Chapter 34: The Reborn II

Nighttime Beacon Hills was quiet and devoid of any disturbances. Joe found herself driving aimlessly around, waiting for the hours to pass until she was sure both Aunt Mel and Scott would be in bed. For some reason, she made several turns into the warehouse district, having to force herself to not pull over near the entrance to the railroad depot every time.

She snuck inside the dark house in the early morning and went straight to her room. Aunt Melissa's disappointment, Scott's obvious frustration, Derek's whatever-it-was — it was too heavy for Joe. As the older one, she felt responsibility for Scott, but it was kind of hard telling a guy with superpowers who lost control once a month how he should conduct his life. For some reason, he felt responsible for the kanima and like it was his job to stop it.

Joe knew she needed to talk to him, but he seemed to harbor some distrust from her because of her involuntary affiliation with Derek. It was a mess and Joe buried herself in her Berkeley-work to escape it all. It brought her deeper into the events with Kate and Peter and the more she read, the more convinced she became that they would not have been able to pin all of Peter's murders on Kate if it had gone to trial. At least that made it more likely that Kate actually was dead — why would the Argents smuggle her out of the hospital without putting up a bigger fight otherwise? They obviously did not lack funds. Joe had done some sleuthing and had a whole folder on all the different properties the Argents owned through various shell organizations just in this state alone.

As she was saving different online bulletins about the murders, the Beacon Post updated their site with the news of another death in Beacon County. Still early, they did not release many new details, but according to this the attack happened up in the Preserve. One man dead, one other person survived and admitted to the hospital. The site did not list if the survivor had any injuries or, perhaps, was paralyzed from their neck down.

What struck Joe the most was the location. It was not that far from the backroad she took when looking for Jimmy, and that meant it was not that far from Jimmy's hide-out. With all the murders happening in Beacon County now, the police were obviously keeping their cards close to their chest based on the level of details. Investigation ongoing, any witnesses please report, blah blah blah. They would not release the identity of the body either, passing it of as respect to the next of kin. Alarm bells rang in Joe's head. Could it have been one of Argent's goons and this was a cover-up?

This thought process was what led her to the attack site. Before leaving, she had almost knocked on Scott's door first, but decided against it. If Jimmy had killed someone else, she wanted to get all the facts first before Scott got involved. She had not even told Scott that she found Jimmy in the first place. The episode with kidnapping Jackson Whittemore unfortunately revealed something about their brilliant short-term plans and how it ended with long-term consequences. He was lucky it did not go on his permanent record.

The bleak sunlight filtered through the foliage and Joe followed the deep tire tracks probably left by cop cars and ambulances up to an old residential trailer. It was hooked up to an old clunker of a car and surrounded by police tape. The trailer looked worn and permanently placed at the location, judging by all the junk outside. It sat next to a small lake and Joe noticed some fishing gear laying down by the water. Joe parked her car and got out, a little surprised there weren't any deputies to guard the scene. Either the technicians were done processing it or the sheriff's department couldn't spare the manpower. Joe put on a pair of plastic gloves nevertheless and a pair of plastic shoe covers too she had stolen from the hospital. No finger or boot prints.

With birds twittering and the bright daylight, it did not have the feel of a brutal murder taking place just half a day earlier. Joe slipped under the police tape and paid attention to where the muddied footprints seemed to congregate. It took her towards the trailer where the side window was completely smashed in. Blood on the broken glass. The ground was trampled down beneath the window in a radius around one barren spot where congealed blood had pooled onto the wet grass. This had to be where the body laid.

She found herself looking up at the trailer again and ponder on the strength required to throw someone through a window. Looking around and seeing no one, she gently peeled off the police tape holding the trailer door shut and slipped inside. Either the Argents did not pay well or this had not been hunters. Obviously a two-person home judging by the dishes in the sink — two cups, two plates, two spoons — it was surprisingly tidy. Not much in term of decoration and Joe imagined anyone living like this had sold of everything but the essentials already. More blood on the table beneath the broken window, drag marks by the looks of it. If the person had died from the throw, it would have been more blood. He or she was already dead when crashing through the window.

Feeling like nothing but a nosy trespasser, Joe crept further inside the trailer. No claw marks or anything to indicate werewolf or kanima. Instead she found the couple's bedroom, judging by the male and female clothing, and a travel crib. Several unused baby's clothes inside the crib and Joe stumbled back out of the room, sick to her stomach. The contents of the bathroom confirmed it — prenatal vitamins. A man and a pregnant female lived up here, in obvious poverty, and had been attacked last night.

Joe re-sealed the trailer door the best she could and tried to blink away the tears pooling in her eyes. An unborn child definitely came under the category of innocent. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind and instead followed the cables from the trailer to the generator. At the sigh of protruding wires, she knelt down, careful not to set her knee in the mud. Someone had snapped the cables in half. Clean break, so probably bolt cutters or something similar. Not claws or pure force, then she would expect jagged edges.

A regular human had done this. Or just a werewolf with a pair of scissors. Speaking of werewolf, the birds had stopped singing again. A prickle in the back of her neck, like she was watched.

She stood back up, willing herself to stay calm. "Jimmy?"

No answer, but the rustling of clothes made her turn around. A shadow skulking between the trees. All fear she had evaporated at the sight. "What the hell are you wearing?"

Jimmy, presumably, had dressed in a large leather trench coat, oversized slacks and most importantly, a ski-mask and sunglasses that covered his face. To top everything of, he wore an old-fashioned stingy brim trilby, like the hero detective would wear in a crime novel from the 60s. The overall impression was less scary than ridiculous.

"As I mentioned, my appearance is not yet up to par with societal expectations." Jimmy's words came muffled through the fabric, no cut-outs for either nose or mouth. His body still looked three sizes too big, but the shoulders seemed to have settled down to a more acceptable level and only made him slightly hunchback. The crime scene reflected in his sunglasses as he turned around. "What killed these people?"

"This person," Joe corrected and folded her arms. "One dead, one survivor. You're telling me it wasn't you?"

"Hardly," Jimmy said with a breezy voice and the leather of his coat creaked when he shifted with stiff movements. "I'm not a killer."

"Blue eyes tell a different story."

He paused, still a good twenty yards between them. His outfit may hinder fast movements, but he was still between Joe and her car, blocking of the immediate escape route. And still, Joe could not find the sense to be really scared of him.

"Ah," said Jimmy and the sunglasses tilted to the side along with his head. "Derek told you about Paige."

She fought with her own body to stay in control and not reveal the lurch her inner organs just took. Who the hell was Paige?

"Yes," she said instead and hoped Jimmy would pass of her fast pulse as fear instead of lying. "So what's your story?"

"It's not what you think," Jimmy said, unwittingly quoting Derek from before. "And more complicated than I think even Derek knows."

Screw werewolves with their half-truths and mysterious sayings, Joe thought. Out loud, she said: "Try me."

"Well," Jimmy moved a bit further into the clearing where the trailer stood parked, "for starters, it happened before I was bit."

He could be lying, Joe reminded herself, even though his words threw her for a loop. And still, that was not exactly a comfort. Before he was bit, he could not blame any supernatural forces that made him lose control.

With the ski-mask and sunglasses, she had no way of telling his expression. His body had slumped a bit, as if in deep thought. "I doubt that Derek mentioned it, but Paige was my friend too."

Was. Too. The words stood out in Joe's mind as she tried to make sense of it. Jimmy said it like it explained everything, but not to Joe! Paige who? Joe wanted to scream, but kept it inside. Derek had definitely not mentioned any of that name at any point. Not that they had had that many heart-to-hearts lately — she had to face the facts that she hardly knew anything about the guy. By the sadness in Jimmy's voice, she doubted it would be a pleasant conversation to pry further into.

"Your cavern is not far from here, right?" Joe asked to change the subject, her head too fuddled to deal with blue eyed werewolves for a while. Jimmy nodded and the sun glinted of the sunglasses. "You didn't hear anything?"

"I was listening to my tapes," Jimmy explained and Joe rolled her eyes. Meditation tapes for a werewolf. Not exactly the plot of a horror movie. He sniffed under his mask. "Strange. I can't smell anything but humans..."

"Cable cut with some sort of instrument," Joe pointed out and tapped the cut cord with her foot. Jimmy nodded again and he moved stiffly towards the generator. "But from what I can tell from the window, something threw the victim through it to break it completely."

"Double layered safety glass," Jimmy said and they both moved closer to the trailer, keeping the broken cable as an unspoken border between them. "Not windshield, which are designed to break in case of accidents instead of breaking the car's occupants. A grown man is, let's say, 180 pounds? Just to lift and throw that mass of the ground at that speed..." Jimmy straightened up and faced her. "Not human then."

The kanima, Joe thought, and wanted nothing more than to tell Jimmy about it. Snakes did not emit any scents. But would it use bolt cutters? Probably not.

"What are you doing here?" Joe asked instead of revealing what she knew. Let Jimmy be the one grasping blindly for clues for once.

"This event brought a lot of police presence too close to my dwelling," Jimmy said and let his gloved fingers trail the edge of the broken glass on the window sill. "I admit curiosity simply got the best of me. When I caught your scent, I realized I was not alone in that sentiment."

He took a deep breath, probably picking up scents again. "Hmm. You came up here obviously suspecting me to be involved. Nothing else on this scene indicates supernatural interference, so why are the hunters heading our way?"

Joe tore around, but could neither see or hear anything. "Argents? Here?"

"Sound of the cars match their preferred type of vehicle," Jimmy agreed and unbelted his leather coat to give him more freedom of movement. To run or to fight, she did not know. "Did you alert them of your destination?"

"No, I didn't tell anyone," Joe insisted and did not stop to think of how that was not a wise thing to let a probably deranged werewolf between states know. "They might have followed me, I guess. There's been this SUV, I've been seeing it everywhere."

"Hmm, very well," Jimmy said and took another deep breath. Was he listening through his nose? "If you continue past the trailer, there's another road that will take you down to the city limits without crossing the hunter's path. It's almost overgrown and hard to spot, so drive slowly. It won't be on any map."

Joe nodded, adrenaline raising and watching the far horizon carefully in case of SUVs suddenly appearing. "What about you?"

He had taken off his trench coat completely which left him in a tight black sweater with a high neck. No visible skin, but the protruding swellings and lumps were more discernible now. "I will make my own escape. Good bye, Joe."

A rustle of leaves and he was moving with unnatural speed away from the site. Joe did not waste time and ran to her own car, fumbling through the plastic gloves to unlock and get in. Hopefully her tracks would not be too visible and she sped off, keeping to Jimmy's directions. The road he meant was almost too narrow for a car and she jumped and jolted down to Beacon Hills, grimacing at the heavy stress her suspension was under. It opened up through some thick bushes to the main road and was practically invisible from this side. Jimmy really knew the Preserve well.

Joe pulled over when she reached the main road to do a quick check on her tires. If a branch got twisted in her hubcaps it could break something important. A lot of cars sped past her, probably heading for day-shopping at the nearby mall. She crouched behind her car to twist loose a small twig that probably wouldn't do any damage, but would make an annoying sound. By sheer luck, she happened to glance up in the direction she came as a dark SUV broke the foliage she had just driven through.

They'd followed her.

How was that possible? That road wasn't even on the GPS. Breathing hard, she got up slowly while the car stood blinking at the intersection, too many cars passing for him to slip out. Not Chris Argent's car, but probably in his employment. Without looking at it, Joe jumped into the driver's seat and with her heart thudding in her ears, got it into gear and waited for the smallest chance possible to get out from the road shoulder.

The SUV still stood blinking in the intersection, unable to follow as she threw herself out after a passing truck.

The police finally released the identity of the victim the next day. Sean Long, aged 24. From what Joe could find out online, Sean hadn't done anything worthwhile with his life after winning some swimming championships in high school. With such limited online presence, it was hard to tell if there were any big gaps in his life story that would indicate prison time or something similar. His name did not appear in any other news articles about court room drama or murder investigations though. If the kanima only went after murderers, Sean was not a convicted one as far as Joe could tell.

His age meant he had gone to high school at the same time as Derek and Jimmy. Joe used the flimsy excuse to get out of the house and headed for the warehouse district, to the abandoned railroad depot. If she could work up the nerve, she wanted to ask about this Paige as well.

"You know, this isn't an open house," Derek's voice rang immediately as she pushed the heavy door open to his underground lair. He appeared from one of the subway carts while slipping on a rib-knit sweater. The damp edges on his hair meant he had probably just had a shower or something similar. Maybe the old wardrobes of the depot were still functional?

Derek sighed at the sight of her and she couldn't blame him. Neither of them were in the habit of making social calls just for the hell of it. And he could probably smell that she wasn't there to seduce him. "What do you want?"

"The murder up in the preserve," Joe said and unfolded the print-out containing a picture of the victim. "Sean Long. By his age, he would have been a year or two ahead you in high school. Know him?"

Derek kept his eyes on her, but accepted the piece of paper and glanced down. "I know of him. Why?" His eyes narrowed. "Is this you running after a giant snake monster again?"

"No." Joe took the picture back and stuffed it into the pocket of her jeans. For once, she was not wearing pajamas or sweats in Derek's presence and she even had her hair down instead of in a bun. Maybe a hint of makeup, but nothing obvious — she hoped at least. "Not really." To avoid his disbelieving gaze, she looked around. "Where's the kids?"

"I'm here!" came Isaac's voice drifting from one of the carts. Derek looked to the side, annoyance visible in his flexed jaw. The voice echoed when Isaac continued shouting: "The others are home."

Derek rolled his eyes and nodded his head towards one of the carts at the far end of the warehouse. It looked to be most intact and someone had taken the time to weld steel plates across the plastic windows. The same someone probably also wired the overhead lights that flickered on when Derek flipped a switch. Too focused on the murders, Joe followed Derek inside the cart before considering the consequences.

This was obviously Derek's cart.

She froze only a few feet inside. Spartan decorating, with just a camp bed in one corner, a few stacked boxes and a big suitcase serving as a table, several books laying next to the bed and a chair that's prime function was storing Derek's clothes. A guy's room, basically, but that was not the problem. The problem was the smell.

If she thought Derek's car was bad, this was a thousand times worse. If he slept here, spent time here, stored his clothes here- Joe's breath hitched when Derek closed the door to the cart, effectively sealing them in here. Soundproof, she realized, to shield their conversation from prying werewolf ears.

Derek himself seemed, or acted, oblivious to her discomfort — or extreme comfort? — and hastily took all the clothes off the chair to give her a place to sit. The clothes landed in a heap next to the bed where he sat down himself, leaning on his knees. Mind racing, Joe perched on the chair, arms still folded and not knowing where to place her eyes. Under the bed, she saw more stacks of books. He must read a lot. Then again, what else was he supposed to do when hiding from the Argents?

"Joe?"

She glanced up and realized Derek had been trying to get her attention for a while now. Blinking, she nodded at him and he let it pass without comment.

"You think it was the kanima?"

"Maybe," she said slowly and tried to breathe through her mouth. "I went up to the crime scene," she ignored his irritated sigh, "and something lured Sean out of the trailer by tampering with the generator. The cable was cut. Scissors or bolt cutters, not claws or torn off with force."

Derek nodded and leaned forwards again so that Joe saw the base of his neck where his damp hair had stained his sweater. Okay, Joe thought to herself, naked Derek in the shower is not the best mental image right now. Unfortunately, that was like trying to not think of a pink rhinoceros. Now she couldn't think of anything else. This was stupid. Kanima! Murder! Pregnant widow woman!

"Isaac's dad, the hunter, the mechanic, Sean Long." Derek counted the known victims on his fingers. "What's the mechanic's name?"

"Uh," Joe checked her notes, so hot now she worried about sweating through her jacket, "Tucker Cornish."

Derek's brows furrowed as if he was trying to recall something. "I'm not sure, but I think there was a Tucker a year ahead of me. He tried out for the basketball team." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I don't- I don't think about high school too much."

For obvious reasons, Joe thought, referencing how he lost his entire family when he was a Junior. Burned to death by psycho Kate Argent. Joe tried to remember this instead of focusing on how her body was trying to melt into a puddle at Derek's feet.

"Do you remember if any of them had anything to do with Jimmy?"

Derek did not look pleased at talking about him. "You think he's the kanima?"

She just shrugged. "I don't know what to think anymore."

"So you didn't talk to Scott?" He scowled when Joe only shook her head, not trusting her voice at the moment. "He didn't tell you who the kanima was?"

"No, he doesn't trust me not to tell you," Joe admitted openly, instead of voicing her suspicion of who at Scott at least thought the kanima was, and watched a myriad of emotions briefly pass Derek's face. Panic, embarrassment, anger — she got it all.

He got up from the bed and paced the tiny cart. Flat voice when he said: "You told him then."

"He got kinda suspicious after you dragged me into the woods," Joe muttered and now tried to not remember how she had awoken in Derek's warm arms, miles away from people, only his scent and him alone next to her.

"Uh," she cleared her throat, "I had to tell him. The alternative theories they were coming up with were worse." Her clothes felt too tight and too hot. Just like Derek's body was too tight and too hot. Oh God, why was she like this? Joe blinked to make her brain function. "Was it supposed to be a secret?"

"Not like you think," Derek said, almost quickly as if to ease her insecurities. He could probably smell it on her from miles away. "It's not usually shared with anyone outside the pack."

"Oh," said Joe, not really listening as she was trying and failing to stop noticing him. This was his room, his space, and everything she looked at reminded her of him. All the questions she had wanted to ask seemed to just melt away. Her eyes searched for something neutral to focus on, but landed on his bed instead. A narrow camp bed, it did not even look comfortable. It was where he slept. How would he sleep? Shirtless, probably, but not fully naked. She could work with shirtless. She could imagine waking up in that bed barely wide enough for Derek alone, so they would be forced to lay so close she would practically be on top of him, shirtless and-

She realized Derek had both stopped pacing and was watching her. She wondered just how much her body betrayed her obvious arousal right then. His eyebrows raised. A lot then.

"I can't do this," she admitted and got up from the chair so fast it toppled over. She threw him a sloppy salute instead of waving like a normal person. It was either that or finger guns. "I gotta go!"

"Joe, you don't hav-" Derek started, but Joe wrenched the door open and tried to replace all the air she had inhaled already. He let out a growling sigh and followed her, grabbing her elbow to pause her escape to the outside completely Derek-free fresh air. Even through the layer of her jacket, his fingers seemed to burn into her skin. "Joe, it's okay."

"I don't think it's okay!" Her voice reached a higher tone than she liked. "I think it's weird! And embarrassing!"

Derek's eyes darted to the side, as if to remind her that Isaac was still nearby.

"I don't know what's me or not." Her chest heaved and she yanked her elbow loose from his grip. "Is it just me? I mean, obviously, because you're not affected!"

Again, the glance to the side as he kept his voice low. "I am, Joe, I'm just better at hiding it. It's the same as controlling the shift, using an anchor." His eyes back on her, bright and open as if begging her to just calm down. "It's okay-"

"It's not okay that the frickin' moon decided to play matchmaker without checking the rules first! The odds are so uneven that I don't even know where to begin. It's like you can read my mind and I can't read yours at all. Is this one-sided? I have no idea! I can't sense you like-"

Derek's head turned to the side, red eyes flashing as he snarled. Joe turned too just in time to see Isaac's curly hair disappear beneath a window. Joe took a deep breath, unwittingly inhaling a lot of Derek Hale again, and then made a harsh noise of frustration.

Throwing her hands up, at both Derek and the hiding Isaac, she could only say: "So weird. This is so weird!"

At least Derek let her leave without making more of a scene.

"Monarchs have limited power. Which is an example of a limited monarchy? Absolute or constitutional?"

They were in Scott's room after Aunt Melissa made it abundantly clear neither of them were leaving the house until Scott was prepared for his two midterms tomorrow. World History and Chemistry, the latter of which was a make-up exam that Aunt Melissa had begged Scott's teacher to organize.

"Uh..."

"Okay, it's in the word," Joe said and rubbed her face with a sigh. As always, seeing Derek just left her in a state of solid confusion. "Absolute, right? That means it's absolute and complete power. That means it can't be...?"

"Limited," Scott guessed and Joe nodded to give him some encouragement. "So, the answer's constitutional?"

"Yes, exactly." A positive about both World History and Chemistry was that the curriculum hadn't changed too much and Joe had dug out her study guides from her time in high school. Aunt Melissa was not at work for a change, and they kept their discussions limited to the subjects in case she was eavesdropping to make sure they spent their time effectively.

"Democracy where citizens elect others or representatives to serve in government. Representative or direct?"

Scott scrunched up his face in thought and Joe repeated the question and choices, laying pressure on the word 'representative' both times. He finally got it and Joe moved on to the next. By this rate, they would be done with Chemistry sometime tomorrow morning.

"Which Greek city-state had a direct democracy?" she asked and this had four choices, so she gave him more time to think. His eyes glazed over after a while and she leaned back in her chair, in case he snapped out of it. She noticed him picking on his nails and she sighed. "Scott?"

"Huh?" He glanced up at her like he had forgotten she was even there. "Sorry. Can you repeat the question?" After doing that, including the options ("Sparta, Athens, Corinth or Delphi?") he rubbed his hands through his hair. "I don't know. I'm sorry, I just- I don't know." He got up from the chair and paced the room. "This is useless."

While she privately agreed somewhat with Scott, she tried to not let it show and tapped the chair he had left. "Come on, last chapter and we move onto Chemistry-"

He let out a sarcastic: "Great!"

"Scott, what the hell did you expect?" Joe slammed her binder shut and crossed her arms. "You committed a federal offense! You're lucky to be grounded instead of packed off to juvie-"

Scott had a baseball he threw and caught with regular intervals. "Like you?"

"Yeah, like me," Joe snarled and got up to snatch the baseball from the air. "And I've worked my ass off ever since to not fall behind, okay? So less moping and more revising please."

"Yeah, right, because it was falling behind you worried about." Scott sounded uncharacteristically bitter as he took the baseball back, tossing it in the air immediately. "And not your mom."

You're the adult, she reminded herself and took a breath before answering. "Mhm, and I was in juvie because of my mom too. You wanna keep going, Scotty?"

His palm smacked against the baseball as he caught it again. "I'm not like you, Joe. I can't shut off everything else. Who cares about these stupid tests when there's all this other stuff going on? Important stuff." Another toss, another catch. "Those guys Derek turned. The kanima." He caught the ball again and studied it. "Allison and her family."

"Your mom's important too," Joe said and rubbed her eyes. "And if getting you to pass these tests makes me feel only slightly less guilty for lying to her, that's what we're gonna do. You know I'll stay here all night if I have to."

"Yeah, 'cause that's worked out for you before. Not like that ended in therapy or anything."

Scowling, she let the comment pass without retaliation as Scott did finally sat back down. They got through the next chapter without incidence, even though the tension still ran high and obviously did not improve his ability to focus. In the midst of Chemistry, another multiple choice exam, Aunt Melissa knocked on the door and peeked inside.

"Pizza's here in twenty minutes," she said, voice still stern as if she was trying hard to make it so. "I'm leaving for work now, so...cash on the dresser." Aunt Melissa scanned the insides of Scott's room and Joe knew that suspicion she harbored. It had been the same when Joe thought Scott was on steroids. God, she had been an idiot. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Scott and Joe chorused sullenly and Aunt Mel nodded before leaving. The second they heard Aunt Mel slam the door downstairs, Scott practically slid off his chair. "We talked for six hours after getting home from the station. Six hours! And she's still mad at me!"

"Do I have to repeat myself about the federal offense?"

"No, just, what choice did we have? Jackson's the kanima, and even if we tried to kill him, I don't think we can!"

Scott was up from the chair again, back to pacing. Joe remained sitting and waited for her cousin to be done rambling. Apparently he was already done distrusting her about Derek and revealed everything that had happened. Although it was probably more a case of Scott just having to talk about it than him trusting her with the information. Not surprisingly, Jackson was definitely the kanima, but he was controlled by someone else based on the translation of the bestiary.

"Wait, you got someone to translate it?" Joe asked with furrowed brows, recalling that History TA who claimed it near impossible. It turned out to be that Lydia Martin, who was apparently a genius in disguise. "So the murders are not random then? They're targeted."

"Think so," Scott mumbled and slumped back on his bed. "Jackson doesn't even believe us. He's been nagging me about the bite ever since I got made co-captain."

A cold feeling spread inside Joe. "Derek."

"Think so," Scott repeated. "But Jackson passed Derek's test with the venom. He was knocked out. So it's not like a werewolf, where I'm still me all the time, just enhanced. It's like Jackson and the kanima are two completely different beings."

"Co-existing in one body? How does that work?" Her knowledge about multiple personalities were limited, Alex was the psychology-major. "Who's in control by default? What triggers the change?"

Scott shrugged. "We were gonna ask him tomorrow at school, but..."

"But you're not allowed within fifty feet of him," Joe finished, seeing where that was going. Both he and Stiles were supposed to maintain as much distance as possible when attending school. "Okay, let me know if I can help."

Scott sat up from the bed and gave her a nondescript look. Okay, the distrust regarding Derek hadn't disappeared completely then.

"You're Scott's cousin, aren't you?"

Lydia Martin crossed her arms and looked Joe up and down, obviously not approving of Joe's outfit. Unfair, thought Joe, as she'd even worn her good jeans and a clean t-shirt for the occasion. She had her laptop under her arm and tried to give the young Lydia Martin, who was not a werewolf even though bitten by an Alpha, a friendly smile.

"Yes, hi, my name's Joe," Joe said and held out her other hand for Lydia to shake.

Lydia did not uncross her arms, but lifted an eyebrow. "Your name is Joe?"

Something about the girl's tone made Joe almost stutter as she dropped the hand limply to her side. "Uh, well, my name's really Josefina..."

"Then why do you call yourself 'Joe'?"

"Because...I like it better?" Joe answered with furrowed brows, wondering why she was trying to defend her own chosen nickname to this petulant high schooler. Lydia wore a knee-length flowery dress, even though they were in March, and had opened the door seconds after Joe rang the bell to their house. Almost as if she was expecting someone. After talking to Scott, Joe had gotten an idea that she hadn't been able to put in the back of her mind. Hence why she was now currently standing on the steps to the Martin house.

"Hm," said Lydia in a tone of voice that meant she did not particularly agree with Joe. She seemed to shake it off and perked up, although there was something definitely sarcastic in her eyes when she asked: "Can I help you with something?"

"Actually, yes," Joe said and held her laptop in front of her as part evidence, part shield. "I heard a rumour you can translate Archaic Latin?"

Lydia blinked and raised her eyebrows in fascination. "Not what I'm most famous for, but sure. Are you also part of that online gaming community?"

"Yes," said Joe quickly, glad of the lie, even though she did not know of its origin. "Can I come in?"

Lydia shrugged and opened the door wider to let Joe enter. Another distinctly upperclass house and some sort of tiny dog creature rushed around their feet as Lydia lead Joe into what had to be her room, complete with pink frills and a lot of girly decor. Joe found herself wondering if Lydia Martin was a bit like Professor Kane. Easy to underestimate based on looks alone. Lydia jumped onto her bed and patted the spot next to her to make Joe sit down.

"What monster are you trying to conquer today then, Joe?" Lydia asked sarcastically as she accepted Joe's laptop with the bestiary pulled up. A teenager, Joe had to remind herself. A child. Joe was an adult. She had moved on from high school. She would not let herself be intimidated by the popular girl anymore.

"Uh..." Joe said and swallowed. Damn it. She could say it. Come on. "Were-"

"Werewolves? Okay, that's cliche," Lydia muttered and scrolled through the scanned pages of the bestiary, obviously looking for a headline that matched their search. "There's like forty pages here. Can you narrow it down somewhat?"

Joe made a face at the number. "Um, okay, can you see if there's anything in there about..." Her voice dwindled down and Lydia looked at her expectantly. "About, umm..."

"Umm?" Lydia prompted with beautiful wide eyes locked at Joe. "What?"

"Mmmates," Joe forced out. This girl had to be the secret love child between Professor Kane and Professor Walker. She had the distinct no nonsense vibe combined with sheer brilliance.

"Mates?" Lydia's lip lifted, but she shrugged and used a manicured hand to scroll through the text. She muttered as she obviously skimmed the text, a feat that should have been impossible with Archaic Latin as per the TA at Berkeley. "Mates, mates, mates..."

Joe's ears grew hot and red.

"Okay, here's something. Um, bound together by the moon, two parts of a whole. Strong connection." Lydia squinted at the screen, one eyebrow up. Joe's heart beat a little faster. Was this the answer she had been looking for all along? "It's like a love story thing."

"Yes, but is there anything about, like, practical stuff? A rulebook maybe?" Joe asked, trying to mask her eagerness. "Or is it just a story?"

"There's something about sharing strong feelings, like pain and pleasure, but you should be careful hunting them together as a pair as they'll be strongest then. Always try and separate the mates..." Lydia sounded doubtful, rereading a passage several times. Joe's heart felt ten sizes too big in her chest, especially at the mention of shared pleasure. "Historically, true mates symbolizes the start of a new powerful pack."

Now the blush was threatening to take over Joe's entire body. "What?"

The girl blinked innocently up at her. "What?"

"A new powerful pack? Are you sure?" Joe repeated, even though the words fell awkward on her dry lips. That matched with what Derek said about his great-grandparents who first settled here in Beacon Hills. The Hales could have been powerful for all she knew, but that had not exactly ended well.

"Yes, that's what it says," Lydia said and closed the laptop, translation apparently done. "Are you gonna hunt a pair of online werewolf mates, Joe?"

"What?" Joe's brows pulled together, before she even remembered that flimsy excuse. "Uh, no, I don't...no."

Somehow she managed to small-talk and thank her way out of the house, even though Lydia's interest — limited from the start — waned into nothing almost immediately. Joe's head swam, her mind fuddled, her breath labored. Not surprised, not really, but still a bit disconcerted with getting it confirmed from a truly neutral third-party.

A new pack. How would that work if she was human?

A little bit of this, a little bit of that... Many mysteries to be solved at once and no one's making it easy.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter! As always, thank you for reading and I can't wait to hear your thoughts, so please leave a review :)

Happy Thankgsiving to my American readers and happy thursday to everyone else! (Edit: I realize now it's wednesday, but time is an illusion anyway. It's been a long week, it should be thursday...)