I'm burning bridges shore to shore
I break away from something more
I'm not turned off to love until it's cheap
Been there, done that, messed around
I'm having fun, don't put me down
I'll never let you sweep me off my feet
Chapter 15: Bereaving
"We can't do this without Scott," Liam whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut while Deaton extracted a gargantuan splinter from his arm.
"There were so many of them," Malia added.
"I've called in backup," Deaton responded, dabbing at Liam's wound with antibacterial ointment. "They should be here soon."
"Who?" Stiles demanded. "And how soon?"
"Everyone," he said simply. "Chris Argent, Derek, Braeden. Even your overseas friends, though I doubt they'll come."
"You asked Jackson?! Why would you ask that son of a-"
"He's a werewolf now, Stiles," Deaton reprimanded. "Not a kanima. And I asked Isaac too, but I don't think he wants to come back to Beacon Hills either."
"I still can't believe you asked Jackson," Stiles huffed, side-glancing at Lydia.
The veterinarian shrugged. "We are dealing with an enemy we can't handle by ourselves," he reasoned.
"You said Chris Argent?" Sherry asked. "The guy who knows the Calaveras?"
Deaton gave her a strange look. "Yes. Why?"
Stiles put a hand on her shoulder. "Because the Calaveras killed her dad."
Parrish convulsed on the bed, his muscles spasming and flailing. The heart monitor peaked erratically, the frequency reducing every second.
Mrs. McCall jumped up, examining his vitals. "Nothing seems to be wrong!"
As suddenly as the attack had come, it stopped. Parrish lay still in his bed, the heart monitor letting out a uniform, prolonged beep - his heart had flatlined.
"Oh no," she muttered. She pulled open the door, yelling into the hallway, "Code blue! Get a defibrillator in here stat!" She rushed to her patient's side, pushing her hands down on Parrish's chest. The CPR went on for several seconds until a team with a defibrillator showed up.
Sherry backed into a corner, staring in terror.
"Back up!" someone shouted. "One, two, three!" A shock was administered to Parrish's chest, making him shudder. "Again!"
Mrs. McCall dodged around the medical team, signaling to Sherry. "I need you to get Kira up here. Now!"
Befuddled, she nodded, and sprinted out of the room. Why Kira? She took the stairs rather than the elevator and stumbled out on the first floor completely overwrought. Thank God the pack still insisted on waiting down in the lobby. "Kira!"
The girl turned around, her glossy black hair swinging. "What's wrong?"
"You need to come to Parrish's room," Sherry panted. "Cardiac arrest!"
The other four burst into commotion, worried. Sherry and Kira raced back up the stairs, pushing past nurses to get back into Parrish's room. One nurse tried barring their entrance, ordering that they were not allowed inside the room.
Thankfully, Mrs. McCall overrode that vote. She tugged Kira inside the room. Sherry ducked in after.
"Move aside!" Mrs. McCall bellowed.
"Ma'am, what are you doing?"
She eyed the dissenting man fiercely. "Move."
Kira rushed to Parrish's side and then, as if in a trance, put her hands over his heart. She closed her eyes and Sherry swore she saw flickers of lightning zap from Kira's fingertips to Parrish's skin.
"Nothing's happening!" the same indignant man exclaimed. "What are you thinking?!"
Parrish spasmed. Still, his heartbeat didn't restart.
"I'm going to have to call it," the man said. "Time of death-"
Beep.
"That's impossible!"
But it wasn't. Parrish's heart was beating again. Stunned, Kira backed away as nurses crowded around Parrish's body, scribbling on clipboards and examining his vital statuses.
"How did you do that?" Sherry breathed, staring at Kira.
"I'm a kitsune," she said. "I'm a fox with a thing for electricity."
"I thought you were just really good at swordfighting."
She smiled. "That too."
For the next few days, Sherry was suspended in a state of shock. She spent every day curled in her bed, worried that Parrish would go through cardiac arrest or some other ailment again but not survive. She had gotten used to her uncle being in a coma.
The first few days, she had been morose, unwilling to talk to anyone. Still, her new friends had pulled her out of her shell. Mason was always peppy and the shifter crisis kept her on her toes. Then her adventure in the sewers had happened and she found herself on an apparent date with Liam and it seemed to her that her whole plan of keeping to herself had gone down the drain.
Now, there was no way she was going to put down her guard. How could she? Her uncle had been dead for a few minutes. She'd almost lost someone she'd cared about again. Every time she looked at someone, like Liam or Stiles or Mason, she imagined them dying gruesome deaths. Something bad happened to everyone she started caring about. Her mother got herself arrested. Her father was murdered. Parrish was in a coma. Scott was in police custody. And though she knew plainly that it wasn't her fault, she just couldn't shake the feeling that it was.
Every day at school passed like a blur. It had been a week, but still Deaton's contacts were unable to release Scott from prison. Mr. Argent, and whoever Derek and Braeden were, still had not arrived. The threat of another murder loomed closer. Sherry ate her lunch by the tree outside the cafeteria, purposely avoiding Mason and Liam.
The funny thought occurred to her, as the dried grass tickled her ankles, that she'd gone from trying to make friends to trying to avoid them. She stared out at the empty lawn, picking at the grass around her.
Someone appeared next to her, sliding down the tree trunk to sit by her side, just as she'd done to Scott that one time.
"Want to talk about it?" Liam asked softly. His arm brushed Sherry's shoulder, sending a shiver up her spine. She didn't answer, or even look at him. "Mason's worried about you."
"Please go away."
"We're all here for you, you know. We've all been through tough times. It just helps to talk to someone."
She almost wanted to. But then she remembered that the last person she talked to was Scott. And what had happened to him? She stayed silent.
Resigned, Liam stood up. "Scott once told me something. If you don't want to be involved, that's fine. Just don't push your friends away, too."
Sherry knew he meant Mason. But besides Mason, her friends were them. Liam, Stiles, Scott. Even Kira and Lydia had started to grow on her. She didn't have a choice.
A glossy slate-colored car zoomed across the street, braking right at the school's curb. A buff-looking woman with dark skin and a black leather outfit stepped out of the passenger's side. The back door opened, too, letting out the one person Sherry didn't expect to see. Scott McCall.
"Miss us?" the woman called, grinning at Liam. Another unfamiliar person, a man with black hair and rugged stubble, emerged from the driver's side, making his way around to stand by the woman.
Sherry scrambled to her feet, wondering how Scott could've gotten out of jail.
"Sherry," Scott said, "Meet Braeden and Derek."
Sherry stared at the imposing duo, making a strangled squeak. She did not want to get on their bad sides.
"How did you get out?" Liam asked. Scott glanced at Braeden.
"Remember how I used to be a U.S. Marshall?" she said. "It's not that hard to destroy evidence and pretend to be a government official."
"Deaton said you needed help?" Derek questioned, smirking.
"We needed Scott," Liam replied. "We didn't ask for you."
"We're going to need all the help we can get," Scott mitigated, walking toward Liam and Sherry. "I met the alpha. She doesn't care about logic or protecting her pack. She doesn't even care about self-preservation. All she wants is to hurt me."
"She's a sadistic psychopath, basically," Braeden said. "It'll take more than battle strategy to defeat her."
"Liam, get everyone out here," Scott ordered.
"Now? What about school?" Liam paled, but one look from his alpha made him nod. "Okay." He ran back inside the building.
"What's wrong?" Scott questioned, staring oddly at Sherry. His voice was low, intended to be out of the earshots of the other two. "You smell really negative."
"Parrish almost died again," she whispered. "But I'm glad you're back."
He rubbed her shoulder. "He's going to be okay."
"But will everyone else?"
Scott turned around. Kira ran into his arms, hugging him tightly.
Stiles glared at Derek. "Nice to have you back."
"We need to go now," Derek said. "The longer we wait, the more the other alpha will expect us."
She felt terrible about ditching school. She'd never done that before in her life. But for everyone else, it was just another day in Beacon Hills.
She wasn't sure why it had become the unspoken law that every meeting must take place at Deaton's veterinary clinic. Everyone was crowded in the back room, leaning against sharp metallic corners and unopened cabinets.
"Are we killing them?" Malia wondered hopefully.
"Not if we can help it," Deaton responded. "Other questions?" No one said anything. "You can do it, everyone."
Braeden motioned to Sherry, pulling her aside. "Do you know how to work a gun?"
"No."
She pulled out a handgun from her jacket. "This is a semi-automatic pistol. This is the chamber. This is the trigger." She pressed the gun into Sherry's hand. "Follow me. You're going to do some target practice."
Outside, Braeden walked over to a sleek black motorcycle and tossed Sherry a helmet.
"What about the car?" Sherry yelped. She did not like the idea of moving sixty miles an hour without the walls of a car to protect her.
"The car's Derek's." Braeden tapped the motorcycle fondly, swinging her leg over. "This baby is mine."
Sherry tightened the helmet around her head and climbed behind Braeden on the seat reluctantly. She clutched her arms around Braeden and then they were off.
"Where are we going?" Sherry hollered over the rush of wind.
"To the woods!"
"Why are you doing this?!"
"You wanted to help! So I'm teaching you!"
Braeden parked the bike right off the side of the road by a deserted stretch of forest. They dismounted, taking off their helmets, and walked a couple paces into the trees.
"Shoot that tree," Braeden ordered, pointing at one random trunk.
"I don't know how to-"
"Go!"
Skittishly, Sherry tried to remember what she saw in movies and TV shows. She racked the gun, pulling harder until she heard a click. Then she held the gun as far away from herself as she could, both hands grasping the smooth metal.
She heard a bang as the gun fired. A rustling of bushes far away indicated that her aim had been way, way off.
"Again," Braeden ordered.
Sherry shook herself, her pulse pounding in her ears. She tried again, still missing the tree by a wide angle. After about ten minutes, she jumped in excitement when bits of bark and splinters exploded off the side of the tree. "I nicked it!"
"Good job," Braeden drawled. "Now do it again."
Sherry had two of Braeden's pistols clutched tightly in her hands as she and Braeden snuck around the side of the house. A scratchy bush prickled in their faces, obscuring their view of the closest guard.
"Stay down," Braeden hissed. Sherry nodded, crouching and trying not to make a noise. The guard scanned the bush's area, sniffing for a scent of them. He moved closer, barking, "Who's there?"
Braeden popped up, pulling a stun gun from her leather jacket and aiming it at the guard. He crumpled to the ground and Braeden caught him just before he hit it, lowering him down silently.
She motioned to Sherry and they crept up to the cabin walls, pressing themselves against the rough wood under a window.
The earpieces in Sherry's and Braeden's ears crackled. "All clear," Stiles informed them.
Braeden held up three fingers. Two. One. Abruptly, she shot up and smashed her elbow through the foggy window, firing shots through the jagged hole. The wolfsbane bullets sliced through the air, embedding themselves into unsuspecting werewolves.
"Get inside!" Braeden shouted. "I have your back."
Sherry stood up, grabbing the windowpane like the edge of a gymnastics vault, and brought her feet up onto the thin ridge. She propelled herself through the opening in the window, diving headfirst and landing on her hands, folding up and taking the brunt of the fall through her shoulders and back as she tucked and rolled out of her dive. She hadn't expected that the next time she tumbled would be on a hardwood floor instead of the padded blue mats of a cheer gym. She was up in a split second, aiming bullets at attackers and ducking punches.
A hand caught the back of her jacket, lurching her backwards. Another hand punched her head, sending an explosion of pain searing through her skull. Stars danced in her vision. Her aim was fuzzy already, but now she couldn't even shoot within 180 degrees of her targets.
Claws pressed against her ribs, shoving her back against a rigid wall. Her arm slammed into a sharp corner, slicing through her sleeve and skin. She gasped out in pain, collapsing onto her side as she watched the rest of the action unfold before her blurry eyes.
Scott slashed at her attackers, fighting off both of them at once. Thankful for the distraction, Sherry dragged herself out of the way, weakly pushing at a set of drawers until it slid enough for her to hide behind it.
From her position, she could see through a small crack between the wall and the edge of the furniture. Braeden, bleeding profusely, still kept up a good fight, shooting from an even bigger gun while kicking and punching. Derek's eyes were blue as his face contorted into a werewolf's, roaring and swinging at angry betas. Kira twirled her katana in practiced arcs. Malia lunged at werewolves and Liam punched furiously.
Sherry focused back on herself, taking her breaths slowly and as calmly as she could. She blinked continuously, trying to clear her vision. She needed to be able to shoot again.
What was it about pain? If she didn't think about it, it wouldn't hurt as much. Everything could be solved with a little focused breathing. She shut her eyes, muttering, "In. Out. In, and out."
Slowly, she could start to feel the dizziness subsiding, the stars dancing in her vision slowing to waltzing and then fading from view. The gash in her arm, though, still screamed at her. Sherry refused to look at the wound, despite the warm blood she could feel trickling down her skin. If she saw how bad it was, she figured, it would only hurt worse.
The cabin door exploded open again, the wooden door crashing into the wall. The hinges seemed to strain against their bolts. From her vantage, Sherry could see a scruffy blond man armed with mammoth black guns. Each of them must have weighed at least as much as her.
"About time!" Scott yelled.
The man shrugged, firing off streams of bullets at offending werewolves. "Sorry. The drive from Mexico took longer than I expected."
Hoping none of those bullets or exploding shrapnel would come her way, Sherry positioned the barrel of her handgun at the crack between the wall and the drawers, squinting through the interstice to aim. She managed to nick some legs and feet, although she couldn't see the faces of most of her victims. They were too tall for her to get a peek.
Torrents of flying metal and claws zoomed everywhere in the room, ricocheting off walls and furniture. Wolves fell everywhere, including one familiar beta with messy brown hair and bright yellow eyes.
A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I've been really busy lately :(
P.S. If you couldn't tell who the beta was, it's Liam. Just so we're clear.
What did you think? What's going to happen?
Remember to review, favorite, and follow! xx
