Welcome new readers and greetings to my regulars. And a special thank you to everyone who reviewed; your kind words (both in terms of my story and my personal life) are very much appreciated.
This chapter's a little creepy, but it should explain a bit. I hope you enjoy it.
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Although one of Lydia's talents is a good sense of direction, by the time the car rolls to a stop, she has no idea where they are. Kate had taken so many turns and doubled back so many times that Lydia's lost track; it doesn't help that she's sleep-deprived, worried sick over Isaac, and still coming to terms with the whole Kate-being-alive-again thing. So Lydia's usually sharp intellect is slightly dulled down, and she can't help feeling terrified as Kate instructs her to get out of the car.
The sun is rising over the horizon, which means that it must be early morning. And judging by the direction, they seem to have driven west. That's all Lydia can tell, and that information alone won't be any help. And even if she could figure out where she is, she can't do anything about it; she doesn't have her cell phone on her, and she doubts that she'll be able to draw the pack with another scream. She's the girl who cried hunter, and now the rest of the pack are crying foul. She doesn't blame them – it's not the first time she's been wrong, nor will it be the last.
Kate leads her up the front stairs of a derelict building, and Lydia feels her heart jolt with every step. The hunter hasn't really spoken since they got into the car, and somehow that's more unsettling than any taunts or threats. Lydia follows her silently, and as the door closes behind them, she feels like it's sealing her fate. She's trapped in a seemingly abandoned house with a supposedly dead and definitely sociopathic werewolf hunter, and nobody knows where she is. And she can't shake the feeling that nobody cares.
When they reach the kitchen, Kate stops. Then she points to a stool sitting in front of the kitchen counter, and Lydia obediently sits down. She'd been expecting something more sinister, some kind of ambush, but instead the hunter opens a couple of the cupboards and asks if she wants a cup of tea.
Lydia turns it down as politely as she can manage, and watches as Kate fixes herself a cup of coffee. There's something terrifyingly casual about all this; Kate's movements are all relaxed, unhurried, methodical. She sits down next to Lydia when she's finished, and takes a very slow, deliberate sip of her coffee. Lydia rubs a stain on the counter, wondering whether it's ketchup or blood, and waits for Kate to speak first. She doesn't.
"What did you do to Isaac?" Lydia asks after a while. She's not sure why she's talking, only that the silence had been profoundly unsettling. She needs to know why Kate brought here – it's not so much a matter of being determined to stop it anymore (because part of her is convinced she can't do a thing to stop her), but rather a desire to at least understand what game she's playing. There was a time when Lydia used to be on top of everything, when she never missed a question in class and was the first to solve the crosswords in the paper, but since becoming involved with the supernatural she's had to become used to being immersed in the unknown.
"Hit him with a shovel." Kate shrugs, still sipping her coffee, completely nonchalant. "He should wake up in a couple hours."
"Should?" Lydia echoes, catching something in Kate's voice.
"Well, there's a chance I hit him too hard," Kate says, unconcerned. "So if he's not awake by midday, assume he's not waking up."
It feels like ice is trickling down Lydia's back. Even if they've never really been close, or if they're not close anymore, she would do anything for any member of the pack. And the thought of Isaac being hurt or killed because of her is too much. Kate had clearly only hit Isaac because he was in the way and she wanted to get to Lydia; so if he dies, it's all on her. Yet another tally mark in their list of failures, another death to add to their names.
"Let's forget about that little wolf-boy for a second here," Kate says, finishing her cup of coffee and twisting around so she's looking at Lydia. "I brought you here for a reason."
This is the part where Lydia is supposed to come up with a witty retort, but nothing comes to mind. All she can think is that she's here alone with a formerly dead and currently dangerous werewolf hunter, and nobody knows where she is. And nobody knows that Isaac's still at the cemetery, so for all she knows he could be dying right now. "Why?" she asks finally, not her most eloquent but still effective.
Kate doesn't answer directly, not that Lydia had really been expecting her to. The hunter's always been one for theatrics, for building mystery and suspense, so of course she's not going to give her secrets away so quickly. "You and the pack have been investigating the murders around town," she says, a statement not a question. Lydia wonders how long she's been watching them for. "And even when I gave you a hint, you didn't make good use of it."
"You mean telling me it was Malia?" Lydia says, and the hunter nods. "I did use that. I just – I couldn't -"
"Couldn't tell the rest of the pack without proof," Kate finishes, and she actually sounds understanding. "Well, here's the thing, cupcake. You're not going to find any."
If Lydia wasn't running on so little sleep and if she hadn't just been kidnapped from a cemetery, she would be able to put the pieces together. She knows she's missing something, that Kate's trying to let her in on a secret, but she can't make it fit. She gives Kate a quizzical look, finding that she's fighting off a wave of tiredness again. She wants nothing more than to be back at home in her bed, free of nightmares and mortal danger.
"I see you're going to need a little help with this," Kate says. She gets to her feet, pulling Lydia into a standing position too. "Come on."
They leave the kitchen and go into the next room. It seems to be some kind of study, although the only things in the room are a desk with no chair, a cabinet with no door, and another cabinet with a glass door. It's the latter that catches Lydia's attention, and for good reason. She can't tear her eyes away from it, even though every second spent staring at it makes her feel sick. "Is that -" she chokes out, pointing at the cabinet. Or rather, at the jars inside the cabinet. Because in each jar is something that looks horribly like –
"Human hearts," Kate confirms. "They're kind of pretty, aren't they?"
"No," Lydia spits out, stepping back. But she comes up against the closed door, which Kate had somehow locked without her noticing. Maybe because she'd been so distracted by the cabinet full of human hearts. Lydia may be tired and terrified, but it doesn't take her usual level of genius to figure out what's going on. "It's you," she says, and if possible she's even more terrified than she had been moments before. "You're the one who's been killing all those girls."
Kate smiles, like she's pleased Lydia finally worked it out. "Of course."
"Wh -" Lydia cuts herself off, her eyes darting between the cabinet and the hunter. "Why? Why are you doing this?"
"Interesting question." Kate walks over to the cabinet, her back to Lydia, and runs a finger along the glass. She lets out a thoughtful hum, and Lydia turns her attention to trying to open the door. It's solidly locked and she makes no progress, but it makes her feel a little less helpless. "You see, Lydia," she says, turning back to her. "After Peter so kindly slashed my throat, I was left for dead. Luckily I have some friends in high places who intervened on my behalf – and here I stand."
"And I'm sure we're all so grateful for that," Lydia says, pleased that she managed to at least inject a sliver of sarcasm into her voice.
"I was out of commission for a while," Kate says as if Lydia hadn't spoken, "and when I got back to Beacon Hills, you know what I heard? Do you know what I found out when I came back here?"
Lydia's connecting the pieces. Kate's re-emergence, the murdered girls, the hearts in jars. The nightmares. The fact that she keeps finding the dead bodies. It makes a horrible kind of sense, and Lydia hopes desperately that she's wrong. "You found out about what happened to Allison," she says. "You heard about the demon."
"A nogitsune, right?" Kate asks. "Nasty bastards. I came across one early in my hunter career. Got away before I could kill it. But," she goes on, giving Lydia a curious look, "I hear you lot managed to kill this one. A bunch of teenagers did what most hunters can only dream of."
"Just send us a fruit basket and we'll call it even," Lydia says stiffly, finally able to look away from the hearts. But as soon as she looks away, a noise starts up, a gentle thudding. Like the hearts are still beating.
"I'm not here to thank you," Kate says smoothly. She glances at the cabinet and then walks back to Lydia, who flinches, thinking she's going to grab her again. But Kate veers at the last second and snatches a thick leather-bound book up off the floor. "I'm here to fix this."
With the book in hand, Kate unlocks the door and nudges Lydia through it. They end up back in the kitchen, where Kate sets the book on the counter and opens it to a page somewhere near the middle. She gestures for Lydia to look at it; having no other choice, the banshee complies. And instantly regrets it.
"You want to bring her back." Lydia's words fall flat with disbelief. "You want to bring Allison back."
"My niece was brutally murdered," Kate says, and Lydia involuntarily flinches at the memory, "and there was nothing just or poetic about it. My death was almost inevitable – you could even say I deserved it. But not Allison."
"What about those girls?" Lydia asks, and in between each word is the thudding, the beating of the hearts. She doesn't know if it's her banshee powers or just an overactive imagination, but whatever it is, she wishes it would stop. "The ones you've been brutally murdering. Did they deserve it?"
"No," Kate says simply, "but I'm willing to make sacrifices."
Lydia stares at the book in front of her, at the spell that, if performed correctly, could bring her best friend back. It wouldn't fix things, but it could undo some of the damage they've caused. And maybe, if she's lucky, it'll take away some of the pain. Maybe they can be a pack again. Maybe –
No. The spell requires a sacrifice. Allison would never forgive them if the price of bringing her back was killing someone else. That wouldn't be undoing the damage they'd done; they'd be undoing all the good Allison had done. They'd be going directly against the code she'd established, the values she'd fought for. The cause she'd died for. They can't do this.
"It's not right," Lydia says. "You can't just go around deciding who gets to live and die."
"What if I told you," Kate says slowly, "that it would just take one more person? One more person needs to die, and then Allison can come back. Think of all the people she could help you save, Lydia. Doesn't that balance it out?"
"It's not about balancing out," Lydia argues. "It's about you murdering innocent people to bring back someone who died protecting people."
Something flashes through Kate's eyes, something like hesitation, but then it's gone and she's back to being cold and calculating. "But that's the beauty of it, Lydia. The next person to die doesn't have to be innocent."
For one horrible moment, Lydia thinks she's connected the pieces. Kate brought her here to kill her; she's the last sacrifice. And for an even more horrible moment, she's almost okay with that. But then Kate smiles.
"The sacrifice has to be someone equivalent to Allison," Kate explains. "A girl around her age. Preferably someone as wild as her, someone as unpredictable. Sound like anyone you know?"
"No," Lydia says, not because she doesn't understand but because she doesn't want to. "You can't do this."
"You're right. I can't do this – not without your help." Kate tilts her head, and the thudding inside Lydia's skull grows louder. So loud she barely hears the next words. "If you hand over the one person I need, nobody else has to die. One more person and then it will all be over." Kate pauses, building suspense yet again. Lydia adds that to the list of reasons she hates her. "You know who I'm talking about, don't you, Lydia? You know who the last sacrifice has to be."
Lydia nods, grits her teeth, and forces herself to say the name. "Malia."
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Mm, moral dilemmas are fun aren't they? What do you think/hope Lydia's going to do?