Chapter Twelve
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"My friends don't have a lead, so I'm heading home to help. I'm going at the end of the week," Stiles added, a little annoyed about it.
It was the condition that the Sheriff had set in an effort to get Stiles not to quit the FBI program, and hopefully return to Quantico for the Monday morning. He could understand the reasoning, but Stiles was anxious to get to Beacon Hills sooner rather than later.
"Agent Mc- uh... McCall is coming with me, and he's organising for some of his team to come as well. I don't expect any of you to come with me, and it could be dangerous, but... this is what being in the FBI is all about: helping people, and I think it could be good experience - "
"Just shut up already, Stilinski. You think we've spent the better part of two days getting our asses handed to us by a werewolf so we can go back to regular training now? We're in," Tomika said, smirking.
"Do you think we'll get to use an official FBI van? I hear they're bulletproof," Li said, grinning.
"Yeah, 'cause that won't look suspicious. We're going there inconspicuously, okay? Besides, flying is faster. Unless anyone knows how to teleport?" Stiles asked curiously, looking to the group.
"I don't think that's possible, Stilinski."
"You can turn invisible, Marcie," Stiles replied pointedly, arms folded across his chest.
"Instead of a squad of highly qualified FBI agents, I get children," Sean muttered, not quite under his breath, rubbing his temples.
Stiles would have argued that point, but then their official FBI Kevlar vests arrived, and... well, even Sean had to be excited about that when he was a new recruit, right?!
...
Rafe and Derek walked through the FBI office, Derek half a step behind Rafe and trying not to look too amused at the expressions of shock on the various FBI employees faces.
Not only was Hale not in handcuffs, he didn't seem feral like the reports had clearly stated. Hell, he was wearing a soft Henley and worn jeans, and he didn't even look dangerous. From the expressions Rafe could see on most people, it seemed like they were trying to hide their attraction to a recently wanted criminal. Rafe couldn't see it, himself.
Maybe it was the beard? he wondered, stroking his bare chin briefly.
"Agent McCall, sir, you realise that's Hale?" one of the agents asked, glancing between Rafe and Hale quickly.
"Yes, I'm aware of that, Larry. He's been acquitted of all charges and is cooperating with my division," Rafe replied, daring Larry to say anything else.
Larry nodded, glancing at Hale warily as he returned to his desk.
"Cooperating with your division?" Derek echoed softly, raising an eyebrow.
"It's as close to the truth as it gets. Larry isn't known for his ability to keep his mouth shut; everyone in the building will know about it before we reach the next floor," Rafe said, sounding more amused about it than he probably should have.
Derek gave a slight nod and continued to follow Rafe across the floor. They didn't get far before he tapped Rafe's shoulder and stopped suddenly. "Siren."
"What?"
"Women known to draw sailors to their deaths by singing?" Derek prompted.
"Oh, right. Who?" Rafe asked, frowning as he looked around and tried to spot a siren among his very human-looking peers.
"Blonde hair," Derek replied, indicating towards the woman with a nod.
Rafe headed to the woman's desk, Derek waiting behind. "Ari, would you care to take a walk with me?" It wasn't a question.
Ari seemed wary, glancing from Rafe to Hale. "Yes, sir."
A few people seemed surprised at Ari being picked out for something, but no one commented while Rafe was still in the room. He headed back to Hale and continued to the elevator, not looking back as Derek and Ari followed him. They made it to the elevator without stopping again, and stepped inside in silence.
"Derek, werewolf," he introduced, holding a hand out to shake once the doors had closed and people started to whisper.
Ari looked from Derek to his hand, then shook it gently. "Ariana. I didn't think you knew about... this, sir," she said to Rafe.
"According to certain people who shall remain nameless, I don't know a thing," Rafe muttered.
Derek covered his laugh with a cough, knowing exactly who the 'nameless' person was.
"From the things I've been able to piece together in the past two years, well... I hope that I know more than most of the population. Sirens are new," Rafe admitted, looking to Ari. "Is that how you stopped Brown last year?"
Ari's cheeks reddened and she nodded. "I only use it as a last resort. I wouldn't be a very good negotiator otherwise," she added.
"If it stops someone from slaughtering an office full of people, use it as much as you need," Rafe said, going quiet again once the doors opened to his floor.
People stopped whispering immediately, returning to their work and not even glancing their way when Derek stepped out with Rafe and Ari. Larry worked fast.
Derek sniffed briefly, frowning. "How many people are in your division? Thirty?"
"Thirty-two, and all the best in their respective fields. I've been trying to get Ari for two years," Rafe mentioned as he headed towards his office.
"You have, sir?" Ari asked, surprised.
"Cowgill refuses to let you go."
Derek tapped Rafe's shoulder and waited until he stopped. "Out of the thirty-two people in your division, there are twelve who aren't human."
Rafe frowned. "I only thought there were three. Don't tell Stiles that," he muttered, heading to his office and looking out the large window to the desks below. "Who?"
Derek told him the location of each person and waited. "There's something else as well. I can't put my finger on it, but the scent's familiar. I can't tell where it's coming from," he added, frowning and sniffing again.
Rafe nodded and left his office, calling for the twelve people Derek had indicated. Five minutes later, Rafe's office was crowded with the three werewolves he knew about, as well as two werecoyotes, two kitsune, one banshee, two Druids, two witches, and Ari.
Not everyone seemed pleased to have been outed as not-entirely-human and at least four of the twelve were glaring at Derek, one of whom was the witch. Derek felt his skin crawl in response, and he wondered if she was hexing him. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be the first time.
"You may or may not have heard of Beacon Hills," Rafe said, drawing their attention and interest immediately. "A threat is there that needs to be contained and/or dealt with. At the moment, it only seems to be a hellhound threatening the townspeople, but banshees across the country have been receiving the town's name and it will encourage others to go there as well. Namely hunters," he added.
Stiles had practically hand-written the script Rafe needed to not only get the attention of anyone supernaturally-inclined, but also to encourage their need to protect others. They were FBI agents for a reason, after all. At the mention of hunters, every last person had their attention on Rafe and he looked between them to discern their responses: anger, hate, fear, suspicion, more fear. Underlying all of that was a grim determination, so it looked like Stiles had been right to play to their protective sides.
The witch stopped glaring and/or hexing Derek, her shoulders stiffening at the mention of hunters. Werewolves weren't the only innocents who were persecuted, and Salem was still too fresh in the minds of some. "When are we leaving?"
"This Friday. It's not a lot of time to prepare, but there are - " Rafe cut off abruptly when there was a knock at his office door.
"Sorry to interrupt, sir, but I think you need to know what you're dealing with here," a man said, opening the door without waiting for an answer. He stood straight, calm, and held two guns in his hands.
"Steve?" one of the Druids asked, frowning.
Derek finally recognised the scent: it was the same one he had smelled on the Calaveras in Mexico. "Get down!" he yelled, jumping clear across the room to pull Rafe to the ground behind his desk.
The banshee screamed a werecoyote's name, followed by a witch's name, but it wasn't enough time for either to escape as Steve fired several rounds of bullets into the room. The scent of blood, gunpowder, and metallic bullets filled the air in seconds, even strong enough for humans to recognise. An explosion sounded from the bullpen seconds later, and the smell of fire, flames, and smoke added to the mix of already-overwhelming scents.
Derek heard surprised shouts from both inside and outside Rafe's office as he looked the agent over to ensure he was all right. A little shell-shocked, but otherwise fine, he determined.
Rafe blinked a few times, shook his head, and seemed to gather his wits again. Derek stayed crouched behind Rafe's desk, listening intently to determine if Steve was still there. He sniffed a few times, trying to get past the plethora of scents to fix on the Calaveras one, and found that it was no longer fresh. Glancing up over the desk, Derek saw that he was right and Steve was already gone. He stood up and nodded to Rafe.
"What just happened? Is everyone all right?" Rafe asked, standing and looking over the people in his office.
Ari had been shot in the shoulder, her face pale and her lips drawn tight. One witch was dead, while the one who had glared at Derek was using a green kind of magic to heal the two Druids from wounds in their stomach and chest respectively. Derek felt his gaze slipping over her without really taking the information in properly, and gathered she was using a spell to redirect anyone's attention from what she was doing. One werecoyote was dead and the other was wounded. The kitsune were both burning brightly, each having lost a tail in the fray of bullets. The werewolves were snarling, eyes gold and claws out, their control having slipped as their scents were overwhelmed. Steve hadn't used wolfsbane bullets, thankfully, so their wounds would heal eventually.
"We have to leave now; the Calaveras won't be far behind him," Derek said.
"The Calaveras are a cartel in Mexico; what interest do they have in any of this?" Rafe asked.
"They're hunters. They've been to Beacon Hills before. We need to go."
"I need to look after my division, Hale. I have injured people and - "
"They are going to kill your son and anyone who gets in their way," Derek snapped.
Rafe paled slightly and nodded. "Rodriguez!" he called loudly, a young man stepping into his office, eyes wide at the sight of blood, glass, and bullets. "Call every medic we have in the area to deal with the wounded. Alert security and every law enforcement agency from here to California that a domestic terrorist is on the loose; give them Steve's picture. See if we can get him before he alerts the Calaveras. Get everyone we have in the Calaveras cartel to let us know exactly when they plan to move."
"Yes, sir," Rodriguez replied, leaving the office immediately.
"We need - " Derek started to say before another explosion occurred.
This explosion was much closer to Rafe's office than before. The glass walls of his office shattered, and the heat and blast from the explosion threw Derek back off his feet, his head connecting with the thick window frame. He crumpled to the ground and didn't move.
...
End of the twelfth chapter.