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Chapter 2
Henley's head spun. The entire room spun. And she was hot. But not from the heat of the room. The burning was within. And it felt like it was going to consume her.
The three guys had stepped out into the hallway. She could hear them talking. Their voices sounded hushed, but she could hear them clearly like they were still in the room. The acoustics of this old house must be strange.
She needed to focus. Not let the heat and the spinning and the voices that sounded like they were next to her distract her.
She worked at the tape holding her wrists together again. She wiggled her wrists, feeling the tape start to give. Glancing toward the hallway and not seeing her kidknappers, she pulled her wrists away from one another as hard as she could. The tape gave with a sudden rip, the edges seared like flames had cut through.
Henley startled at the sight of the embers that fell on the bedspread. She quickly moved away from them as they burned small holes into the blanket before fading out. With her hands free, she was able to rip the tape from her ankles, her heart starting to race faster. The tape fell from her hands, melted, small flames falling from it.
She dropped it quickly even though the heat from the flames didn't feel any hotter than the heat that was building within her.
She quickly swung her legs over the side of the bed, trying to get upright as the room tilted like a ship in rough seas. Her vision blurred. She got off the bed and started to pitch to the side. She reached over to the bed.
Her hand burned right through the spread.
"They drugged me," she said to herself. They had drugged her. She was seeing things. Why would they have done that? What did they want with her? She needed to get out of this room.
They were still in the hall, arguing now. Something about chains and a lakehouse and full moons.
She wasn't staying around to find out what sort of sick human sacrifice these losers were into. She made it to the window, pushing up the sash, leaving fingerprints of ash on it.
She made it out the window, onto the roof. She looked behind her and shook her head, trying to clear the hallucination of the trail of sparks that led from the window.
She just had to move. Get away and find somewhere to wait for the drugs to wear off.
She was so hot. She needed water.
She made it to the edge of the roof, the dark street below spinning faster the longer she looked at it. She gripped at the roof, but the house tilted to one side, then listed to the other and she lost her hold and tumbled headfirst off the second story.
#
"So we're agreed?" Scott asked. "We keep her safe out at the lakehouse for now?"
Stiles nodded. Derek didn't respond. He would leave the girl to Scott and Stiles. He was going to find Peter and get answers.
Starting with why there were holes burned in Scott's bed.
"Is she…on fire?" Stiles asked.
Derek looked at the open window, the trail of ash and sparks. He went to the window and looked out. He held back a curse at the orange glow coming from below the house.
"Your bushes are on fire," he told Scott, pulling his head back in.
"What?" Scott asked. He and Stiles stuck their heads out the window, then went scrambling toward the door. Derek heard them clatter down the stairs. He went back to the window and stepped out. He launched himself off the roof with enough power to clear the shrubbery that was consumed in flames.
He landed on his feet and straightened, searching the yard and not seeing any sign of the girl. He sniffed the air. No burning flesh. She wasn't in the fire.
The front door slammed open and Scott ran out with a fire extinguisher. Stiles ran off the porch and rounded the house, coming back with a garden hose to add to the foam Scott was spraying.
Derek left them to putting the fire out and went out into the street. He shifted his control just enough to use his wolf eyes. She had left a trail.
Derek started moving, keeping his eyes on the trail of ash. He could smell her fear, but it was mixed with something else. Almost like the scent was burning away as quickly as he got it. He picked up his pace.
In the distance he could hear sirens. They stayed behind him and Derek hoped Scott's twitchy friend wouldn't say anything stupid when they tried to explain why half the yard was on fire.
He picked up his pace. The girl was moving fast now. He didn't want to have to change and stop her in his other form. That would terrify her and it was too hard to explain things to someone who was terrified. Not to mention, if she lost control of her emotions, she was more likely to change without the skill of controlling herself. And that was without factoring in the fire.
Keeping his attention on the trail he was following, Derek left the quiet neighborhood streets, heading into the hills Beacon Hills was named for.
He found her at the lake.
Or, more accurately, in the lake.
Steam rose from the surface of the lake. Derek approached the shore, then stopped when he saw the movement of the water. It moved like it was simmering. He knelt down and touched an experimental finger to the water before jerking back at the heat.
In alarm he looked at her.
She was frantically splashing water over herself.
"Hey!" he called out to her. She was shoulder deep, the water nearly boiling around her, steam thickening the air. She didn't respond. "Hey!" he yelled again. Henley. That was her name. "Henley!"
She looked toward him. Even from the distance, and the water that streaked the lenses of her glasses, he could see her eyes, the intense orange glow the only light in the lake or the woods surrounding them.
"I don't know what you freaks did to me!" she yelled. She dunked her head underwater and Derek heard the hiss, saw more steam rise. She resurfaced. "There's fire everywhere and I'm seeing things and this is a really, really bad trip!"
Derek knew this wasn't a trip. She wasn't drugged. What was happening was very, very real.
"I can help you," he said.
She shook her head. He could see her hands shaking. "You're the one who did this to me! You and that guy with the chin and the scrawny one!"
"The scrawny one doesn't belong to me," he said with a frown.
She paused.
"I didn't have any part in this. They called me to help you."
"Help me?" she eyed him suspiciously.
Derek looked at the water again. It wasn't moving as much. He didn't think there was any steam rising from it now, just what lingered in the air still. He took a step into the water. It was warm, but not boiling. She was calming down.
"I can help you. Explain things to you." Chain her up until the change was complete and they could talk.
She took a step back from his approach.
"Stay away from me!" she yelled. Her eyes glowed brighter.
Derek caught a sharp hiss of pain between his teeth as the water heated more.
She turned and dove into the water like she was going to swim away. Derek was faster and caught her around the waist. She struggled against him and the water started roiling faster. In spite of the water that was drenching her hair, her body, her clothes, sparks started rolling off her skin like water drops.
Derek grunted at the burns across his arm, but didn't loosen his hold. He managed to drag her to shore. When he got her out of the water, he didn't let go of her in spite of the flames that were starting to surround her.
"Stop!" he roared, showing her a flash of fangs and red eyes. His growl reverberated through the woods surrounding them, and she flared brighter for a minute, sharp fangs appearing in her mouth before she met his red eyes and reared back.
But only for a moment before she reached up with her hand, sharp claws at the tips of her fingers, and slashed at him.
Derek caught her wrist in a tight grip. He could see the burns running the length of his arm, feel the pain through his torso, anywhere he had made contact with her.
"Listen to me," he growled, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Focus on me. Listen to my voice."
He could see she didn't want to give in to the power that was consuming her. He remembered how terrifying that feeling of being shoved aside and taken over could be. But Peter had taught him how to control it. How to keep himself from getting lost under what he was.
"Focus," he said, his alpha eyes meeting hers.
The orange glow dimmed, then went out.
With a gasp the last of the sparks fell to the ground, fading to ash. Her legs gave out and Derek caught her again, but this time she didn't fight against him. And she didn't burn his skin off.
He picked her up, ignoring the pain in his burned flesh and started walking. Moving quickly, needing to get her somewhere safe before she woke up and burned the town to the ground.
#
Peter paced his penthouse. It hadn't been enough. Not nearly enough. The man had taken everything from Peter and had escaped punishment. Until now.
But it still wasn't enough.
Grabbing a vase off the counter, he hurled it across the room.
He could feel himself losing control and clenched his hands into fists, finding the thought that would keep him from losing it. Thoughts of what he had done, the look on the man's face when he saw what Peter had done. Picturing that started to bring him back from the darkness.
"Peter!" Derek called through the door.
Peter swung around. He hadn't heard anyone approaching. He needed to get himself under control.
"Peter! Open the door!"
Peter went to the door and swung it open.
Derek shouldered his way in, dripping wet, an unconscious form in his arms.
Peter recognized her immediately. She was supposed to be dead.
"Why do you have her?" he demanded.
Derek lowered her onto the couch. "Where's your fire extinguisher?" Derek asked. He didn't wait for an answer, going to the kitchen and looking under the sink. He pulled out the small extinguisher and brought it to the living room, setting it on the coffee table near the girl.
Peter looked at her shredded shirt, at her smooth abdomen that was supposed to be torn open. She was supposed to be bleeding out in the woods. A warning and a punishment for those who would find her.
She was soaking wet, a small puddle of water on his expensive wood floors forming a puddle where the water was dripping from her fingers that dangled off the couch.
"Get her out of here," Peter said, turning on Derek.
His nephew lifted his chin. "Who is she?"
"An enemy. Collateral damage. Take your pick." Peter looked over at her. She looked innocent enough with her hair hanging in strings around her face, eyes closed behind glasses, and clearly healing from his attack. He narrowed his eyes at Derek, looking at the burns across his arms, his t-shirt scorched.
"Get her out of here," Peter said again, turning his back on Derek and the woman. He could feel his ire rising at the sight of her.
"If I take her out there, she's going to kill someone," Derek said. "Or burn the town to the ground."
"What does that mean?" Peter asked. Though, given who she was related to, arson wasn't unexpected.
The girl stirred, drawing their attention to her. Derek picked up the fire extinguisher.
Gray eyes blinked open. She looked around, unfocused, then her eyes landed on Derek. She tensed. Her eyes flashed orange.
"She's changing," Peter commented, annoyance coloring his voice. He had attacked her ferociously enough, she shouldn't have survived.
Her eyes moved to Peter and he saw the fear and anger at Derek turn to confusion when she looked at him. She wouldn't recognize him. He had been in an entirely different form when he had chased her down in the woods and tore her with his teeth. But she looked at him like he recognized him.
"But not into a wolf," Derek said. He frowned at Peter.
She pushed up to sitting and Derek took a step towards her. Her eyes brightened to hold the orange glow. Not yellow like any other beta.
"Keep him away from me," she said, looking to Peter. "Or are you part of their sadistic magic mushroom cult, too?"
Peter felt his eyebrows lift. "Have you and Scott found a new hobby?" he asked.
"You weren't drugged," Derek said, sounding like it wasn't the first time he was telling her this.
"No, you were bit." Peter said, cutting to the chase. "And you were supposed to die."
Horror had her eyes widening, but she didn't shy away from Peter. He wished she would. He had no desire to have her as a beta, forming a connection to him.
"What bit me?" she asked. She looked down at her arms and legs, like she expected to see the bites.
"A werewolf," Peter said evenly. She should know that. He watched her reaction curiously.
Her brow furrowed and she shook her head. She stood and kept the backs of her legs pressed against the sofa as she edged along it, gaining as much distance as she could from Peter and Derek. Her skin started to take on an orange hue.
"I don't know what this is—what sort of bizarre cosplay world you guys are in, but I don't want any part. Just let me go, ok?"
She bumped against the coffee table, stumbling slightly, and caught her balance, squinting through her glasses.
A buzzer sounded and the girl jolted. Keeping an eye on her, Peter crossed to the intercom that went down to the lobby.
"Peter, it's Scott and Stiles. Is Derek there with…someone?"
Peter eyed the woman who was supposed to be his victim. Not his beta. Without answering, he pressed the button that would allow them access to the elevator that led to his floor.
The woman was making her way toward the windows that lined one end of the apartment.
Derek countered the move, and Peter responded, each of them moving to frame her in.
The glow of her skin built to flames.
That was unexpected.
Peter felt his skin start to prickle, felt the push of his fangs. He looked at Derek, saw Derek's eyes turn red, the hair appear down the sides of his jawline. He knew he looked similar.
The girl flashed fangs her own fangs as the flames built around her until they took a shape.
Two large wings of flame stretched out behind her.
"Whoa."
He heard Scott's voice behind him, but didn't take his eyes of the woman who was clearly not turning into a werewolf.
"That's not normal," Peter commented.
She turned her eyes on him, intense in their burning. She reached out a hand and launched a ball of flame at Peter.
It landed mid chest, knocking the air from him and sending him flying backwards, hitting the wall with a thud that would have made him grunt if anything was left in his lungs.
He slid down the wall to the floor and fought for a breath. He struggled getting to his hands and knees, fighting for a breath. He looked down at his chest and saw his shirt had been burned. He heard Derek growl and go for her, but she sent him back with another fiery attack.
Peter sucked at air, getting enough in that it burned his lungs as Scott, then Stiles fell to the ground from her attacks. He drew his strength around him, bypassing the form Derek and Scott took and letting his anger and pain transform him fully.
He hurdled over the couch, landing on all fours in front of her. She turned on him again, but this time Peter opened his mouth and let out a full roar. The glass in the windows rattled. The wine glass near the sink vibrated until it fell to the floor with a shatter that was silenced by the sound of Peter's roar.
The girl turned her eyes on Peter. He could see her instinct was to retaliate, before she was stilled by the authority coming from him. She stared at him, wings of fire extended behind her, flames somehow consuming her without leaving a mark.
Peter held her eyes, bracing himself for the connection he didn't want. The one that the bite had given them.
She narrowed her eyes at him, but he could see that she felt it. The pull.
The fire dissolved to an orange glow. The glow dimmed. She blinked and her eyes were back to gray, and she was standing there, an ordinary young woman who could pass as any college student on any campus.
"You want to tell me what the hell that was?" Stiles wheezed, struggling to his feet.
Peter studied her. Henley Dawson looked unassuming, straight blonde hair hanging to her shoulders, tattered t-shirt and square black glasses.
"That," Peter said, "is a Phoenix."
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