Follow me to the river
In over your head this time
I'll take you down to the river
Baby, just you and I (baby, just you and I)
I push you down a little deeper
Under the full moon sky
I'll get you a little closer
Just one breath from the other side
Sanctified – The Veronicas
Eichen House was creepy, and coming from me, that was fucking saying something.
It towered over you like a living thing, and with every gust of wind it seemed to breathe, creaking like it was made of dry bones and old joints.
We walked inside, and I had the strong urge to slip my hand into Stiles'. The human's heart sped up in terror, though he would die before admitting it. I could smell his anxiety, the scent clung to him like a second skin from the moment the mad house came into sight. I was concerned, but how was I supposed to do anything to comfort him? Touching him was out of the question, and I doubted there was anything I could say that would make him feel any better.
The front desk was empty, nothing but a little bell laid out to alert anyone that we were there. Deputy Parrish tapped on the bell twice, the light, tinkling sound jarring in the dark, morose atmosphere of Eichen House.
I was glaring at a crack in the floor, hating myself for not being able to help Stiles, when a hand slipped into mine. Instead of flinching I went very still, as though turned to stone. Fingers curled through mine, warm skin slipping over mine like velvet. I sighed silently, closing my eyes at the contact but keeping my hand limp. Stiles squeezed gently, his body moving closer.
I vaguely noticed someone appear from a door through the back, dressed all in white, hair greasy like it hadn't been washed for days; beyond that I couldn't process it, too enraptured by the contact with Stiles.
His body was so close, I could feel his warmth emanating like the rays of the sun, except instead of weakening me, I found incredible strength in the heat. Careful, half afraid I might break him, I tightened my hold until I was squeezing back. Stiles' heart rate didn't seem to slow down, but he did seem to breathe just that little bit easier.
Parrish flashed the guards his badge, having a quick and hushed conversation with the orderly behind the desk, before the man gave a ogre-like grunt and pushed his way out into the foyer, motioning vaguely for us to follow him.
Parrish moved first, Lydia next, and Stiles and I went last, content to sit at the back of the group.
I wished I could take credit for the wild thumping of Stiles' pulse, but I could tell from the sweat on his palm and the tinge of anxiety to his scent that he was just terrified to be back in this awful place. Unthinking, not acting mostly on instinct, I leaned into him like I would have before the whole Void ordeal, squeezing our joined hands tighter and brushing my thumb along the skin of his wrist, the gesture so intimate it made me ache.
We took the stairs, and Stiles lagged behind, leaving me to drag him along by our joined hands. He kept looking up through the centre of the winding staircase, a glint of reminiscent horror in his usually-warm eyes. I clutched him tighter.
The hallways were small and cramped, but we managed to fit, watching as the orderly began the slow process of unlocking the door that I assumed was Meredith's.
"Oh no, not this guy," Stiles said abruptly, the first words uttered by any of us since we'd left the foyer. We all looked up at him, and I heard the sound of heavy footsteps heading towards us. Startled, I turned to look, casting a warning glare at the newcomer, who made Stiles' heart leap with anxiety.
"What the hell are we running here? A bed and breakfast?" the guy in green scrubs demanded of his orderly in pure condescension. He shoved his way passed us, unapologetically knocking me backwards into Lydia, who grunted at the impact. Stiles pulled me back, casting a glare of absolute loathing at the man now growling at the orderly. "You do not just open the door for anyone with a badge," he snarled, snatching the keys from his hand.
"We need to talk to Meredith Walker," the deputy said calmly. "It involves a murder investigation," he added, unruffled by the man's rude demeanour.
"Well you can talk to her all you want," the guy, who was apparently in charge, snapped at the lot of us cruelly, "but these three?" He gave a tight lipped growl. "Especially that one," he added cruelly with a sneer at Stiles, and I felt my nostrils flare as my eyes began to fill with blood. "They're out of here." Stiles squeezed my hand, a soft warning, and I grit my teeth as I struggled to rein the beast in.
"They are crucial witnesses in an ongoing investigation," Parrish replied calmly. "I wouldn't have brought them here if it wasn't absolutely...crucial."
I cringed, wishing he'd kept his cool for just that moment longer. I was reminded this guy was still young, he still had a long way to go, particularly since he didn't know what he truly was yet.
"Okay, deputy," the glorified nurse sneered down his nose at the officer, the look in his eyes saying that he'd already won. "How about you come back with a court order? Then, I'll listen." There was a pregnant pause before his beady little eyes slid around to focus on Stiles. "As for you, Mr Stilinski," he said condescendingly, like there was something lesser about his name. "How about you come back, with payment in full? That's right, daddy may be the Sheriff but he's late on the bills," he sneered. Furious, I stepped forwards, but Stiles didn't even hesitate in slipping an arm around my waist to hold me back. I growled, the sound echoing slightly, but the nurse wasn't even slightly intimidated. I ground my teeth together, my fangs pressing dangerously at the seam of my lips. The man's eyes slid to me, quickly flickering up and down my form in a casual perusal, and Stiles' arm around me tightened noticeably. "I guess those Government jobs aren't as reliable as they used to be, eh?" he finally finished, a triumphant smirk on his ugly face.
I was so close to attacking him, I could feel the rage inside me like coke in a shaken bottle, the bubbles pressing at the lid, so very close to exploding. This would be one hell of a mess to clean up, that much was certain. I tried not to growl a second time, it was suspicious enough the first.
"Well, they do help when you need a favour," Parrish spoke so abruptly that it made me blink, looking away from the sick creep in charge of this horrid place and frowning at the young deputy, wondering what he was doing. "Like how a month ago, Cain and PD helped you get home after blowing a .1 on a breathalyser," he finished with somewhat of an impish smirk.
Stiles smirked smugly, but I still vibrated with angry energy, struggling to let go of the seething rage. Stiles' arm tightened around me again, almost imperceptibly, but I relaxed under the light reminder to keep my cool.
"Alright," the nurse gave a false grin, bitter and no doubt planning revenge. "I'm not against a little...quid pro quo," he sneered, voice like acid. "Not at all," he hissed darkly, frustration and loathing practically seeping from his pores.
I bared my teeth back, just a hint of fang showing, enough to make him uneasy as he turned and stormed away, harshly depositing the keys into Stiles' hand.
"You!" Stiles grinned widely at the deputy as the gigantic walking prick disappeared around the corner. "I like you," he praised, patting Parrish on the shoulder cheerfully. "I'm gonna keep you!"
Parrish gave somewhat of a grin, but quickly deemed it inappropriate and wiped it from his face. Turned, he slid the keys into the lock, turning it and pushing the door open with an ominous creak. Meredith sat on the bed in a near pitch black room, staring hollowly at the opposite wall. She turned once she was fully bathed in the light from the corridor, cocking her head at the four of us knowingly.
"Hi Meredith," Lydia greeted the patient gently, like she might break down screaming when confronted with anything but a whisper. "Can we talk to you?"
This was the first time I'd met Meredith, and I had to say that I was surprised by what I saw. It was almost, in a way, anticlimactic. Her head of coiled, dry hair sat atop her head, and her eyes were glazed, whether from the drugs or the voices, I couldn't be sure.
"Yes," she finally answered, her voice small and gentle.
"We need your help again," the redheaded banshee said softly, shuffling further into the room. Stiles reluctantly let go of my hand and followed after her, and I made to step inside too, only to be blocked by a barrier in the doorway.
I cussed, irritatedly pressing a hand against the invisible wall. "You can't get in?" Lydia sounded bewildered, tossing an alarmed look back at me.
"The rules say I can't enter where a human calls home," I muttered to her bitterly, thankfully Parrish wasn't paying attention, on the phone a few steps away, not listening to our strange conversation. "I guess she calls this place home."
"Meredith, can you invite my...can you invite Juliet inside, please?" Stiles asked her like he might speak to a young child, a placating smile on his handsome face. I creased my brow at his hesitation, but knew this wasn't the time to question it.
Meredith smiled, but the expression was thin. "No," she answered simply, and I grit my teeth in frustration. It wasn't exactly as though I could blame her; I probably wouldn't invite me inside either.
"We don't have time for this," Lydia muttered, turning back to Meredith, a woman on a mission.
"I know why you're here," the other banshee said, her voice hoarse like she'd just finished screaming. "You want the final name," she murmured, and Lydia and Stiles' hearts leapt with hope. "I can't tell you."
Lydia took a deep, calming breath in, taking a heavy seat on the bed beside Meredith's, placing her hands on her knees and staring across at the other banshee at serenely as she could. "Meredith, what do you mean you can't tell us?" she asked with strained patience.
"We just need the third key," Stiles said placatingly. "You can give it to us in numbers, letters, hieroglyphs, whatever you want!"
"I can't," the banshee sounded regretful, and I leaned against the barrier, keeping my attention on her heartbeat, taking in it's stutters, instinctively looking for a lie.
"Then why did you give us the second key?" Lydia asked, exasperated.
"I wanted to help." Meredith sounded wistful, and I idly wondered what happened to her family before I got ahold of myself and returned my focus to the situation at hand. "That's what I wanna do, I wanna help," her eyes glinted with helpless sadness, and I frowned at the poor little thing, feeling something akin to pity run through my veins.
"Great!" Lydia exclaimed happily, keeping things light. "So help us now, okay? Give us the third cipher key."
Parrish got off his call, shooting me an odd look when he saw me hesitating outside the room. I gestured for him to go through, and he shuffled passed me, thankfully leaving the door open, seeming to sense I wasn't going to be entering the padded little room any time soon.
"Things have changed," with every passing moment Meredith was becoming less a numb, hollow teenager and more a frightened, helpless little girl. I pressed again against the barrier, wanting to help but having no idea how. "I can't..."
"Why not?" Stiles prompted when it became clear Meredith wasn't going to finish her sentence.
"Guys," Parrish said, noting the sharpness in Stiles' desperate tone. "Go easy on her."
"I'm sorry," Meredith was growing distraught. "I can't...he doesn't want me to."
"He?" Stiles caught the word just as I had, shifting forwards from where he was sitting on the bed beside Lydia, eyes focused on Meredith, who shifted under the gaze. "Who's he?"
"Meredith," Lydia said with as much patience as she was physically able to spare. "Who doesn't want you to tell us about the third cipher key?" she pressed, a desperate glint to her eyes.
Meredith hesitated, shifting her dark eyes between all of us uneasily, until finally she muttered, in a small, reluctant voice, "the Benefactor."
There was a pregnant pause in which we all took the time to process this information. "Did you just say the Benefactor?" Stiles finally asked, incredulous. Meredith nodded meekly.
"What do you know about the Benefactor?" I asked the girl, who winced at my question and elected not to answer. Her pulse sped up, heart hammering in her chest under the stress. "She knows something," I told the others, ignoring Parrish, who was clearly trying to figure out where I was getting my information.
"Do you know his name?" Lydia asked suddenly, and Meredith visibly flinched. "What's his name?" she demanded abruptly, losing her cool. "Ugh, just tell us his name!" she exclaimed tactlessly, and I shot her a scolding look that went unnoticed.
The banshee met none of our eyes, staring unseeingly at the floor as she shook her head from side to side, a cool sweat breaking out over her skin. I could smell it from where I stood, she reeked of anxiety.
"Okay, you're shaking your head; what does that mean?" Stiles asked, a tad more patient than Lydia, thank fuck. "Does that mean you don't know, or that you don't want to help us?"
Meredith gave a shaky breath. "I-I-I can't help...I can't help anymore," her eyes became glassy with tears, and her heart sped up under the pressure.
"How do you know about him?" Lydia asked, determined for answers.
The banshee began to shake her head more violently, rocking forwards as she did in a way that was clearly comfort-seeking.
"Guys, I think we'd better stop," Parrish said wisely.
"He's right," I added, leaning as far into the room as I was physically able.
"Meredith, a lot of people are going to die if you don't tell us!" Lydia hissed, growing desperate.
"I don't know, I don't know – please!" Meredith was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack, and I grit my teeth against my concern.
"Lydia, we need to stop!" I said to the red haired banshee. "I think you're scaring her."
"That's rich, coming from you," Lydia sniped back, causing offence and shame to trickle through my system like water.
"Meredith, it's going to be okay," Parrish was saying, and things were getting out of hand fast. She was beyond panic, moving into something of an episode, and I watched in worry as it all came to a crescendo in a scream from a wailing woman. I flinched at the sound of it, ducking instinctively to cover my head and ears, but it was over before it had barely begun, and I stood back to my full height, surveying the room in surprise.
Stiles had his arms over Lydia, who was clutching her head in agony, and Parrish was dumbfounded by the deafening sound. I breathed in, hoping to calm my upset stomach, only for the tantalising scent of blood to reach me. Like a button pressed inside of me, hunger reared it's ugly head and my fangs slipped free of my gums.
Clamping a hand over my mouth in an effort to keep myself from hissing, I turned and legged it, not giving the room a second look as I raced through the halls, bypassing the stairs all together and dropping the few floors down, landing on the ground in a crouch.
Bursting outside into the fresh air was like breathing for the first time after being held underwater. I sucked in the clean, uncontaminated air, letting my nose readjust to the scent of gasoline and dry dirt that clung to Eichen House like a smog.
My first instinct was to get a cigarette, and I easily let myself out of the mad house's yard, stepping onto the curb and leaning my weight against the Jeep. I inhaled deeply, sighing happily at the relief the chemicals from the smoke gave me.
It was a long, long few minutes before anyone came outside. Finally, when I began to contemplate forcing myself back inside to check on them, Stiles, Lydia and Parrish wandered from the doorway, making a beeline for the gate. Stiles gave a loud sigh of relief when we saw me leaned casually against his beloved Jeep, unharmed and not covered in even a drop of blood.
"You okay?" the human asked, and I nodded my head, dropping what remained of my cigarette to the concrete and crushing it with my heel.
"I'm fine," I assured him, casting a wary glance at Parrish who was stood a few feet away, murmuring into his radio hurriedly. "Just...had to get out of there."
"Yeah," Stiles nodded, showing he understood. I too felt relieved, knowing he got it.
"Will you guys be okay to make it home alone?" the deputy asked us suddenly, and Lydia jumped at the sudden question, making him cast her a frown.
"We'll be fine," Stiles assured him quickly. "Thanks," he said sincerely, and Parrish gave a half-smile.
"No problem," he murmured, "sorry you didn't get the answers you were looking for." He paused, pulling his cruiser's keys from his pocket and fiddling with them for a moment. "Keep me in the loop?" he requested gently, and Stiles hurried to nod.
"Of course, man," he promised, and Parrish gave a final smile to Lydia and I before scurrying over to his police car and climbing in, starting it up and driving away. "Come on," Stiles said once the sound of his engine had long since faded into the distance. "Let's go...sort this out."
Being in Stiles room was like being treated but tortured in the same instance.
It was wonderful, because I was immersed in his scent and in the hub of his life, because I felt connected to him, and because I could starkly remember all the wonderful things that had happened there.
It was awful for the exact same reasons.
"Okay, well, we know one thing," Stiles was saying, pacing the length of the room as he brainstormed. Lydia sat at the desk on the computer, and I was reclined on the end of his bed, keeping myself from breathing in an effort to keep his scent from invading my head and making my brain go fuzzy with need. "Both of the first two keys, Allison and Aidan, they're both names of the dead, right?"
"But we've already tried every other dead person's name we can think of," Lydia complained hoarsely, exhausted from the day's events. I tossed Stiles' old hacky sack into the air, catching it before it could fall onto to my face. "And, if you haven't noticed, there were a lot of tries."
"Yeah, I noticed," Stiles snapped, clearly communicating that this wasn't helping. Lydia sighed, dropping her head into her hands, and I stopped entertaining myself with my solo game of catch, turning my attention to her. "You okay?" Stiles thankfully asked for me, saving me the awkward trouble.
"The only other banshee I've ever met, and I think I might have just drove her over the edge," Lydia murmured, sounding disappointed in herself. I wondered what I could possibly say, what type of thing helped in this sort of situation?
"Lydia, it wasn't your fault," Stiles told her lowly, shoulders hunched tiredly. "I was there too – so was Jules," he said, gesturing back at me.
"Looked to me like, at this point, just about anything would have driven her over the edge," I told the banshee, who attempted a smile, but failed tremendously, only ending up looking sadder. "We had to try," I reminded her quietly, and though she nodded, the look in her glazed eyes was distant.
"Besides, you're probably not the only-" Stiles began to say, only to freeze, his heart suddenly speeding up from beneath his ribs. "Hold on..." he murmured to himself, and I sat up properly, suddenly alert.
"Stiles?" I asked, reaching out a hand to gently brush his arm, jolting him back to the present.
"Banshees predict death," he said slowly, looking between Lydia and I. "So what if the third key, isn't someone who's dead..."
"...But will be," the banshee herself finished, and I ground my teeth, suddenly anxious about our train of thought.
We knew what we had to do, and that was terrifying in and of itself. I climbed to my feet, stepping around Stiles and settling in on Lydia's other side, staring down at the computer screen warily. "You can do this, Lydia," I murmured to the banshee in what I sincerely hoped was an encouraging voice. She took a deep, shaky breath and nodded, closing her eyes and falling absolutely silent.
I expected her heart to speed up, but instead it slowed down, like it might when one was asleep. I watched in slight awe and incredible trepidation as her fingers hovered over the keys. The silence stretched, and neither Stiles nor I made even a slight sound, staring at the screen, waiting for the key to be written.
As soon as Lydia wrote the first letter, I knew in my gut who it was.
Derek.
Lydia opened her eyes, grimaced, then hit enter. There was a flash of code, then the names and figures began to appear on the screen like magic. I swallowed, watching as Malia, Liam and Meredith were all revealed to be on the final list.
My eyes were locked onto Malia's name, however, shocked by what was written after it.
Malia Hale.
Hale? But that wasn't possible, was it? It didn't make any sense.
"Call Parrish," Lydia demanded, and I jerked my attention back to the room. This was something I could worry about later, there were much more pressing issues at hand. "We need to call Parrish. Now."
Stiles was already handing her her phone. "Will anyone be able to get to Meredith from in there?" I asked the human lowly as Lydia was dialling the deputy's number. "Surely she's safe," I added with a somewhat stubborn frown.
"They infiltrated school," he murmured back hollowly, reminding me of the Orphans, my mouth twisting into a bitter grimace. "I'm sure they could get someone into Eichen."
I sighed, pressing a hand to my temple and trying to rub away the growing headache. The call from Lydia's phone began to ring, and I focused in on the sound, listening to what was happening on the other end.
"Lydia?" Parrish answered, sounding rather deflated.
"We need to get Meredith to safety!" Lydia exclaimed without preamble, sounding frightened. "She's in danger."
There was a long pause on the other end of the call, one heavy with everything that wasn't being said. "Lydia..." Parrish began carefully, and I immediately knew he wasn't going to say anything good. "Meredith's gone."
"What are you talking about?" the banshee demanded, climbing to her feet, her pulse racing with terror. She already knew the truth.
"Lydia, Meredith's gone," Parrish repeated with absolute patience. "They found her an hour ago in her room – she hung herself."
Everything was silent, Lydia didn't even breathe, frozen as she processed this. Without realising it my hand had come up to cover my mouth, shocked beyond words by this news.
I'd been around death before. I'd written about it, felt it, caused it, experienced it. But this felt different, this felt too real, like every other death before had been expected and this one had ripped my world out from under me.
Maybe it was because of how uniquely innocent Meredith was, or maybe it was because this wasn't an accident and this wasn't medical and this wasn't murder. There was nobody to blame it on, nobody to take revenge on. This was suicide, and it felt so unreal.
Lydia didn't even hang up the phone call, she just turned around, eyes glassy and unseeing. Stiles gathered her in his arms, gently embracing her.
I couldn't find it within me to feel jealous, how could I? The only other one of her kind she knew, was gone, to suicide, and we were the last people to see her alive. I swallowed thickly, my emotions raging like a storm on the edge of my consciousness.
It was awful, I should have been mourning Meredith, but I didn't know the girl, I didn't know her at all. Instead, the only face floating in my mind's eye was Allison, the most recent close death that I'd experienced. I swallowed, a lump suddenly sitting in my throat, eyes suddenly stinging without my permission.
"Can you bring her back?" Lydia asked hollowly, and I looked up in surprise. A long few minutes had passed, and the banshee had gathered herself together again, pulling numbly away from a sympathetic looking Stiles. I realised she was talking to me, and I blinked back at her, not understanding.
"Me?" I asked, bemused by the request.
"You're a vampire," she said, sniffling delicately and giving a loud swallow. "Can't you bring her back? Like you?"
I stared back at her with saddened misery. "Even if that were possible, it isn't what you would really want," I replied softly, remained folded on top of Stiles' bedspread, blinking up at her dully.
Lydia sniffled again, running her perfectly manicured fingernails under her eyes, catching the stray drops of water dotting her cheeks.
"I think I just need to go home," she finally murmured, looking suddenly exhausted.
"I'll take you," Stiles nodded instantly.
Silently, I climbed to my feet, running my hands down the front of my clothes. "I'll see you later," I told them, taking this as my cue to leave. "Take care."
"Stay!" Stiles' voice stopped me when I was halfway out the door. I froze, turning around and looking back at him over my shoulder. I didn't speak, and Stiles swallowed loudly, unsure where to focus his gaze. Lydia had paused where she'd been picking up her jacket, her tired eyes flickering between the human and I. "I mean, it's only a ten minute round trip," he murmured, heart stuttering in his chest nervously. "I'll be back soon, and then..."
I wasn't sure what would happen then, but I was too scared to not wait and find out. Taking a step backwards, I reclaimed my position sprawled on his bed, legs tucked up under me as I watched him, wondering what he would do next.
There was a pregnant pause.
"I'll see you tomorrow?" I eventually offered Lydia, who attempted something of a smile, sadness still smeared on her like a coat of paint.
"I've already taken the PSATs," she replied quietly.
"So have I, in 1986," I responded with a wink, aiming for lighthearted. The comment got her to smile, if only for a split second.
"Good luck, nevertheless," she said softly, and I shot her what I hoped was a comforting smile before she ducked around Stiles and slipped out into the hall.
Stiles waited behind, hesitating in the doorway. "You'll stay here?" he confirmed warily, as though not sure whether to believe me or not.
"I won't move a muscle," I swore, and he gave an unconvincing smile before heading out after Lydia. I listened thoughtfully as the front door opened and shut, then his Jeep started up and the sound of his engine disappeared around the corner.
I remained still for another minute, then slowly climbed to my feet. His room smelled like him, threatening to drive me crazy. Still, it was a safe way to once again acclimatise to his scent, and I inhaled deeply, letting his minty-chocolatey smell fill my head like smoke. My throat burned with hunger, but in my chest I felt comfortable and warm.
Like I was at home.
His large clear board stood in the centre of the room, but I wasn't in the mood to go over the clues taped across it. Instead I wandered around it, running my fingers over the random books and bits and bobs he had laying across his room.
On the chest of drawers in the far corner sat a small handful of framed photographs. One of his mom and dad and a baby Stiles, one of Scott and him at a carnival of some kind, and one of me and him, the same one I had in my room. I reached out to touch it, running a finger down the glass covering the photograph, thinking fondly of how I'd felt the day it was taken.
Things were so simple back then. Ignorance really is bliss.
Sooner that I'd thought, the Jeep's engine was rumbling back up the road, and I hurried back to my position on Stiles' bed, reclining back as I had before and waiting for Stiles to noisily re-enter the house, tripping up the stairs and tumbling through his open doorway, sighing in something like relief when he saw I was exactly where he'd left me.
I said nothing, cocking my head as I observed him, waiting for him to do something, rather than taking the leap myself. I was a coward like that.
"Uh, are you okay?" he finally asked, striding across the room and taking a seat on his desk chair.
"Yes," I replied on instinct, but Stiles didn't look convinced. I sighed, reaching up to rub at my forehead.
"I saw your expression when we found out Meredith..." he trailed off, clearly not wanting to say it aloud. "That she was gone," he settled for saying, clearing his throat as the reality seemed to briefly overwhelm him. "It isn't like to be so..."
"Caring?" I supplied bitterly.
"Affected," he corrected gently.
I wasn't sure what to say, hesitating as I struggled to find the right words to convey the storm raging up inside my head. "It isn't Meredith," I admitted with a sigh, leaning over and bracing my forearms on my knees, head hung, overwhelmed myself. "It just reminded me of-"
"Allison," Stiles finished knowingly, and my throat seemed to contract at the name. "I guess you probably don't feel like you got any closure, huh?" he murmured thoughtfully.
"What is this, a fucking therapy session?" I lashed out instinctively, snapping my head back up to scowl at him threateningly.
Stiles remained surprisingly calm, merely frowning at me as he took in my harsh reaction. "Don't do that," he begged me, voice quiet, eyes alight with emotion. "Don't shut me out because I'm getting too close."
I sucked in a sharp breath, letting his scent calm me rather than excite me. "When did you get so wise?" I asked weakly, hanging my head once again, defeated.
"Stranger things have happened," he murmured back, a smirk in his voice. "You miss her?"
"Don't you?" I countered with a scoff, looking up at him, brow furrowed with barely concealed pain.
"Of course," he agreed easily. We were quiet again. "It's my fault she's dead," he muttered suddenly, and fury burst forth in me like a flare on the sun.
"It's my fault," I snapped back firmly, refusing to let him take it onto himself. "If I hadn't gone dark side, I could have protected her. I could have stopped it from happening. I could have-"
"If I hadn't let myself get possessed, the Oni never would have been there in the first place-"
"If it hadn't been you, it just would have been someone else-"
"I wish it had!" he shouted, and I blinked in surprise. He sighed, ducking his head and rubbing tiredly at the back of his neck. "I wish it had been somebody else."
I sighed gently. "I wish it had too."
We allowed the room to settled into silence, and I listened to the steady thumping of his heart. Dropping my head again, I let the repetitive sound soothe me like a lullaby. I wished things were like they were before, so I could kick off my shoes and burrow under the human's covers as though I'd been born to do so.
"Allison didn't blame you," he murmured so abruptly that I nearly flinched.
Looking up, he got a good look at my bemused expression. "And how would you know?" I asked, genuinely curious. "It isn't like we can ask her," I added, my voice taking on a bitter quality.
"I know because she was my friend," Stiles said assuredly, and I met his eyes, noting the stubborn glint to them. I wasn't going to be able to convince him otherwise, of that much I was certain. "She loved you," he reminded me gently, "because she was your friend, too."
I was at a loss for what to say, because what I could possibly come up with to counter with? But I was saved from responding by the shrill beeping of Stiles' phone. He fished it from his pocket, staring down at the screen for a long moment, brow furrowed as he read his received message.
"I've got to go," he said through a frown, climbing to his feet and patting his pockets to make sure he had everything.
"Is everything okay?" I asked gingerly, standing from where I was laid on the bed, arms crossed over my chest.
"Yeah, it's just Scott," the human shrugged. "I'm sure everything's fine, he just wants to talk." Stiles turned headed for the door and nodding for me to follow him. I let him lead me out, marching down the stairs behind him and winding through the house until we reached the front door.
"I'll see you tomorrow for the PSATs," I told him as we stepped out into the frigid night air.
"Oh, I can't drive you home?"
I tried not to notice the disappointed quality to his voice, as well as the clenching of my stomach and the heat that spread through my veins like the most delicious sort of poison.
"Scott's house is in the opposite direction," I told him gently, instead of voicing any of these things like a rational human being would do...though that was just it, wasn't it? I wasn't human. "I'll just catch up with you both tomorrow," I assured him calmly, and he swallowed, nodding his head and turning away.
I watched him go, trying to pretend like he wasn't taking a piece of my dead heart with him as he left.
If I thought managing my thirst on an average day was difficult, it was nothing the day of the PSATs. The human hearts around me where pounding like they were trying to escape their cages of bone, and each of them reeked that sickly-sweet stench of anxiety and stress hormones.
I fixed my trademark, apathetic glare onto my face so that any human who dared enter my bubble of personal space was instantly frightened half to death, enough to make them all give me a wide, healthy berth.
"Someone woke up on the wrong side of bed," Scott said playfully as I caught up to him on the way into the school building.
"It's an offence mechanism," I responded dryly.
"I think you mean defence-"
"I said what I meant," I said back from the corner of my mouth, glowering at a student who came a little too close, smelling a lot too delicious.
"Uh oh! Jules is making her 'I want to tear into a human neck and feast on their blood' face," Stiles said conversationally as both Scott and I sidled up beside the others, who stood towards the back of the line, everyone waiting nervously for the test to begin.
"I thought that was her 'it's Saturday' face," Malia responded dryly.
"They are very similar, aren't they?" Stiles mused, and I took the opportunity to gently smack him upside the head. He flinched and turned to glower at me, but there was a glint to his eyes that was fond, like somehow the action had been a gift, rather than a punishment.
"Where's Lydia?" Kira spoke up, voice curious as she looked around, searching for the genius banshee.
"She took it her freshman year," Stiles responded without missing a beat.
Malia paused, turning to look at the human with desperate anger in her eyes. "Does that mean I could have taken it some other time?" she hissed, pulse racing with anxiety.
"Malia," Scott interjected softly. "You studied harder for this than any of us."
"Doesn't mean I'm gonna do good," she snapped back.
"Well," Stiles corrected.
"Well what?" she snapped impatiently.
"It's do well, not good."
"God!" she exclaimed harshly, a scowl on her face that made Stiles flinch back warily.
"You're doing this," Scott stepped in, staring back at the nervous were-coyote with wide, comforting eyes, "because while we're trying not to die, we still need to live." I frowned at his words. Sometimes it was so easy to forget that these kids were just that; kids. "If I survive high school, I'd like to go to college; a good college," the teen wolf said, a pensive glint to his puppy-dog eyes.
"It's only three hours," Kira piped up in the most forced cheerful tone I had ever heard. "We can survive three hours."
I turned to look at her through an annoyed glare. Now that she'd said as much, something was certain to go catastrophically wrong.
The door at the front of the line cracked open, and an unfamiliar man poked his head out through the gap. "File inside in an orderly line," he instructed without preamble. "From there, you know what to do."
Having done this particular test more than once in my unfairly long life, I sighed, leaning back until my skull cracked against the lockers behind me, leaving a small indent in the thin metal.
"I can't believe I have to sit through another one of these things," I growled to the group at large, a scowl sitting comfortably on my lips.
"How many times have you done it?" Kira asked curiously, and I lifted my shoulders in a vague shrug.
"Half a dozen or so?" I murmured. "I dunno."
"But aren't there procedures in place to stop people from repeating it like that?" Kira asked, befuddled. "How did you get around that?"
"Compulsion, petty larceny, identity theft," I listed, growing bored and giving another halfhearted shrug.
"Don't comment, just nod," Stiles murmured to the others, who all followed his instructions, each looking varying degrees of bewildered. We filed into the classroom, the man stood behind the desk and a woman who I didn't know though looked vaguely familiar was placed off to the side.
We had to press our thumbs into ink, then place our fingerprint on the paper, thus identifying each paper to each specific person. I complied, then yanked my shitty, outdated phone from the back pocket of my shorts, dropping it into the bag held open by the strangely familiar, expectant lady, tossing her a cursory glance before continuing down the isle, taking a seat in the middle of the room, sliding down in my chair and irritatedly tapping the eraser of my supplied pencil on the cheap, polished wood of the supplied desk.
Stiles plopped into the desk beside, me, an unnecessary three pencils in his grip. He shot me a nervous grin, waving though keeping silent, and I couldn't help but smile in response.
The man in front began to rattle on about the rules and regulations of the test, but I paid little attention, focusing on breathing through my mouth and trying not to take notice of all the elevated heart rates surrounding me.
There was some sort of drama surrounding the whereabouts of Coach, but I didn't listen in, busy counting the cracks in the ceiling and ignoring the stench of anxiety that had flooded the room.
"You may now open your textbooks, and begin," the teacher in charge finally said, and I huffed, sitting upright in my chair and cracking open the workbook, beginning to gruelling task of colouring in a billion fucking bubbles so a board of old, straight, white men could determine my level of worth and intelligence.
The test wasn't easy by any means, but it sure felt that way when you cared very little about your results. I calmly read through the booklet, deciding not to choose answers at random and instead gave it a go. It was calming, in a way, like the constant, bloodthirsty noise that filled my brain went quiet as I considered the problems laid out before me.
"Jules," Stiles breathed almost imperceptibly from my left, and I looked up sharply, not having expected it. Nobody seemed to pay my movement any attention, and I brushed my hair back casually, like it had been my intention all along. I couldn't respond to the human, but I twisted my body so I was slightly angled in his direction, a silent signal that I was listening. "What's the answer to question 31?" he breathed silently.
I couldn't help but laugh, the sound more of a snort as it rippled through my chest. I hurried to change the reaction into a cough, and although the creepy teacher up the front didn't look convinced, he said nothing, going back to scanning the room with beady eyes.
Glancing over, I saw an almost invisible smirk sitting on Stiles' lovely lips, and I smirked back. Knowing I couldn't very well whisper back to him without somebody hearing, I dropped my left hand to my leg, making sure that he was watching from the corner of his eye.
B, I drew on my skin as clearly as I could, and he gave an otherwise undetectable nod in response, that perfect smirk remaining in place. Fondness surged through me so strongly that I had to take a deep breath to switch my focus back to the task at hand.
Before I could fully concentrate on the next question, there was an unexplainable stutter of a heart from behind me that caught my attention, and I turned around in my chair just in time to see the student sitting directly behind me collapse to the floor.
"Sydney!" the woman teacher up the front exclaimed, hurrying forwards, her high heels clacking against the floor. "Are you alright?" she asked, crouching down and helping the woozy girl upright.
"I'm okay," the girl reassured her, cheeks flushed pink and making hunger roar in my gut like an angry bear. "I just got...dizzy," she murmured, embarrassed.
There was a pause, and the teacher seemed convinced, until the woman's heart leapt as she caught sight of something on the girl's arm. "Sydney," she gasped, and for a beat I thought the worst – that there was a cut and at any moment I was about to be bombarded with the irresistible scent of human blood, but the scent never came. "How long have you had this?" the teacher continued, peering down at her arm in concern.
"Uh...I don't know," the student murmured, staring down at what I assumed was some kind of rash in abject horror.
"Ms Martin, do I need to stop the test?" Mr Creepy up the front said, and I startled at the name. That was Lydia's mom? I supposed that made sense.
"No!" Ms Martin said, her pulse racing and her skin beginning to reek of nervous anxiety, a different kind to the one already filling the room. "It's fine," she insisted unconvincingly, helping Sydney back into her seat.
Something was seriously, catastrophically wrong.
She clicked her way back up to the front, and I watched her move, listening to the pumping of her heart, but for once not attracted to it, instead concerned by it.
What was wrong? Was something happening? Was the pack safe? Was Stiles safe?
"Everybody stay in your seats, I'll be...um, back in a minute," she stammered unconvincingly, reaching down to pluck her cell phone from where it sat on the desk. "Nobody leaves the room," she muttered to the moderator of the test, her voice flat and serious. She gave the classroom a long glance, like she feared for our safety in the time she would be gone, and if I had a pulse, it would have been racing.
"Jules?" Scott muttered lowly from where he sat closer to the front, looking back at me seriously, knowing me, and possibly Malia, were the only ones who would hear.
"I don't know," I responded just as quietly, staring at the doorway Ms Martin had disappeared through, listening to her fading footsteps as she headed away from the room.
"Jules? Scott?" Stiles was muttering too, but all I could do was shake my head, telling him that, for all of our particular talents, we knew nothing.
There was silence, then the moderator up front clicked his stopwatch and said. "We'll take a break," much to everybody's relief. The feeling didn't last long, as all of a sudden there was a shouting from out in the hall that even the humans could hear.
"No! Do not come in here! Go back outside!" Ms Martin was yelling, and deciding that, rules be damned, I shot out of my seat, making it to the door as quickly as I could and pushing my way out into the hall. There was a buzz of noise from behind me, as the rest of the class did the same. The woman looked frazzled, and her heart was racing as I watched her click the lock on the front doors, sealing everyone out, and all of us, in. "Back to your seats," she said with as much calm as she was able to muster. "Now. Please."
Displeased and not willing to go without answers, I charged forwards. "What-" I began loudly, but an arm caught me around the waist, tugging me to a stop. The grip was weak, obviously human, and I knew from the way my bare midriff tingled that Stiles was on the other end.
"Come on," he murmured in my ear, and I swallowed, catching the woman's eyes. She pleaded with me to turn and go, and, if only to keep the peace, I complied.
I allowed Stiles to tug me back into the room, and Scott shut the door behind us. "What the hell is going on?" Stiles asked us, and as I heard the sound of a phone dialling from outside the room, I reached out and pressed a single finger to the human's lips, sealing them shut.
"I need the number of the CDC...yes, the Centre for Disease Control," the teacher outside was saying, and my eyes grew wide. I spun around to look at Scott, who was staring back, just as shocked.
"What?" Stiles demanded, knowing both of us well enough to know that we knew something.
There werewolf and I exchanged glanced, silently trying to decide who should deliver the news. In the end, it was Scott who took the bullet – as they say.
"She's calling the CDC," the alpha told Stiles, whose heart leapt in fear. "We're going into quarantine."
A/N: So, I'm deep in the workings of a new fic, but I'm still curious about what you guys wanna see, so please, head to my profile and take my poll! Something new is on it's way, but I'm still fully dedicated to this story – it's my "baby".
I love you all, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! xx
