Chapter 71: Kali II
...there are other ways you can get stronger.
Virgins. Warriors. Werewolves, although failed, still attempted. What was next? Who was next? Virgins for beauty or seduction. Warriors for strength or power. Werewolves for...what?
Why werewolves? Joe rubbed her eyes — even as they stung from lack of sleep, her mind would not shut down. High alert. Obsessive thoughts. Call it what you wanted, the result was the same. If you had trouble falling or staying asleep three nights a week for three months, you'd be diagnosed with chronic insomnia. This was three months with every night of the week, so Joe had no idea what her condition would be called. Super chronic insomnia?
"Okay, Joe, I'm gonna write you a prescription for some sedative-hypnotics. Basically, to slow down your brain and central nervous system enough for you to fall asleep. This is not meant for long-term use, okay? Just to get you into a good rhythm. Stimulus control, breathing exercises, good sleep habits — that's how we're gonna beat this, not medications. I know, I know, it's tempting to just pop a pill every night and wander off to dreamland, but there aren't any sleeping aids on the market that are meant for long-term use. Because, paradoxically, the side-effects of abusing sleeping pills are the same as insomnia itself: daytime sleepiness, forgetfulness, balance problems, hallucinations, the list goes on. And you can become addicted, so there's that. Okay? We're on the same page here? Great. Think of this as a little sprinkle of sleeping dust to tide you over so you can start working on the actual problem."
Paradoxically, Joe thought and wondered if that was even a word. Her old therapist had a strange way of speaking sometimes, but he at least had a point about pills not being the best solution. Just a little something to tide her over... a slippery slope, even though Joe had no idea if she even could get addicted to anything anymore. The healing was not an exact science. Alcohol didn't do anything for her, but anesthesia did? Just like the mate-bond, the lycanthropy lacked a clear rulebook.
"I still think he's the one who should take the mountain ash."
Forgetfulness, a common complication of insomnia. Was that enough to explain how Joe literally forgot about Erica's condition every time she was out of sight? It was strange too because it was just that brief moment of 'Oh, right, Erica' when Joe saw her again, so a part of Joe's consciousness knew the truth. Otherwise, she should realistically scream bloody murder every time she came back to the apartment.
"I mean, if he's the one John Tuckering, he should be the one shooting hoops too."
Joe blinked at Erica, who handed her a fresh cup of coffee and a pill she had sworn she would never take again. Mountain ash.
"What kind of shows are you watching these days?" Joe asked and swallowed the stupid pill before she could think twice about it. "Do you even know what 'shooting hoops' mean?"
"Yeah, to take acid," Erica explained with a shrug and did a spin in Jimmy's computer chair. "And I've been watching Love & Hip Hop. It follows these female rappers trying to make it in New York. Second season's out in November and I'm convinced they're gonna drop Somaya soon because she's stirring up some serious drama with Chrissy, who's obviously the producer's favorite."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Erica shrugged again, a slight smirk tugging on her lips. "It's only like eight episodes, we'll do an all-nighter before the season premiere to catch you up. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and assume you don't have a problem with all-nighters. I mean, all the evidence points to the contrary. In fact, by now, I'm convinced you don't need sleep at all."
"Have I ever told you how funny you are, Erica?"
"Weird, you have literally never told me that."
Joe gave her a look before returning her focus to the computer screen. "Yeah, that was my point."
Erica grinned.
After returning up to the apartment, leaving a stunned Scott and Stiles in her wake, Joe had walked in on a tense conversation between her roommates. It made sense that Jimmy worried. The last time she had lost touch with reality, mixing Erica and Kate, it had ended catastrophically. Joe had already proven she could take on Erica without weapons — the girl should be scared of her. It made no sense how she wasn't scared of Joe.
"You know," Erica said slowly, doing another spin on Jimmy's chair — he was in the bathroom, trying to clean it after Joe's late-night session with herself, "if Derek thinks I'm dead, I can just waltz right up to that loft and scare the shit out of him. Do a whole 'Ghost of Christmas Past'-kind of thing." She smirked again, a pointed tongue resting on her front teeth. "Just, you know, make him think about his life choices. Not limited to you. I want to ask him why the hell we had to stay in that crappy depot when he splurged on a downtown penthouse with Isaac."
"He kicked Isaac out," Joe mumbled absentmindedly, trying to focus on the computer screen, but secretly indulging in Erica's fantasy.
"Yeah, another point I could raise," Erica said with a finger in the air. "Asshole-move. But it's so typical Isaac to let himself be kicked out too-"
"No victim-blaming, Erica."
"-because if Derek tried to kick me out I'd just be like 'No, you big broody güey, you get out' and not leave," Erica continued as if Joe hadn't said anything. "You think he tried to kick Cora out?"
"She's his sister, Erica."
"That he hasn't seen, in like, forever. All I'm saying is that a downtown penthouse apartment is wasted on the likes of Jungle Barbie."
"It's literally exposed bricks and three pieces of furniture, Erica. Not exactly the Hilton. I'm not even sure if Isaac had a bed or if it was just a pile of sleeping bags on the second floor." Joe gave up trying to read anything related to the evil druid-case and took a sip of coffee instead. "And don't call Cora that, it's kinda offensive."
"How is that anymore offensive than what she called me?" Erica snorted, obviously still offended by the nickname. "For the record, I'm born Latina, she just speaks Spanish."
"No gatekeeping, Erica. She's lived half her life in Venezuela, she's," Joe shrugged, "Latina by proxy?"
Erica let out a scoff and twirled some hair between her fingers. "Whatever." Her voice became strained as she let her head fall back. "You know I already cleaned the bathroom, right? He's just being pedantic."
"It's the-" Joe tried to take another sip, but her hand shook too much and she dropped it again. "It's the blood. Half-moon tomorrow." They both fell silent at that thought. Eventually, Joe gave up and used both hands to hold the cup of coffee so it wouldn't spill. Erica followed the movements with her eyes.
"Whatever," she said again, another smirk on her lips. False bravado, putting up a front. "I still think he's being pedantic." She perked up when the man in question came into the living room, a bucket full of cleaning supplies in his hand. "Hey, Monica Geller-Bing, is the bathroom up to your satisfaction yet?"
"Yes," he said tersely, purple eyes glowing. "No thanks to you."
"You're the backbone of this household, Jim-suela." A wet slap sounded as Jimmy threw the used dishrag in Erica's face. "Hey!"
As Erica grimaced and removed the rag, Jimmy stopped next to Joe on his way to the kitchen and sighed deeply. "Please tell me that's decaf."
He groaned when Joe and Erica only glanced guiltily at each other.
"I'm sorry, I was just trying to be nice!" Erica excused herself with an exaggerated shrug. "You're already established yourself to be the strict mom, so I get to be the cool dad. You give her what she needs, I give her what she wants. And she wanted coffee."
Joe blinked at them. "Wait, am I the child in this analogy?" The combination of their disappointed glares made her sink down in the chair. "Okay, yeah, sure. Get your point. Not like I had enough daddy and mommy issues from before, why not add a sixteen years old werewolf and a purple-eyed Demi Alpha to the mix?"
With a grumble, Jimmy continued to the kitchen and glared at the bottle containing the mountain ash pills. "I would have preferred you take the Benadryl. I can't keep physically knocking you out just so you can rest."
"I'll do it," Erica volunteered with a cheeky grin, one that only widened when Joe snorted. "What? I can take you."
The room lapsed into a tense silence. "No," Joe said quietly, hands back to shaking. "You can't."
Jimmy cleared his throat and held up the pill bottle. "You think this will work?"
"I hope so," Joe said quietly. "It has to."
"If not," Erica shot in, back to smirking, "I'll go dig up that spiked headband we used for my first full moon, smother on some ketchup and climb in through his window." She dropped her voice to a fake moan that made her sound like a ghost: "Dereeeek, why are you such an asshooole?" She giggled, eyes glinting in the dim light. "How's that for a mood killer? I'm telling you," getting up from the chair, she grinned at Joe, "men are trash."
"Says the sixteen-year-old who's never been in a relationship."
"Trash!" Erica repeated, snatched the half-empty cup out of Joe's hands, and sauntered to the kitchen. She cooed at Jimmy: "You're the exception of course."
"I figured," Jimmy muttered and rolled his eyes.
"How did he even meet this skank?" Erica asked loudly as she refilled Joe's coffee mug. "Guy spends all his time brooding or wallowing in guilt. Not big on the social scene. Yeah, he's hot, but he's got zero game."
"Don't use that word, Erica."
"What word?"
"Skank. Blaming the 'other woman' is just a way of holding women responsible for men's sexual behavior — it's a key component of rape culture."
"I know, down with the patriarchy, whatever. But she's still a skank and Derek's a slut." Erica handed Joe the re-filled coffee, winking over her shoulder at the grumbling Jimmy. "And I'm going to bed. Unless you want it?"
Joe shook her head — her mind buzzed, sleep was not feasible.
"Figured." Instead of just wandering down the hall as Joe had expected, Erica leaned down and hugged Joe from behind, resting her head on Joe's shoulder with one arm slung across her upper chest. "Three senses, right? Three out of five. I'm here."
Four out of five, Joe thought, as she could smell her fruity shampoo with so much of Erica's hair in her face.
"Thank you," Joe mumbled quietly, but bit her lip to keep her voice from trembling. "I'm sorry, Erica, I'm not-"
"Entirely in control of your body or mind?" Erica guessed, the force of her voice shifting Joe's curls around. "Gee, I wonder what that's like. We'll figure it out. Just gotta get through this half-moon first without anyone dying." She squeezed Joe around her shoulders before letting go. "Buenas noches, Joe."
"Noches, nena."
Jimmy accepted a side-hug from Erica too, his purple eyes rolling back, but Erica did not seem to mind. They waited until the door closed and they could hear the muted sounds of the TV turning on. Without Erica's warmth on her back, Joe clutched the coffee mug in both hands to soak up the heat.
"How is she handling this so much better than us?"
"Well," Jimmy shrugged from where he leaned against the kitchen island, "it's called post-traumatic stress. It's not over for her yet." His words made Joe's blood run cold and he gestured to the apartment. "She just exchanged one cage with another."
"Oh God," Joe groaned and put the mug on the desk so she could lean her head onto her hands. "Guess there's no denying that I'm really an Alpha." Through her fingers, she mumbled: "I don't know what to do here, Jim. I'm...lost."
"We'll figure something out," he said, patient as ever. "After the half-moon."
"Right." She waited for a beat. "You gonna be okay?"
Glancing over at him she could see the tension in his movements. He rolled his neck, causing a ripple of muscles to shift. "I think so. You prepared to bring me back if I'm not?"
"Always. Ride or die." Joe focused back on the screen, but the words blurred. "You'll do the same for me?"
He nodded, but kept quiet for a few seconds. "I need to turn in now if I want to not turn tomorrow."
"Meditation?"
"Yes." A slight pause. "I won't sleep with you, but you are welcome to sleep next to me. If it can help."
She shook her head. "No, I want to, uh, get some work done. Distraction, you know. Maybe we can save someone's lives or catch this bitch or..."
"I get it." Still staring at the screen, she only heard Jimmy's soft footsteps pad over the floor behind her. He paused again. "Listen, if the mountain ash doesn't work..."
Just the thought made her scratch the now healed skin on her arms, still feeling filthy. It had to work. She could not go through that again. Jimmy did not finish his sentence, but she knew what he meant. He'd handle it — somehow. Ride or die.
"Thank you," Joe murmured without looking away from her screen. He placed a hand on her shoulder in silent sympathy before he retreated to his own bedroom. Finally alone, Joe let herself breathe fully. Both Jimmy and Erica acted normal, but they were walking on eggshells around her. Not that Joe could blame them. Her hands shook constantly.
Safe. They were safe in the apartment. Werewolf proofed. Unfortunately, not mate-bond proof, but maybe Jimmy could remodel her bedroom to be coated in moonstone?
Stop that. Distraction. Work.
Virgins. Warriors. Werewolves.
What did werewolves symbolize? Come on, Delgado, be more than just a stupid animal, be more than a mate. This is supposed to be your thing, remember? Okay, so your head's kinda messed up right now and you don't remember everything at the top of your head, but you still know how to research, right?
Joe's eyes burned as she forced herself to read and reference old notes. As it turns out, werewolves were associated with a lot of the same things as virgins. Energy, trickery, and deceit. Then there were the other things: primal instincts, uncontrollable urges — sex, violence, and destruction. Not something you'd want to harness. Not something possible to harness. And the evil druid had not tried to sacrifice them either, she realized. Not a threefold death, but suicides.
"Make them destroy themselves," Joe murmured — it sounded familiar and she went back in the folder Stiles had sent her with everything he had gathered on the cases. "Like the crows..."
A few days before she got back — or got out or released or whatever — crows had attacked Beacon Hills High, flying into the windows and killing themselves. Not a couple, but probably hundreds of them. Fun fact: a group of crows is called a murder. So when people say that a murder of crows is a sign of fortune, they mean a flock of living crows, not dead ones.
Bizarre did not even begin to cover this.
Crows and werewolves. Crows were also associated with energy, trickery, and deceit. Big upgrade from crows to werewolves though. Joe tapped the keyboard, trying to cross-reference, feeling her own mind muddled from the lack of sleep. Or lack of dreaming as Hallucinate-Kate had said.
Don't think about that. Focus.
This was interesting. There had been another freak accident with crows in Beacon Hills just seven years ago. At the hospital, not the high school. Joe's first instinct was to call Aunt Mel, but she realized it was three in the morning. No wonder her coffee was cold.
So, if the werewolves were supposed to be the final mass suicide related to trickery spanning almost a decade in total, what was the evil druid trying to accomplish?
All of Joe's searches on neo-pagan websites led her to 'spells' about glamours. Making objects or people appear different from what they actually looked like. Never permanently, though, that took enormous amounts of energy according to these hippie-guys. She had to lean back from the screen and rub her eyes — she had never tried to read these texts like they were serious before. Might as well have looked up a Dungeons and Dragons-manual for facts.
"How's that skepticism serving you lately, Delgado?"
"That's Jimmy's line," Joe answered, not acknowledging the woman lounging on the desk by her computer.
"It's probably a bad sign when you're mixing up your emotional support hallucinations," Kate said with a wink. She hopped off the desk to lean over Joe's shoulder. "Why are we reading about this shit when you should be researching how to break the bond?"
"Because people are dying, Kate," Joe mumbled and knew that she should not have been able to hallucinate the smell of Kate's perfume, and she still did when she couldn't see her. Two senses at a time. Joe leaned on her desk and put her head in her hands, staring at the words on the screen. "Hospital, high school, and then a random motel...I don't see a pattern."
"High school is at the center. You said so, right? The motel is only there because the high school cross-country team was there for the night. So, the question really is, why the hospital?"
Groaning, Joe rubbed her face and eyes. "Hospital? What happens at hospitals? People are born, but someone born in 2004 wouldn't be in high school now. People die?"
Kate made a humming sound, right next to Joe's ear, and she whispered: "People survive." Joe's vision swam, but Kate only kept going. "Like me. Thank you for that, by the way."
"Shut up," Joe said automatically, a bit louder than intended. "Energy. Someone used the crows for energy to survive. Then what about the school? Was someone dying that day too? No, wait, energy, trickery, and deceit. Is it literal? In that order? First time for energy. Second time for trickery? What's the difference between trickery and deceit?"
"Trickery is temporary, deceit is permanent?" Kate suggested with a shrug, sounding bored.
"So if it was a glamour-spell," Joe never thought she would take those words in her mouth, "the werewolves might have been to make it permanent. But it failed. So, whoever's using that spell is only temporarily disguised?" Her head buzzed, it was hard to think. She suspected half of it was from the mountain ash-pill. They probably affected her more now than before. "That means the virgins weren't used for beauty."
Kate, back on the desk, kicked her legs as she leaned back with a seductive smile. "Are you gonna say it or do I have to? I mean, I can say it if you want, if it's easier to hear it coming from me."
"Say what?"
It was a downright evil glint in Kate's eyes. "That the mate-bond is so strong that the only thing that could have made Derek overlook it," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "is if someone sacrificed three virgins to seduce him." She laughed at Joe's expression. "Oh, you were thinking it, babe! That's the only reason I could say it. It is kind of pathetic, huh?"
"Shut up."
"Look at you, Little Miss Independent," Kate cooed and coiled herself around Joe's computer screen. "It got in your head, didn't it? Oh, you were supposed to be together, right? Meant to be, connected by the moon and all. It felt so right with him. And you had what, a couple of kisses? Then he thought you left for a couple of months, maybe for good, and he was happy you left. Probably forgot all about you. That's why he didn't want to show you the text. Couldn't even have been a break-up text, because you weren't even dating."
"Please shut up."
"I mean, he's a guy!" Kate laid down on her back with her feet crossed. "They have needs! He never told you how to control the pain-thing, babe, even though he knew all along. He most definitely knew how to control the pleasure too. Only reason you felt it the other night was because it was sooo," she moaned the word, "good for him that he lost control."
"Please."
"I mean, I should know, right? I knew how to make him feel good. How to-"
"SHUT UP!"
The chair clattered to the floor behind her when she jumped up. The noise was enough to snap her out of it.
No Kate. Kate wasn't there. She never was. Just like Derek had never been there whenever she dreamt about him in the vault. Whenever Erica or Cora curled up behind her for warmth and comfort and Joe could pretend it was Derek, for just a little while. That was back when she still slept for hours at a time. Back when the vault still offered some relief to her control of the pain, knowing that she could let go for just a little while. Now it was always, always in the back of her mind — control it. Control control control.
She suppressed a shudder when the husky voice came back, not giving up yet. "You know there's only one way to break the bond, babe."
"No."
"These werewolves are all about bonds. Wolf and moon. Alpha and Beta. Pack and Emissary. Mate and mate. All bonds can be broken."
"I know."
"You do know. Come on, Joe, just admit it. There's one way and you already know what it is."
"I know what it is."
"Then why don't you," Kate leaned over her so her hair tickled Joe's neck, "grow some balls, Joe, and go through with it."
It's the bonds.
It churned through her mind the whole night. She must have fallen asleep at some point because she woke up with her head face down in the keyboard and a search bar full of 'hhhhhh'.
In an attempt to feel slightly more human, she took a shower, but still couldn't look at herself in the mirror. Dirty. She felt dirty and violated, which was just stupid because nothing had really happened to her. No one to blame, really, because Derek hadn't done this on purpose. He never wanted to be connected to her any more than she wanted to be connected to him. The only difference was that now she did want it and he didn't anymore.
Not able to look at her curls, she braided them tightly against her scalp and pinned up the bangs. It showed too much of her face, but she would just have to live with that. He'd never said he loved her face.
The thought made her smash her teeth together to hold in a violent cry. She hated him! So much of his pain and he rewarded her by betraying her like that! He had to know, right? Everyone kept telling her he was her best source of knowledge, so he had to know she would feel it? As Kate had suggested sometime during the night, he'd probably wanted her to feel it. To make her stay away for good. He didn't trust her.
Probably with good reason.
Glaring at her own discolored eyes in the mirror until they dimmed back to her normal brown, Joe went on to put on a pair of leather-looking leggings she could not remember buying and a loose t-shirt. Neither Jimmy nor Erica was up when she got out of the bathroom — time was an illusion in this apartment. Half-moon, she remembered. Jimmy would probably be meditating the whole day to prepare for the nightfall.
Her phone buzzed several times. It turned out to be Stiles, texting in rapid succession.
Stiles: HAELERS
Stiles: Sorry. Healers! 2 doctors so far
Stiles: If you're still mad, ignore these, but I thought you might want to know.
Stiles: You have every right to be mad :(
Stiles: 1 found (dead), 1 missing, 1 to be taken.
Stiles: btw, I 100% take your experiences seriously (I read that's important for you to know).
Joe blinked at the cell-phone screen. Healers. Virgins, warriors, and healers. This was definitely a female perpetrator. Two out of three victims already taken, one left.
"Hello?"
"Hi, it's Joe, are you-"
"Sacrificed? No, I'm still good." Aunt Mel sounded grumpy, but it was early in the morning after all. "Don't worry, the boys crashed my bedroom last night. I'm plenty safe." Sarcasm dripped even through the phone. "The two people taken are both doctors and as I've told you, I'm just a nurse."
"You're not just a nurse, Aunt Mel," Joe said as she waited for the coffee to brew. "You said it, our family are healers."
"You know I didn't mean it that literally, right? I'm fine, Joe, I'm heading for work."
"Okay, just, be careful, please."
The coffee didn't really taste of anything now. What had Jimmy said the other day? That when the killer chose a new victim group, it worked fast. The third victim could have been taken already and they didn't even know it.
Another text buzzed in.
Stiles: Deaton!
"Shit."
With Jimmy out of commission, Joe just put shoes on and drove a bit faster than necessary to the clinic. Both Stiles' Jeep and a few police cars were already parked outside, as well as Scott's dirtbike.
"Josefina."
The French accent gave her away and Joe froze on her way into the clinic when Marin Morrell stalked out of the shadows. She looked flawless as ever, but had exchanged her teacher-outfit with a leather jacket and a crop top. "Word of warning, your father's inside."
It had not even crossed Joe's mind, but of course he was if he was heading the task-force. She saw him through the window now, talking with Scott. Swearing, Joe bent her head and stepped out of sight.
"They're not going to find him," Joe said and Marin smiled as if pleased with Joe. "Just how many of you druid guys are there in town?"
Marin shrugged. "One for each pack, I suspect. Only one of us actually working. Are you well, Josefina? You look tired."
"Yeah, whatever, you already said that. Can you cut the mystery bullshit talk for five minutes? This Daerach-"
"Darach."
"Whatever," Joe repeated, not bothering with proper pronunciation at the moment. "She always takes four potential victims, right? Four corners of the knot. Her in the center."
"You seem confident it's a woman?"
Not in the mood to explain, Joe just shook her head. "Profiling 101. Don't worry, you're not a suspect. You wouldn't have taken Deaton, right? Because he's your brother."
Marin tilted her head, using so much of the same body language as Deaton that it sealed the deal. "Half-brother. But you're correct. About all of it so far, actually. Might want to be careful you're not ruled as a suspect yourself."
"Not happening, I add in the 'I swear this is just for research' in all my internet searches." Joe blew air out of her mouth, watching the people inside. "How do we stop this Darach?"
"You're the one taking a Ph.D. in Criminology with a Master's in Cultural Sociology," Marin said with a thin smile. "You tell me."
It was a bad day to push Joe's buttons. Before she could think it through, she had her hand around Marin's throat and pushed her up against the clinic wall. The Mona Lisa-smile disappeared from Marin's face and Joe could feel her pulse thump against her palm.
"I'm getting really," Joe tightened her grip, "tired of you Celtic assholes. I've had a bad week or month or year for that matter and I gotta admit," Marin's cool facade cracked even more and her hands came up to pry at Joe's, "I am hanging on by a spider silk thread right now."
Marin wore heeled boots, bringing her to the same height as Joe, and her nostrils flared from the effort of breathing.
"And I realized that a lot of my problems stem from you druid guys," Joe continued, keeping the same pressure in her digits — Marin's pulse thumped faster against them now. "Including, but not limited to you RSVP-ing on my behalf to attend my ex-girlfriend's wedding." Joe leaned in, her own blood boiling, and whispered: "So I'm gonna give you one more chance to answer my goddamn question, or I'll rip your head straight off."
It took a lot to force herself to let go — because a part of her was just screaming to squeeze until Marin begged for air — but Joe tore her hand away and put it on the wall next to Marin's head.
Rubbing her neck, Marin coughed to regain her voice. "You don't like weddings?" She flinched when Joe moved her hand slightly and shook her head. "Fine. As I'm going to tell the boys, they will have to use the one person who might actually have the ability to seek out the supernatural. The one who keeps finding the bodies."
The name popped into Joe's mind immediately. "Lydia Martin?" Joe asked and Marin nodded. "Can I ask why you're not looking for him yourself?" A sadness in Marin's eyes made Joe guess: "He won't let you?"
All emotions cleared of Marin's face as she looked down to her side. "It fits nicely with his plans. Deucalion always had a talent for seeing the whole board and staying at least ten steps ahead."
Either Joe was not seeing the whole board or Marin's loyalty to Deucalion ran so deep she would allow her own brother to be sacrificed. Something Professor Kane had said struck Joe and she asked: "Are you a druid or Emissary first?"
"Believe it or not, I'm a guidance counselor first." Marin raised an immaculate eyebrow at Joe. "Which services did you require? You want to discuss your insomnia?"
The boiling in Joe's blood chilled instantly. "How the hell do you know about that?"
Marin gave a pointed look to the hand Joe still held by her head, the one that had been around her throat. "From what I've heard about you, you're not usually prone to violence." A waft of gentle perfume hit Joe as Marin leaned in closer, articulating every word carefully with her plump lips: "And the vault wasn't soundproof."
Before Joe could even begin to form an answer to that, the front door to the clinic opened. Special Agent Rob Delgado stepped out, lighting a cigarette in the same movement — something that told Joe immediately that he was stressed. Unfortunately, so was she, and seeing him did not improve matters.
So far the open door hid them from view. Marin was still leaning forward to Joe and she whispered again: "Go. I'll stall him."
Joe's brows furrowed as she looked at the other woman, who gave her a nod. It was not until the door swung shut behind Rob Delgado that Joe contemplated how it might look where she practically pinned the other woman against the wall.
In the midst of an inhale, her dad's eyes widened comically as coughed hard — his face disappeared briefly in a cloud of smoke. "J-Joe? Miss Morrell?"
"Special Agent Delgado," Marin said smoothly, gently nudging Joe away.
Still coughing, her dad waved away some of the smoke and Joe used the chance to back away slowly towards the car. When he emerged, he gave Joe a curious look and tilted his head in a discreet manner as if to ask what the hell she was doing there. Joe could only shrug weakly, having too much trouble just breathing to come up with any kind of plausible explanation. She was spared from even trying as Marin engaged Rob in conversation, demanding his presence.
As Joe got in the car, she saw Marin usher Joe's dad inside the clinic. Head swimming, Joe sent Stiles a text to let him know she headed for the school to find Lydia. Unfortunately, that brief moment she used before starting the car was enough for her to notice the concerned look on her dad's face as he watched the car. Tilting her head down, she got out of there. Not now. She did not have the emotional capacity. As long as he was kept in the dark, he was safe.
The Corvette purred happily as she drove through Beacon Hills. Focus. Focus focus focus.
God, she hated this place. Parking at the high school, she somehow pulled up next to that same red Toyota Prius like last time. The one who had stood where Derek's trail of blood ended. It made her pause briefly. Probably just a coincidence.
"Is it though?" asked Kate, again walking next to Joe on her way into school. "Is it," she drew out her words, "a coincidence?"
Not answering, because it would look like she was talking to herself, Joe just shouldered through the doors and headed for the administration's office. Maybe she could pose as Lydia's mom or something and have her called up on the PA. With the bags under Joe's eyes, she certainly looked old enough. Was she wearing shoes? Joe glanced down, happy to note that she was.
A note on the door to the administration's office said they'd be back in five minutes. Joe automatically looked around for a coffee machine or something, before remembering this was a high school and the best they could offer was water fountains.
"Babe," Kate said from where she leaned against some lockers, picking at a long knife. She nodded towards something behind Joe. "You're being watched."
With the eerie feeling of being in someone's focus, Joe turned slowly.
It was that teacher, the familiar-looking one in the pencil skirt, who watched her through the open door of the teacher's lounge across the hall. As before, she clutched some books and was obviously talking to someone Joe couldn't see, but the teacher for some reason looked at her. Most people would look away when caught staring, but not this one. Joe found herself holding eye-contact.
"Look at the keys," Kate whispered in her ear and Joe obeyed without thinking. In the hand in front of the books, the teacher had a keychain. With a Toyota-car key.
It was her.
The realization hit her like a ton of bricks and Joe stumbled back. The teacher kept watching her, but now a slow smile stretched across her lips as she still stared. Joe could feel the eyes bore into her even as she ran down the hallway, out of sight, away from the woman. No wonder she looked familiar, Derek knew her. Intimately.
Erica had questioned how he had managed to meet someone, but he had even told Joe about it. The teacher — from the boiler room, the one he had checked up on — Joe had not given it a second thought. Until now.
Shuddering and shaking her head, as much to get Kate's whispering voice out of her mind, Joe sprinted back to the Corvette. Dirty. She felt so dirty. Rubbing her arms, as if she could still feel that unwanted buzz, Joe struggled to unlock the car.
That smile. The woman either knew or suspected. Derek could have told her all about it. They could have laughed about it. Could have planned it. Timed it.
Joe rubbed her head and let out a low groan of frustration. It hurt. It hurt so bad.
This was not-
She couldn't do this.
"There's only one way, babe," Kate said with an easy shrug from the passenger seat. "You know what you have to do."
Without thinking, or at least trying not to think, Joe started the car. She had made up her mind. Scott and Stiles would find Deaton. Joe was no good anyway. What was she going to do? What had her plan been? Find Lydia and make her cough up a set of GPS-coordinates? As bad a detective as she was an Alpha. Couldn't find anyone. Hadn't found Erica. Hadn't found Kate. Hadn't found her mom.
Knuckles turned white on the steering wheel — her hands shook so much she worried about driving off the road. Back downtown, but not to the laundromat. Not this time. She had to make this stop. Parked on the curb outside the tall building.
No turning back now, Joe thought, as she made her way into the apartment complex. Tunnel vision had kicked in and she only saw the elevator, how the doors opened, her own finger pushing the button for the top floor. Waiting while it went up, all the way to the top. It dinged before the doors opened. Joe's breath came steady and hard. This was it.
She hated him. She hated how she didn't hate him. She hated how she couldn't bring herself to hate him.
Stomping out of the elevator, she headed for the only door up here and as predicted, it was not locked.
Only one pair of eyes looked up as she entered, the other pair hidden behind sunglasses and remained unseeing as always.
"The stray pup returns," Deucalion said with a thin smile and he tilted his head. It felt weird seeing him up close when the last time had been through a rifle-scope — he was a lean and handsome man of indiscernible age and dressed in neutral colors as always. "Good morning, Josefina. Must say, I did not expect to see you here so soon. Thought you would be out searching for the missing veterinarian."
"I'm ready."
The words came without hesitation, not acknowledging the interested head tilt from Kali who was draped over nearby chaise longue. The penthouse looked similar to the Argents' apartment, but with more specialized decor and had a lot of comfortable furniture in the open-spaced living room.
Deucalion kept his same smile and the faint remnants of British accent or whatever seeped through. "You will have to be a bit more specific than that."
"I'm ready. To kill him. That's what you've wanted all along, right? Okay, fine, I'm here. I'm ready."
"Him?"
"Derek Hale," Joe near barked, hating the name in her mouth. "I want to break the bond, I want it gone!" The figures and scenery in front of her turned red and she knew her eyes glowed. Out of control. She gritted her teeth and forced it back. "And there's only one way and that way is death."
"And here I just sent the twins out to paint our sigil this morning," Kali said with a half-smile. She sounded pleased though, even if she looked rougher than usual. Dark circles, sallow skin. It had been less than two days since Ennis died.
"You're angry," Deucalion said as he got up from his position on the couch. He used his walking stick to navigate, even though Joe did not believe he actually needed it. "Heartbeat's accelerated, going hard and strong. You are clenching your jaw, grinding your teeth together to remain in control." He came in front of her, standing at arm's length, and somehow surveyed her without his eyes. "More angry now than when you tried to shoot me." His smile told her there were no hard feelings, but it could be a trick. "Tell me, what caused this sudden change of heart?"
Joe was aware of her own chest rising and falling several inches with each breath. She was angry. "He obviously doesn't care about the bond, so why should I? It's brought me nothing but pain." And, worst of all, unwanted forced pleasure. "I want to break it."
Like a tiger, Kali stretched over the long couch and watched Joe with newfound curiosity. It must have occurred to her that Joe was not bluffing.
Deucalion was more reserved and he used his cane to move around the sitting group again, talking as he walked. "Do you know why taking our own Betas' life makes us so powerful?"
"Power of an Alpha comes from its Betas," Joe answer dutifully, a fact that had been hammered into her skull the latest months.
"Mm, yes, that is true," Deucalion conceded. "But what makes the power transfer so potent is not the individual Alpha versus its Beta. It is the same logic applied to when a Beta steals the power from an Alpha." He turned his head over his shoulder to look at her, probably only for effect. "It's the breaking of bonds."
She kept quiet while Deucalion talked, fists still clenched, knowing Kali was watching her body for every clue it could give her.
"It's going against the ground principles of our instincts. You see, a Beta will always try to protect its Alpha and vice versa. So when you rebel against that instinct, when you commit the ultimate act of taboo, when you break that bond with force — that is where the power comes from."
"Killing your Beta made you stronger," Deucalion said with a hint of a smile, "and killing your True Mate? Who knows? It has, as per my knowledge, never been done before." Again, he tilted his head, like a dog listening for something beyond human ears. "Could be interesting to see regardless, since your status comes from when he claimed the power."
He drew in a deep breath. "But as I was perfectly willing to accept you into our pack as a True Mate Alpha pair, I am still curious as to exactly where this aggression comes from."
Joe remained frozen, not knowing how to say it without sounding weak. Apparently, her lack of response was more telling than she could be with words. Both Kali and Deucalion seemed to understand — hell, they could probably smell it on her — and Deucalion nodded.
"Hell hath no fury, hm? Luckily for us. Kali, you'll take it from here? If you will excuse me, Josefina, I have another appointment."
Biting in a response as Deucalion sauntered over to the elevator, Joe folded her arms and turned to Kali instead. "I'm ready. Teach me."
"You think so?" Kali slithered off the couch and stood up, walking over to the apartment door. "We'll see."
The California sun was bearable in the fall, but it still warmed the concrete roof of the highrise apartment building. Joe followed Kali up there, her own bare feet making no noise at all compared to the clicking of Kali's foot claws. This high up, a light breeze shifted Kali's long straight hair around. At least the few hours of sleep had cleared Joe's senses, even if her mind still felt cloudy. After what happened the other day with Ennis, she knew Kali would not go easy on her.
"Ah!"
Apparently, Kali was not going to waste time either. Without any warning beyond the harsh growl, she sprang through the air, a set of sharp claws heading for Joe's face.
They made a swishing sound in the air when they missed their target. Joe let her body take over, using instincts and muscle memory to dodge Kali's relentless attacks.
A quote Kali recited sometimes in the desert came to mind, a part of the student oath of tae kwon do: Then here are my weapons — my empty hands and feet. Joe had no claws and no fangs — she only had her empty hands and feet.
They went from zero to sixty immediately. It was as if she watched herself from the outside, saw her own lithe body strike and kick at the taller female werewolf. The similarities were there: both barefooted, both dressed in leggings with loose-fitting tops that allowed for full movements, and both unnaturally fast.
Kali snarled as she dodged backward, knees bending low when Joe used her own move against her and sent a spinning hook kick to Kali's face. It missed, but Joe followed up by planting her kicking leg down, using the force to jump off the ground, and hitting Kali in the chest with both feet.
"There you are," Kali laughed and dashed forwards again, eyes glowing red.
As Kali was her teacher, they used the same moves. Both aimed for weak points: eyes, nose, throat, groin; any point of the body not covered with muscle or fat. This was not a sport, this was not for points, it was for winning! Follow the eyes, anticipate their next move, think fast to exploit their own power against them. Joe's foot dragged over the concrete as she swept low towards Kali's ankle, knowing she would pull it up, leaving Joe free to redirect her force to a side-kick that hit Kali in the ribs.
For every hit Joe landed however, Kali retaliated tenfold. Who knew how old she really was? She could have passed for Joe's slightly older sister, but was probably twice or three times her age. Who knew how many times she had repeated these moves? Repetition was crucial. There's a difference between what your brain understands to what your body knows. Train to create muscle memory — earn it, make it a reflex, your body remembers better than your mind.
"Come on!" Kali roared and slashed her foot upwards, raking through the fabric of Joe's shirt. "Let it out!"
How many times had she repeated that line? To the extreme at least. The main difference between Joe and Kali, at least now, was where Kali used her voice as a magnifier, Joe kept mum. She hissed through her teeth, releasing air to get more force in her hits, but never roared or snarled like was second nature to a werewolf. She would never be a werewolf, not a full one, she had accepted that. No point in embarrassing herself.
"Shit!" Joe bit out when Kali's clawed hand raked across her forearm, still tender from her own scratching.
"Let it out, Sefina!" Circling each other six feet apart. Kali moved her body in a rhythm only she heard, hands up and ready for more. "Let it out! Use your voice, come on!"
Joe held her own arms up, tighter to her body, still not letting go of the guard her dad spent years trying to teach her. Her breathing was hard and fast, they'd been going at it for a while under the harsh California sun.
She blinked in confusion as Kali dropped her hands and straightened up.
"You're not ready," she scoffed and leaned on one hip, regarding Joe with contempt. "You're holding it in. All of it. Your pain, your voice, your power. Holding it in means holding back."
"I'm not!"
"Holding back means losing. Means dying. You're not ready."
"I'm ready!" Joe spat and she held her hands up, fists locked, ready for more. "Come on!"
"You think so? What, because you're upset?" She tilted her head to the side while giving Joe a curled lip.
"Because you were gone for three months and he didn't even notice? Because you thought the mate-bond meant it would be the two of you forever, no matter what?" Kali cooed while Joe blinked against the harsh sunlight outlining the older woman. "Because your little mate went and found comfort elsewhere?"
This was almost worse than Kate. Breathing hard, Joe did everything she could to not back down when Kali stalked closer. She nearly shouted now, so close Joe could see how Kali's lips cracked from the effort.
"Because you have done nothing but hold your pain away from him for months now? Because you thought you were the one dying when he fell? Because you ran around looking for him and he crawled into bed with someone else? Because you thought he was yours and yours alone? Come on, which one is it?"
"Stop," Joe whimpered, hands now slowly coming down. "Stop it."
"Because you think you're angry when you're really just hurt?" Kali kept pushing, grabbing onto Joe's arms to keep them up, not letting her surrender. "Because you what? What, Sefina?"
"Because-" Joe's voice was so tight and Kali's claws dug into her wrists, refusing her to take them down.
"Because what?"
"Because I love him!" Joe screamed into Kali's face, horrified to see Kali's eyes also lined with tears. "Because I love him and I want him and he is mine!" Joe sobbed, only held up by her wrists now as her knees gave in. "Or was supposed to be. I-I don't know..."
"Let it out," Kali whispered, her voice shaking. "Listen to your instincts. All that anger and pain and hurt and love, let it out. Come on, Sefina. Come on! Let it out."
Joe shook her head. "I can't."
"Let it out!"
With Kali's fingers digging into her wrists, Joe threw her head back and screamed.
It started as a scream. It soon morphed into something inhuman.
The sound that followed was not supposed to be made or heard by humans. The howl — in lack of better words — shook the roof, maybe the entire building. She could feel the pressure on her own eardrums, wondering how it translated to werewolf ears, wondering how far it reached, wondering if he heard, if he felt it, if he understood.
It had built for days now — it pushed up her lungs, her throat, out through her human teeth, but sounding anything but human. A flock of birds evacuated from the nearby roof, small pebbles vibrated around her bare feet, her lips strained with the effort of letting everything go.
As the sound died out, no air left in her lungs, she slumped forwards and Kali caught her easily. She knelt down with Joe and whispering: "There you go. Let it out."
And Joe let it out. First a sob and then, with a shaky voice, everything spilled out. Everything, from start to finish. From her doubts about the werewolf world and her resistance to the mate bond to the lackluster welcome when she returned and the strange disconnect in his scent. Everything, right down to the teacher in the pencil skirt. Eventually, there were just tears and hiccups.
"The mate bond is a power," Kali said when Joe's words thinned out into nothing. "And it is powerful."
Joe scoffed, now feeling empty. She flinched when Kali's fingernails trailed her neck, but they never plunged into the muscles, just brushed away loose strands of hair. "It does not feel like either."
No answer. Kali shifted so Joe sat on the rooftop next to her. When her eyes weren't red and hard, they were the same almond-shape and dark brown as Joe's. The foot claws scraped over the rooftop as Kali stretched out her legs.
"Your mate killed Ennis. He was the reason I joined Duke in the first place."
Silence. Joe knew this, really, it had been obvious and confirmed by the heartbroken howl Kali had let out at the clinic.
"We were both Alphas of each our packs," Kali continued while staring out over the horizon where the sun was starting to set, "and there can only be one Alpha in a pack. Unless you're mates, of course, but we weren't. Doesn't mean we didn't love each other, but neither of us was willing to give up our status for love." Kali sighed and leaned back on her hands. "And when Duke came along and offered me everything I wanted — power, status, and Ennis... You know the rest."
The words chilled Joe. It was easy to overlook, especially when Kali spoke so softly as she did now, but she had murdered her own pack in relatively cold blood. Slaughtered her first Beta and, drunk on the power surge, took down the rest. All of the Alphas in the Alpha Pack had done it, although the twins killed their own pack first and Alpha last.
"When Ennis died at the clinic," Kali's jaw twitched and her nostrils flared as if she was holding in a snarl, "I was seconds away from just tearing through this city. I wanted to rip Derek's head off. Still do." She laughed bitterly and plucked a piece of gravel from her leggings. The Cheshire Cat-grin returned. "But I will give you the first shot at it if you're serious."
"We're supposed to make each other stronger," Joe mumbled, still feeling the strange disconnect with everything. The howl somehow cleared her heavy heart a bit. "It just feels like we're doing the opposite."
"You're strong on your own too."
As Joe did not know how to answer, Kali's expression softened a fraction. "Duke still wants both of you. You have a choice."
Joe might, but Derek didn't. Derek never had a choice.
Do you think you're ready?
"Look, I appreciate your concern, but as you can see, I'm still very much not sacrificed." Aunt Mel removed her pair of gloves and dumped them in a trash can. She was behind the front desk at the hospital, giving Joe maybe a quarter of her attention. "Which is more than I can say about Scott's boss. Any news there?"
"No," Joe said, thinking of the long list of texts from Stiles. Apparently, Lydia was not producing the answers Stiles expected her to. She rubbed the newly acquired scratch marks from Kali — it distracted from the way her hands shook. "Not that I know of."
Aunt Mel blew air out her mouth, shuffling stacks of paper around. She leaned over the front desk and dropped her voice down. "I talked to Sheriff Stilinski and Rob earlier. Based on the ligature marks around Dr. Hilyard's wrists, I think this guy is stringing them up by their arms, leaving them to suffocate when they can't hold themselves up anymore."
"It's not a guy. At least I don't think it is."
That had been news to Aunt Mel at least, whose eyebrows rose. "It's a woman doing this?"
"Probably, based on the profiling. It's not an exact science." Joe cringed at her own words. She had started to hate that term. "And the killer always takes four potential victims, as far as I can tell. Are there any other doctors that haven't called in today?"
"Uh, hang on, let me check."
"Look at you," Kate said from next to Aunt Mel, who had concentrated on the computer. "Pretending to be all heroic and altruistic. As if you didn't just make a deal with the Alpha Pack to kill Derek."
Ignoring her, Joe rubbed the claw marks again. That was not the deal she had made. There was another way, one that did not involve making her a killer. Maybe there were other ways too? Deaton might know more than Professor Kane. She had to find him first or she was going to go hunting for that Darach for less altruistic purposes. How many virgins you gotta sacrifice to break this bond, Madam Darach?
"Only one doctor unaccounted for," Aunt Mel said eventually and straightened up to look at Joe. "Doctor Alvizo, he's the neurologist. Hang on, I'll try and call him."
Long blonde hair fell over her shoulder as Kate tilted her head. "You could just let Kali kill him if you're too weak to go through with it. Or are you worried that the mate-bond will kill you too if he dies at the hands of someone else? That's it, isn't it? Hm, you think she knows that? You think she cares?"
Aunt Mel put the phone down with a worried frown. "No answer."
"Call Dad and let him know there's another doctor missing," Joe said and had to lean against the front desk to catch her breath when her vision suddenly blurred. "Hopefully Scott will find Doctor D."
"Whoa, hey," Aunt Mel said and ran around the desk to Joe. "Hey, sweetheart, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm just a little winded," Joe said and pulled her arm back when Aunt Mel stared at the scratch marks with horror written all over her face. "I'm fine, Aunt Mel."
Unfortunately, Aunt Mel was a good nurse and she knew Joe too well. "Josefina Maria Delgado, you answer me right now, when was the last time you slept? Actual sleep, in a bed?"
"I'm fine," Joe repeated and pushed off the front desk. She didn't get far as Aunt Mel blocked her escape with a long arm and a stern frown.
"What is going on with you, Joe?" she asked, the harsh tone contrasted by her soft eyes. "Ever since you got back, you've been, I dunno, detached? You don't answer your phone, you never text, you never come over. Did something happen? Is this about Derek? Is it about your dad? What?"
Joe shrugged and tried to blink away Kate's shit-eating grin behind Aunt Mel's shoulder. "All of the above?" She flinched when Aunt Mel put her palm to Joe's cheek. "I'm fine."
"You don't look fine," Aunt Mel said with a sigh. "If you hang on, I can have the attending doc write you a prescription for Estazolam. Joe, you need sleep."
"There are people being sacrificed all over town," Joe pointed out like she made a valid point. "I'm fine."
Again, she tried to leave, but Aunt Mel swiped out and snatched the car keys from her hand. She leaned in close and hissed at Joe. "As you know, twenty-four-hour sleep deprivation is the same as having a blood alcohol concentration of 0.10 percent. That's higher than the limit to legally drive. At thirty-six hours, you start to microsleep, maybe thirty seconds at a time, without realizing it. At forty-eight, you hallucinate."
"That's me, babe," Kate supplied helpfully from the side.
"I don't know how long you've been up, Joe," Aunt Mel said and yanked her hand away when Joe tried to take the car keys back. "But you should not be driving. Can you wait a bit so I can give you a ride or do you have money for a cab?"
With a sneer, Joe turned around and headed for the front doors. "I'll walk."
"Joe!"
"I'm fine!"
Her loud voice caused the other people in the hallway to jump, but Joe did not pay much attention. Not looking back at Aunt Mel, she left the hospital, thoughts already spinning. Could she even have a blood alcohol concentration at all? Didn't her healing take care of that?
"To be honest," Kate said when they reached the streets, always her companion by her side, "you probably wouldn't be alive if it hadn't been for that nifty healing factor."
"You know, I can't wait for you to come back here," Joe said, on the off chance Kate actually was astral projecting here to torment her. "I'm really looking forward to killing you."
"You think you're ready?" Kate laughed with her head thrown back. "Oh, isn't that dramatic? Babe, we both know you don't have the balls for that. Besides, it won't change anything. I'll still be in your head. Deep-set trauma like that? I'll always be in your head."
True to her word, Hallucinate-Kate kept bothering her all the way downtown. It was dark before she reached the apartment. Her phone had died from the abundance of text messages Stiles kept sending her, like she was going to be their big breakthrough in how to find Doctor Deaton. Jimmy had said the Darach worked fast — probably already dead. Great. Add it to the long list.
A sense of unease filled her when she unlocked the door to the apartment complex. A perimeter sweep did not uncover anyone who looked to have ill intentions, but there was a large crack in the brick wall near the door. And blood on the door handle. Feeling stupid, she brought it up to her nose, but it just smelled metallic. As expected, there was no reason Derek would come here.
Wiping her hand absentmindedly, she made her way upstairs, already dreading what she was going to find. The apartment door was still intact and locked and she let out a sigh of relief. Short-lived as the stench of rotten blood met her when she went inside.
Not daring to breathe, she closed the door behind her softly. A pool of blackened blood was just inside the door like someone had laid here and bled for a little while. Taking a step further, she saw a long smear going from the door down the hall — like someone had dragged an unconscious bleeding body to the open bathroom door.
"Joe!"
Jumping at the sound, but recognizing Erica's panicked cry, Joe finally snapped into gear and ran down to the bathroom. The stench was horrible and she retched, but knelt down by the blood-covered girl where she had Jimmy in her lap.
"What happened?" Joe's voice was shrill and she did not know where to start. Large gashes in Jimmy's abdomen, straight through his shirt and bleeding black blood. Not healing. Her hands trembled as she tried to untangle the fabric from the skin. Deucalion said he had another appointment. Had he come here? "Erica! What happened?"
"I-I-I don't know!" Erica stuttered — she had obviously siphoned pain from Jimmy and was already swaying. "The buzzer rang and he told me to go hide and he went downstairs and then he never came back up and when I went to get him he stumbled inside like this!"
"Okay, okay, it's gonna be okay."
Her mind went on autopilot. She barked at Erica to get something to clean out the wounds while she removed Jimmy's shirt. Scratches on his face, but superficial. Bruising around his torso, but this had definitely been an Alpha attack — nothing else left those kinds of groves in the flesh. Joe gagged again at the sight of Jimmy's ribs in the cuts. He groaned and his breathing was shallow. "Jimmy? Jimmy, do you hear me?"
It couldn't have been Kali. Could it? How long had Joe been gone? Deucalion? This was not his style, he would have just slit Jimmy's throat if he wanted to kill him. Would not have left him alive. The twins? It didn't make sense. Motive. Means. Opportunity. Why had they done this? To warn her, to make her realize the consequences if she did not fulfill her promises?
"It's gonna be okay, Jimmy, it's gonna be okay," she cried and hated how her hands shook even as she tried to clean out his wounds. How long before he started healing? "Not an exact science. Shit!"
"Joe..."
A whispered breath filled with agony and Jimmy buckled in pain when he regained consciousness. Her eyes widened when she saw his muscles swell and shift — the half-moon! Shit! The pain might trigger the full change.
"Jimmy, it's okay, it's okay, just relax," she whispered and grabbed onto the water-soaked rag Erica brought, gently cleaning the still bleeding gaping wounds. She should not be able to see so far into his torso. "Relax, release, ease, right? Just breathe, Jimmy, it's gonna be okay."
"Should we call an ambulance?" Erica suggested, pale where her face wasn't covered in blood.
"No hospital," Jimmy hissed and then laughed before it turned into anguished moans. "Oww." He grunted and managed to sit up a bit. "Healing." Another harsh grunt and his face pulled out, elongating before he managed to recover. "Slow."
Her voice came in between a sob and a laugh herself, feeling delusional and crawling with flies. "Jimmy, who did this? Why? What happened?" To Erica, she yelled: "Get the painkillers from his room. Go!"
Wide purple eyes looked at her in a face slowly morphing into half-wolf. "Derek."
It was as if her heart stopped. "What?"
"He heard the howl," Jimmy said through gritted teeth. "Came looking." His neck cracked and he snarled out into the room, obviously fighting the change. After sunset, half-moon. "Didn't take no for an answer."
He looked up at the doorway where Erica had returned with the pill bottle. Joe filled with freezing cold understanding. Derek had heard her howl and came here. Jimmy denied him access to the apartment because of Erica. Derek attacked Jimmy. Derek tore Jimmy apart. Her Jimmy. Her ride or die.
"Joe?" Erica followed Joe where she nearly floated down to the kitchen. Did not feel her feet touch the floor, did not feel anything. "Joe, where are you going?"
In a daze, Joe picked up the 9mm and made sure it was loaded. Blood coated her shaking hands and transferred onto the pistol. Ride or die. Ride or die.
"Joe, where are you going? Joe!"
"Take care of him," Joe said, staring wide-eyed and unseeing towards the bathroom. "He's healing, but make sure he's okay. Call an ambulance if you have to."
Tears ran down Erica's face, mixing with the black blood. "Where are you going?"
"To kill Derek."
Oh no, Derek, what are you doing, sweetie?
So... we're obviously not at rock bottom yet, but we're getting there. (Again, I swear, this won't go on forever; Joe will be happy again (and obviously, Derek is not going to die))
Speaking of, when things quiet down, who do you think would make the best couple's therapist for Joe and Derek? Melissa's the obvious choice, but there are other candidates: Peter, Erica, Jimmy, or even Jackson? Or a whole panel, maybe?
It felt so weird not updating yesterday, by the way. I missed my regular dopamine-rush from your reviews ❤ So you get an extra-long chapter to make up for it.
(Also, the T-key on my keyboard is malfunctioning, but I think I've found all the typos. Just wanted to apologize in case I hadn't, haha)
Please let me know what you think and thank you for reading as always 😊 Have a nice weekend, guys!