It seemed after just a moment of scanning the deserted street for an errant cab or anything to get him to the Manhattan Hive, when a black car came to screeching halt in front of him. Stiles jumped back, afraid he might get hit.

The driver stuck his curly head out the window. "Stiles! Get in!"

When he jumped in the backseat behind Isaac, Stiles noticed that the passenger seat held another of Laura's drones, and, more surprisingly, the back seat also held his son.

"What are you doing here?" Stiles demanded. "Why is Connor here? Did Derek put you up to this?"

Isaac looked guilty. "Well, it wasn't just Derek. Laura asked us to keep an eye on you as well."

"Then why is Connor here?"

The young boy was half asleep, having shifted from leaning against the car door to leaning against his father once Stiles got into the car.

"Well, Heather was watching him, you know, but you took off so fast from Lydia's shop that I couldn't keep up. Heather was nearby, showing him some of the more kid-friendly full-moon activities, so she picked me up."

Stiles rolled his eyes at the thought of a tail, but figured he'd yell about it later.

"Okay, well, not to inconvenience you, but I need to stop by the Manhattan Hive, immediately."

Stiles didn't particularly want to bring his son anywhere near the danger, but if he went home first, he'd never make it in time.

The Manhattan Hive house was one of many similar fashionable residences. It stood at the end of the block and a little apart from the row, but nothing else distinguished it as special or supernaturally inclined.

On this particular full moon, it was busier than usual, with a number of cars pulling in at the front and letting out a number of the city's most important politicians, celebrities, and socialites. Stiles, as shah, knew (although others might not) that the assembled were all in the vampire's enclave, or employ, or service, or all three.

When they pulled up, neither of the drones moved.

"I know you both cannot go in. I don't want you to, Laura or Derek's orders be damned. Watch Connor. Protect him first. Remember, he's Laura's son too."

The drones nodded gravely and Stiles exited the car.

He was immediately met by Braeden, changed into a much more fashionable – and more formal – evening gown. Stiles felt shabby by comparison, but he had more important things to consider.

"I need to get inside."

Perhaps sensing the urgency in his voice, Braeden simply offered Stiles her arm for him to escort her inside.

The house had not changed from when Stiles had visited it the first time. Inside, it was far more luxurious than its exterior suggested, although all displays were wealth were tasteful and understated.

Unfortunately, Stiles could barely see anything through the crowd of people milling about.

"There's a lot of people here, tonight."

Braeden nodded enthusiastically. "Miss Morrell is supposed to make a very important announcement this evening. Everyone accepted her invitation."

"Announcement? What kind of . . .?"

But Braeden's attention was back to pushing their way through the throng.

As they pressed on, Stiles became aware of a presence shadowing them through the crowed. Just as someone accosted Braeden from the front, a person behind them cleared his throat.

Stiles turned to find himself face-to-face with a tough, rough looking man. Stiles had always thought he looked more the part of a werewolf than a vampire.

"Ennis," he said warily in greeting.

The vampire did not smile, but that might have been because he did not wish to show Stile his fangs just yet. "Dr. Stilinski-Hale, what an unexpected surprise."

His words were stilted and uncomfortable sounding, but at least you could count on a vampire to get his name correct.

Stiles glanced at Braeden, who was engaging in a hushed and rather forceful conversation with Ethan, another member of the Manhattan Queen's inner circle. He did not look pleased.

"We did not expect you on this particular night. We had assumed you be assisting your husband with his"—a calculated pause—"disability."

Stiles narrowed his eyes and fished in his pocket, coming up with the required card. "I have an invitation."

"Of course you do."

"It is most urgent that I speak with the queen immediately. I have some important information for her."

"Tell it to me."

Stiles put on his most superior, Jackson-ish expression and looked him up and down. "I think not."

The vampire stood his ground.

Stiles moved his hand, as if to touch the vampire. The vampire watched this movement with concerned interest.

"No need for that."

"It really is important that I see her as soon as possible. She may be in grave danger."

The vampire smiled. His fangs were small and sharp, barely present, as subtle as the rest of him was not.

"You mortals are always in a hurry."

Stiles gritted his teeth. "This time it is in your best interest—really, it is."

He led Stiles through the crowd, which thinned as they left the main hallway. The vampire moved at a sedate pace, too slow for Stiles, who pushed past him.

The vampire hurried to catch up,, pushing past Stiles in turned when they reached the stairs, leading the way up rather than, as had occurred on previous occasions, into the back parlor that was the queen's preferred meeting place. This was a special evening, indeed. Stiles was being let into the inner sanctuary of the hive. He had never before been allowed upstairs.

There were drones placed strategically on the staircase, all attractive and perfectly dressed, looking like they might be guests at the party, but Stiles knew from the way they watched him that they were as much fixtures in the house as its furniture. Only more deadly than the furniture, he supposed. They did nothing, however, as Stiles was in the company of Ennis. But they did watch him carefully.

They arrived at a closed door. Ennis knocked, a pattern of taps. It opened to reveal Aiden.

"Dr. Stilinski-Hale! How unexpected."

"So everyone keeps pointing out." Stiles tried to barge past him.

"You can't come in here."

"Oh, good lord, I don't mean her any harm. Actually the opposite."

An exchange of glances occurred between Ennis and Aiden.

Finally, Aiden said, "I must take your bat, then."

"Hell no. We'll probably need it in a minute, especially if you don't let me in."

"I must insist."

"Let him in, Aiden, dear." Marin Morrell spoke.

Immediately, Aiden moved out of Stiles's direct line of sight, revealing the interior of the room. It was a well-decorated bedroom, complete with not only a massive canopied bed, but also a full sitting area and two doors that probably led to a closet and bathroom. There was the latest and most sophisticated in exsanguination warmers and an overlarge teapot for storing blood.

Stiles walked forward, only to have his way blocked yet again by Aiden. "My Queen, I must protest, a spark in your inner sanctum."

Morrell looked at him sharply. "Aiden, we have been over this before."

"He is a hunter," protested Aiden.

"He is a professor. Aren't you, Dr. Stilinski?"

Stiles nodded. "Usually. Had to take leave this semester after the murder attempt in my first class of the term."

Morrell ignored the insinuation.

"Listen, though, you have to leave. Now!"

"Leave this room? What for? It is one of my favorites."

"No, no, leave this house."

"Abandon my hive? Never. Don't be foolish."

"But there is a tank headed this direction. It wants to kill you and it knows the location."

"Preposterous. How would it know where to find me?"

"Ah, well, yes. There was this break-in."

Ennis bristled. "Spark! What have you done?"

"How was I to remember one little invitation from ages ago?"

The queen went momentarily still. "Dr. Stilinski, who wants to kill me?"

"Oh, too many to choose from? I am similarly blessed."

"Spark!"

Stiles had hoped not to reveal the identity of the attacker. It was one thing to warn the hive of imminent attack; it was another to expose Lydia without first understanding her motives. Well, perhaps if my friend had let me in on her reasoning, I might not be forced into this situation. In the end, I am shah. I have to maintain peace between humans and supernaturals. No matter Lydia's reasons, we cannot have a hive arbitrarily attacked.

Stiles took a deep breath and told the truth. "Lydia Martin has built a tank. She intends to kill you with it."

The queen's eyes narrowed.

"What?" That was Ethan, who had appeared in the room at some point. He made his way over to the queen. "I told you no good would come of taking in that drone."

Morrell held up a hand. "She's after the boy."

"Of course she's after the boy!" Ennis's voice was harsh with annoyance. "Dabble in the affairs of mortal women and this is what happens. Tank at the door. I warned you."

Stiles blinked. "Liam? What has he got to do with this? Wait." He tilted his head and gave the queen a look. "Did you kidnap Lydia's son?"

Stiles often felt it wasn't possible for a vampire to look guilty. But the queen was giving the expression a fair facsimile.

"Why? I mean, really?"

Morrell tsked dismissively. "Oh, really. There's no cause for condescension, spark. The boy was promised to us. In her will, Allison named the hive guardian to her child. We didn't even know he existed until that moment. Dr. Martin wouldn't hear of it, of course. But he is ours. And we never let go of what is rightfully ours. We didn't kidnap him. We retrieved him."

Stiles thought of his own child, now officially entrusted to Laura in order to keep them both safe. "Really? What is with you? No wonder Lydia wants to kill you. Kidnapping? That's low. What could you possibly want with him anyway?"

The queen's face went very hard. "We want him because his is ours! What more reason do we need? The law is on our side in this. We have copies of the will."

Stiles demanded details. "Does it name the hive or you specifically?"

"Me alone, I believe."

Stiles threw his hands in the air. "Well, there you go. With no legal recourse, Lydia only has to see you dead in order to get her child back. Plus, she has the added pleasure of killing the woman who corrupted her partner."

The queen looked as though she had not thought of matters in such a way.

"You cannot be serious."

Stiles shrugged. "Consider her perspective. Now, we really need to leave."

The queen shook her head. "You may leave, of course, but—"

"No, no, both of us, I insist."

"Foolish child," said Ennis. "How can anyone know so little of vampire edict and sit on the Shadow Council? Our queen cannot leave this house. It is not a matter of choice—it is a matter of physiology."

"She could swarm."

Aiden hissed.

Stiles said, "Go on, swarm."

Ethan let out an annoyed sigh. "Save us all from the practicality of sparks. She can't swarm on command. Queens don't just up and warm when told they have to. Swarming is a biological imperative. You might as well tell someone to spontaneously combust."

Stiles looked at Ennis. "Really? Would that work on him?"

At which point a tremendous crash reverberated through the house, and guests at the party below started screaming.

The tank had arrived.

Stiles gestured with his gun in an arbitrary manner. "Now will you swarm?"