Reading Time: 76 Minutes
Title: A Subtle Threat
Series: What We Gain
Series Order: 7
Author: enigmaticblue
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Genre: Angst, Drama, Family, Hurt/Comfort
Relationship(s): GEN
Content Rating: PG-13
Warnings: *No Mandatory Warnings Apply
Word Count: 80,250
Summary: The hunters appear to have gone quiescent, but Noah doesn’t completely trust the lull. The younger members of the pack are preparing for senior year, but Stiles is uncertain about the future. And Derek is trying to hold everything together.
Artist: ringspells
Chapter 1
“How long are we going to do this, sir?” Dave asks.
Noah glances over at his left hand, who’s wearing plainclothes with his badge hanging around his neck, his sniper rifle set up and ready to go.
“How long are we going to do what?” Noah counters, although he already has a pretty good idea.
Dave gives him a very unimpressed look. “This is the third full moon we’ve spent in this warehouse, and so far, there’s no sign of the hunters. Are we just never going to spend a full moon at the pack house again?”
Noah sighs. Dave has a point. For the last three months, they’ve taken the precaution of the entire pack coming to the warehouse they’d selected as a stalking horse. They all stay for a short period of time, then they send the kids out the back wearing the hats Moira has enchanted, like the one she’d done for Parrish.
Noah is feeling the strain of not being with his pack during the full moon, at least not in the way he wants to be. “You tell me, Dave. You’re the left hand. Victoria Argent is still out there, and we don’t know if she—or some other hunter—has managed to hire another hitman.”
Dave grimaces. “Have you asked Stiles and Moira?”
“Moira says that her ‘true seeing’ is of limited and relatively local scope, and we know Victoria fled the state,” Noah replies. “Stiles says every time he asks, it’s the same answer: some danger, but nothing that seems immediate.”
Dave drums his fingers on the floor of the catwalk where they’d set up to lie in wait. “Maybe the next full moon, we leave some boobytraps and follow the kids out the back,” he suggests. “I think if we don’t start spending time with the whole pack, we’ll lose some of our stability.”
Noah’s instincts have been telling him that exact thing; he just hasn’t been able to give voice to it. He’d been worried that he was putting his own desires before the needs of the pack, particularly where it concerns their safety.
“All right,” Noah says. “You’re right. Next full moon, we’ll set up boobytraps. Let’s get out of here. There’s still some night left.”
“Thank god,” Dave mutters. “Being inside during a full moon makes my skin feel too tight.”
Noah resembles that remark, and he’s glad Dave said something. He thinks it was a good idea to take precautions, and to continue to act as though the hunters are a threat.
Granted, they have Alana’s preliminary report on the hunter families, and she’s identified at least three branches of the Argent family tree that are likely to be a problem.
Not that Noah can do anything with the information, not unless they commit a crime. He’s not willing to cross the line when he isn’t sure someone is a threat.
Dave dismantles his rifle efficiently, and stows it in its case. Noah leads the way down the stairs and out through the back, and he and Dave stick to the shadows as they head for Noah’s vehicle.
Noah’s senses are sharp, and he’s familiarized himself with the scent of aconite, since he already knows the smell of gunpowder. Currently, he only smells the dampness of a coming thunderstorm and the garbage bins lining the alley.
He and Dave climb into his car, and Noah starts driving towards home.
“What do you think it means that we haven’t heard anything about the hunters?” Dave asks.
Noah shakes his head. “I hope it means that Allison Argent locked her trust fund down, and Victoria is out of funds. And that she’s going to stay far away from Beacon Hills.”
“Would we be that lucky,” Dave mutters. “From what I’ve seen of Victoria Argent, though, I think it’s only a matter of time until she rears her ugly head again.”
Noah grimaces. “Well, the fact that the feds are looking for her will hopefully deter her for a while.”
“But not forever,” Dave says, his voice heavy.
“No, not forever,” Noah agrees, and he thinks about what Stiles said about Victoria’s character, that she was sneaky.
“And then again, she might not come at us straight on,” Noah adds after a moment.
Dave sighs. “I really don’t regret taking the bite, sir, but my life has become a lot more complicated.”
“Tell me about it,” Noah mutters. “On both counts.”
The rest of the drive to the house is silent, and Noah figures they’re both thinking about all the things that could go wrong. For Noah, it’s because he’s the Alpha; for Dave, because he’s the left hand.
Noah pulls up in front of the house, which is blazing with light. The porch lights are all on, and the big front windows have the shades drawn, but the light filters through the edges.
Noah leads the way inside, and he can hear voices float through the house. He follows the sound through the kitchen to the large flagstone patio out back. Spring has sprung, but there’s enough of a chill in the air that someone has lit the fire pit, although the heat lamps are off.
Stiles is sitting on one of the stone benches, sharing a blanket with Lydia Martin, his arm around her shoulders. Scott and Kira mirror their position on the other side, although neither of them needs a blanket.
Stiles lights up when he sees Noah and Dave, and he says, “I thought you were going to stay out there all night.”
“Dave talked some sense into me,” Noah replies. “We’ll set boobytraps next full moon, but it’s starting to become detrimental to the pack.”
There’s raw relief on Scott’s face. “Oh, good. We’ve missed you the last few months.”
Noah finds that a little more gratifying than he wants to admit. “We’ll spend the next full moon together after we lay a false trail,” he promises. “Dave, you want a beer?”
“I wouldn’t say no to one,” Dave replies.
The sound of his voice calls forth a couple of short, happy barks, and Cocoa and Nibs come running out of the darkness of the backyard.
That seems to alert the rest of the pack, who follow shortly—Isaac and Boyd, followed closely by Erica, Cora, and Malia.
They greet him cheerfully, and Noah looks around. “Where’s Tara?”
“She headed home just a bit ago,” Stiles replies. “Moira and Derek went to bed. None of us have to be up early tomorrow, so we decided to stay up for a while longer.”
It’s just past 11 pm, and the following day is Saturday, so Noah can’t really blame them. They’re young and in high spirits, and why not run through the Preserve?
“Dave, you staying tonight?” Noah asks. He already knows that Isaac and Boyd will, since it’s a full moon tradition.
Dave hesitates, but then says, “If you don’t mind, I will. Paul’s working tonight, so maybe I’ll sleep if I stay here.”
Noah nods. “I’ll go ahead and set the alarm then.”
The security system is more of a proximity alert than anything else. Noah set it up so they’d be alerted to cars entering the long drive up to the house. There’s an alarm they can set on the house itself, but the wards are the most effective warning they have to approaching hunters, especially from the Preserve.
They’ve talked about more security, but Noah doesn’t want the pack house to feel like a prison, so he’s going to stick with what they have for now.
They decided to keep the two spare rooms on the second floor open for guests, since the girls decided to take over the loft.
Dave grabs the overnight bag he brought when he dropped the dogs off, and he bids Noah goodnight as he heads up the stairs, Cocoa and Nibs on his heels.
With the pack safe within the wards, and the alarm set, Noah turns in, grateful to get through another full moon without incident.
~~~~~
A week later, Noah is in his office at the station, finishing up his report on the recent arrest of a local hoodlum. Donnie Chambers is a petty thief who just got out of prison for his first felony, and he’s been caught shoplifting. Since they found a gun on him, he’s going back to prison, and Noah wants his i’s dotted and his t’s crossed.
His office phone rings, and Noah hits save and grabs the receiver on the third ring. “Stilinski.”
“Sheriff, Abel Marsh here,” he says. “Do you have a few minutes?”
Noah grimaces. While they had enough evidence to issue an arrest warrant for Victoria Argent for her role in hiring multiple contract killers, she fled before they could arrest her. Since the payments crossed state lines, it’s a federal matter, and Noah turned it over to the FBI.
He hated to do it—he’d prefer to slap the cuffs on Victoria himself—but he just doesn’t have the resources to track down a fugitive.
Especially when there’s evidence she’s left the state.
“Yeah, of course,” Noah replies, glancing at the clock. It’s not quite four o’clock, and he’d set the afternoon aside to catch up on his reports. He can spare a few minutes to talk with Marsh.
Marsh sighs. “Thanks, although I’m afraid that I don’t have great news.”
“Hit me with it,” Noah says, drumming his fingers on the desk.
“We have solid evidence that Victoria Argent has fled to Mexico and sought shelter with the Calavera family,” Marsh replies.
Noah rummages on his desk for the preliminary report Alana Mahealani put together at Derek’s behest. “Calavera,” he mutters. “Hang on.”
He’s been keeping the report close to hand, and he flips to the section marked “C.” Alana was thorough and organized. “The Calaveras live by the original code.”
“Most of them do,” Marsh confirms. “There are a few who are just interested in hunting, and we think Victoria linked up with Severo Calavera. He seems to be more sympathetic to Victoria’s extreme viewpoints.”
Noah sighs. “So, we’re at a dead end.”
“I’m afraid so, Noah,” Marsh confirms. “We have contacts with the Mexican federales, but they don’t mess with the hunter families as a general rule.”
Interstate jurisdiction is hard enough to navigate, Noah knows. International jurisdiction is another matter entirely.
“All right, I appreciate the update, even if the news isn’t good,” Noah replies.
“The U.S. Attorney is going to bring formal federal charges against Kate next week,” Marsh adds. “He finally thinks he has enough to make murder charges stick on one of the families she allegedly burned, as well as the Walcotts and Hales in Beacon Hills. He’s going to request that she be moved to a federal facility to await trial.”
Noah blows out a breath. “Well, I don’t hate that. What sort of penalty is he asking for?”
“The death penalty is on the table,” Marsh admits. “I think he’s hoping she’ll take a plea if he agrees to withdraw that recommendation, but we both know she’s unlikely to agree.”
Noah thinks it’s more likely that if she’s convicted, she’ll stage a prison break—or she’ll try. Kate seems the sort to want to go out in a blaze of glory, rather than fade away in a federal supermax.
“I guess we’ll see what happens,” Noah mutters. “Anything else?”
“Not right now,” Marsh replies. “How is Stiles doing?”
Noah hesitates. “He’s good, but magic isn’t really something I understand.”
“That’s why you have Moira,” Marsh reminds him.
“I know that, and I trust her,” Noah says quickly. “But there are times I just can’t wrap my head around it, and it makes me a little uneasy.”
“Stiles has Moira and the coven from what you’ve told me,” Marsh replies. “Just like hiring an expert to explain something you don’t understand.”
Noah takes a deep breath, knowing Marsh is right. “There are plenty of people invested in Stiles’ well-being, and I’m sure we’ll get it figured out. I appreciate you asking, though, and I’ll pass along your concern to Stiles.”
“Please do,” Marsh replies. “I’m still hoping that your kid decides to join the FBI, Noah.”
“Even with a service dog?” Noah asks. “Because he’s worried about that.”
Marsh chuckles. “I’m sure allowances can be made for someone with Stiles’ talents. Maybe we’ll start a K-9 unit within our division.”
“That’s an idea,” Noah replies. “I’ll pass that along to Stiles as well. It was good talking to you, Abe.”
“Always a pleasure, Sheriff,” he replies. “Take care of yourself and your kid.”
“I’m going to try my best,” Noah says.
Marsh hangs up, and Noah replaces the receiver. At least things are moving in the right direction on the federal level where Kate is concerned. He’s relieved by it.
There’s a knock on the door, and Noah calls, “Come in!”
Derek pokes his head into the office. “Hey, Sheriff. Everything okay?”
“Come in and have a seat,” Noah replies. “I wanted to talk to you anyway.”
Derek shuts the door behind him and takes a seat in one of the chairs.
“What clued you in?” Noah asks out of curiosity.
Derek shrugs. “I could feel your disappointment through the bond. Is it about the hunters, or the investigation into Eichen House?”
Those are the two things on Noah’s plate that are most concerning and continue to linger without a real resolution, so Derek’s guess makes sense.
“The FBI managed to track Victoria Argent to Mexico, and it sounds as though she may have found shelter with one of the hunting families there,” Noah says. “There’s currently no way to find and extradite her.”
Derek grimaces. “I can’t say I’m all that surprised. The Calaveras?”
Noah nods. “That’s what the feds think, but it’s not all bad news. The U.S. Attorney is bringing federal charges against Kate next week, and he’s going to request that she spend the pre-trial period in a federal facility.”
Derek slumps back in the chair. “Does that—does that mean I’ll have to testify?”
“I don’t know at this point, but I would assume so,” Noah replies. “Are you okay with that?”
“If it means she spends the rest of her life in prison, I am,” Derek says after a pause. His expression is troubled but resolute.
Noah hesitates. “Marsh said the government is going to push for the death penalty.”
“Good,” Derek says bluntly. “After all the lives she destroyed, she deserves it.”
Noah doesn’t know how he feels about the death penalty in a philosophical sense, but he can’t disagree with Derek when it comes to Kate. He would happily watch them put a needle in her arm—for Derek’s sake, and for his son’s.
“The prosecutor is probably hoping that she’ll plead guilty to get the death penalty off the table,” Noah cautions. “And she might.”
Derek shakes her head. “Not Kate. She’ll believe she’s going to get away with it right up until she hears the verdict, and then she’ll probably organize a jailbreak.”
“That’s my assumption as well,” Noah admits. “That’s what we know, though.”
Derek appears to shake off the news. “Well, at least Victoria Argent is out of our hair.”
Noah isn’t so sure about that. He feels like she’s going to be a problem unless and until she’s behind bars, but maybe they’ll get lucky.
He decides a change of subject is in order, and he asks, “How’s the last module going?”
Derek shrugs. “It’s good. I’m still enjoying the coursework, but at this point, I just want to get through it and be able to work full time.”
Noah nods. “I can understand that. How’s Parrish doing?”
“No issues,” Derek says easily. “Not that we can see, anyway.”
Noah isn’t going to press. Parrish appears to be handling finding out that he’s a Hellhound with a fair amount of grace, but Moira cautioned Noah against poking him about it.
“Just treat him the same way you do any of your deputies who have a little something extra going on,” Moira said. “Don’t borrow trouble when we don’t know there’s trouble to be had.”
Noah had to agree, and it probably helps that he has several werewolves on the force, along with a were-coyote. Without that experience—and without being a werewolf himself—Noah might have tried treating him with kid gloves.
“I’m glad he’s adjusting,” Noah replies.
“Plans for tonight?” Derek asks.
Noah shakes his head, knowing that Derek is working a later shift. “I’m going to finish my reports and head home.”
“I’ll see you when I see you, Sheriff,” Derek replies. “I should get back to it.”
Derek pulls the door closed behind him as he leaves, and Noah turns back to his report, although there’s a niggling concern in the back of his mind.
He wonders if there’s a way to make sure that Victoria Argent doesn’t have access to the kind of funds they used to hire the contract killers.
Maybe he should try reaching out to Allison Argent.
~~~~~
Stiles grabs the textbooks he needs from his locker and zips his backpack closed. He slings it over one shoulder and slams it closed, turning to see Malia leaning against the wall next to him.
“What’s up, buttercup?” Stiles asks.
“That’s not my name,” Malia says bluntly.
Then again, Malia is always blunt.
“It’s a figure of speech,” Stiles replies. “What’s going on?”
Malia shrugs. “Nothing. I have tutoring with Asha at the library. Can I get a ride?”
“Yeah, of course,” Stiles agrees easily. His dad is willing to pay for a driver’s ed course for her, but not until he can trust her to know the gas pedal from the brake.
So far, no one has had much success on that front.
The library is basically on Stiles’ way home, so he doesn’t mind giving her a ride. With Asha’s patient tutoring, and the help of the rest of the pack, Malia is at least going to pass her classes this year, even if her GPA is low.
Still, just the fact that she’s able to go to school, pass her classes, and not murder anyone is progress. At least, that’s how Stiles chooses to see it.
“You have judo, right?” Malia asks as they walk out of the school.
Stiles shrugs. “That’s right. So, if you want to wait for me, I can give you a ride home, too.”
“Maybe,” Malia replies vaguely. “I’ll text you.”
Stiles drops Malia off at the library, then drives home so he can change into his gi. He recently tested for his green belt and passed, so he ties that on as well.
It’s a longer drive from the new pack house to the dojo, but Stiles doesn’t mind it. The new house is peaceful, and there isn’t much traffic. The leaves are a dark green that heralds the coming summer.
There are only a couple of weeks left in the semester, and Stiles is looking forward to throwing himself into his magic lessons. He’s also signed up for a couple of courses at the community college to get a head start. With those courses, and his AP classes, Stiles thinks he might be able to get as much as a semester’s worth of credits out of the way.
It’s all part of Stiles’ plan, such as it is. He’s still not quite sure what he’s going to do after college. With a service dog, Stiles isn’t sure law enforcement is the right path for him anymore.
Moira keeps telling him that he has plenty of time to decide, and Stiles knows that’s true. Still, though, Stiles hates what’s been taken from him. The certainty he’d felt since he was old enough to know what his dad did for a living is gone.
Every time Stiles thinks about that, it pisses him off, and then he reminds himself that he has a lot going for him. His life might look different than he thought it would, but that doesn’t mean it will be worse.
It might even be better.
Stiles pulls up in front of the dojo and parks, bringing Batman inside with him. He greets Sensei OB and immediately starts the stretching and warm up exercises.
“How are you doing, Stiles?” OB asks, approaching him.
“I’m good,” Stiles says easily.
Sensei OB nods. “There’s a competition in San Francisco next month. I think you should enter.”
Stiles blows out a breath. “It won’t be an issue to have Batman there?”
OB shakes his head. “No, and I think it would be good for you to test those boundaries.”
Stiles nods slowly. “Can I think about it?”
“The entrance fee has to be paid by the end of next week,” OB replies. “You’ll need to let me know by then.”
“I will,” Stiles promises, and he is going to think about it. He wants to talk to Jack about it, too, but maybe his sensei is right. Figuring out how he’s going to do in a crowded situation with Batman would probably be a good thing.
And at least there are rules at a judo competition, unlike with the hunters.
It’s a small class today, with only about half a dozen students plus Sensei OB. Stiles ends up sparring with another student named Becky, who’s in her mid-30s and works at the hospital as an occupational therapist.
“I’ve been talking to one of the ER doctors about a few things,” Becky comments.
Stiles allows himself to be thrown, and he rolls the way he’s been taught. “Oh?”
“And I’ve been talking with Melissa McCall,” she adds.
Stiles knows that Melissa has been talking to people at the hospital, and they’ve vetted a few, but he hasn’t heard anyone mention Becky.
“I like Mrs. McCall,” Stiles says mildly. “Her son is one of my best friends.”
As far as Stiles is concerned, he’s not in charge of recruiting at the hospital. Maybe at the high school, where he’s known most people for years, but he’s fine passing the name along to Melissa McCall.
Becky gives him a look, but then she shrugs. “You do play things close to the vest, don’t you, Stiles?”
Stiles smiles. “Sometimes!”
She laughs a little bit at that. “Fair enough. You seem to have a lot going on. I saw the news article about being attacked this past winter.”
“Oh, yeah, I was really glad for both judo and krav maga,” Stiles says. “And my dog. It could have been a lot worse.”
“I’m glad you were able to protect yourself,” Becky says, and then they go back to grappling.
By the end of the class, Stiles is pretty sure he has the answer to whether he’s going to participate in the competition, but he still wants to talk to Jack and Moira about it.
Stiles checks the pack calendar as he leaves, phone in one hand and his other resting on Batman’s head. It looks like most people have somewhere else to be tonight, so Stiles considers what he wants to do for dinner.
A text chimes on his phone, and he sees Moira’s name on the caller ID. If you’re up for it, we can have a lesson at the pack house.
Stiles texts back that he’s definitely up for it, but he needs dinner and a shower first.
I’ll take care of dinner, Moira replies.
Stiles shrugs, glad to let Moira take the lead. He makes the same drive home, just in reverse, and sees the pack house against the backdrop of the Preserve.
The house has a lot of Victorian touches that make it look like something out of a fairytale, although Stiles can admit that he’s slightly biased. The place represents safety, a fortress against the hunters, even if it doesn’t look particularly fortress-like from the outside.
Another magic user would know what they’re looking at, though, just as soon as they feel the strength of the warding. To Stiles, it just feels immensely comforting.
He knows that he can always come here and be safe.
There are no other cars parked out front, so Stiles figures Moira is on her way. He takes off Batman’s leash and vest as soon as they’re inside the front door, and Batman shakes himself with a whuff.
“You’re free, buddy,” Stiles says. “I’m going to get cleaned up.”
He heads up the stairs to his bedroom, which is the second one on the right, across the hall from Derek.
The rooms are spacious, with plenty of room for Stiles’ queen-size bed, his desk and chair, and a murder board.
Not that he has anything on it right now, but it’s ready in case he needs it.
Stiles grabs clean clothing and his shower caddy. They’d all agreed not to clutter up the bathrooms, and he figures it’s good practice for college when he’s either living in a dorm or a shared space.
One of the bathrooms on the second floor has a large walk-in shower, while there’s a smaller shower and a large tub in the other bathroom. Stiles prefers the larger shower, but he can see why the bathtub would be attractive.
His preferred bathroom is decorated in calming gray and white with blue accents here and there, like a strip of tile inside the shower.
Stiles gets cleaned up quickly and pulls on clean clothes, a pair of jeans and a t-shirt he got from Derek for Christmas with a couple of crows on it that reads, “Attempted murder, probable caws.”
He grins every time he pulls it on.
After he puts his things away, Stiles heads downstairs, finding Moira in the kitchen expertly slicing hoagie rolls and piling on meat and cheese. Noelani is tossing a salad, and Danny is pouring a bag of chips into a large bowl.
Alana calls from the front door, “I have dessert, and I met Lydia on the way in.” She enters the kitchen with what looks like a sheet cake, Lydia on her heels.
Lydia snags Stiles’ hand. “How was judo?”
“It was good,” Stiles replies. He glances at Moira. “Sensei OB wants me to participate in a competition. Probably more than one if I do well.”
“I think you should if you want to,” Moira replies. “What’s holding you back?”
Stiles shrugs. “I’m just not sure how I’ll do in that kind of crowd, or how Batman will do.”
“Are you going to talk to Jack about it?” Moira asks.
Stiles nods. “I have an appointment with him the day after tomorrow.”
“Good,” Moira replies. “I don’t think you should hold back if it’s something you want to do, but I want you to be safe, too.”
“Well, if you do go, I’d like to watch,” Lydia says cheerfully.
Stiles glances at her. “Why? So you can see me get my ass handed to me?”
Lydia rolls her eyes. “Stiles, you took out a hit man.”
“A hit man who was terrible at his job,” Stiles feels compelled to point out, as he does every time it comes up. Really, he might have protected himself and Lydia, but he can’t say that he would have been successful had the man been even a little bit good at murder.
“Sometimes survival is as much about luck as skill,” Noelani says easily. “And you did stop a hit man.”
Stiles shrugs. “We’ll see, I guess.” In a bid to change the subject, he glances at Danny. “How was lacrosse?”
“We’ve got State next week,” Danny reminds him. “Are you going to be there?”
“Planning on it,” Stiles confirms. “I think the whole pack is going.”
“Half the pack is playing,” Danny jokes.
Stiles is really glad that he gave up on lacrosse when he did. With several werewolves, a kitsune, and Danny on the team, he probably wouldn’t be able to play even if there’s another pinkeye outbreak.
“Which is why the whole pack will likely be there,” Stiles jokes back. “At least those who aren’t on shift.”
“Let’s sit and eat,” Moira says.
“Where’s everyone else tonight?” Alana asks, as they finish their sandwiches by putting on the condiments they like.
Stiles pulls out his phone and brings up the pack calendar. “Dad and Derek are working late, Malia had a tutoring session, Cora is out on a date, and everyone else is working.”
“Who’s Cora out with?” Lydia asks. She’s cut her sandwich in half and mostly filled her plate with salad, but Stiles knows she’s likely to go back for the other half.
Magic uses a lot of energy.
Stiles shrugs. “I think her name is Tracy? Cora insists it’s not serious, and she’s not planning to tell her anything about werewolves. My dad knows hers slightly, since he’s a defense attorney.”
“She’s nice,” Lydia comments. “I don’t know her well, but she’s always been really sweet.”
Stiles shrugs. “That’s my impression as well. It’s only their second date, and Dad just told her that the same rule applies to people we’re dating as the rest of the world.”
“What’s the rule?” Lydia asks.
“Don’t talk about pack business if someone isn’t pack,” Stiles says simply. “At least, not without permission.”
His dad had been fairly philosophical about the whole thing. He just asked Cora to tell him if things got serious and called it good. Of course, if anyone understands the need for operational security, it would be Derek and Cora.
Then again, their pack might be fairly large at this point, but the dating pool is small. People are likely going to go outside of it.
Lydia raises her eyebrows. “Does that include me, Stiles?”
Stiles smiles at her. “You’re pack-adjacent, and Moira vouched for you. The whole coven is considered pack-adjacent.”
“Noah’s pack is somewhat different in that there are others besides werewolves and humans included,” Moira adds. “I imagine that other packs won’t know quite what to do with that.”
Stiles knows that she’s mainly referring to Satomi’s pack, but it probably applies across the board.
“Diversity is important,” Alana comments, taking a bite of her sandwich and chewing thoughtfully. “You can see that your dad truly values differing opinions.”
“I think he does,” Stiles says. “But not everybody is going to appreciate that.”
They get through their food and head outside once everything has been put away. When the weather is nice, they all prefer to be outside, and two months ago, they’d installed an outdoor workspace. It’s just past the raised beds where there are already vegetables growing.
They poured a concrete slab, and while the concrete was still soft, Moira had drawn a protective circle. They’re still working on getting sufficient metal to fill in those grooves, but Moira assures him that there’s plenty of time for that.
Besides, they still haven’t decided whether to go with iron, silver, copper, or something else altogether. Each has its own properties that offer both benefits and drawbacks.
Around with the concrete slab, there are flower beds waiting to be planted, and a burbling water fountain. It’s beautiful and serene, and Stiles really likes working outdoors.
“We’re going to work on something a little different today,” Moira announces. “As your magic fully settles, or in Lydia’s case, as you explore your gifts, you may discover other abilities.”
Stiles isn’t sure how he feels about that. His magic is quite enough to be dealing with. “Really?”
“It’s not a forgone conclusion, but it’s a possibility that we should prepare for,” Moira insists.
Lydia frowns. “How do we do that?”
“We test for it,” Noelani says, taking a seat around the circle. “We determine whether you have an affinity for any other element but the one you’ve been using.”
“It might help to show them,” Danny adds, and he glances at Stiles. “There are specific gifts associated with each element.”
Stiles nods. “Okay, I guess that makes sense.”
“As you know, Danny’s element is fire,” Noelani adds. “The most common secondary element to fire is wind, but spirit is also a possibility. Very rarely, fire will pair with earth, and even more rarely yet, with water.”
“How would that even work?” Lydia asks.
“Both water and earth may support fire, given the right circumstances,” Alana supplies. “But Mom is right. It’s very rare.”
“How do you find your secondary element?” Stiles asks.
Moira turns the question around on him. “What’s your best guess?”
Stiles frowns, giving it some thought. “By exposure to the other elements or things associated with those elements.”
“Correct,” Moira replies. “Often, the right crystal will resonate. I have crystals associated with all five elements in separate boxes, as well as an empty box. All of the boxes are numbered. Handle each box and take a guess at whether it’s empty or not, and if not empty, the element the crystal inside is associated with.”
Lydia is frowning mightily. “I accept that the supernatural exists, but crystals?”
Moira shrugs. “I didn’t make the rules.”
Stiles turns his laugh into a cough at the last second. Moira is great at explaining how magic works, but that often isn’t good enough for Lydia, who wants to know why.
Granted, Stiles would like to know why, too, but he’s come to understand that the answer to why is sometimes just because.
Lydia sighs, but doesn’t try to argue.
Moira sets six small boxes in the center of the circle, and each has a number inscribed on the lid. Stiles is at least game to try, and he picks each one up in turn. Moira must have done something to prevent the stones inside from rattling around, because there’s no noise.
Stiles immediately knows which box holds a crystal associated with earth, because that box immediately resonates with his magic. He would be hard-pressed to explain it in words, but it’s a bit like how he feels about the rune stones.
Once he identifies that box, though, he handles the others and realizes that he knows which elements the other boxes are associated with, not because they resonate with his magic, but because the way they feel reminds him of the other members of the coven.
Stiles is pretty sure that’s not how this test is supposed to work, but he thinks he can tell them all apart.
Lydia’s expression is deeply skeptical as she handles the boxes, but she gives a little sniff when she picks one up.
Stiles figures she’s irritated that she felt anything at all.
“All right, what do you think, Danny?” Moira asks.
“The only two I’m even a little bit sure about are two and six,” Danny admits. “Two is definitely fire, and I’m pretty sure six is air.”
“Lydia?” Moira prompts.
Lydia appears reluctant to admit, “I think three is spirit. I got nothing from the other boxes.”
Moira turns to Stiles, and he points at each of them in turn. “Earth, fire, spirit, empty, water, air.”
It’s not often that Stiles can surprise Moira, but from the shocked silence that follows, he has.
“All three of you are correct,” she says after a beat. “But Stiles, I have to ask how you knew, and how you could be so sure.”
Stiles shrugs. “Once I figured out which was earth, and felt how it resonated with my magic, I figured out which ones felt most like everyone else.”
Alana laughs. “Clever boy.”
“I know that’s probably not what you were looking for, but…” Stiles holds out his hands.
Moira shakes her head. “Clearly, we’ll need to find another way to test you, but Alana is correct. That was a clever method, and possible largely because of how tightly you’re tied to magic.”
“And how observant you are,” Noelani adds.
Stiles shifts uncomfortably. “It’s been like that we stopped the Darach.”
“It could come in handy,” Alana admits. “Although, Moira is right. We’ll have to find some other way to test your abilities with the other elements.”
“Or maybe it doesn’t really matter,” Lydia says bluntly. “You’ve said Stiles is a spark. I understand that he has an affinity for the earth, but maybe he’s equally strong in the other four elements.”
Moira purses her lips. “It’s possible. We don’t know a lot about sparks and their ability in handling the various elements.”
“Being a spark is enough for me,” Stiles says firmly. “I don’t need another gift.”
Later, he’ll think, famous last words.
~~~~~
Derek walks through the front door of the new pack house around 11 pm, breathing a sigh of relief. Even though he’s more convinced than ever that being a deputy is the right path for him, the day had been somewhat frustrating. It hadn’t just been the news that Victoria Argent likely escaped and would remain free as long as she stayed in Mexico, but also in arresting Donovan Donati as he attempted to break in to a home.
Donati had been combative and slippery, and Mark had insisted that Derek be the one to restrain him.
Derek is always wary when it comes to restraining humans, knowing that he could easily hurt them without meaning to.
There had also been a couple of kids arrested for lighting fires in trashcans and tying fireworks to a dog’s tail.
But when he steps inside the pack house, all of that gets shoved to the side, because he’s home.
Noah is in the kitchen when Derek steps inside, and he smiles. “I heard you had a run in with Donovan Donati today.”
Derek nods. “Mark said he’s a frequent flyer.”
“I think it’s something of a rite of passage to arrest him at this point,” Noah admits.
“He hates your guts,” Derek says. “He spent the ride to the station telling us just how much.”
Noah grimaces. “He blames me for his father being paralyzed.”
Derek grabs a bottle of water out of the fridge. “Mark said his dad didn’t wait for backup.”
“Pretty much,” Noah confirms. “But I could have followed him into the house. I chose not to.”
“All choices have consequences,” Derek comments.
“True,” Noah replies. “What time was Cora supposed to be home from her date?”
Derek shrugs. “I didn’t give her a curfew. I just told her to be safe and let us know if she needs one of us to come get her.” He glances at the clock. “I’ll wait up for her, though, if you want to go to bed.”
Noah nods. “I have an early morning tomorrow, so thanks.”
He heads back to the master suite on the main floor, and Derek peruses the contents of the fridge. He hadn’t made time for dinner, so he’s definitely hungry.
There are a few bread rolls on the counter and there’s lunch meat and cheese in the fridge, but Derek isn’t sure whether someone has plans for the food.
“Feel free,” Stiles says from behind him. “Moira made hoagies for dinner tonight, and there are leftovers.”
“Thanks,” Derek replies. He starts to make a sandwich, and asks, “Have you heard from Cora?”
Stiles shakes his head. “No. Hopefully, she’s having fun on her date. I was with the coven until about 9 or so.”
“How is that going?” Derek asks.
Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know. We’re starting to branch out into discovering potential other gifts, which feels weird.”
“How so?” Derek asks.
“First, there was the threat of the Argents, then the threat of whatever was in the Nemeton, and the Darach, and then the nogitsune,” Stiles says, listing off the various threats they’ve had to deal with. “Oh, and Matt Daehler was in there, too. And the hit men. It used to be every coven meeting started with trying a true seeing or reading the rune stones to see if there was a threat.”
“And you aren’t doing that anymore,” Derek says.
Stiles takes a seat on one of the bar stools at the island. “Sometimes we do. Maybe once a week, I guess, but it’s not every time.”
Derek takes a bite of his sandwich and chews thoughtfully. “We’re not under threat anymore.”
“We’re not under threat right now,” Stiles counters. “And I think I’m always going to be waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
Derek can’t really blame him for that, given that he’s been traumatized over and over again.
So has Derek, for that matter. There’s a reason that he and Stiles see eye-to-eye these days.
“How was work?” Stiles asks. “Still sure you want to be a deputy?”
Derek shrugs. “There were a few stupid people, but yeah. I figure no matter what I do, there are always going to be stupid people. How are things with Lydia?”
Stiles stares down at the counter. “I don’t know. I think things are good, but it’s not as though we have some grand love story.”
Derek frowns. “But you and Lydia like each other.”
“Sure, we like each other,” Stiles says easily. “But—I can’t help but think about how gone Scott was on Allison, and that’s not me and Lydia.”
“You’re you,” Derek points out. “And I think we’re all grateful for that fact.”
What Derek doesn’t say is that Stiles has a pragmatic streak a mile wide, and it’s been fostered by Moira. It’s not that Stiles is incapable of falling head over heels, but he’s more likely to keep his head than some.
Of course, now that Scott has decided to go all in on the pack, his fervor is a lot more charming than when he’d been all in on Allison Argent.
Stiles hitches a shoulder. “As I’ve said before, Lydia’s path is going to take her away from Beacon Hills, and mine is going to lead me straight back here.”
Derek hears an odd note in his voice. “Not to the FBI? I thought that was the plan.”
Stiles gestures to Batman, who is lying on the floor, snout on his paws. Derek realizes that he’s so used to having Batman at Stiles’ side, the service dog has become part of the scenery, and he hadn’t even noticed him.
“I don’t think FBI agents have service animals,” Stiles says dryly. “I don’t think analysts have service animals.”
Derek grimaces. “They might be able to make an exception for someone like you, Stiles.”
“I’m not sure I’d want them to,” Stiles admits. “It’s not like my magical abilities are going to be widely known, which means people are going to wonder why I’m an exception.”
The note that Derek hears in Stiles’ voice is a sort of despair.
“Stiles…” Derek trails off, not knowing what to say.
“It’s okay,” Stiles insists. “I know I could join the Beacon County sheriff’s department, but I have to decide what I want to major in, and what gives me the best path forward. Or maybe I’ll get a bullshit degree and become a consultant like Moira.”
Derek knows that police work feels like a calling to him, and that Stiles had been planning on going into law enforcement since he was a small child. He hates that Kate Argent has taken that from him.
“Maybe whatever you do find will be even better than what you imagined,” Derek offers.
“That sounds like something Moira would say,” Stiles jokes, which is when the front door opens, and Cora enters.
“Hey!” Cora calls. “Anybody still up?”
“In the kitchen,” Derek replies.
Cora and Malia enter, and Stiles asks, “Did you need a ride? I could have picked you up, Malia.”
Malia shakes her head. “I met up with Cora and Tracy. It’s fine.”
Cora rolls her eyes. “We planned to hang out with Tracy tonight. Her dad can be a little overprotective, and I thought that if Malia joined us for dinner, he was less likely to be weird about it. I’d have invited Erica, too, but she had a shift and was meeting up with Boyd after that.”
Derek raises his eyebrows. “He hasn’t been homophobic or anything, has he?”
“Pretty sure he’d respond the same way if I were a guy,” Cora replies easily. “It’s just the thought of Tracy doing stuff he wouldn’t approve of under his roof, I think.”
Derek nods slowly. “I get that.”
“It’s not a big deal, bro,” Cora insists. “We had a good time, and her dad seems to like me. It’s just easier in a group.”
“We should get to bed,” Malia comments. “I’ve got a math test tomorrow.”
Stiles gives her a look. “Do you feel ready?”
“Asha and I worked on it for hours,” Malia says. “She says I’m ready, even if I don’t feel ready. Math is never going to be my strong suit.”
Stiles smiles. “It doesn’t have to be. You just have to pass with a good enough grade so you don’t have to take it again.”
“That’s what Asha said, too,” Malia admits. “Good night.”
Malia still has a tendency to be rather abrupt and blunt, but Derek finds it refreshing. You never have to wonder where you stand with Malia, that’s for sure.
Cora follows Malia upstairs to the loft where the girls sleep, giving them a little wave as she does.
“I’m going to bed, too,” Stiles says. “Sleep well when you get there, dude.”
Derek doesn’t even try to protest being called “dude” at this point. “‘Night.”
He stays up for a while after that, needing the time to wind down. They only have two weeks until the end of the third module, and Derek is more than ready to be done. He enjoys his classes, but he’s ready to start the next phase of his life.
After several months in the house, Derek is still getting used to it, and he appreciates the fact that he can hear the heartbeats of the rest of his pack, but they have far more space.
He pulls out the book he’s reading, one of the Jack Reacher novels, which is entertaining and doesn’t require a lot of thought.
After a couple of chapters, Derek turns in, and he sleeps without dreaming. He can’t claim to never have a bad dream in the new pack house, but most nights he sleeps well. He asked Moira if she had something to do with that, and she offered a Mona Lisa smile.
Derek is able to sleep in the next morning, and he’s planning to meet up with Parrish to go for a run, and hit the range. Parrish keeps telling Derek that he’s going to place first in this module, and Derek is equally confident that he’ll come out on top.
They have more competition this module, and there are at least two other students who have decided to challenge them. With only a couple of weeks left, he and Parrish are mostly focused on finishing well.
Derek figures it’s not a bad reputation for Beacon Hills to have, knowing that he and Parrish had done so well and been hired. Noah is certainly pleased with the results.
But that means that he and Parrish know they need to perform well, and a little healthy competition is good for the both of them.
Neither of them has another shift for the next few days, and Derek has a whole list of things he wants to get done between now and then.
He pulls on a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt, and heads downstairs. The house is empty, but it’s an emptiness that doesn’t bother him, since it’s based on a busy, industrious pack.
Derek grabs a bottle of water, wanting to hydrate before his run. Parrish is meeting him at the pack house, since they have the Preserve in the backyard.
Moira comes into the kitchen, and she says, “You’re going for a run with Parrish today, right?”
“And a trip to the range,” Derek confirms. “What’s up?”
“Bring him back here after you’re both done,” Moira asks. “I’d like to work with him a bit more, see if we can get a better handle on his abilities.”
Derek shrugs. “I can text him to see if he’s available.”
“No need, I already did,” Moira says. “He agreed. I just want you to make sure he comes back here since he’s canceled our last two appointments.”
Derek grimaces. “I think it freaks him out.”
“I can understand that, but if he leaves it unexplored, it’s likely to bite him in the ass later,” Moira replies. “Or us. Probably both.”
Derek knows she’s right. Moira has a good instinct about these sorts of things. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Thank you,” Moira replies. “I know you two are close.”
Derek shrugs but doesn’t deny it. He’s noticed that as the pack has grown, various members gravitate towards each other. The girls have their own tight circle, Isaac and Boyd are best friends, but Derek is closest to Stiles and Parrish.
He knows it’s natural, and there’s nothing wrong with it as long as they don’t allow divisions within the pack to fester. Still, Derek feels a little awkward about admitting it, since it had been so long since Derek has had something just for himself.
“I think everyone’s proud of you for making a friend,” Moira adds, a teasing light in her eyes.
Derek rolls his eyes but is saved from having to formulate a response by Parrish calling from the foyer, “Derek?”
“We’re in the kitchen,” Derek calls back.
Parrish grimaces when he sees Moira. “Oh, hi.”
“Don’t look so happy to see me,” Moira says dryly.
“I’m sorry,” Parrish replies quickly. “It’s just—freaking me out a little bit.”
Moira pats him on the cheek. “I know, but to face your fear is to master it. You’ve had a few months to freak out, and I’ve had a few months to research how best to help you.”
“We’ll be back here around 2,” Parrish admits. “We can start then?”
He makes it into a question, and Moira smiles approvingly. “Good. I’ll see you then.”
Moira strolls out of the kitchen, and Parrish gives Derek a disappointed look. “You could have warned a guy.”
“I didn’t have time,” Derek protests. “You know Moira moved into the apartment over the garage last month, and she comes and goes as she pleases. She turned up just before you did.”
Parrish sighs. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been avoiding her, and I knew it was going to catch up to me eventually.”
“Cheer up,” Derek says, clapping him on the shoulder. “She taught Stiles how to control his magic. There’s no reason to think she can’t help you bring the Hellhound under conscious control as well.”
“Let’s get going,” Parrish says in a clear bid to change the subject. “I could stand to burn off some energy.”
There’s a trail through the Preserve with a circuit about seven miles long that’s easy to reach from the pack house. He and Parrish stretch before they start their run, and then set off in silence.
Parrish is easy company, since he doesn’t always need to fill the silence. At the same time, he can carry on a conversation on a lot of different subjects.
“Have you heard the most recent about Brunski?” Parrish asks.
Derek had been tied up responding to the mess Donati caused and all the paperwork that came after, so he hadn’t heard anything about Eichen House. “No, what happened?”
“They’re charging him with three counts of murder,” Parrish says. “And they’re charging the previous administrator with obstruction of justice.”
“That’s a step in the right direction,” Derek comments. “Which three victims are they moving forward on?”
Parrish rattles off three names that are familiar to Derek, since he’s been through their medical records. The cause of all three deaths had originally been ruled as suicide, but they found evidence that the “autopsies” had been done at Eichen House. Noah obtained a court order to exhume all three bodies last month with the evidence of Brunski’s potential involvement.
“The autopsy reports finally came through?” Derek asks.
Parrish nods. “Yeah, they found evidence that all three were heavily sedated when they were hung.”
Brian Mitchell had been fifteen at the time of death, Seth Givens seventeen, and Sonya Alvarez twenty-four. Derek grimaces, thinking about the sheer waste of it all.
“Why?” Derek asks.
Parrish shakes his head. “I don’t know, but maybe with this new evidence, he’ll confess.”
“Maybe,” Derek says. He’s pretty sure there are more victims, but even if they can only prove these three, Brunski will spend the rest of his life behind bars.
He also knows that Noah is committed to finding the truth about all of the suspicious deaths in Eichen House, in order to provide closure to the families.
If closure is even possible. Derek has seen how haunted Boyd is by his sister’s disappearance, though, and he thinks getting answers—even if it was just confirmation of her death—might help.
“At least Lydia was able to alert us to the body that started the investigation,” Parrish points out. “Who knows how many people Brunski might have been able to kill unnoticed otherwise?”
“Too many,” Derek replies. “Any word yet on whether the new hospital administrator is going to be cooperative?”
Parrish hitches a shoulder. “I heard she doesn’t start until next week, but she’s already set up an appointment to meet with the Sheriff—at Eichen House.”
Derek frowns. “A power play?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Parrish says. “At least, not according to Tara. She said she wanted the Sheriff to know she had nothing to hide.”
“Huh,” is all Derek can say. “That sounds almost helpful.”
“I guess we’ll see,” Parrish comments. “Maybe we’ll get some additional evidence we can use against Brunski. I know the Sheriff isn’t interested in stopping at three if there are answers to be found.”
They switch from talk about the investigation to gossip about the other deputies and their pack members. All of Noah’s deputies get along—pretty much—but there’s usually some small drama going on, just as in every workplace.
The drama is mostly entertaining, though, as is the teenage drama between the pack members. Derek thinks about what Stiles had said the previous day, about having space to breathe after careening from one emergency to the next.
Derek isn’t sure he trusts this lull in the action, but he supposes he ought to be grateful for it.
They finish up their run, and Parrish grabs his duffel bag so he can get cleaned up before they head to the firing range.
They’re still neck-and-neck with their scores, and Parrish just edges him out today. After grabbing a late lunch, they head back to the pack house, and find Moira waiting for them in the kitchen.
She’s dressed as stylishly as usual in dark blue jeans, white Chucks, and a breezy white t-shirt, looking much younger than what she probably is. She’s chatting quietly with Noelani when they arrive, who stands as contrast to Moira with her dark eyes, olive skin, and dark hair shot through with silver.
“Ah, there you are,” Moira says with a smile. “I’m glad you returned, Parrish.”
Parrish shrugs. “I understand that it’s necessary. It’s just—not something I’m looking forward to.”
“I promise, I’m not going to light you on fire,” Moira says with an impish smile. “Come, let’s go outside. Derek, you’re welcome to join us.”
Derek glances at Parrish. “Are you good with that?”
Parrish nods. “Please. I’d prefer if you were here.”
“Sure, of course,” Derek says easily.
The backyard has taken shape over the last few months. The patio and fire pit were deemed essential, and finished at the same time as the house. The outside work area had recently been installed, and Stiles and Moira decided that a garden would be a good outlet for Stiles’ energies.
There’s a flagstone path leading from the patio to the concrete slab, with empty flower beds around it and a water fountain on the northwest corner.
Derek makes a mental note to check with Stiles on the flower beds, and to see if he can find some time to help with that.
“All right, boyo, have a seat in the center of the circle,” Moira directs.
Parrish sits down cross-legged, with a wary expression. “You know, I don’t really remember what happened.”
“I do know that, and that may end up being a problem,” Moira says, her expression growing serious as she stands just outside the outline of the protective circle.
Noelani sits to Parrish’s right, and her flowered dress forms a fabric puddle around her. “Gifts that we do not train can end up controlling us.”
“Stiles is a good example,” Moira adds. “Yes, his gift enabled him to escape, but some of that was sheer luck. Then, he put a feral omega to sleep just by wishing that the man would sleep.”
Parrish nods slowly. “I get it. This might have saved my life, but it could also spin out of control.”
“Good, you understand,” Moira says. “Now, we’re going to see if we can trigger the Hellhound.”
Derek stays outside the markings inscribed in the concrete, since he’s been told that the presence of a werewolf can make magic more unpredictable.
“Close your eyes,” Moira instructs.
Parrish does as he’s instructed, and Moira begins placing stones around the circle. Derek leans forward, trying to get a better look, but they just look like different colored rocks to his unpracticed eye.
Once the stones are placed to Moira’s apparent satisfaction, she pulls out a small brazier, placing herbs and a few other things in the bowl. She then lights the contents on fire and begins fanning the smoke towards Parrish’s face.
“Breathe deeply,” Moira instructs. “And remember that moment when you first felt the flames.”
She starts to chant in a language Derek doesn’t know, and Derek moves around the edge of the circle to get a better look at Parrish’s face.
He’s wearing a frown at first, but that gradually changes until his expression is blank.
Not impassive, but blank, as though Parrish isn’t in there anymore.
“Open your eyes,” Moira says.
Parrish’s eyes are glowing, but not the gold of a beta, or the red of an alpha, but rather a duller orange of burning embers.
“Who am I addressing?” Moira asks.
“You’re interfering with powers beyond your control.” It’s still Parrish’s voice, but it’s flat, and without emotion.
“No, I don’t think so,” Moira says, and she almost sounds amused now. “I think we want to find a way to coexist peacefully, don’t we? I know you have a job to do, but Jordan Parrish is a member of this pack. You are operating in their territory.”
There’s a flicker of a brighter fire in Parrish’s eyes. “I have a role to play.”
“And if we understand what that role is, we may align and be able to help you,” Moira counters. “But to do that, you would need to integrate with your host.”
“I will consider it,” Parrish says, although Derek now realizes that they’re not talking to his friend, but rather to the entity inhabiting him.
Parrish closes his eyes, and when he opens them again a few minutes later, he frowns. “Did it work?”
“We made contact with the Hellhound,” Moira says gently. “It would not give its name, but I think we can probably get to a point where the two of you are more integrated.”
Parrish looks somewhat horrified. “Why?”
“Let’s go inside and get a little more comfortable,” Moira replies. “And we can talk about that.”
“Perhaps a beer,” Noelani murmurs to Derek as they follow Moira and Parrish inside.
“Yeah, I’ll grab a few,” Derek says. “This seems like that kind of conversation.”
They sit in the recessed living room that they’ve been calling the den. Derek hands the uncapped bottles of beer around, and Parrish just sits with his hanging from his hand, untouched.
“I want it gone,” he finally says.
“I would that I could, dear one,” Moira replies. “But while you may not know it, and may not have been aware of it, you and this Hellhound are inextricably bound.”
“Maybe you should think about it more as getting an organ transplant,” Noelani suggests. “It’s a shame that it was ever needed, but it did save your life, and will keep you alive for a long time to come.”
Parrish sighs, then takes a long drink of his beer. “Okay, I get it. I’ll work on it.”
“Maybe just once per week for now,” Moira says, sounding sympathetic. “I know it’s taxing, but it would be best if you didn’t try doing it on your own.”
Parrish grimaces. “I have no desire to do that on my own, thanks.”
“Good, then we’ll see you back here next week at the same time?” Moira asks.
Parrish pulls out his phone to check his schedule. “Yeah, that will work.”
“You should stay for dinner tonight,” Derek says. “It might not have felt that way to you, but it was pretty intense from my perspective.”
Parrish grimaces. “I’m pretty tired, so yeah, I wouldn’t mind staying for dinner.”
“You could spend the night, too,” Derek adds. “We have the room.”
Parrish gives him a look. “Is this part of your bid to get me to move in?”
“No, I’m just saying that you might not want to be alone tonight,” Derek says.
Parrish takes another drink of his beer. “All right. Let’s see how I feel after I eat, but I’m tired enough to take you up on it.”
“Speaking of, I should probably get started on that,” Derek says.
“I’ll help,” Moira offers.
“We both can,” Noelani says. “Parrish, I suggest you catch a nap.”
Parrish nods wearily. “That would be good.”
“Take one of the spare rooms or use mine if you’d prefer,” Derek urges. “The kids will be coming home soon.”
“Thanks, Derek,” Parrish says, real gratitude in his voice.
Parrish knows his way around the house, and he heads upstairs. Derek turns to Moira, feeling a little helpless.
“He’ll be all right,” Moira assures him. “We’ll make sure of it. With time, and some effort, I think we can integrate the Hellhound.”
“Won’t that mean he’s not really Parrish anymore?” Derek asks.
Moira takes a deep breath. “Did Noah change once he became a werewolf?”
Derek shrugs uncomfortably. “I don’t know. I didn’t know him all that well before he was bitten, but based on what I saw, not really?”
“It’s not completely the same thing,” Moira admits. “I’ve met one Hellhound, and they weren’t fully integrated. But I truly believe that some integration will prevent Parrish from being used against his will.”
And that’s what it boils down to, Derek thinks. The Hellhound sharing Parrish’s body could easily hijack him. “Stiles couldn’t eject it?”
Moira shakes her head. “I know it might seem as though Stiles can do just about anything, but there are limits.”
Noelani clears her throat. She’s apparently been content to let Moira take the lead in answering Derek’s questions, but now she says, “The Hellhound saved his life, Derek. Even if Stiles could remove it, the removal would likely kill him.”
“I understand,” Derek says after a moment. “I’ll do my best to support him.”
“That’s all we can do,” Moira agrees. “Now, have you two talked about what you want to do for graduation?”
“We haven’t,” Derek admits. “I think we’re both focused on getting through final exams.”
“And no wonder,” Moira says. “Well, give it some thought, and talk to Parrish. Having you both graduate is worth celebrating.”
Derek still feels a little strange about that, but he knows the rest of the pack is going to insist.
And maybe he and Parrish both need the acknowledgment of their achievement.
~~~~~
Noah steps into the pack house, wondering if Moira’s plan had borne any fruit. She explained her plan to attempt to bring the Hellhound under Parrish’s conscious control. Noah doesn’t pretend to understand—he really doesn’t get magic—but he knows that leaving Parrish’s abilities as a question mark isn’t the best course of action.
Much like Stiles’ magic, Parrish needs to get a handle on what he can do.
There’s a bit of a buzz, and Noah can hear the hum of conversation, mostly coming from the kitchen. He detours to his room to put his gun away and change out of his uniform before heading that way.
“Hey, Dad,” Stiles calls. He’s cutting up vegetables, while Moira stirs something on the stove, and Derek slices a loaf of French bread into thick slices. “How was work?”
“It was fine,” Noah replies. “Nothing to write home about today.”
Stiles nods, and he says, “I forgot to mention this yesterday, but did Mrs. McCall recruit someone else from the hospital?”
Noah frowns. “Not that she mentioned. What’s the name?”
“I’m not sure of the last name, but her first name is Becky,” Stiles says. “I didn’t tell her anything or confirm that I knew what she was alluding to, but she seemed to be fishing for information.”
Noah pulls out his cell phone and shoots a quick text to Mel. The only doctors at the hospital besides Joel Kelly who are fully aware of the situation are Ellie Wagner and Donald Meer, who had operated on Tara. There are others who have been vetted, and seem somewhat interested, but things haven’t gone further than that.
He’s pretty sure Mel would have mentioned bringing someone new in.
He gets a response to his text in just a few minutes. The only Becky I know is one of the occupational therapists, but she just started. I don’t know her well yet. Is there a problem?
I don’t know, Noah replies. She approached Stiles at judo.
Not because of me, Mel says. I would have warned you and Stiles.
Noah thanks her, and looks at Stiles. “Mel says she doesn’t know her well, and she just recently started at the hospital. Maybe she’s a fan.”
It’s a joke, but not really, and Stiles grimaces. “I’ll keep her at arm’s length then. She might just be nosy, since she asked about the thing with the hitman.”
That story made the papers, since Parrish’s cruiser had burned, and the attack on Stiles was news after the theory leaked that Kate Argent was involved.
“I’m sure you have a few fans,” Noah replies. “But keep a sharp eye out. I’m sure there are hunters who would like nothing more than to dig up as much information on the pack as possible.”
Stiles mimes zipping his lips. “She won’t get anything from me.”
“Good,” Noah says. “Did you get anything from Parrish?”
Moira nods. “We made a start, and he’s agreed to meet once a week. I’ll let him tell you more about it.”
“He’s napping right now,” Derek supplies without prompting. “The—whatever you’d call it took a lot out of him.”
“It was a ritual,” Moira says, sounding somewhat amused. “And we’ll have to keep calling forth the Hellhound with ritual.”
Noah grimaces. He’s more comfortable with the idea of magic now than he was in the past, but it’s still just a bit beyond his ken. “Is he going to be fit for duty?”
Moira nods firmly. “Hellhounds have a very particular mandate. It might interfere with his job at some point, but that’s why we’re working on this now, and we’ll continue to work on it.”
“Just two weeks until graduation,” Derek comments. “And you know everyone at the station will keep an eye on him.”
Derek doesn’t add that he’ll be keeping an eye on Parrish, but they’ve become even closer over the last few months.
Much like Dave, Parrish seems to have burrowed into the pack, finding a sense of family that he’d been missing.
As though Noah’s thoughts had called him downstairs, Parrish comes wandering into the kitchen, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, his feet bare.
“Oh, hi, Sheriff,” Parrish says absently.
“How are you doing?” Noah asks, feeling a lot of sympathy, having dealt with his own transformation.
Parrish shrugs. “Okay, I guess. This whole thing has been weird.”
“I can imagine,” Noah says. “There’s a lot of help for you in this pack, Jordan. Let us know if you need anything.”
That pulls a quick, sincere smile from him. “I appreciate that, sir.”
Noah has about given up on some of his pack members calling him by his first name. He knows it’s a mark of the respect they have for him, so he doesn’t try to push it.
“Lydia is going to join us for dinner, Dad,” Stiles says. “She said she needed to get out of the house.”
“That’s fine,” Noah replies. “She’s always welcome, you know that. Anybody else?”
Stiles shakes his head. “Everyone else had something else going on tonight.”
Noah doesn’t mind the smaller crowd. It means they’ll have leftovers, and it’s easier to have a conversation. He still hasn’t gotten to know Lydia all that well. She seems very self-contained, and she doesn’t divulge much, at least when Noah is around.
The doorbell rings, and Noah says, “I’ve got it.”
Given Stiles’ warning, he’s not surprised to see Lydia. “Come in, Lydia. How are you?”
Lydia’s smile seems a little forced. “I’m fine, thank you, Sheriff.”
“Stiles is back in the kitchen,” Noah says.
Lydia heads back that way, impeccably dressed and coiffed, as she usually is. She steps right up to Stiles, who immediately wraps an arm around her shoulders. “You okay?”
Lydia tilts her head back, and he gives her a quick kiss, then she smiles, but the expression is still brittle. “I’m better now that I’m here.”
“Things still weird with your mom?” Stiles asks.
Noah grabs a beer from the fridge and keeps his silence, noticing that the other pack members do the same, giving Lydia space to talk if she wants it.
Lydia’s shoulders slump. “She low-key hates the supernatural. We had a fight after school today.”
Noah knows that Lydia’s mother had taken a job at the high school as a guidance counselor and teacher.
“Is there anything we can do, dear?” Moira asks gently. “Perhaps I could talk to her?”
Lydia shakes her head. “She blames the supernatural for what happened to her mother, my grandmother. So, if we could prove that it was actually a serial killer, that would be great.”
Noah knows that comment is only partially aimed at him. “We haven’t found definitive proof yet,” Noah admits. “But we’re still looking, and you have my word that I’ll keep looking until we’ve run everything to ground.”
Lydia’s smile is more sincere and less brittle now. “Thank you. But I suppose even if you did find proof, it wouldn’t change Mom’s opinion. She thinks it’s dangerous, and she doesn’t want me involved. She wants me to ignore my gifts, ignore the supernatural, avoid all of my friends, and hopefully move far, far away next year.”
That’s probably the longest speech Noah has ever heard her make in his presence. “And you don’t want to do any of that.”
“It still scares me,” Lydia admits. “But my teacher says that my gifts have to be trained, or I could wind up like my grandmother.”
“You learn to use your gifts, or your gifts will use you,” Stiles says, glancing at Moira.
“Just so,” Moira agrees. “As I explained to Jordan earlier today.”
“Using you as an example,” Parrish adds, glancing at Stiles.
Noah sighs. “You’re still a minor, but if things at home become difficult—“
Lydia shakes her head. “I’ll be 18 in a month, and I reminded her of that. Right now, she’s maintaining a disapproving silence, and I’ll probably end up spending a lot of time with my boyfriend.”
“It is a time-honored method of avoiding one’s parents,” Moira says with an encouraging smile. “And you’re welcome here, or at Danny’s house. I know Alana and Noelani would be happy to provide the shelter.”
“I have lots of friends,” Lydia agrees. “Erica already said I could stay at her place, too.”
Noah is glad to hear that. Lydia really has made an effort to make friends with the rest of the pack, separate from her relationship with Stiles.
“Good for you, dear,” Moira says. “You’ve been a true credit to your teacher.”
Noah has noticed that neither Moira nor Lydia has ever used her teacher’s name, and he has to assume there’s a reason for that. Of course, after the thing with the hitmen, he can’t blame anyone who’s supernatural for not wanting anyone to know their business.
For her part, Satomi sent a note of thanks for Noah catching the people who killed her pack members, without any overture to stay in touch.
Satomi will protect her pack in her way, and Noah will protect his in the way he thinks is best.
“My mom doesn’t like anything she can’t understand, so she’ll either get on board, or we just won’t talk much until she does,” Lydia says, sounding resigned.
Noah can’t imagine a world where he wouldn’t strive to meet Stiles where he is, even when it scares the shit out of him, but he knows not every parent feels the same.
“Anyway, let’s change the subject,” Lydia continues. “How did things go today, Moira? Are you going to need me for future rituals?”
“I wouldn’t say no,” Moira admits. “We got him there, but the Hellhound might be more responsive to another harbinger of death.”
Parrish clears his throat. “About the harbinger thing— I know Lydia senses death, but does that mean I will, too?”
“Perhaps in a different way,” Moira says. “And we won’t know for sure in what way until we know the purpose for your particular Hellhound.”
“What sort of purpose would one serve?” Noah asks.
Moira shrugs. “Often, they protect the supernatural, keeping it safe from human discovery or interference, but what that looks like can vary depending on the time and place.”
“And circumstances,” Stiles adds.
Moira nods. “Essentially, yes. I’m hoping that the knowledge that our goal is a sanctuary might help matters, but only time will tell.”
The discussion turns to other matters, mostly the end of the third module for Derek and Parrish, and the end of junior year for Lydia and Stiles.
“What are your plans for the summer?” Noah asks Lydia.
She shrugs. “I’m going to take some college courses. I’d like to be finished with my master’s degree by the time I’m 22.”
Stiles frowns thoughtfully. “There’s an idea.”
“You could work with me this summer,” Moira says, sounding amused. “I have a few larger projects that I could use your help with, and I’ll pay you.”
Noah knows that Moira has her own consulting business, much like Alana does, although he has a better handle on what services Alana provides. What people hire Moira to do, Noah has no idea, and he has a feeling she’d tell him to mind his own business if he asked.
Which, fair enough. It’s not as though Noah’s input would be helpful.
Stiles brightens at that. “Actually, that sounds pretty great. I’d like to know more about the business side of things, and I’m only taking a couple of summer classes.”
“Then I think I can keep you busy,” Moira says.
Noah hopes things around Beacon Hills remain calm through the summer. That way, he can keep a weather eye out for the hunters.
“What do you two want to do for your graduation?” Noah asks, aiming the question at Derek and Parrish.
Derek glances at Parrish and shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“Honestly, a cook out would be great,” Parrish replies. “I don’t need anything elaborate.”
Derek nods. “That sounds really good, actually.”
“Consider it done,” Stiles says. “I’ll get the invitations sent out this week.”
At least the pack is on solid ground, Noah thinks. They have that much going for them.
~~~~~
Derek finishes answering the last question on his final and puts his pencil down. He glances at the clock on the wall and sees that he has 15 minutes left, so he starts checking over his answers. They’d been instructed to remain seated until time was up, and they would all hand in their tests at the same time.
The physical fitness, firearms, and practical exams had taken place the previous day. Today is the final written test, and Derek already knows that unless something goes horribly wrong, he and Parrish have a lock on the first and second spots.
As close as their scores are, though, either of them could take the top spot based on this exam.
Honestly, Derek wouldn’t mind losing out to Parrish; his friend could use the boost, especially given his lack of progress on integrating with the Hellhound.
Their instructor, Officer Tompkins, calls out, “Time is up. Pencils down! Please bring your tests to the front.”
Derek gathers his things and heads to the front of the room, followed closely by Parrish.
“Thank you, Mr. Hale,” Tompkins says. “It was a pleasure to have you in this module.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Derek replies. “I enjoyed it.”
“Best of luck at the Beacon County sheriff’s department,” she replies.
Derek waits by the door as Parrish hands his test in and gets the same response. Once they’re out the door, Parrish lets out an audible sigh of relief. “Thank god, that’s over.”
“You said it,” Derek agrees. “I’m just glad we managed to push off the party until next weekend.”
“Same,” Parrish agrees. “I think I could sleep for a week after that.”
Derek snorts. “Yeah, and we have a shift tomorrow.”
Parrish shrugs. “It will still be better than another test.”
Derek can’t argue. “Do you mind if we swing by Alana’s house? I can drop you off first, but she promised to have the next report today.”
“If you don’t mind me being there, I’d like to go,” Parrish replies as they step outside into the bright sunshine.
“I don’t mind,” Derek says easily. “It’s information that you’ll need, too.”
Parrish nods. “We’re going to spend more time sparring, right?”
“I think Dave’s worked out a schedule,” Derek admits. “We don’t know what’s coming, but we need to be prepared for anything.”
Parrish waits until they’re both inside Derek’s Camaro before he says, “We have enough uncertainty already with this fucking Hellhound business.”
Derek gives him a look. “That fucking Hellhound is a part of you.”
“I know,” Parrish says after a long pause. “I just—I’m having trouble wrapping my head around all of it. According to Moira, it’s probably been a part of me since I was a kid.”
“You said your earliest memory was from age 5?” Derek asks. He’s been trying to help as best he can, to try to get Parrish to accept a part of himself that he would like to violently reject.
Derek is occasionally reminded of Scott after he was bitten, before he’d embraced his wolf.
“Yeah, around then,” Parrish confirms. “And no, I don’t remember what happened that landed me in foster care.”
Derek pulls out of the parking lot, pointing his car in the direction of Beacon Hills. “Do you want to find out?”
“Does it matter?” Parrish counters.
“Maybe if you knew what it was, it would be easier to accept,” Derek suggests.
Parrish stares out the window. “Those records are sealed, Derek.”
“Have you tried? Beyond just asking for them?” Derek asks.
Parrish’s silence is telling.
“You haven’t asked for them,” Derek says, and it’s not a question, since he already knows the answer.
“One of my foster parents said it was a blessing that I didn’t remember,” Parrish finally mutters. “I figured she was probably right.”
Derek knows all about burying the past, so he doesn’t blame Parrish for not wanting to ask questions. “Maybe it’s time to actually find out what happened. That might help.”
“I’ll do it tomorrow,” Parrish says. “Because you’re right. I just—felt like we needed to get through this last module.”
Derek doesn’t think that’s all it is, but he lets it go. He’ll nudge Parrish again if it becomes necessary.
Derek turns on the radio, letting classic rock wash over them on their drive home. They don’t say much, and Derek thinks it’s mostly because they’re both too wrung out from the last couple of days.
He pulls up in front of Alana’s house, and he and Parrish both climb out, still wearing their uniforms.
“Maybe we should have stopped to change,” Parrish comments. “People are going to think we’re bracing her.”
Derek laughs. “Alana will probably tell anyone who asks that she’s consulting with the sheriff. Her neighbors know she runs her own business out of her house.”
When Derek rings the doorbell, Kaleo is the one who answers. “Derek, Deputy Parrish, I hear there’s a party coming up.”
Derek laughs. “Yeah, next week. Are you guys coming?”
“I never pass up a party when there’s food involved,” Kaleo replies jokingly. “Alana is down in her office. I assume you know the way.”
“I do,” Derek confirms. “Thanks.”
He leads the way to the basement stairs, with Parrish following, and he gives a perfunctory knock on the side of Alana’s office door.
“Derek, hi,” Alana says. “Deputy Parrish, it’s nice to see you again.”
“Likewise,” Parrish replies. “I hope you don’t mind that I tagged along.”
“Not at all,” Alana says. “It’s mostly up to Derek. Please, have a seat, and we can go over the additional findings.”
Derek takes a seat at the small table that Alana uses for client conferences, watching as she pulls up her report on the large screen facing them. He doesn’t regret hiring her in the least. She’s been able to find a lot more than he expected, giving them an idea of the potential dangers.
“All right, I’ve managed to trace three more Argent branches, since that seems to be where the threat originates. At least according to information we got from Allison and Moira’s friend,” Alana says. “So, let’s talk about cadet branches that I’ve been able to confirm are still in the hunting world.”
“How many are we looking at?” Derek asks.
“Unfortunately, some of the Argents are far more prolific than Christopher and Victoria,” Alana says. “Gerard had four siblings, but only two of them went into hunting. The other two got out and didn’t look back from what I’ve been able to tell.”
“How can you tell?” Parrish asks, leaning forward.
“Social media, mostly,” Alana says with a smile. “Hunters tend to turn to careers in weapons dealing, pawn shops, private investigators, and so forth. The ones who don’t seem to be involved are the ones who have turned to accounting or garbage collecting, but I could end up being surprised.”
“Accounting would allow them to launder money,” Parrish points out. “Garbage collecting could allow them to hide evidence. I don’t think we can trust that those who haven’t taken traditional roles are completely out of it.”
Alana’s eyes widen. “Okay, well, that widens my field of study, but I still think that focusing on those taking traditional roles is the best first step. If we need to focus on building a criminal case, we go after the accountants.”
Derek nods. “I agree. If we’re talking about who’s going to mount an armed assault, that’s different from who aided and abetted before or after the fact.”
Parrish shrugs. “Fair. We can’t actually get a warrant for anybody who’s a law-abiding citizen anyway.”
“Gerard just had the two children,” Alana continues. “We know where both of them are, and Kate didn’t have children.”
Two pictures appear on the screen, a man and a woman, both looking to be near the age Gerard had been when he was arrested.
“That’s Darren Argent and Pauline Benoit,” Alana says. “The Benoits are another hunting family, although based on what was in the ledgers, they follow the code to a T. Darren is thought to be more like Gerard, but not as bad. It might also be that he hasn’t been caught, however.”
Two more pictures appear, on either side of Darren and Pauline. “Their spouses,” Alana supplies. “Each of them had four children, although one of Darren’s sons is dead. It appears that all of them are involved in hunting but again, the Benoits appear to be following the code. Darren and his family may wind up being a threat, but they have their online profiles locked down tight.”
“I assume their children also have children,” Derek says.
Alana nods. “A total of 12 grandchildren for Darren, and 16 for Pauline. I’ve included my initial findings in the report for all of them.”
Derek sighs. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but how many hunters are we talking?”
Alana winces. “From just the Argents and Benoits, perhaps thirty active hunters, but I don’t know how many of those would follow Allison versus Victoria and Kate.”
“And there are other branches beyond them,” Derek says flatly. “We know that from Moira’s friend.”
Alana nods. “I’m still digging into those branches. For the record, Janet—Moira’s friend—was Darren’s daughter.”
“At least we know she’s not likely to attack the pack,” Derek mutters. “Did she have children?”
“None that I could find record of,” Alana says.
Derek rubs his eyes. “How does this track with what we know about the Argents being matriarchal?”
“I’m not sure they are,” Alana replies. “Pauline split with the Argents after she married Jean-Claude Benoit, and they spend most of their time in southern France. Gerard seems to have taken over at that point, grooming Kate to be in charge. Maybe Janet would have taken the reins if she hadn’t been bitten by a were-jaguar. She was Darren’s only daughter.”
“So, it’s Victoria by default,” Derek mutters.
“Or by temperament and/or age,” Parrish says. “Even if they aren’t as homicidal as Kate or Victoria, Allison’s stance may be seen as either being too liberal or a product of her youth.”
Derek leans back in his chair. “True. Great work, Alana. I’m assuming there are pictures of all parties in the dossier?”
Alana nods. “I recommend showing them to the pack, to warn them to be vigilant. If the Argents have learned anything, it’s that Noah will use the law as a weapon, particularly if they come after human pack members.”
Derek agrees immediately. “I’ll pass it around. If you could show the pictures to Danny, too, I’d appreciate it. There’s a chance they could use a younger person to try and subvert the pack.”
“They’ve used that tactic in the past,” Alana murmurs sympathetically.
Derek nods. “They have.”
“Everything I have is in the folder, along with an invoice,” Alana says easily. “If you have any questions, please let me know, and if you want me to take a different approach for the next phase, let me know that as well.”
“I appreciate your time today,” Derek replies, getting to his feet.
There are handshakes all around, and Parrish follows him outside to the Camaro.
“Are you okay?” Parrish asks when Derek doesn’t immediately start the car.
“I’m not sure if it’s better or worse to know that there are so many people running around out there who want to kill us,” Derek admits.
Parrish hums. “At least we know who some of them are, and what they look like.”
“Some of them,” Derek points out. “But Kate was able to use Adrian Harris, and get others to assist her in burning down my old house. My fear is that they’ll find someone we never expect to come after us.”
“That’s a reasonable fear,” Parrish admits. “But it might take them years to get around to it, and we can’t maintain a constant state of vigilance forever. I think we just have to take reasonable precautions and hope for the best.”
“True,” Derek says after a pause, and he cranks the key in the ignition. “At least we’ll be in a position to help if they try anything.”
At least, that’s true in theory.
~~~~~
Stiles looks around the backyard, happy to have his entire pack in one location. They’re celebrating Derek and Parrish’s graduation from the final module, and becoming fully fledged deputies.
All of the younger pack members ensured they didn’t have to work so they could help set up for and attend the party. Dave and Paul have come for the afternoon before their shift that evening, and Tara is due to arrive at any moment.
Scott approaches from Stiles’ right side, and Stiles has noticed that Scott is careful around him these days. He doesn’t approach Stiles from behind, and he’s good about telegraphing his movements.
“Hey, bud,” Stiles says.
With that as an invitation, Scott slings an arm over Stiles’ shoulders. “This all looks great, Stiles.”
“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?” Stiles says. He can’t really take much credit, since it had definitely been a team effort, but he’s pleased nonetheless. It shows how established the pack has become, and how well organized they are.
In the back of his mind, though, Stiles feels a moment of disquiet. The pack is large, yes, but there’s a part of Stiles that feels as though it just makes them a bigger target. He thinks about the report that Derek got from Alana on the hunters, and just how many of them they might face.
He puts that out of his mind, though. Tonight, they’re celebrating, and he and Moira had used the rune stones earlier that day to make sure things were still auspicious for the party.
There had been no indication of immediate danger, so here they are.
“Are you ready for finals?” Stiles asks.
Scott grins. “Yeah, I’m looking forward to it. I want to take AP biology next year.”
“That will look good on your college applications,” Stiles says. “Still thinking about UC-Davis?”
Scott nods. “That’s the plan. They have a good veterinary science program.”
“What is Kira going to do?” Stiles asks.
“She’s undecided,” Scott admits. “She’s—she’s having some issues with her kitsune side.”
“Does Mrs. Yukimura know?” Stiles asks.
Scott nods. “They’re going to Japan this summer. Mrs. Yukimura knows someone she thinks can help.”
“I’m sorry, Scotty,” Stiles says, realizing what that means. Scott’s relationship with Kira has been steadily deepening, and a summer apart is going to be painful.
“It’s okay,” Scott insists. “Kira needs this, and she promised to stay in touch.” Scott smiles crookedly. “I’m going to be busy preparing for my classes. If I want to be a veterinarian, I really need to buckle down next year.”
“You’ll do great,” Stiles insists. “And if you have to start out in community college and then transfer, you can always do that.”
Scott smiles. “True. I wouldn’t mind sticking around here for a couple more years. I like being around the pack, and if I do stay, my boss said I could probably get a promotion to assistant director.”
Stiles is a little envious of Scott and his certainty that everything is going to turn out all right. Stiles has none of that, even though both Moira and his dad have assured him that his dreams aren’t completely out of reach.
As if reading his mind, Scott says, “You’ll get it figured out. A couple of years ago, we had no idea about the supernatural or magic or anything like this, and now look at us!”
He waves a hand expansively, taking in the backyard with all the pack members, the hum of activity, and the crackling of the fire pit. Dave and Paul are standing close together, their hands occasionally brushing as they chat with Derek and Parrish. Moira is chatting with Noelani next to the fire, and Boyd, Isaac, and Erica are throwing balls over and over for Cocoa, Nibs, and Batman, since he’s off-duty, with Cora and Malia watching.
“When is Kira going to be here?” Stiles asks. “She’s still coming, right?”
Scott nods. “Yeah, she should be here any minute, actually. What about Lydia?”
“Same,” Stiles replies. “She said she was running a bit behind.”
“We got pretty lucky, huh?” Scott asks with a goofy grin.
“I guess we did,” Stiles says. He and Lydia aren’t end game, but she’s a good friend, and Stiles has come around to the idea that he can’t have too many of those.
Kira comes around the side of the house just then, waving excitedly at Scott. “Scott! Hey, Stiles. I hope it’s okay that I just came around.”
“Of course,” Stiles says easily. “Glad you could make it.”
Scott accepts Kira’s hug, and they turn towards the table where the food has been set out.
Stiles takes a breath and pushes aside any worry he has. Tonight is for celebrating.
Stiles smiles and goes over to join Moira and Noelani. Moira immediately lifts an arm to allow Stiles to sit close, and she puts an arm around his shoulders.
“Why so glum, young spark?” Moira asks.
“Needless worrying, probably,” Stiles admits.
Moira gives him a look. “When it’s you, it’s almost never needless, Stiles. What has you on edge?”
Stiles looks around at the gathering. “I’m not saying we’re too big, but—“
“Are we too big?” Moira murmurs. “Mo chroi, the truth is that I don’t know, but hunters were probably always going to view your father as a danger to their philosophy.”
“Oh, you mean that werewolves are dangerous and shouldn’t be allowed to be productive members of society?” Stiles asks sarcastically.
Noelani snorts. “Some people don’t have the mental flexibility to accept anything outside their rigid world view.”
“I just worry that they’ll see a pack this size and actually try to nuke us from orbit,” Stiles admits. “Because Janet scared the shit out of me, and I think someone like her would do just that.”
Moira sighs. “Well, at one point, you wouldn’t have been wrong. Perhaps more of the hunters will catch a case of empathy.”
“Unless we can brainwash them, I doubt it,” Stiles mutters.
“I think brainwashing is off the table,” Noelani says, but her tone is light. “Remember, Stiles, it’s not just the pack. There’s also the coven, and the hunters are not prepared for the strength of a full coven.”
“And they don’t know about us,” Moira adds. “Not really. They certainly have no idea what we can do—or what you can do. Have faith in your strength, young spark.”
“I’ll try,” Stiles says. “I mean, I am trying.”
“You’re not wrong to be worried,” Moira assures him. “We’ll focus on defensive magic for the next few months. That should help you settle your mind that you’re at least doing everything you can to prepare.”
Stiles nods. “Maybe I’ll take some more judo and krav maga, too. See how fast I can test for my next belt.”
“Focus on what you can control,” Moira advises him. “That’s the way forward.”
Lydia comes out of the back door, used to letting herself in and finding the party at this point—at least where the coven is concerned.
She makes a beeline for him and plops down, tucking her arm through his. “Well, this looks like a party.”
“That was the general idea,” Stiles says.
Lydia rolls her eyes, but she also leans into him. “I’m starving.”
“Come on, you can congratulate Derek and Parrish on our way to grab food,” Stiles replies.
He leads the way over to where Derek and Parrish are speaking with Dave and Paul.
“Congratulations!” Lydia says brightly.
Parrish smiles. “Thanks. I’m glad to be done with school, at least for now.”
“Same,” Derek says. “Glad you could make it, Lydia.”
Lydia shrugs. “The pack is important to Stiles, so it’s also important to me.”
It’s not a declaration of love, but it means a lot to Stiles to hear it.
Derek exchanges a look with Parrish that Stiles can’t quite parse. “Good to have you on board,” Parrish comments.
“Okay, food,” Stiles says, wanting to get away from the undercurrents that he can’t quite understand.
“What was that?” Lydia asks as they head for the long table set up with the food everyone had made or brought.
Stiles sighs. “I don’t know. I wish I did.”
Lydia hums thoughtfully. “I think I do.” She smiles sweetly. “But you’ll catch up eventually.”
Stiles frowns, and he thinks maybe he doesn’t see it because he doesn’t want to.
And maybe he doesn’t need to understand it right now. Maybe he just needs to enjoy what he has. He’s been working on being more in the moment.
“Right, well, I guess I’ll look forward to that day,” Stiles says.
Lydia gives him a look. “You’re not an idiot, Stiles. You have everything you need right here, and we both know that.”
“And that would be why you’re a genius,” Stiles admits.
“Good, we’re both on the same page,” Lydia says, patting him on the chest. “I like your pragmatism, Stiles.”
Stiles supposes that he has that going for him. If he has to be known for something, pragmatism isn’t the worst thing.
“Let’s get something to eat,” Stiles says in a bid to change the subject.
“Sure,” Lydia replies. “Avoiding difficult emotions is good for me, too.”
Stiles gives her a look. “I have a therapist for my difficult emotions.”
“And I’m hungry,” Lydia adds.
There are large foil pans full of grilled burgers, bratwurst, and chicken, as well as a variety of salads and other sides. He and Lydia fill their plates and then sit down near Scott and Kira by the fire pit.
At one point, before Allison came into the picture, Stiles imagined that he and Scott might double date. After Allison—after Kate—Stiles figured it was a pipe dream.
Over the last few months, though, he and Lydia have been out on a few double dates with Scott and Kira, and it’s been fun. If this is what his senior year looks like, he’s here for it.
He’s just afraid that the other shoe is going to drop, and he doesn’t know if that’s his PTSD talking.
Malia wanders over and sits down near Stiles. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah, of course,” Stiles says easily. “It’s a party.”
“I just wasn’t sure if this was a date thing or not,” Malia says bluntly.
Stiles suspects that Malia is always going to be on the blunt side, but there are people who will find that charming, the way most of the pack does.
“It’s not,” Scott is quick to assure her. “This is Derek and Parrish’s celebration, so it’s pretty safe to assume no one is on a date.”
Malia nods. “Okay, good.”
The way she says it has Stiles’ spidey-senses tingling. “Is something wrong?”
Malia hesitates, then shakes her head firmly. “No, I think I’m just antsy for the end of the school year.”
Stiles thinks there might be a little bit more to it than that, but he also knows that Malia isn’t one to talk before she’s good and ready to do so.
“Let us know if that changes,” Kira urges kindly. “We’re pack. You don’t have to suffer alone, and we’re all going through things.”
Lydia gives Kira a look. “Are you still going to Japan with your mom this summer?”
Kira nods. “Mom offered to take me, and I agreed. I want to know more about that side of my family anyway.”
By “family,” Stiles assumes she means being a kitsune, rather than her mom’s actual relatives.
“It’s good to explore your heritage,” Lydia says. “I’m going to join my teacher for a couple of weeks this summer as well.”
“Is your mom okay with it?” Stiles asks.
Lydia’s chin tilts stubbornly. “I’ll be 18 by the time I go, and my dad is paying for it. He does genealogy as a hobby, and I told him it was to explore my roots.”
Stiles approves of that kind of sneakiness. While he might have competent adults in his life who can handle things, that doesn’t mean everyone does.
“I think you’ll have a great time,” Scott says. “Sometimes, just having the space to really focus on exploring your abilities helps you dial in.”
Lydia nods. “That’s what my teacher said. She said it’s important to find my voice.”
“It’s a weapon, isn’t it?” Stiles asks. “Just as much as it’s a gift.”
Lydia nods. “Exactly. I know my mom is worried I’ll end up like my grandmother, and nothing I’ve said has convinced her otherwise.”
“I can sympathize with your mom,” Stiles admits. “I mean, with what happened to mine, I’m not sure I would have been able to embrace my magic if it hadn’t also saved my life. I might have just looked at it like a venomous snake waiting to strike.”
Moira is passing by as Stiles says that, and she wraps an arm around him from behind. “You have a great well of courage, mo chroi. I have every faith that you would have understood that it was a tool to master.”
Stiles appreciates her faith in him. It’s one of the things he’s come to rely on. “Thanks.”
Moira looks at Kira. “Trust in your mother, and in yourself. You’ll find the balance you’re seeking.”
Kira beams at her, and Stiles thinks that’s the magic of Moira. When she says something, people tend to believe it. “Thanks, Moira.”
“You are all bright lights,” Moira says. “Remember that.”
Stiles thinks they all will as long as they have the pack. With this kind of support, and closeness, there’s nothing that can stop them.
~~~~~
Noah looks around at the backyard and takes a deep breath in satisfaction. He has his pack around him, and everyone sounds happy. Everyone smells happy, too.
His eye is caught, as it so often is, by his son. He’s sitting close to Lydia near the fire pit with Scott and Kira, and then Malia joins them.
That reminds Noah that he needs to find a time to speak with Lydia privately. Her comments the other day about her mom had prompted him to look a little more deeply into her grandmother’s death.
He doesn’t have a lot of answers for her, but he can at least give her an update.
Brunski hadn’t kept a trophy from Lorraine, but he’d asked Kelly to look at the autopsy results and give an informal finding. Kelly had said that he didn’t think someone could have managed to commit suicide in the way that she did.
“I’ve been surprised before, Noah,” Kelly said. “But an actual medical examiner probably would have called bullshit.”
Noah just muttered, “Why am I not surprised?” and left it at that.
But he wants to give that update in person, so Noah will wait until they have a little more privacy.
Noah heads over to Derek and Parrish, where they’re chatting with Dave and Paul.
Derek smiles at him. “This is really great, Noah.”
“It really is,” Parrish agrees. “I was mostly just hoping to find a good job I could enjoy. I didn’t think I’d find a family, too.”
Noah claps both of them on the shoulders. “It’s good to have you both here. Parrish, you’re welcome to stay tonight if you want.”
“I might,” Parrish says.
“You’re both off duty tomorrow,” Noah reminds him. “So, party while you can, and your time off, because the hard work starts the day after that.”
The grins Noah gets in return tells him that they’re looking forward to it.
“That’s our cue to get going,” Dave says. “We still have a shift. Glad to have you guys full time.”
Dave pulls Derek into a hug, then does the same for Parrish.
“Isaac, Boyd,” Paul calls. “Can you bring the dogs home when you’re done?”
“Sure thing,” Boyd calls back easily.
Isaac and Boyd seem to have settled in with Dave and Paul, getting both freedom and loose supervision. Paul has taken Boyd under his wing, helping him prepare for the ASVAB and a life in the military, away from the pack. Dave has done the same for Isaac, and he grabs Isaac up in another hug before he leaves.
Isaac, who’s been skittish about contact until fairly recently, just laughs and hugs him back.
“Let us know if you decide to spend the night with the dogs after all,” Dave says. “So we don’t worry.”
“We’ll text,” Isaac says. “Have a safe shift.”
“Be good,” Dave replies, and offers Boyd a fist bump.
Boyd smirks. “Always.”
Dave laughs. “As long as you guys don’t get caught.”
Dave and Paul make their way out, stopping to greet people, offer hugs, and just generally be big brothers to the younger pack members.
“Dave is pretty much a perfect left hand,” Derek murmurs. “No one would ever expect that someone like him would fill that role.”
Noah smiles. “Well, I do like to keep an ace up my sleeve. I’m going to check on my kid and go to bed. Enjoy the rest of the party.”
He heads over to where Stiles is sitting with Lydia. “I’m heading to bed. Are you sticking around tonight?”
Noah aims that question at Lydia, who hitches a shoulder. “I thought I would,” she says. “If that’s all right.”
“You’re welcome here any time,” Noah replies.
He finds Moira and Noelani in the kitchen when he enters, and Moira smiles. “You’ve built a beautiful pack, Noah.”
“I don’t think I can take all the credit for that,” Noah counters. “Thank you for all the work you put in.”
Moira smiles. “Sleep well.”
Noah retreats into the master suite. There’s some sound coming in through the French doors that lead outside, but it doesn’t bother him. To the contrary, Noah quickly drops off to the sounds of a happy pack.
Noah wakes with the sun the next morning, and quickly gets cleaned up and changed into his uniform. It’s Saturday, and while he’s not in a hurry to get to the station, he has things he needs to do if he wants Sunday free. He wants to talk to Lydia before he leaves, so he figures he’ll get the coffee pot started and wait for them to make an appearance.
He finds Stiles and Lydia in the kitchen, and Noah is a little surprised that they’re already up.
“You guys okay?” Noah asks.
Stiles nods. “We were awake, and Moira mentioned working with Parrish today since he and Lydia both stayed over.”
Lydia manages a smile. “The house is really comfortable, Sheriff. From what Moira said, I think it’s probably the wards.”
“I’m glad you’re comfortable here,” Noah replies. He wants all of Stiles’ friends to feel at home. It means he can keep an eye on things.
He goes over to the coffee pot and finds it full. “I’m glad you’re here, Lydia. I wanted to talk to you about the Eichen House investigation.”
Lydia nods. “Anything you can tell me would be appreciated.”
Noah fills a mug and sits down across from her at the kitchen island. “Are you okay with Stiles being present for this?”
Lydia nods. “Yes, it’s fine.”
Noah doesn’t believe in beating around the bush, so he goes right to the heart of the matter. “We haven’t been able to find anything that would definitively tie your grandmother’s death to Brunski, but I asked the medical examiner to take a look at her records. He said he’s confident that no one would have been able to commit suicide in the manner she did.”
Lydia closes her eyes at the news, and she takes a deep breath, even as she fumbles for Stiles’ hand. “I think I always suspected as much.”
“I’m sorry,” Noah says. News like this never gets any easier to deliver, but he wonders if knowing that her grandmother didn’t commit suicide helps in some way.
Stiles grips her hand tightly. “She didn’t kill herself. She didn’t go crazy. She just didn’t have the tools she needed to deal with her powers. You do.”
“I know,” Lydia says, smiling briefly. “Thank you, Sheriff.”
“I’m going to keep working the case,” Noah promises. “Even if we can’t bring this specific crime to trial, I know there are other families who need closure.”
Lydia’s smile firms up. “I appreciate that.”
Noah takes a sip of his coffee. “I’m afraid that’s all the news I have. What are you guys up to today?”
“Moira wanted to work with Parrish, and the whole pack is going to be here this afternoon to study for finals,” Stiles says.
Noah finishes the rest of his coffee and puts his mug in the dishwasher. “I should be home this evening, barring any emergencies. What do you want to do for dinner? I can pick something up on my way home.”
“How about tacos?” Stiles suggests. “It’s been a while.”
Tacos are easy and cheap, and the taco stand now has a family deal where they’ll provide all of the elements separately, which allows everyone to build their own at home.
“Easy enough, kiddo,” Noah says. “I’ll let you know if something comes up.”
“Be safe, Pops,” Stiles replies cheerfully.
Noah ruffles his hair and heads out. His drive to work is a little longer now, but he doesn’t mind. Noah turns the radio on to a classic rock station, but keeps the volume low in case he gets a call.
He enters the station and sees Dave and Paul writing their reports from their overnight shift. “Anything exciting happen?” Noah asks.
Dave shakes his head. “All quiet on the western front, sir. Couple of drunks and a small-time drug bust.”
“I don’t trust it,” Paul mutters.
Noah shrugs. “Let’s just be grateful we have a little breathing room right now.”
“We’ll be heading out shortly,” Paul replies. “Have a good shift, sir. Are you off tomorrow?”
Noah shrugs. “That’s the plan, but we’ll see. Get some rest.”
He heads back to his office, knowing that he has paperwork to get through if he wants to take the next day off.
Plus, he can continue putting together the case into Eichen House. They’ve turned over all the information they were able to gather into Kate and Gerard Argents’ whereabouts while they were in Beacon County, and the FBI has primary jurisdiction at this point.
Noah gets through the requisition reports and budget reconciliation before there’s a knock on the door. “Come in!”
Tara pokes her head in. “I’m going to grab a sandwich at the deli, sir. You want in?”
“Yeah, I could go for a sandwich,” Noah replies, getting to his feet and putting on his gun belt. “I’m surprised I haven’t heard anything this morning.”
“Mark and I figured you wanted to get through some paperwork so you could spend tomorrow with your kid,” Tara replies. “We rode herd on the rest of them.”
“It’s appreciated,” Noah admits. “I’m going to go back over the data from Eichen House this afternoon.”
Tara grimaces. “I hope you don’t need me for that, sir.”
“I’d prefer to have you on patrol,” Noah replies as they step out of the station into the late spring sunlight. They’ve had a stretch of good weather, and Noah is grateful for a break in the usual rain.
Tara smiles. “Good.”
“I know how much you hate being stuck behind a desk,” Noah admits. “And there’s not a need for it right now. If that changes, I’ll let you know.”
Tara glances over at him as they cross the street to get to the deli. “You want Mark and me to take Derek and Parrish tomorrow?”
Noah nods. “That would be good. Dave and Paul insist they’re happy on nights, so we’re good on staffing for that shift right now. I’ll need to rotate Parrish and Derek onto nights at some point, so they figure out what they’d prefer. Right now, though, I’d like them to keep learning from you and Mark.”
Tara shrugs. “That’s good with us, sir. They’re both good kids.”
“We have a good team,” Noah replies.
They’re approaching the door to the deli when Noah feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His hand goes to the butt of his gun, and Tara—ever observant—asks, “Sir?”
Noah looks around carefully, trying to see if anyone is watching them, or paying especially close attention, but he doesn’t see anyone. “Someone must have just walked over my grave.”
Tara also looks around. “Mine, too. Do you think we’re being watched?”
Noah opens the door for her and says, “I don’t know, but it wouldn’t surprise me. Keep a sharp eye out when you’re on patrol today, would you?”
“I always do, sir,” Tara says. “And I’m glad you’re staying at the station today.”
Noah hates to admit it, but so is he.
