Chapter 3

Henley gripped her arms, her fingers digging in against her flesh. She couldn't stop shaking.

"You'll be ok," the guy they kept calling Scott said. He nodded his head toward the couch. His eyes were reassuring. Henley sank down onto the couch.

"I don't understand what's happening," she said, not able to manage more than a shaky whisper. She looked over at the man who had said she was supposed to be dead. She told herself she hadn't just seen what she thought she saw. He hadn't turned into a wolf. She was losing it. He looked back at her evenly.

"Is Jaws over there going to explain what a phoenix is?" the wiry guy asked. Stiles. That's what they called him. She tried to listen to what he was saying.

"Jaws. That's hilarious," the man who Henley swore she had seen turn into a wolf said drily.

"You keep biting people, the name is going to stick."

"Does he need to be here?" the wolf man asked.

"I'm not—I'm not a phoenix," Henley said, the word feeling awkward to say. She didn't even understand what she was denying. She squinted again, trying to clear her vision. She took her glasses off and tried to find a clean area of her shirt to clean them off.

"You don't need those," Scott said.

"What?" Henley started to put them back on. Scott reached over and gave her a questioning look. Henley let him take her glasses.

"Look around," Scott encouraged her.

Henley looked. Everything was clear. "I need glasses," she said. "I've worn glasses since I was eight."

"Well now you don't," the wolf man said. "You'll find that you heal, you don't get sick easily, and you have perfect vision. You're welcome," he said, annoyance clear.

"You really think she's a phoenix?" asked the guy who had come into the lake after her.

"You know what a phoenix is?" Stiles asked.

"I've heard of them. I didn't know they were real."

"What's a phoenix?" Henley finally demanded. "None of you are making any sense!"

"Peter?" Stiles asked, sweeping his arm out like he was inviting the wolf man to take the stage.

Peter narrowed his eyes at him then looked back at her. "When someone is bit, one of two things is supposed to happen. They succumb to their injuries, as you were supposed to do—"

Henley couldn't hold back her glare. "Sorry I'm alive," she muttered. She gripped her trembling fingers against her arms more tightly.

"—or they become a werewolf."

"A werewolf?" Henley repeated. "That's…that's what I saw. What you…no. Nope. No way." She stood up.

"I know it sounds crazy. But seeing is believing," Stiles said. "You saw."

Henley shook her head. "No. I did not see a werewolf!" Her voice rose in pitch and volume. She felt the warmth come back to her skin. She stood, needing to move. She had no idea what was happening, how to stop it. Her vision shifted and she could see better than clearly.

Peter stepped in front of her. His eyes flashed and turned red. He let out a low growl.

Henley's skin cooled and she felt her breath ease in her chest. Everything slowed.

Peter's eyes dimmed back to a natural blue.

She should be terrified at that. The color changing eyes, the animal like growl, all of it. And she was. But…

She studied Peter. It was like a reflexive action to calm as soon as he stepped in front of her and took over. She frowned at him. He frowned back before he stepped away.

"You're a werewolf," she said, testing out the words. Yeah. Definitely felt crazy to say it.

Henley looked at the rest of the men in the room. No one corrected her. "So you bit me and turned me into a werewolf?" she asked.

She felt Scott stand and move near her side, one hand on her arm in silent support. She could see him send Peter a silent warning to choose his words carefully.

"No," Peter said shortly. "I bit you to kill you." Clearly he didn't care about Scott's warning for tact. "And you were about to die. But apparently there was a hell hound looking for a vessel."

"A—a what?"

Peter ignored her confusion. "When the hell hound moved in to take over, the part of you that could become a wolf, chased the hound out. The hell hound left. But its powers remained behind and destroyed the wolf. The wolf didn't take hold, the hell hound didn't take hold. The wolf chased out the hell hound, the hell hound burned out the wolf."

The man who had carried her from the water spoke up when Peter didn't say anything more. "And from the ashes rose a phoenix."

None of it made sense. The words they all used so casually—werewolf, hell hound, phoenix—jumbled around in her mind.

"You're all werewolves," she said slowly. That was easier to try to grasp than what they were saying about her. "And there are more werewolves than just you?"

"There's Liam," Scott said. "And Malia, but she's a were-coyote."

"And Lydia is a banshee," Stiles added. "Parrish is a hell hound."

Henley swallowed hard. She looked at Scott. "You're…"

"A werewolf."

She looked at the man from the lake in silent question.

"Yes," he said.

She turned her eyes to Stiles.

"I carry a bat," he said.

Henley felt her brow crease.

"It's a big bat," Stiles added.

Henley swallowed hard. "And I'm…"

"A phoenix," Scott said when she didn't continue.

She nodded.

Sure. It all made perfect sense. She was a freak and she was surrounded by freaks.

Her mind wheeled back over everything they had been saying. She stared at Peter.

"And you wanted me dead." She felt the heat again. She didn't even know him. And he so casually spoke about attempting to kill her. The heat rose with her temper.

Peter's growled in the back of his throat, but this time Henley thought of the fear she had felt in the woods, the sudden pain and then everything going black. The heat built. She felt movement across her skin. She didn't understand what was happening, it was pure instinct to lash out at Peter.

This time he dodged the fiery attack. He came close to her and pushed his face near hers. "Calm down."

Henley couldn't. She flung another ball of flame, feeling trapped, wanting to be free, away from everything they were saying. She shoved Peter away, her hands leaving burn marks on his chest that barely registered in her mind as she launched him away from her. She dodged the other men that grabbed for her. She made it to the window and, without thinking, slammed her hand through the plate glass.

There was no part of her thinking anymore. She just jumped.

#

Stiles scrambled to his feet and stuck his head out of the window. He saw Henley land on her feet, fall to her knees, roll across the grass ten floors below them, and get up and run. It was easy to follow her progress as she ran for the woods since she was on fire with giant wings stretched out behind her.

"I'm calling Parrish," Scott said. "Maybe he'll have better luck."

"What? Some sort of hell hound family reunion?" Peter asked. "How touching."

"Would you just shut up?" Stiles exploded. He rounded on Peter. "You're the one that did this to her! It's your fault that she's angry and terrified and on fire!"

Peter sneered at him. "I bit her. She should have died. I don't control the wanderings of a hell hound."

Stiles threw his hands up in the air. "You control who you sink your teeth into, Dracula! And when has attempted murder ever worked out for you? Kate is a psycho were-jaguar, and now you've got a phoenix on the loose. Maybe you should stop with the biting and scratching!"

"Let's hope this one doesn't turn into a mass murderer," Derek said darkly.

"Parrish said he'll find her," Scott said. "He thinks he knows were she might go."

"Oh good," Peter said. "The boy scout is on the case. In that case, you all don't need to be here and can see yourselves out."

Stiles shook his head in disbelief. "You really are a piece of work. You know that, right?"

"I'm tired and I need to call a cleaning company," Peter said. "There's the door."

"Come on, Stiles," Scott said. "We'll go give Parrish a hand."

Stiles looked at Peter. He clenched his jaw and held back anything more he wanted to say. He followed Scott and Derek from the penthouse. He didn't say anything until they were in the elevator.

"You saw his eyes, right?" Stiles asked.

Scott nodded and Derek grimaced. They had seen. Peter's eyes were red.

Peter was an alpha again.

#

Jordan Parrish hung up his phone. He saw Sheriff Stalinski come out of his office and look at him in question.

"Everything ok, Parrish?" Noah asked.

Parrish picked up the keys to his department issued cruiser. "Scott and Stiles need a hand."

The sheriff glanced around the crowded station as he crossed to Parrish and lowered his voice. "I'm assuming since they called you and not me, it's because they need your specific abilities?"

"I don't know," Parrish said. "Scott just said there's a girl in trouble. She ran into the woods and need help finding her."

Noah frowned. "Then they should file a missing persons report. Who is she? Did they—"

"She's on fire," Parrish interjected.

Noah paused. "What?"

Parrish waited for another deputy to pass by them. "She's on fire," he repeated under his breath.

"Are you telling me we have another hell hound in Beacon Hills?" Noah asked. "Because, they generally haven't been helpful to have around. Besides you," he added.

Parrish shook his head. "I don't know. I just told Scott I'd help find her."

Noah sighed and gave him a nod. "Keep me in the loop," he said.

"I will, Sheriff."

Parrish went out to his county sheriff's department SUV and started it up. He headed toward the edge of town where Scott said the girl had disappeared into the woods. He scanned the sides of the road on the way, but he didn't expect to see her. Not on the road. If she was scared, she would be traveling away from people. He angled his vehicle off the road and put it in park. He stepped out, listening, looking.

He didn't hear anything. He didn't see anything.

He closed his eyes. When he opened them, the world had shifted. He was looking through his other eyes. He didn't need to follow a scent or a trail.

He felt a pull into the woods.

He set out. He was made for protecting the supernatural. She would draw him toward her.

#