Stiles woke up to two voicemails, the first from his dad. "Hey Stiles. I know I said I'd meet you for breakfast, but something's come up at work. There was a bad car accident on the highway and I'm helping with that. I'll call you later."
The second was short, "Meet's in five weeks. Bring your A Game and shadow puppets."
Stiles snorted and deleted the message. Then he got ready for the day.
Mediation, sparring, shower, breakfast, and Stiles was out the door and headed to the brewery.
His friend Robin Grayson and her family had helped him stockpile an inventory from their small facility for the past year, trading recipes and trade secrets for labor. They'd taught him everything they could about making beer, careful about the legalities of teaching him along the way. His first beers, mixed Dick and Bruce Grayson before he could actually brew, had been bad, but he hadn't given up. Not until he'd figured out the mix for the Alpha Ale. Once he'd turned twenty-one, Stiles had been caught up in brewing every day he wasn't teaching. Those efforts filled bottles and kegs in the fridge now, waiting for his new brews to join them.
There was something calming about measuring, weighing, and mixing everything into containers to ferment. Stiles easily lost himself in his work, cleaning, mixing, and carefully watching everything to make sure he got things properly mixed. After a brief stop for lunch, Stiles began brewing again. This time, he didn't follow the familiar patterns. He made a change to the hops. It would change the flavor and maybe even create the elusive Delta brew he'd been trying for.
"Stiles."
Stiles jumped, spinning. Derek was standing behind him.
"What the hell? You aren't supposed to be in here," Stiles said.
"I need your help," Derek said.
Stiles glared at Derek for a moment, then turned back to his work. "I'm in the middle of something Derek. Besides, you really aren't supposed to be back here. Did Karyna let you in?"
"Yes," Derek growled, "it's important."
"So is this," Stiles replied. What was Karyna thinking, letting someone back here? He had a moment so he started cleaning up, prepping things for his next brew run while he had a moment.
"Stiles, Malia is missing. She went for a run last night and hasn't come back." Derek said.
"Shit," Stiles said. "Hold that thought." He tugged his gloves on, grabbed the brew pot and shifted it to the tub of ice water waiting for it. "You said she went for a run? Like patrolling the perimeter or something?"
"She does it every night. What are you doing?" Derek asked.
"Making beer and listening to what you're saying about Malia," Stiles replied. "By not coming home, I'm assuming there's no contact from her, not even her cell phone."
"She left it at the loft," Derek said. "This is important."
"So is my business," Stiles retorted. "Not that you care, really. Did I turn that thing off?"
"I've got it," Derek said. "Will you help us?"
"I need to cool this, pitch the yeast, and put it in the fermenter, and then I'll help." Stiles sighed a bit, because the brew pot was heavy, even with a two-gallon limit. He eyed the thermometer on the pot and nearly swore. It was below boiling, sure, but he wanted it much lower.
"Stiles, we need your help," Derek said.
"I get that really," Stiles replied, easing the pot into the water fully. Then he walked over to start getting the fermenter ready as he spoke. "Malia's in trouble of some sort, you can't find her to help her, and I have a skill for scrying, really, that's not that difficult. Now here's my position. I'm a brewer, I make beer. It's an involved process that can take three weeks to finish. This is a small batch of wort, for the beer that I'm going to sell in the brewpub you walked through to get here. It has a lot of ingredients in it, ingredients that are rather expensive. Do you know what happens if I walk away right now? It's ruined. Hours of work, not just here in the brewery, but at home with the numbers and formulas. Ingredients that I have pay to for will be wasted."
"Stiles," Derek snapped.
"I'm not babbling, I'm explaining," Stiles snapped as he checked the pot and growled softly. It was getting there. Then he turned on the water in the sink as hot as it would go and dumped the cleaner in. "If you want to be useful, you could get one of the small, half pound containers of ice from the freezer. They have a green lid. Just grab it and dump it in the tub over there." He filled the smaller sink and slid the smaller implements in them. "Besides, I can't just scry for her like I did Lydia. I have to do something a bit different that takes longer than five minutes to pull off."
"Why not?" Derek called, and Stiles heard the freezer open.
"Because yesterday I fought my way out of a Fae Court with magic and I'm still magically drained," Stiles replied. "Personal magic is like a battery, not a well, Derek. It runs out and has to recharge. Finding Malia is going to take time if I don't want to fall into a magical coma. The more time I take between magical workings, the less likely I'll fall into the damn coma."
There was a splash as something went into the tub.
"Thank you," Stiles said as he continued cleaning, "What's the temperature on the pot?"
Derek was clearly getting annoyed, "Eighty-two."
"Excellent," Stiles said. "It just needs to hit seventy-nine and I can pitch the yeast. Then I stir it well and pour it in the fermenter."
"What?" Derek asked.
"When I pour the wort into the fermenter, I'll see what I can do about a locator spell," Stiles said. He hesitated for a moment. "There was a car wreck this morning on the highway."
"What does that have to do with anything?" Derek asked.
"I'm not sure. I'm not psychic. It's just on my mind." Stiles replied. "Do you mind watching the temperature on the pot? I can get some of this cleaning out of the way faster. I'm cleaning because having sterilized equipment is important to brewing. Using dirty equipment can introduce bacteria to the beer that could make a person sick or even kill them."
"I'll help with the cleaning," Marci said as she stepped through the doors.
"Thanks Marci," Stiles said. "Can you start doing surfaces? I'm about done for the day."
"Not a problem," Marci replied and headed for the cleaning closet.
"It's at seventy-nine," Derek said after a moment.
Stiles finished up and cleaned his hands. Then he grabbed the yeast and a spoon and hurried over, "Thank you Derek."
He added the yeast and stirred it in. "If you're so drained," Derek began.
"I slept," Stiles said. "It's part of why I passed out last night too. I just need another day to be at full strength again. I'm physically fine."
Marci coughed.
"Fine, I've got a bruise on my arm from Karyna in sparring this morning, but I'm physically fine." Stiles said. He regarded the pot for a moment, then hauled it out of the ice water and carried it over to the fermenter. He tried to adjust his grip, but almost dropped the pot. Derek caught and steadied it.
"He's not fine," Marci said. "He's tired and won't admit it."
"This just needs to be poured in that bottle?" Derek asked, staring at Stiles.
"Yeah, but I can do it," Stiles replied.
"Let me," Derek said. "I know you can, but it's okay to ask for help sometimes."
Stiles's laugh was bitter, "How long have you been waiting to throw that in my face?"
"I haven't," Derek replied.
Stiles knelt, gripped the bottle, and steadied the funnel, "Pour it in then."
Derek tilted the pot over and let the liquid slowly pour into the funnel. "It's not that I don't think you can do this Stiles," he said softly. "That was never something I thought. It's just that I am a werewolf and strong. I can do things to help if you ask me."
"I'm letting you pour the wort aren't I?" Stiles asked dryly.
"Only because I forced the issue," Derek said. "I don't like doing that, Stiles."
"That's new," Stiles said.
"Six years is a long time."
The pot was empty and Stiles scrambled to get the airlock in place. "Please put the pot in the big sink to be cleaned? I'm going to put this in the fermentation room." Stiles checked the label and stood up. He blinked three times to clear his head and then lifted the bottle to haul it over to the room.
That done, Stiles slipped his arm through Derek's arm. "Let's go upstairs to Neverland and see what I can do for Malia." He grinned over at Marci, "Thanks for your help, Wendy."
"No problem, Peter Pan," Marci replied.
Stiles guided Derek up to the technological wonder of Neverland. "This is Neverland?" Derek said.
"We've got all the best toys," Stiles said. "This is our everything room." He headed over to his locker and pulled out a toolkit, then collected some maps from the stack.
"What have you been up to?" Derek asked.
"I'm legally not supposed to tell you," Stiles replied as he unrolled the first map and put down weights. "Seriously," he turned to Derek, "there were nondisclosure agreements and everything."
He took a tripod out of his toolkit and set it up, then a pendulum. "The wonderful thing about divining is that it takes next to no magic." He grinned at Derek, "You can do this if you wanted to even." He set the pendulum in the tripod and set it to swaying. "Derek, I need you to think of Malia. Just Malia."
Stiles closed his eyes for a moment and pulled up everything about Malia that he had. Then he looked at the pendulum. After a moment, he moved the tripod over and watched. After four tries, the pendulum stopped swaying, pointing at the map at an angle. "Now what?" Derek asked.
Stiles studied the spot, and then pulled out a new map. "Now we narrow it down." He rolled the first map and unrolled the second. He set the weights down and put the tripod back down, setting it to swaying again.
"Think of Malia again." Stiles said.
This time, the pendulum stopped almost instantly and Stiles sighed.
"What?" Derek asked.
"That's where her mom's car is," Stiles said. "I remember that."
"I have to go," Derek said after a moment. "Thank you."
"Let me know if she's okay," Stiles said.
"You don't want to come with?" Derek asked.
"Not today," Stiles said. "I've got to clean the brewery, and I'm exhausted from yesterday. I'd rather break today and be ready to fight tomorrow."
Derek stared at him for a long moment, and then pulled out his phone, dialing as he left.
Stiles waited until Derek was out of sight, then he put away his magical gear and tapped the tabletop, bringing up the satellite imagery of the woods. "Everything all right?" Karyna asked.
"Just marveling at the luddites," Stiles replied as the picture resolved itself.
"Ancient weapons and hokey religions," Karyna said as she leaned against his shoulder.
As the picture became clear, Stiles swore as Karyna whispered, "Oh my god."