond feeling now; numb in every sense of the word. It takes her a moment to realize she's not alone.
Isaac sits down beside her, looking world-weary and heartsick, and she doesn't have to ask why. He may be training with Chris Argent these days, giving him a purpose and a sense of family, but it's not the same. Nothing's been the same since she left.
"You don't have to stay," Lydia says tiredly.
"I know." Isaac leans back, stretching out his legs. "I want to."
Surprisingly, she appreciates the company. She's been spending so much time on her own these days that she'd forgotten what it feels like to be around people. A few minutes pass in silence; the wind dies down, but Lydia gradually becomes aware of how cold it is. It's been a long night, and her adrenalin is starting to run out. But she can't leave, not yet.
"For what it's worth," Isaac says, breaking the silence, "I believe you."
Lydia's mind drifts back, to the night at the Glen Capri. After everything we've been through, I believe you. She rolls her shoulders, trying to fight off the pain growing in her heart. "Thank you," is all she can manage, but it seems to be enough.
"I don't know what's going on," Isaac continues after a while, "but it's Beacon Hills. People rising from the dead isn't out of the question."
"Neither is…" Lydia trails off, suddenly realizing what she'd been about to say, but Isaac doesn't let it rest.
"Neither is what?" he prompts.
Lydia glances at him. They've never really been friends, although they've helped each other out on occasion. And through their work with the pack she's come to respect him – he's not the strongest or even the smartest, but he's got a good heart. He's the kind of friend Lydia would like to have, if she could just open up enough to let him in. Maybe now's the perfect time to start.
"Me actually being crazy," she finishes, and Isaac's expression fades from curiosity to sympathy. Instantly Lydia regrets her decision; anger she can handle, even disappointment, but somehow it's sympathy that breaks her. But he means well, so she tries not to let it get to her.
"You think you might have made a mistake?" he questions.
Lydia shrugs. "I don't know." Silence falls between them again, but this time it's expectant, like Isaac is giving her time to collect her thoughts before she shares them. "It's just… it's happened before, hasn't it? My banshee powers have never really been reliable, or predictable, or…" Helpful. She cuts herself off before she says it, but Isaac seems to catch her drift.
"That doesn't mean you're crazy," Isaac says reasonably. "You're still getting the hang of your powers. Don't beat yourself up if it takes a bit of time."
Lydia's gaze drifts to the grave in front of them. "I'm not sure we have time."
The two of them go quiet again, but it's companionable this time. They've never spoken about it, but something connects them – they both lost someone they loved. It wasn't in the same way, or for the same amount of time, but it still feels similar. Scott misses her too, but he has his pack to think about; and Stiles, well, he never knew Allison as well as they did. They all miss her, but somehow the rest of them have been able to go on without her. Lydia's still trying to figure out how.
"I just don't know what I'm supposed to do now," she confides quietly, spilling her secret into the night.
Isaac looks over at her, understanding rather than sympathetic. This makes her feel the slightest bit better. Then he smiles, which makes her heart jolt; after everything that's happened, she doesn't understand how anyone can smile anymore. But it's not happy, exactly – it's wistful, regretful, a little bit encouraging. "Well," he says, "what would Allison do?"
Lydia doesn't respond, but she doesn't need to. She can feel sleep creeping up on her, and soon enough she falls. When she wakes up, she finds that she's lying beside Isaac in the grass. There's nothing romantic about it; it's not seduction but solace, something they both desperately need. But then she sees that something's wrong. She sits up slowly, pushing herself up off the grass, and then she looks at her hands. The moon's only just bright enough for her to see, but it's only confirming what she already knows. Blood.
Before panic can really set in, before she can do more than crouch down beside him and check for a pulse, something moves behind her. She lets go of Isaac's wrist – he's still alive, just – and turns to face the intruder.
Kate gives her a catlike grin, leaning against her own tombstone with chilling casualness. "Morning, sunshine," she says, her eyes flicking dismissively over Isaac. She catches Lydia's gaze and holds it; the banshee finds herself unable to look away. Then Kate moves toward her, and Lydia scrambles to her feet and stumbles away.
"What are you doing?" she spits, and fear makes her words sharp. Her wits, however, aren't quite as sharp as usual, and she struggles to think of a way out of this. If the pack is right, then Kate's not real. Lydia must still be dreaming. But Isaac's really hurt – this is too vivid to be a dream – and she can't think of what else could have done that to him. And if the pack's wrong, then Kate's real – and she's dangerous.
And, although Lydia isn't sure how she's aware of it, she knows there's something else. Kate is real, she's dangerous – and she isn't human.
"Just out for a stroll," Kate says, still terrifyingly casual. "Oh, relax," she says as Lydia keeps backing up. "I'm not going to hurt you."
Lydia looks down at Isaac, who's still unconscious on the ground.
"Ah." Kate's expression could pass for regret, if her eyes weren't still glittering with malicious intent. "Well, I had to do that. He's not part of this. But you, Lydia, you're the whole reason for this."
"The whole reason for what?" Lydia manages to choke out through the fear that's threatening to strangle her. "What are you doing?"
Kate just wags her finger. "All in good time," she says, mockingly, like she knows Lydia's running low on hope and energy and everything else she needs to function. Like she knows Lydia is reaching her breaking point, and this time there's no one here to help her.
The banshee switches her attention to the grave, raising one eyebrow in a silent question.
"Wondering how I did it?" Kate asks. "The funny thing about dying, Lydia, is that the body starts to decay after death – almost immediately after. And if you wait long enough, one dead body looks like another one."
Lydia catches on, but she wishes she hadn't. "And they smell the same too," she says. So that's why the werewolves hadn't figured out the body in the grave isn't Kate – because it doesn't smell like her, or like a stranger. It smells like death. "Who is she? The woman in the grave?"
Kate just shakes her head, and Lydia has a feeling she'll never get the answer to that particular question. Not that the answer would do her any good now.
"So this was your big plan?" Lydia says, trying to sound brave. It's almost convincing, and for a second Kate looks confused, like she hadn't expected Lydia to be so resistant. But then the hunter's smile returns and Lydia knows she's as transparent as she thinks she is. "Just come back from the dead and torment a bunch of teens?"
"Oh, no." Kate genuinely seems offended by the suggestion. "I dream bigger than that, Lydia. Much bigger."
"I can see that," Lydia scoffs, but, as always, she falls short of intimidating. She barely passes for anything less than terrified. "Big dreams, big plans – skulking around the graveyard and the woods, haunting a banshee. Did they teach you nothing in all those years of hunter training?"
Kate seems to consider whether or not she should be offended, and decides against it. She moves slowly, confidently, completely in control of the situation; she knows Lydia isn't a threat. "All those years of hunter training were useless," Kate says. "We were restricted by that damn code. Did you know we actually had to wait for blood to be spilled before we could step in?"
"You poor thing," Lydia says, her mind still working in overdrive to try to come up with a way to escape. She has a feeling that whatever she tries, it will end up backfiring – and probably getting her or Isaac hurt.
"You know," Kate says conversationally, as if they aren't in a cemetery standing over her own grave, "I like you, Lydia. You were a good friend to Allison, and from what I've seen since I came back, you're a good friend to everyone else in the pack too. Which is why I'm going to give you one chance to save the mutt here."
She tilts her head toward Isaac, and Lydia feels her heart freeze. It's not a threat, exactly, but it's definitely threatening. Lydia can't let that happen. "How?"
"All I need you to do is come with me," Kate says. "I have something to show you."
There's nothing safe or logical about this, and part of Lydia wants to refuse. But she can't let Kate kill Isaac, and even if she tries to run, Kate will just catch her anyway. And besides, she's Lydia Martin – she's not a damsel in distress. She doesn't run from danger; she embraces it.
"Okay," she says. "Leave Isaac alone and I'll go with you."
Kate seems almost disappointed that she relented so easily, but she brushes it away. She grabs Lydia's arm and starts to lead her away. Lydia stiffens; this definitely isn't a dream, and if Kate can physically touch her, it means she can physically – and probably seriously – hurt her. She'd known this before, and she'd always kind of believed it, but it suddenly feels a lot more real. A lot more like she's walking to the gallows. But there's no choice, so she follows.
"You know," Lydia says as they reach the edge of the cemetery and pause to look back at Isaac and at Kate's grave, "the hunters actually have a new code now."
"Hm?" Kate says, leading Lydia into the woods.
Lydia doesn't say anything, but in her mind she repeats the words. Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger eux-mêmes. We protect those who cannot protect themselves.
And that's exactly what she's going to do.
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