Chapter 15: Bonfire Worthy of Guy Fawkes

It had been about four days since that night at the hospital, and four days since I really talked to any of my friends. Well, save for Malia, who I was tutoring every night. We both were in that mindset to just throw ourselves into our schoolwork in between assassins rather than hearing our friends continually try and explain themselves.

I was keeping up with Lydia. Damn her, I could never seem to stay angry at her for very long. I think that that's due to the fact that she would never let me stay angry at her for more than what she deemed appropriate. Since we started talking again, she would help me steer clear of Stiles in the hallways and in classes we shared.

Scott, true to his word upon my request, kept me in the loop in regards to what was happening. He talked with Kira about how the plan didn't work but also did. Scott thinks that because the benefactor didn't show up means that they don't need to be present to determine if a body is actually dead, meaning only one thing: banshee.

Speaking of Kira, she left for Palo Alto with her father so she could keep an eye on her injured mother. She assured all of us she would be back to Beacon Hills to help as quickly as possible. Pulling me aside, she apologized profusely about the dead pool before giving me a large hug goodbye.

I wasn't the only one removed. Liam had withdrawn himself from all of us almost entirely. When I passed him in the hallways, he would always seem either skittish like something was chasing him or just plain traumatized. The little I heard from Lydia about him was that the fight with the berserkers scared him more than he would want to admit to any of us, Scott included. Poor Mason was even more at a loss as to what was going on with him than usual, but he stayed resiliently by his side. I had to admire his determination and loyalty, and wondered if we were ever going to let him in on what was actually going on in this town.

Lastly, I had indeed avoided Stiles almost like the plague. I screened his calls and his texts, but never blocked his number. It was hard for me to admit it, but I wasn't angry anymore. My heart was instead filled to the brim with hurt, and I wasn't ready to talk to him about it. In my sadness, I turned to Ginny, who was always ready to talk, mugs of ice cream in hand.

"Why won't you answer him?" Ginny inquired, setting down the second mug with her half-finished second helping. My phone had just flashed with another text message from Stiles, and I sighed.

"I mean, I'm not angry anymore, Ginny. I'm just upset, I guess," I set down the mug next to hers, and she leaned across the counter to me.

"Tell me what's on your mind, June. I can't read it, I can't get inside it like you apparently can." I had explained the whole situation with Scott in the hospital, and Stiles' theory about it being a pack thing. Ginny seemed to whole-heartedly agree, and moved that to our lead theory with my new ability.

I huffed, "I just got him, you know? I thought we were past all the secrets and were finally in a place to just be together. Now he goes and keeps a secret from me that could very potentially rip us apart if something were to happen to my parents. Not to mention that he did exactly what they did. Evelyn and Robert kept a huge secret from me by discussing my expulsion from the coven. And Stiles doing the same thing by keeping the lives of my parents away from me and in his control is just sending back all the same feelings over again. I feel like the only person I can turn to is you, Gin."

"Well if you're finally going to listen to me, I can tell you honestly that Stiles did not do that with malicious intent. Your parents did, and I think if you let Stiles explain himself, you'd understand where he was coming from."

"Did he make you say that in attempt to sway me?" I semi-joked, but froze when Ginny didn't reply. Looking up at her, I watched her shift uncomfortably, never meeting my gaze. "He did fucking not," I scoffed.

"He came over one day while you were with Malia," Ginny reasoned in a high-pitched tone. "He wanted a woman's advice on what was wrong with you."

"I feel oddly betrayed for some reason," I muttered, shaking my head in disbelief.

"Oh please, it has nothing to do with betrayal and loyalty, June. He just wanted to talk, so I let him. He really thought that he was going to lose you, and that this was the only way-"

"Can we not talk about this anymore, please? I honestly thought you were on my side," I chided, crossing my arms. Ginny and I both glanced up when the doorbell rang, and she excused herself from the kitchen.

"If you can believe it or not, I actually am playing for your side," She kissed my forehead and walked to the door. She called out to me, relaying that Lydia was at my doorstep. I put on my shoes and walked over to where Ginny was standing. Facing the outside, my eyes widened and then narrowed in suspicion when both Lydia and Stiles were standing on the other side.

"Why do I get the feeling that you're about to take me to my intervention, or something?" I asked hesitantly before Lydia handed me a slip of paper. Unfolding the older-looking paper, I saw what appeared to be another code in unfamiliar handwriting.

"Is this more of the dead pool or something?"

"It was in the lake house," Lydia explained, and my gaze snapped to her, "My grandmother asked to have that given to me before she died. Or, well, disappeared."

"Lydia, you told me your grandmother died in Eichen," I recalled, looking between her and Stiles.

"If she were dead, then how would she have known about the dead pool?" Stiles rhetorically asked.

I shook my head, "What do you need me to do, then?"

"We're heading down to the station to talk to my dad about this before we try and put it on the computer. Lydia's grandmother potentially fits the M.O. of the benefactor, we just need help finding her."

"And you want me to come with you?"

"You said you wanted to be more involved," Lydia reminded me and I sighed. Looking back at Ginny, she nodded.

"Just don't forget to come back and brew up another batch of healing potions, I think we can work on a stronger concoction this time. Lord knows you might need it for the bonfire tomorrow," she instructed and I nodded, breezing past her and to the jeep that was parked on my driveway. I climbed in the backseat while Lydia and Stiles both hopped in, buckling up and sighing. We headed to the sheriff's station blanketed in a tense silence, coupled with Stiles' frequent glances in the rearview mirror.

It wasn't difficult to find the sheriff in the nearly empty police station. He was quick to spot Stiles and the rest of us before moseying on over to where we stood. Sheriff Stilinski didn't even ask us what was going on, he simply crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow, waiting for us to explain.

"Uh - someone may have come back from the dead again," I started and I saw the sheriff's eye twitch. He beckoned us forward with the flick of his pointer finger, and headed towards his office.

"It's my grandmother," Lydia continued, "Lorraine Martin. And I'm starting to think she was never dead in the first place."

"It's not just that she could be alive," Stiles explained while his dad held the door open for us.

"It's that she would've had to fake her death."

"Your grandmother, Lorraine Martin, faked her death?" Stilinski asked dubiously.

"Definitely," Stiles answered.

"Maybe," I corrected, glancing over at him.

"More than likely, yes," He argued and I shut my eyes in frustration.

"Oh, I'm guessing you have a story to back this up?"

"She might be helping the benefactor," Lydia informed him.

"Or actually is the benefactor," I piped in, thinking back to what Scott had said about the benefactor potentially being a banshee.

"Sounds like a story worth hearing," The sheriff agreed, closing the door to the office to give us privacy.

"I was up at the lake house a few days ago with my mother when she explained to me that Meredith Walker had been up there at my grandmother's request," Lydia launched into the story, "She also requested that I scatter her ashes in the boat house, but the ashes weren't ashes. It was mountain ash, and the entire building was made of mountain ash."

"Which matters why?" The sheriff inquired.

"If it was just mountain ash, where were the ashes of Lorraine?" I asked and the sheriff nodded in understanding. Lydia held out the sheet of paper with the handwritten code and presented it to the sheriff.

"My mother also said that my grandmother wrote that down while in Eichen. It's the same code we used to find the dead pool." The sheriff looked up at us in confusion and suspicion.

"Once we figure out who's on the list, we want to run the names to see if we can figure out how to find them."

"I can get Parrish to do that, if he ever shows up," The sheriff walked to his office door and opened it, "He's late for his shift. Anybody seen Parrish?" He directed the last question to the deputies in the room. "Haigh?"

Through the blinds over the window, I could see Parrish's partner look up, "Haven't seen him."

Stilinski sighed and shut the door, "If Parrish doesn't turn up, and you figure it out, I can look up the names for you guys."

"What do we do after that?" Stiles questioned, "I mean, how do we put out an APB on someone who is supposed to be dead?"

"We'll figure that out when we get there," The sheriff started saying something else, but my gaze was fixed on Haigh outside of the office. He was wrestling with someone who either had the darkest skin color I'd ever seen or was covered in ash of some sort. What frightened me more was the gun flailing between the two of them pointed in the direction of the office. More specifically: Stiles.

"Move!" I yelled, grabbing fistfuls of Stiles' baseball tee shirt and yanking him into what I deemed a safer zone of the office right as the first gunshot went off. Lydia, Stiles, and I all ducked to the floor, and by the time my knees scraped the linoleum, I had a shield working around all three of us. I glanced up to see the sheriff remove his gun from his belt and open the door.

"Hey! Hey!" The sheriff yelled at the two men I could see on the floor. Another gunshot went off, as well as a shriek of fear from Lydia. The sheriff clutched his shoulder and fell to the floor when I wriggled out of Stiles' grasp. I could feel him claw at my jacket feebly while calling out my name in desperation. Tearing off my jacket, I crumpled it up and placed it gently on the Sheriff's shoulder.

"Put pressure on it, you hear me?" I said and he nodded. I stepped over the threshold, keeping a shield over the doorway to protect those inside before keeping my gaze on who I recognized to be Parrish covered in soot beating the life out of Haigh.

I kicked the gun that was laying next to Haigh out of the way of the two men before reaching for Parrish's shoulder. I quickly rescinded my hands after touching his boiling hot skin. I then placed a shield over my hands before hurling Parrish off of Haigh with all my might. The deputy on the floor groaned in pain while Parrish eagerly tried to crawl back to him. I fell to my knees in front of him while I called out his name.

"Deputy!" I roared, and I saw his eyes clear of their anger when they landed on me. He glanced from me to Haigh to the sheriff and leaned back panting.

"You're supposed to be dead," Haigh moaned, and I looked up to his desk that contained an open laptop he had been previously staring at. Walking over to it, my eyes widened when I saw the familiar screen open for a wire transfer. Haigh had his handle, with the words "Inquiring about wire transfer," and a reply from the benefactor's handle "Kill not confirmed." I beckoned to one of the other two deputies and pointed at Haigh.

"Handcuff him," I instructed, and the man's eyes widened.

"Handcuff him?"

"Yes, dumbass, he tried to kill Parrish," I glanced over to Stiles tending to his injured father, "And Jesus, can somebody call for an ambulance?" I rushed back over to Stiles and the sheriff, slowly removing the jacket I had him press to the wound. Stiles watched me as I examined his father's shoulder.

"Wh-what's wrong, is he - is he gonna be okay?"

"It's nearly a clean shot," I explained.

"Nearly? What does that mean nearly?"

"It means it didn't exit the shoulder. See how there's no blood splatter?" I gestured to behind the sheriff and indeed there was no blood. "It didn't hit anything major, had it left the shoulder, it would've been a clean through-and-through."

"Can you get it to stop hurting like a bitch?" The sheriff complained and I smiled a bit.

"No, I can't, but I think I can get the bullet out, save you the money of a small surgery," I glanced between the two of them, and they looked at each other. They both nodded after sharing a silent conversation and looked back to me. Nodding myself, I looked around for anything the sheriff might need.

"Stiles, can you give me your belt please?" Without question, he took off his belt and handed it to me. I quickly folded it in half, and held it in front of the sheriff's face. "Sheriff, this is going to be extremely painful, alright? You're gonna want to bite down on it." He acknowledged that he understood by taking the belt by his mouth and waiting for me. I glanced around the room again and looked to Lydia.

"Lydia, the flashlight on the desk, bring it to me, please." Lydia was quick to look up at the desk and toss me the flashlight she grabbed. I turned it on and shined it on the wound, locating the bullet and its path into his shoulder.

"Okay, Stiles, hold his other hand," I glanced up at the sheriff, "You ready?" He quickly nodded and my gaze fell to the bullet once more. I focused all my energy on telekinetically moving the bullet along the path it had taken in his shoulder. I tried my best to go as quickly as possible, but it proved difficult when the sheriff was groaning in pain. After about a minute, the bullet hopped out of Stilinski's shoulder and into the palm of my hand. Stilinski started breathing heavily through his nostrils in relief, and let go of Stiles' now purple fingers.

"You did great," I smiled at him, just in time as I heard the wails of ambulance sirens.

"How did you do that?" I glanced up to see a still charred Parrish looking at my still open hand containing the bloody bullet. Before any of us could move, the paramedics walked in, assessing the sheriff for themselves. With such commotion around, I quickly handed an EMT the bullet I had been holding, and looked to Stiles. He seemed to still be in panic-mode as they brought in a gurney as they lifted the sheriff up. Stiles was still glancing between Parrish and his dad in a frenzy when I grabbed his hand, and his gaze snapped to me.

"Go with your dad," I instructed.

"But Parrish-"

"We still need to give statements for what happened here. Besides, Parrish needs to know what's going on, Lydia and I can take care of it," I kissed him softly on the cheek before running my clean hand over his face, "Go be with him, we'll be fine." He took one last look at the rest of us before handing me his keys and following after the paramedics.

After Derek let Parrish shower and borrow his clothes, we gathered around the two of them in the loft while Derek examined his bare hands. He squinted at them in confusion, for there were no burns or marks of any kind.

"He covered you in gasoline?" Derek queried, and Parrish nodded.

"It's the hair and nails, isn't it?" Lydia asked Derek, "The - the parts of the body that are essentially dead."

"Well they should be gone," I agreed.

"I was set on fire," Parrish reminded us in a bewildered tone, "All of me should be gone."

"Not if you're like us," Scott rebuked, studying Parrish with an intensity that would make most squirm.

"Like you?"

"I don't think he's like us," Derek argued.

"Then what is he?" I almost smirked at the confusion growing on Parrish's face while we talked around him.

"Sorry, but I have no idea."

"But you knew about Jackson and Kira," Scott reminded Derek.

"This is a little out of my experience," Derek explained before pointing to me with his thumb, "You may have more luck asking June, who lived in New York City. I bet you she's seen it all."

"Sorry, but I haven't either. The only thing that's coming up right now is Daenerys Targaryen, and the whole 'Fire cannot kill a dragon' thing. I swear if dragons are real-"

"There might be something in the bestiary," Derek brought us back to the topic at hand, "Did you try Argent?"

"I don't know where he is," Scott explained.

"Okay, hold on, what's a bestiary?" Parrish asked, "Actually, that's not even my first question. Just - just tell me one thing. Are all of you like Lydia?" All eyes fell on her.

"Me?"

"Are you all psychic," He elaborated and I scoffed.

"Psychic?" Derek repeated disbelievingly, but Parrish nodded.

"Yeah."

"Not exactly," Scott answered for him.

"Okay, then what are you?"

Derek and Scott shared a look coupled with a few gestures of the head in silent conversation. Derek seemed to relent, and Scott closed his eyes before turning back to Parrish. When he opened them, I could see the bright red of the alpha staring at a shocked deputy.

He had to sit down while we explained what we each were, and what was currently going on. I showed him a bit of my magic, while Scott explained almost everything he could while still pertaining to the situation at hand.

"What's a kanima?" Jordan asked, and Scott and I shared a look. I shook my head and Scott looked back down at him.

"We'll get back to that," Scott assured him, "Just know that everyone like us, everyone with some kind of supernatural ability is on the dead pool."

"But I don't even know what I am," Parrish argued.

"I'm pretty sure they don't care," Derek told him, and I elbowed his side.

"Lighten up a little, dude," I muttered.

"How many professional assassins are we talking about?"

"We're starting to lose count," Lydia explained.

"But is it still just professionals?" Scott asked us all.

"I don't think Haigh's ever tried anything like this," Parrish reasoned, "I think he was taking a chance."

"Five million dollars is quite the chance," I rationalized. "But that also means anyone with the dead pool could take a chance."

"But if Haigh had it, then who else does?"

"And how are they getting it?" I finished, and we let that hang in the air.

School was unusually quiet the next day. After the events at the sheriff's station followed by a long explanation from Lydia about her grandmother, I was somewhat grateful for the silence. I had picked up both Stiles and the sheriff, who was stitched up and in a sling, in Stiles' jeep with Lydia before taking them all back to the Stilinski residence. Stiles and Lydia invited me to help them crack Lorraine's code that she left for Lydia, but I quickly refused, explaining to them that I was helping Malia with some last-minute studying during our free period.

Speaking of Malia, she begged me to go to the bonfire that was happening that night. I was very hesitant to go, but of course I couldn't resist her begging for very long. She asked me to bring a flask of quote, "Vodka so strong it will give me a Russian accent." I wasn't sure which surprised me more: the fact that she wanted to drink, or the fact that she knew vodka was Russian.

"I'm just saying we can totally get drunk together," She encouraged, as if that was what we should do, "Isn't that kind of like a bonding thing?"

"Yes, illegally drinking is definitely a bonding thing," I sarcastically explained while we walked down the hallway to my locker, "Look, it's not even about that. I just don't really like large fires. Call me crazy, but witches are a bit superstitious about them now. Ever since Salem..." I trailed off when I looked at her confused face, "I'll go over it some time. Point is, I'm just iffy on that, I'm not sure if I'm totally up for a party."

"Didn't you go to like a ton of parties back in New York?"

"Yeah, I did, but there wasn't much going on with them. The last party I went to in Beacon Hills ended with me being attacked by an Oni and nearly slipping into hypothermia."

"Well, you'll be near a fire, so that won't happen this time," Malia argued.

I huffed, "I already told you I'd go Malia, but I'm not going to drink with you."

"I'll take it. Meet me there at eight, and bring the vodka!" She strut down the hallway past a frantic Liam and Mason. My eyes widened as I looked on at him, and I could practically see the sweat forming on his forehead. Scott walked up to me and in my peripheral, I could see him staring down at Liam in the same worried manner I was.

I put my hand out on his chest when he tried to follow Liam, "We have econ in like two minutes, maybe you should give him the day? Then you can go see what's up with him, sound good?"

Scott slowly nodded and walked with me to Coach's classroom. It wasn't a terrible day overall, it just felt like we were trying to recover from something that wasn't entirely finished. I mean, the dead pool was still in play, Lydia's grandmother might be killing people via the dead pool, and this list is becoming more widespread. So overall, today just felt like an in-between kind of day.

Scott and I met up in the emptying hallways as students went home to get ready for the bonfire. With the help of Scott's nose, we were able to locate Liam to an isolated stairway near Coach's office and the locker room. He fiddled with the knots on his lacrosse sticks as Scott and I sat down on either side of him.

"Hey," Scott started off softly, "You okay?"

"Hey," I nudged Liam with my knee when he didn't reply. He looked into my eyes, and I made sure that I conveyed nothing but reassurance in my own stare back at him.

"Last night, my printer went off by itself. I couldn't turn it off," My eyebrows scrunched in confusion as to how a faulty printer would bring about such fear, but Liam continued, "I hit the cancel button, but it just kept printing."

"Printing what?" Scott asked, and Liam dug out several folded sheets of paper from his back pocket. Handing them to Scott, I peered over to read what it was. My eyes widened in worry when I saw the dead pool, with several new alarming details.

"What the hell is this?" We all turned our heads to the yells of complaint coming from Coach Finstock's office. Hopping up off the stairs, we went down to the doorway where a significant pile of papers littered the floor. They all seemed to be coming from the printer in Coach's office, which was whirring away despite the coach's attempts at stopping it. I picked up a sheet of paper that landed on my feet and saw how similar it looked to the papers Liam gave Scott.

Moving us away from the door to Coach's office, Liam stood to the side and let us see what was going on.

"See the difference?" He inquired, as I compared the list in my hand to the list in Scott's.

"Derek's not on the list anymore," Scott answered worriedly.

"And I'm not worth three million," Liam pointed out, "It's eighteen now. Eighteen million dollars." As soon as he said that, my phone vibrated in my pocket, pulling it out while still looking at the list, I didn't check to see who was calling.

"Hello?"

"June? Oh thank God."

"Stiles?" I asked, slightly confused as to why he was calling me, "What's going on?"

"The list, Lydia's printer just started printing the dead pool."

"Yeah that happened to Liam and Coach too," I muttered, still gazing at the giant number on the paper.

"That's not all, the list has some changes. Your number, it's not twenty-two anymore, it's-"

"Thirty. Thirty million. Liam's went up to eighteen, this isn't just me."

"No but it is your parents, they're not on the list anymore. Does that mean-?"

"I'm going to call them this afternoon, but several names were taken off the list in favor of upping the prices on others. I'm hoping for the best, here."

"Oh, okay. I just figured you should know first. I don't-" His voice grew softer, " - I don't want to make the same mistake twice."

My mouth opened in surprise, "Oh. Oh - um - thank you, Stiles. Thanks a lot."

"Please be safe, June. I love you."

"You too, Stiles." I hung up the phone somewhat unwillingly. A twinge of longing struck at my heart before I snapped my attention back to Scott. "Lydia's printer is printing the dead pool on its own accord too. That could be how it's getting around to more people."

"The benefactor's getting desperate."

"Anyone with a printer in Beacon Hills could be fair game for this list."

"That just means nearly everyone could be trying to kill us."

"You made it!"

"As promised, and I come bearing gifts," I started looking around at the crowd, "I also apparently overdressed for tonight."

"Nah, you look great, can I have some vodka now?" Malia practically ripped the flask out of my hands like a greedy toddler who was just given their favorite toy. Not bothering to even try and take it back, I joined her in dancing along to the beat and the flaming cyclone in the middle of the pulsating crowd.

It was good music for the most part, I mean, the DJ looked like your typical trust fund, high school dropout with dreams of "making it big," but otherwise it was a hoot. I especially enjoyed seeing fellow classmates falling down and making an ass of themselves left and right, for it gave me great ammunition for when Monday rolled around.

Thankfully, nobody really came up to Malia or myself. We just enjoyed each other's company in the sense that we were trying to have a fun time. Despite everything going on around us, I kind of was, until-

"So you miss him," Malia was a fair few swigs of Grey Goose in, but I don't think that was what gave her the blunt attitude.

"What?" I shouted over the music.

"You miss him, I can smell it on you over your perfume. Over almost everything, really. You miss him bad." I stopped dancing, but Malia was a machine, she just kept going.

"Yeah," I agreed, not bothering with a lie, "Yeah I miss him a lot."

"I kissed him once, you know," My eyes snapped to her in shock.

"What?"

"When we were in Eichen House, it was my first kiss. I kind of just went for it."

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, pangs of hurt and reluctant jealousy taking away from the time I was having.

"He couldn't kiss me back," She explained, still dancing and holding the flask, "He said he was in love with you, and that he couldn't kiss me because he needed to get back to you to tell you that." Despite logic, and the hurt I had stored for Stiles after his actions with the dead pool, my heart soared, and I felt my cheeks flush.

"Again, why are you telling me this?"

"Just go be with him, June. Yeah, he did some really stupid stuff, but he did it because he loves you. He loves you more than I hate math, which is a lot. If anyone's going to figure out their problems, it should be you two."

I stopped Malia from dancing by throwing my arms around her, "You have no idea how much I needed to hear that. Thank you." I let go of her and made my way through the crowd, heart nearly pumping out of my chest with excitement. I saw Scott on the way, and gave him a hug. He seemed surprised, but hugged me back regardless.

The entire drive home, Stiles was the only thing on my mind. Ginny was right, I needed to hear him out, needed to let him explain to me what was going on. He's been nothing but understanding to me needing space from him, and he deserved to know everything that was going on with me in my time away from him. I couldn't help but wonder if we were going to be able to talk through this, and if I could just be able to tell him how much I still love him.

I raced into my dark house, and headed directly to my bedroom to change into something more comfortable. The entire time I climbed the stairs, I had my phone to my ear, waiting for Stiles to pick up.

"Hey this is Stiles, and you missed me-"

"Ugh, come on Stiles, pick up won't you. Hey Ginny," I called out to my Guardian as I opened the door to my room, "You're right. I'm gonna go talk to Stiles." I quirked an eyebrow when I received no response. She was here when I left for the bonfire, "Ginny, you home?"

The next thing I know, a searing pain shot up my right leg, and I crumpled to the floor, crying out in agony. Glancing down, I saw a frightfully large throwing knife protruding from my thigh. Out of the corner of my peripheral, a man dressed in all black emerged from the en-suite bathroom in my room and into my line of sight.

"Sorry, darling. But Ginny's a bit preoccupied at the moment."