Reading Time: 88 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

 

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Chapter 3

Stiles’ steps slow as he exits the school, seeing Malia on the edge of the parking lot, talking to a dark-haired woman. He frowns, because he doesn’t recognize her, and Malia doesn’t have a lot of friends or contacts outside the pack.

It’s the first day of senior year, and classes went about as well as Stiles could expect, but this is something else.

The woman puts a hand on Malia’s arm, which is quickly shrugged off.

Stiles starts across the parking lot, and the woman sees him coming and quickly walks away from Malia. She hurries her steps, moving with an easy grace that tells Stiles she’s probably supernatural.

“You okay?” Stiles calls.

Malia shrugs. “Yeah, I’m fine. She was just some weirdo wanting to talk to me about her church or whatever.”

Stiles created the pack bond with Malia, so he knows she’s lying. He doesn’t know why she’s lying, so he just says, “Let somebody know if she bothers you again. We’re on the lookout for hunters.”

Malia snorts. “She’s definitely not a hunter.”

“Doesn’t mean she couldn’t be working with them,” Stiles says. “That hit man with no mouth had something going on.”

Malia sighs. “I get it. I’ll be careful.”

Stiles frowns and asks, “Did you need a ride home?”

“Scott was going to give me a motorcycle lesson,” Malia replies. “I was waiting for him.”

Stiles feels Batman’s nose press into his hand, grounding him. “Okay, I’ll see you later then.”

He’s really glad that Moira will be back today, because he could use the sounding board. Granted, he can talk to his dad and Derek, too, but he really wants to talk to Moira.

Lydia is waiting for him next to Roscoe. “Is everything okay?” she asks.

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know. There was something about the woman talking to Malia that I didn’t like.”

“Do you want me to go home with you?” Lydia asks, her forehead creasing in concern.

Stiles shakes his head. “No, Moira should be there, and you’re having dinner with your mom tonight, right?”

Lydia blows out a breath. “We’re having dinner together. She’s still not happy with my involvement in everything, but I think she’s realized that it’s my choice, and she needs to back off.”

“I hope it goes well,” Stiles offers. He’s had dinner with Lydia and her mom exactly once, and he definitely got the feeling that she didn’t like him much.

Then again, Stiles doesn’t need Lydia’s mom to like him. Lydia has established that she will do exactly as she pleases.

“Thanks,” Lydia replies, pressing a quick kiss to his mouth. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Stiles draws her in for a slightly longer kiss. “Are you still good to help with Parrish tomorrow after school?”

“Of course,” Lydia says.

Stiles lets her go then, climbing into Roscoe and heading towards the house. Cora decided that she wanted to pick up a job for her senior year, so she and Erica are both working at the movie theater. It means that Stiles is usually on his own after school when he doesn’t have judo or krav maga.

Batman whines from the backseat, and Stiles glances at his dog in the rearview mirror. “What’s wrong, bud?”

Batman lets out another, answering whine.

“Yeah, I’m a little worried, too,” Stiles replies. “But we’re going to get through it.”

Batman whuffs, as though in agreement, and Stiles is no longer surprised by just how much his dog seems to understand.

He normally would have judo tonight, but he’d asked Sensei OB to be excused, since Moira is just getting back. Sensei OB graciously agreed to let Stiles skip.

Stiles pulls up in front of the house and sees Moira’s red Prius parked around the side of the house, near the entrance she uses for the apartment above the garage.

He releases Batman from his leash and vest once they’re inside, since Stiles isn’t planning on going anywhere.

“Stiles!” Moira bustles up to him with her arms spread wide.

Stiles accepts the hug happily, and even though she only comes up to his shoulder, she still manages to make him feel surrounded in the best possible way.

“I missed you,” Stiles says.

“Oh, I missed you like the dickens, mo chroi,” Moira murmurs. “I’m sorry I’ve been away so much.”

Stiles takes a deep breath, smelling fresh herbs and a hint of ozone. “It was for a good reason.”

“Indeed,” Moira says. “Come into the kitchen. I decided to make something complicated.”

“Whatever it is, it smells delicious,” Stiles says.

“It’s a Greek dish, pastitsio,” Moira replies. “Depending on how many we have joining us for dinner, we might even have leftovers.”

Stiles knows how Moira works at this point. “Were you in Greece?”

“I was,” Moira admits. “I needed to do a bit more research on hellhounds.”

She goes back to stirring the pot full of sauce on the stove, and Stiles asks, “Did you find anything interesting?”

“I found a great many interesting things,” Moira replies. “Whether they will be helpful or not is another matter entirely. How have things been in my absence?”

Stiles knows that Moira likes to take her time mulling things over sometimes, and she’ll share when she’s good and ready. “Mostly okay.”

“Only mostly?” Moira asks.

“I don’t know,” Stiles admits. “Everything seems good, but I’m getting the same feeling I had right before the nogitsune reared its head.”

Moira grimaces. “Well, I can’t say that you don’t have good instincts, so we’ll keep a sharp eye out.”

“There’s also something going on with Malia,” Stiles adds. “She was talking to a woman after school today, and when I asked her about the situation, she lied.”

Moira frowns. “You’re certain of that?”

“I built her pack bond,” Stiles says. “I can’t say that I’d always know when a pack member was lying, but I know she was, at least this time.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Moira promises. “Even in a pack, though, people are entitled to their secrets.”

“Even when that secret is something like talking with the hunters?” Stiles asks.

Moira gives him a look. “Was she a hunter?”

“Malia said she definitely wasn’t,” Stiles replies.

Moira finishes up what she’s doing at the stove and comes to sit next to Stiles, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Then let’s trust Malia for now. She knows she can come to one of us if she needs help.”

“Right,” Stiles says. “You’re probably right.”

“Like I said, we’ll keep an eye on the situation,” Moira promises. “Between your father and myself, I think we can get her out of almost any kind of trouble.”

Stiles knows that much is true.

“I looked at your ward array,” Moira says, changing the subject. “It was a very pretty piece of work. The client is going to be happy with it.”

Stiles grins. “Thanks. I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

“You definitely are,” Moira replies. “And I have people who are asking for a repeat performance.”

Stiles frowns. “They know it was me?”

“They know that I have a student who is working under my guidance,” Moira replies. “And they were quite impressed, but I’m not surprised. You have a real gift with wards.”

“I learned from the best,” Stiles replies.

Moira pats his cheek. “You did, indeed. Now, catch me up on the rest of the gossip.”

Stiles tells her that Scott is giving Malia motorcycle lessons, and Kira has returned from Japan, and Lydia from wherever she had been.

That causes Moira to laugh. “She was in Wales with my friend, Sioned. I got her permission to share that information, by the way.”

“That’s your banshee friend?” Stiles asks.

Moira nods. “She prefers to keep her name and location private, but Lydia impressed her, and I’ve spoken about you enough now that she agreed I could share that much.”

She pauses. “I’m hoping that with what Lydia learned, we’ll get a little further with Parrish tomorrow.”

“I guess we can hope,” Stiles says. “Speaking of…”

“Ah, yes.” Moira closes her eyes briefly. “Hellhounds are known for protecting the supernatural. I believe Parrish would have been drawn to Beacon Hills, even if he and Derek hadn’t met.”

Stiles nods. “You already knew that, though.”

“I suspected it,” she corrects him. “But even though we know his likely purpose here, that does beg the question of what he’s protecting the supernatural from.”

Stiles frowns. “You mean that hellhounds typically show up when it’s something big.”

“That is what I mean,” Moira agrees. “I don’t know that for sure, since he might also be drawn here because of the Nemeton.”

“Or we could have a big fucking problem,” Stiles mutters.

“And with you feeling uneasy, I’m concerned that it’s more than just the Nemeton acting like a beacon,” Moira admits. “With Lydia involved in the conversation, we might get more information, though.”

Stiles is relieved that Moira is taking his concerns seriously. Not that she doesn’t always take him seriously, but there’s been no mention of his PTSD this time around.

Of course, his PTSD is about as under control as it ever has been, and they have a hellhound on scene.

Moira shakes her head. “Never mind for the moment. We’ll do the ritual again tomorrow with Lydia and the rest of the coven, and maybe Jordan’s passenger will give us a little more information than what he’s been willing to in the past.”

She smiles. “Anything else?”

“An occupational therapist at the hospital approached me when we were both at judo, and then approached Derek at the deli,” Stiles says. “It might have been a coincidence, but also maybe not.”

Moira drums her fingers on the kitchen island. “We’ll do a true seeing tomorrow. Perhaps we can at least get some answers on one of those problems.”

“You’re home for a while, right?” Stiles asks.

Moira nods. “At least a few months, I promise. I’ve made a few contacts who know the working theory behind creating a sanctuary, but we’re still feeling one another out. Hopefully, I’ll know more in a few months.”

Stiles is happy with that response, glad to know that Moira is going to be around for a while.

~~~~~

Noah is heading home, knowing that he’s going to be just a little late for dinner. He spots a car stopped near the entrance to their drive, just far enough away that they’re not going to trip the security cameras.

There’s no good reason for someone to be stopped in that location, and Noah slows down, wanting to get a look at whoever’s in the car and make sure there isn’t a motorist in distress. The car starts moving as Noah slows, though, and the tint on the windows is dark enough that he can’t see more than an outline of what looks like a woman.

Noah’s instincts are telling him that it’s suspicious, but he doesn’t have a reason to stop them. They could have pulled over to take a phone call or send a text message, and Noah certainly doesn’t want to discourage people from being safe.

He takes the turn up the drive to the house and sees Roscoe and Moira’s Prius parked. Noah parks next to Stiles, and heads inside, smelling something delicious.

“We’re just setting the table, Noah,” Moira calls. “You have a few more minutes.”

Noah stows his gun and belt in the safe in his bedroom and quickly changes out of his uniform. He’s not expecting to be called in again, although anything is possible in a town like Beacon Hills.

“Are we expecting anyone else for dinner?” Noah asks.

Stiles shrugs. “I’m not sure, to be honest. Scott was giving Malia another motorcycle lesson after school, but I think everyone else had a shift.”

“Derek was staying behind to finish some reports, but he should be here shortly,” Noah says.

“Anything crazy happen today?” Stiles asks.

Noah shakes his head. “It was busy, but just the usual traffic offenses, a few calls to report property crimes, but he had some paperwork to finish up from yesterday’s bust.”

They’re just sitting down to eat when the front door opens, and Derek calls, “Hey, I’m not too late, am I?”

“There’s plenty,” Moira replies. “Take your time.”

Derek has a safe in his room, too, so he does the same thing Noah had, joining them at the table once he’s changed. “This smells really good.”

“I hope you enjoy,” Moira says. “And when you’re done eating, you can come give me a hug.”

That pulls a laugh out of Derek. “Sorry, but lunch was a long time ago.”

“I’m never insulted when someone’s excited to eat my cooking,” Moira assures him.

Noah has to admit that he’s missed Moira. She adds something to the pack that’s missing when she’s not around.

Derek groans at his first mouthful. “God, this is good. What is it?”

“It’s like a Greek lasagna,” Moira replies.

Derek frowns. “You were in Greece?”

Moira raises her eyebrows. “Maybe I just like Greek food.”

“And maybe you were in Greece researching hellhounds,” Derek counters.

“I was,” Moira admits.

“Get anything good?” Derek asks around another mouthful of food.

“We’ll find out tomorrow,” Moira replies.

Stiles’ head comes up, and he says, “Something is up with Scott.”

“Like what?” Noah asks, thinking about the car he’d seen stopped near the driveway.

Stiles frowns. “I think they might have been attacked, but—they’re fine now. It was just a moment’s alarm.”

“Who’s with him?” Noah asks, because that’s going to tell him whether to call Dave and Paul and tell them to track Scott down.

Stiles closes his eyes. “Malia and Kira. I think. I don’t have a pack bond with Kira, so I can’t say for sure, but Malia is definitely with him.”

Noah nods. “All right.”

He can feel the bonds with Scott and Malia, too, and he doesn’t feel anything that would alarm him. He’s not as attuned as Stiles is, though, and he knows that in this sense, Stiles leads the way.

As a follow up, Noah asks, “Do you think I should send Dave and Paul?”

Stiles takes a deep breath, and opens his eyes, which are glowing gold. “No, I think we’re good, and someone is going to have to give Malia a ride home, so I think we’ll get answers soon.”

“Let’s get this cleaned up, and we can wait on them,” Moira says. “And if they take too long, we can call in the cavalry.”

They don’t have to wait long. Derek is handing off the last dish he dried for Stiles to put away when the front door opens and Scott calls out, “Noah!”

“We’re back in the kitchen, Scott,” Noah calls. Really, the kitchen and den are open plan, so Scott could have just come back, but Noah has learned that teenagers like to announce themselves unless they’re sneaking around.

Scott comes back, followed by Kira and Malia, his cheeks flushed with excitement. “We were attacked!”

Noah snags a beer from the fridge, raises an eyebrow to query Derek without actually asking the question. Derek shakes his head, and Noah pops the top off his bottle. “Let’s move this into the den, and you can tell me what happened.”

To his credit, Scott does exactly as Noah asks without argument and takes a seat on the loveseat, Kira sitting next to him, taking his hand. Malia sprawls on the floor, and Noah’s sensitive nose picks up some disquiet, but he doesn’t think it’s about the most recent situation.

But it might have something to do with that car he’d seen.

“All right,” Noah says as he takes his seat in his usual recliner. “What happened?”

Scott immediately launches into the story. “I was giving Malia some driving lessons on my motorbike in the school parking lot. Kira stuck around just to hang out. All of a sudden, there was this huge dude who attacked us!”

Kira nods. “I had my sword, and we fended him off.”

“I don’t think we would have been successful, but Theo Raeken showed up, and he helped chase the guy off,” Scott adds.

Malia snorts. “We were holding our own. We would have been fine.”

“Wait, Theo Raeken?” Stiles says. “Like, that Theo Raeken? The one we went to school with before he moved away?”

Scott nods eagerly. “He’s a new wolf. He said he just recently got bitten, and he saw us being attacked, so he wanted to help.”

Noah has been in law enforcement long enough to know that when something looks like it’s too good to be true, it almost always is. Something about this scenario is ringing alarm bells for him.

“Who bit him?” Noah asks, keeping his tone mild. “Because if there’s some rogue alpha running around, I need to know that.”

Scott blinks, as though he hadn’t even considered asking. Knowing Scott, he probably hadn’t. He’s good about taking situations at face value—which can be both a virtue and a flaw.

“We didn’t ask,” Kira admits. “I mean, he just helped save our lives.”

“It wasn’t the time for 20 questions,” Scott adds.

“Fair enough,” Moira says cheerfully. “I’m sure things were chaotic, and you probably had a lot of adrenalin going.”

Whatever defensiveness had been building drops away from Scott immediately at that. “Yeah, I just didn’t think about it, Noah. I probably should have.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Noah says. “What matters is that you’re all safe.”

Derek eyeballs Malia. He’s been pretty quiet tonight, but Noah knows that he’s picked up on the same signals from Malia that Noah had. “You are all safe, right?”

“I’m fine!” Malia says, and there’s definitely some defensiveness going on.

Noah catches Derek’s eye and gives a quick shake of his head. “That’s the important thing,” he says with finality. “Kira, what time are your parents expecting you at home?”

He and Mel have a deal. Neither Scott nor Stiles have a curfew as long as a pack member can easily locate them—well, an adult member of the pack. Both boys have location services enabled on their phones, although Noah knows that Stiles could locate Scott through the pack bond, and Scott could probably do the same if he tried.

Kira’s parents, on the other hand, are a little more protective.

“Oh, I called my dad before we came over and said I’d be home as soon as we were done here,” Kira says. “I figure I have about 30 minutes before he texts me.”

“Did you see where this attacker went?” Noah asks.

All three kids shake their heads. “No, sir,” Scott says. “Like I said, he took off, and it seemed like too much of a risk to pursue him.”

“You did the right thing,” Noah assures him. “But I’d prefer it if you stayed here tonight, Scott. Kira, if your parents are okay with it, I’d like for you to do the same. I’m not too worried, but it’s dark, and if your parents insist on you coming home, I’d feel better if I followed you.”

Kira grimaces. “Well, that’s going to freak them right out.”

“And I’m sorry for that, but I’d rather exercise an overabundance of caution given the circumstances.”

Kira nods. “I’ll call my dad. He might want to talk to you.”

Noah smiles. “And I’m happy to offer whatever reassurances I can.”

Kira gets up and leaves the room, and Noah looks at Scott. “Is there anything that you aren’t telling me that might be pertinent to the evening’s events?”

Scott shakes his head fervently. “No, sir. I swear! I have no idea who he was, or why he attacked us. He just came out of nowhere.”

“Did it look like you and Malia were alone?” Stiles asks.

Noah glances at his son, and he can see the wheels turning in Stiles’ head.

Moira quirks an eyebrow, suggesting that whatever line of thinking Stiles is going down, she’s following. Derek also quirks an eyebrow.

The benefits of having a tight-knit pack, Noah thinks. They have a shorthand.

Scott nods slowly. “I think so? Kira was in her car, calling her parents to make sure they were okay with her staying out a little longer. We were having a good time, and we talked about grabbing dinner somewhere.”

“So, he probably thought he had an easy target in the two of you,” Stiles says, as though that settled the matter. “I guess we can all be grateful that Kira and Theo were there.”

Scott nods. “So, can I bring Theo around?”

Noah can see alarm enter Stiles’ eyes, but he keeps his mouth shut tightly, probably not wanting to put Scott’s back up.

Noah decides to step in, saying, “Let’s treat this as a prospecting mission, the way we’ve done in the past,” he suggests. “I’m glad that Theo was there, and that he helped you. That suggests he’s a good guy.”

But it’s only a suggestion, Noah knows.

Scott smiles. “Thanks, Sheriff. I think he’s a good person.”

Noah definitely gets the feeling that Stiles doesn’t, but he lets that go. He can have a private conversation with his kid later.

Kira comes back in the room and holds her cell phone out to Noah. “My dad wants to talk to you.”

Noah takes the phone and leaves the room. “Ken, hi. This is Noah.”

“Noah, thanks,” Ken replies. “Is everything all right?”

“The kids were attacked tonight, and Scott tells me that Kira was instrumental in them getting away without injury,” Noah replies. “Out of an overabundance of caution, I asked Kira to stay the night. She can sleep with Cora and Malia. If you’d rather her come home, I’ll follow her in my vehicle just to make sure she gets there safely.”

There’s a long silence, and then Ken says, “I put you on speaker, Sheriff.”

“Is there a problem, Noah?” Noshiko asks.

“The short answer is, I don’t know,” Noah replies. “But Stiles has a feeling, and the last time he did, the nogitsune was on the loose.”

“I see,” Noshiko says. “Is Moira there?”

“She got back today,” Noah confirms.

“Then I think it’s for the best that Kira stays there tonight,” Noshiko says firmly. “I know the strength of her wards, and how viciously she guards those under her protection. I have no doubt that you and your pack are just as vicious, but—I have reason to trust wards made by someone like Moira.”

Noah chuckles. “We all feel better when Moira is around. Thanks for understanding, Noshiko.”

“I appreciate you looking out for my daughter, Noah,” Noshiko replies.

He ends the call and goes back into the den. “Your parents agreed to let you stay here tonight, Kira. I would very much appreciate it if you slept in the girls’ room, or if everyone sleeps in the basement.”

Noah isn’t going to do a bed check, but he’s also aware that they’re both underage.

Kira bobs her head. “Yes, sir. I don’t mind sharing with Cora and Malia.”

“Good, I’m glad you’re all safe,” Noah says.

“Let’s go downstairs,” Stiles says. “We can break out the video games and chill for a while.”

Noah sits back down and looks at Moira once the kids are in the basement. “What do you think?”

“I think we have our work cut out for us,” Moira admits. “I don’t like the fact that they were attacked, or that there’s a strange werewolf in your territory.”

“It’s a little convenient, isn’t it?” Derek comments.

“Convenient is one word for it,” Noah replies.

Moira glances at him. “What else? Because there’s another reason you didn’t want Kira driving home tonight.”

“There was a car parked near the entrance to our driveway when I approached,” Noah replies. “They got moving as I got closer, and there’s something up with Malia.”

Moira sighs. “Stiles said she was talking with a woman he didn’t recognize after school today, and when he asked her about it, she lied.”

“Well, shit,” Noah mutters.

“We’re all allowed our secrets,” Moira says. “Especially in a pack this size. But you may need to press her if it looks like the incidents are related.”

Noah takes a deep breath. “How do you want to proceed?”

“Let’s see what we can accomplish as a coven tomorrow,” Moira replies. “We might get lucky and get everything we need. If not, we could get enough information to get us looking in the right direction.”

Noah has seen just how effective magic can be as an investigatory tool when the supernatural is involved, so he readily agrees.

Moira looks at Derek. “I’m going to need Jordan here tomorrow, Derek.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Derek promises.

Noah finishes his beer and says, “I think I might go sit outside.”

“I’m going to head up to bed,” Derek replies.

“So am I,” Moira says. “Traveling wears me out.”

Noah tries to spend a little time out by the fire pit every evening he has a chance. Being out under the stars, hearing the hoots of an owl that’s nesting nearby and the sounds of small animals in the undergrowth helps him relax before bed.

It also leaves an opening for his pack members to come talk to him while there’s at least an illusion of privacy.

He’s not surprised when Stiles slips outside with Batman. The dog isn’t wearing his vest, so he comes over to Noah for ear scritches, and Noah is happy to oblige.

“What are you thinking, kiddo?” Noah asks.

“I’m thinking it was awfully convenient for Theo—an apparently brand new wolf—to show up to save the day,” Stiles admits.

“There’s that word again,” Noah comments. “Derek said the same thing.”

Stiles lets out an audible sigh. “Scott’s going to want to save Theo.”

“Save him from what?” Noah asks.

Stiles shrugs. “From whatever he needs saving from.”

“What do you remember about Theo?” Noah asks.

Stiles frowns. “They moved away after his sister died. He was always nice enough, I guess.”

“How old were you?”

“About eight, I think,” Stiles replies.

Noah nods. “I’ll put my foot down if necessary, but I don’t want strangers here at the house, and he’s a stranger as far as I’m concerned.”

“If he’s going to school with us, I’ll try getting a good look at him tomorrow,” Stiles says. “Maybe I’ll get a better read on him.”

“Just be careful, son,” Noah cautions.

Stiles smiles. “I will. I’m going to head to bed.”

“Sleep well,” Noah says, planning on staying outside and enjoying the peace a little longer.

~~~~~

They caravan to the high school the next morning with Stiles driving Cora and Malia, and Scott taking Kira on the back of his motorbike. There had been no time to grab breakfast, so Stiles passed around protein bars and called it good.

The thing is, Stiles isn’t exactly opposed to adding people to the pack. He formed the pack bond with Malia without a second thought, and he would do the same for Parrish if asked.

There’s no real reason to distrust Theo, especially after he helped Scott and the others fight off their attacker. But that’s just the thing—it’s an easy way to prove to the pack that he’s on their side, whether or not he really is.

Stiles doesn’t trust things that seem too easy or too pat, and things with Theo seem way too coincidental.

Lydia joins Stiles at his locker, and asks, “So, what was the excitement last night?”

“What makes you think there was?” Stiles asks, teasing her a bit, knowing that she’ll roll her eyes at him.

And she does. “Stiles, I know things, and I know Kira wasn’t planning on spending the night at your house.”

Stiles has to give her that. “Scott, Kira, and Malia were attacked when Scott was giving Malia a driving lesson last night. The guy got away, but a new werewolf stepped in to help.”

Lydia frowns. “Your dad hasn’t bitten anyone.”

“And I’m pretty sure that Satomi wouldn’t bite someone in our territory and leave him to run around on his own,” Stiles agrees. “Scott’s ready to declare him his next BFF, but I’m feeling it’s a little too coincidental.”

Lydia hums thoughtfully. “Well, either he happened along to be helpful, and it truly was a coincidence, or he helped plan the whole thing, right?”

“Exactly,” Stiles says, glad that someone understands.

“It costs us nothing to be friendly and civil, and everything to reveal information that ought to be kept private,” Lydia comments. “So, we’re friendly and civil while giving away nothing.”

“I’ll let you be friendly,” Stiles replies. “I’m going to keep him at arm’s length.”

Lydia pats him on the chest. “Your suspicious nature is part of your charm.”

“I wasn’t aware that I had any charm,” Stiles jokes.

“You hide it well most of the time,” Lydia replies sweetly.

Stiles rolls his eyes, knowing that he’s walked right into that one. “All right, very funny,” Stiles says.

“So, who is this paragon of virtue that Scott wants to be friends with?” Lydia asks as they start walking toward their first class of the day.

“Do you remember Theo Raeken?” Stiles asks.

Lydia nods. “Sure, he moved away after his sister died.”

“That’s who,” Stiles confirms.

“Just be prepared for Scott to give you the sad puppy dog eyes if you don’t immediately become his friend,” Lydia warns him.

Stiles is already well aware, and he’s prepared to face Scott’s disappointment, because he agrees with his dad on this. It’s better to let Scott do the trusting, and he’ll do the verifying.

“Well aware,” Stiles replies.

Lydia presses a quick kiss to his lips as they hit the point where they need to go their separate ways. “You probably know Scott better than anyone. Just don’t be too surprised when he puts his foot in his mouth in his disappointment.”

“So noted,” Stiles says.

Stiles doesn’t see Theo all day, not even during lunch; he almost thinks that Theo is avoiding him.

After the last bell, Stiles heads outside, and he sees Scott talking to Theo in the parking lot. He spares a moment to wish Theo were standing on bare earth, and not several inches of asphalt and concrete. The earth would have given Stiles some idea of what Theo is, and maybe whether he can be trusted. Standing on the concrete, all Stiles gets is a sense of wrongness.

But Stiles was already disinclined to trust him.

Scott is standing with Malia and Kira, both of whom are smiling at Theo like he’s an old friend, while Erica comes up next to Stiles. “So, what are your instincts telling you?” she asks. “Do we trust him or no?”

Stiles shakes his head. “He’s standing on concrete, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s avoiding me.”

“So, we don’t trust him,” Boyd says flatly.

“No, we let Scott do all the trusting, and the rest of us verify,” Stiles corrects him, cracking his neck. “All right, once more into the breach.”

He pauses. “But if Scott feels as though I’m disparaging his intuition, he’s probably going to get pissed.”

“We’ll handle him,” Isaac replies. “Don’t worry. The pack has your back.”

They cross the parking lot, and Scott turns his eager expression Stiles’ way. “Hey, Stiles, there you are. You remember Theo, don’t you?”

Stiles remembers what Lydia said, and he pastes a smile on his face. “Sure, Theo. Nice to see you again. Scott said you saved their bacon last night.”

Anyone who knows Stiles would know that his “hail fellow well met” act is just that—an act—and maybe Theo does, too.

If he does, though, his smile is warm, even if it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Happy to help,” Theo says easily. “I was just telling Scott that I was interested in meeting his pack.”

Stiles doesn’t even glance towards Scott, hoping that Scott isn’t stupid enough to tell Theo who the Alpha is. “Well, you know what they say about secrets. Three can keep one if two of them are dead, and we’re exceedingly careful.”

“Sure, sure,” Theo says easily. “That makes perfect sense. Especially with the attack last night.” He pauses. “It’s not you, is it, Stiles?”

“I’m just a squishy human in over my head most of the time,” Stiles says cheerfully.

Scott is giving Stiles a look like he’d just kicked a hundred puppies right in front of him, like he can’t quite believe that Stiles isn’t immediately accepting Theo at face value. Thankfully, he doesn’t actually protest.

“I should get going,” Theo says. “My parents are expecting me at home.”

“God speed,” Stiles replies, knowing that he sounds insincere.

He’s not getting any kind of a read off Theo, other than there’s something deeply troubling. And Stiles is always an asshole when he’s feeling uncertain.

Theo just grins at him and waves at everyone else as he lopes off—staying on concrete the entire way.

Stiles really doesn’t like that.

“What the hell, Stiles?” Scott asks, although he waits until Theo is probably out of earshot at least.

Stiles just gives him a look. “I don’t know him, ergo, I don’t trust him. You know this about me by now.”

“You don’t trust anyone!” Scott protests.

Stiles raises his eyebrows. “I trust you, I trust my dad and Derek, and I trust the rest of the pack. Everyone else is on probation.”

Scott rolls his eyes. “Stiles, come on! You can’t go through life suspecting everyone of being a villain!”

“Sure, I can.” Stiles says. “History suggests that I’ll be right at least 50 percent of the time.”

“You don’t even think people aren’t villains half the time,” Scott objects. “You could be a little more trusting.”

“I could also wish that I didn’t have PTSD,” Stiles shoots back. “And if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.”

Boyd slings an arm over Scott’s shoulders and starts whispering in his ear. Stiles doesn’t have super-hearing so he has no idea what’s being said, but he assumes that Boyd is telling Scott that Stiles’ cynicism is part of his charm. He’s glad that Boyd is short-circuiting a worse argument, though.

After all, it’s not really up to Stiles at the end of the day. It’s up to his dad.

Finally, Scott nods, and he says, “Yeah, I get it. We don’t know who could be a hunter, or related to a hunter, or otherwise out to get us. And the Alpha gets the final say.”

“Maybe if we could get him on the bare earth, I’d have a different answer,” Stiles says, offering an olive branch. “I couldn’t get a good read on him, and he stayed on the asphalt the entire time, Scotty.”

Scott frowns, glancing around. “Did he drive home?”

“No, he crossed the parking lot to the sidewalk and stayed on a hard surface,” Stiles says.

“It might not mean anything,” Scott objects.

Stiles isn’t going to argue with him, not when he might be right. He’s not, but Stiles can let him have the maybe.

“It might not,” Stiles agrees. “But let’s table telling Theo our pack secrets until we can get a read on him and my dad says it’s okay.”

Scott nods. “Fair. Noah makes the call. I get it.”

He doesn’t sound happy about it, but Stiles doesn’t need him to be happy. He just needs Scott to not give away the store to someone they barely know.

No sense opening the door to an enemy when they have so many banging on it already.

~~~~~

Derek wishes they could have a little more time with the pack being solid and peaceful. He can feel the edge of danger, and he figures once things start popping off, it’s going to be full speed ahead with no time to stop and take a breath.

He’s been around the block a time or two at this point.

At least his shift had been quiet, and he stops by Parrish’s desk on his way out. “Are you coming over?”

“Moira already texted me,” Parrish admits, his green eyes rueful. “I figured I wasn’t going to be let off the hook forever.”

Derek just raises his eyebrows.

“As soon as I finish up this report, I’ll head home to change and then be over,” Parrish promises.

Derek raps his knuckles against Parrish’s desk and jokes, “Just don’t make me come looking for you.”

“Moira’s scarier than you are,” Parrish teases. “And I already told her I’d be there.”

Derek nods and heads outside to his Camaro, only to be stopped by Noah. “I’m going to follow you home,” Noah says. “I think I need to be there today.”

Derek is a little surprised by that, but he trusts Noah and his instincts. Besides, they both know that Stiles has been on edge recently, and they remember what caused it the last time. They’d been lucky to get off as lightly as they had with the nogitsune.

Derek feels the hair stand up on the back of his neck as he approaches the turn off for the house, and he spots a car moving away. There’s not much traffic along this road, and he doesn’t like it, not after what Stiles and Noah had reported.

He parks and waits outside his car for Noah to pull up. “Did you see the car?”

“I saw some tail lights,” Noah replies. “Make and model?”

“Dark gray, I think a Hyundai Elantra,” Derek replies. “I couldn’t see who’s driving, and they had something obscuring the license plate.”

Noah frowns. “Well, whoever it is doesn’t seem interested in coming close to the house. I’ll check the surveillance, but if they’re smart enough to avoid the cameras, I’m not sure what else we can do.”

Derek feels compelled to point out a rather obvious fact. “You’ve got two right hands and a left one. We could always set up a deer blind and watch for it ourselves.”

“Maybe,” Noah says. “I’ll give it some thought.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that I don’t know exactly where the threat is going to come from, and I don’t want to tie up any assets until I do,”

Derek nods as he follows Noah inside the house. He stores his gun belt but leaves his uniform on, because he just has a feeling after last night.

It turns out that Noah has done the same, and he’s standing in the backyard near the magical circle. Stiles and Moira are setting out various accoutrements.

Danny comes around the house a few minutes later with Alana and Noelani, calling out, “Hey, everyone. It sounds like things are heating up again.”

“Let’s hope we can nip it in the bud,” Moira replies. “Jordan should be here shortly, but I’d like us to try a true seeing first, and then use the rune stones before we try the ritual.”

“Lydia said her ETA was two minutes,” Stiles adds. “I think the true seeing might be better done with her here.”

Moira nods. “I agree. Derek, Noah, I need you to keep Jordan here until we’re ready for him.”

“Is there a reason that you think he might run?” Derek asks, starting to feel a little worried.

Stiles exchanges a look with Moira. “I don’t think he’s going to see anything that will make him take off.”

Moira shakes her head. “No, he shouldn’t see anything, but— If we need to move on what we see, we may need to move quickly.”

“I think we will need to move quickly,” Stiles corrects her, his eyes going unfocused. “I think—I think the Nemeton is trying to talk to me again.”

“Why can’t it just do what it did before?” Derek asks, remembering that the Nemeton had given Stiles that vision during the thing with the nogitsune.

Stiles shrugs but says, “I think the more the older Nemeton fades, the stronger the tree baby grows, but the operative word is baby.”

Derek grimaces, and sees a similar expression on Noah’s face.

“We’re in a very delicate place,” Moira says grimly. “That’s why it’s so important to deal with this threat now, before it becomes more established.”

Lydia comes around the side of the house, and she immediately hugs Stiles. “Are you okay?”

Stiles manages a smile. “I’m fine.”

“Something happen today, son?” Noah asks.

“Scott reintroduced me to Theo,” Stiles says. “I didn’t feel any better about him after that, and Scott figured that out.”

“What did he say?” Derek asks.

Stiles seems reluctant to answer, so Noah gives him a hard look. “We can’t afford division right now, Stiles.”

“Scott says I don’t trust people, and I’m not willing to give them a chance,” Stiles finally says. “I said that I trust people who prove themselves, and I have good reason for that. Boyd started whispering in Scott’s ear at that point, probably to convince him to let things go.”

“We trust but verify in this pack,” Noah finally says. “And Scott can do all the trusting we need. The rest of us will verify.”

Stiles chuckles at that. “And I know you’re very good at your job.”

“I hope I am, and I have deputies who are even better than me,” Noah replies.

“And you can always sic me on him,” Alana says with a smile that matches Danny’s, her dimples flashing.

“Now that’s an idea,” Stiles replies. “One that I like.”

Alana smiles at him. “Just say the word.”

“All right,” Moira says. “We’re set up. Noelani, will you hold the space for us?”

“Of course,” Noelani replies.

Derek hasn’t watched a lot of the rituals in the past, although he has done so more often now that Parrish is involved.

Moira places the bowl that she’s filled from the fountain in the center. For this part, Moira sits before the scrying bowl, her hands on either side, Stiles’ hands over hers. The others stand around the edge of the inscribed line, and Derek and Noah stand on the grass.

The picture blooms above the scrying bowl, part of Stiles’ gift.

“This is the woman who was outside the house,” Moira says. “I don’t recognize her. Alana?”

Alana gives a firm shake of her head. “She’s not a hunter, at least not one I know of.”

There’s a certain cast to her features that Derek thinks he recognizes, though. “Malia’s biological mother is unaccounted for.”

“Oh, my god,” Stiles mutters. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“That complicates things,” Noah says. “All right, let’s keep that in our back pocket for now. We don’t know her intentions. She might want to get to know her daughter, and Malia might have a good reason to keep that from us.”

Derek can’t say that he’d hide something like this from his pack, but at the same time, he’s not sure what he’d do if his mom showed up and wanted to reconnect but didn’t want him to tell Noah about it.

Of course, he can’t believe that his mom would do something like that, not when she knew intimately how important the Alpha is.

“I can’t get a good view of the person who attacked Scott,” Moira finally says after a few minutes. “We’ll try the rune stones next.”

Parrish turns up then, wearing jeans and a green t-shirt under a brown leather jacket. “What’s going on?”

“Moira did a true seeing, and now Stiles is going to use the rune stones,” Derek replies.

“Does this ever get less weird?” Parrish asks with a grimace.

Derek thinks about that for a long moment. “Yeah, kind of.”

“We’ll get to you in a moment, Jordan,” Moira calls as she pours the water from the bowl on the plants that surround the ritual space.

“Take your time,” Parrish replies. He turns to Derek. “Were they able to see anything?”

“Someone we think might be Malia’s biological mom has been sneaking around,” Derek replies. “Noah saw a car parked near the entrance to the drive last night, and we think she was there again today.”

“Do you think that’s a problem?” Parrish asks.

Noah is the one to answer. “Could be she just wants to get to know her kid, but we’ll keep an eye on the situation.”

Derek notices that they’re keeping the same configuration with the rune stones as they had with the scrying bowl. Moira and Stiles sit across from each other with a white cloth between them, Danny, Lydia, Alana, and Noelani taking the four compass points around them.

Moira hands Stiles the leather bag with the rune stones in it. He tosses it a couple of times, eyes closed and a frown on his face. “Who is our enemy?” he asks before throwing the stones.

Stiles snorts after a moment. “Oh, thank you so much. That was super helpful.”

“What are they telling you, young spark?” Moira asks, sounding amused.

“We have many,” Stiles replies. He points to the four that landed face up. “Ansuz for deceit and manipulation in this configuration. Wunjo for alienation and disconnection. Algiz, warning. Othala, negative patterns.”

“What do you think that means together?” Noah asks.

Stiles drums his fingers on his leg. “I think it means multiple enemies, and I don’t think they’re going to come at us openly. They’ll try to manipulate and get to us that way.”

“I don’t disagree,” Moira replies. “What’s the next question?”

Stiles scoops up the stones and asks, “Where do we start?”

“Eihwaz, for the tree, algiz again, but for a group effort, and uruz for tenacity,” Stiles says. “I think—I think the Nemeton is trying to speak to me.”

“And who will be its mouthpiece if it cannot speak to you on its own?” Alana asks.

Stiles points at her. “A very good question.” He scoops up the rune stones and repeats the question before he throws the stones again. “Huh, interesting. Kennaz, the torch, and tiwaz, justice.”

Moira sends a look in Parrish’s direction. “Torch, as in fire?”

“I think so,” Stiles replies. “I think the stones are telling us that we need to do the ritual, but I have one more question.”

He scoops up the stones, and asks, “Will we succeed?”

One stone lands face up, and Stiles says, “Dagaz. Hope. There’s at least a good chance.”

Stiles puts the rune stones away, and Moira tucks them back in her seemingly bottomless bag. She then removes the white cloth that had been laid in the center of the circle and tucks that away.

Moira takes a much larger cloth from her bag, and Derek can see embroidered letters around the edge, and it looks like Greek. “Come sit, Jordan.”

Parrish hesitates before taking his jacket off and handing it to Derek. He settles cross-legged in the center of the cloth, moving gingerly. “This isn’t going to hurt, is it?”

“It might be a little uncomfortable, but I don’t believe you’ll experience physical pain,” Moira replies. “Lydia, dear, you’ll be anchoring the circle today.”

“Me?” Lydia asks. “I don’t—am I ready for that?”

“After your training this summer, I have no doubts,” Moira replies. “It’s your lineage that will be fueling things, not your magical ability—although there’s some of that, too, just because you’re a banshee.”

Everyone seems to have a specific place to sit around the circle. Lydia sits directly in front of Parrish with Moira to her left and Alana to her right. Danny and Stiles take up positions across from Lydia.

“Do you know the significance?” Derek asks Noelani, since she’s standing next to him.

“It’s a protective circle built on magical affinity,” Noelani replies. “Since this ritual is largely based on spirit, Lydia is anchoring the circle, as that is her affinity as a banshee.”

Between Lydia and Parrish, Moira has placed a brazier, and Lydia breathes out. “Oh, I see. We’re doing the connection ritual.”

“I was able to find confirmation that it can work for hellhounds,” Moira says. “Do you see why you’re ideal for this?”

Lydia nods. “I do. I can handle it.”

“I know you can,” Moira replies. “We all do.”

Lydia takes a box with some sort of dried plant material in it, which she crumbles into the shallow bowl of the brazier. “What I am is a part of me. What you are is a part of you,” she says as she lights a match. “My power is my own. Your power is your own. It belongs to you. Feel it in your bones.”

She wafts the smoke towards Parrish with a hand. “You need to connect to the hellhound.”

“What if I don’t want to connect to the hellhound?” Parrish mutters.

“When I embraced my power, I felt whole,” Lydia counters. “I’m a banshee. It’s who I am. Apparently, you’re a hellhound. If you don’t deal with it, it will use you, like my grandmother was being used.”

Derek can see Parrish steal himself, and his jaw firms up. “All right, I see your point.”

Moira begins chanting in a language Derek doesn’t understand. He’s not even sure what it is.

Parrish’s eyes begin to glow orange, and flames begin to drift off his skin. “Hello, Lydia.”

“Cerberus,” Lydia says pertly. “Are you ready to help us?”

“I was always ready to help you,” Cerberus says. “But I have a mission to carry out.”

“And what exactly is that mission?” Lydia asks.

“I protect the supernatural world,” Cerberus replies.

Stiles clears his throat. “If you know what the threat is, you could tell us, and we could end it.”

“You are powerful,” Cerberus says slowly. “Perhaps you could do what you say.”

“At least let me try,” Stiles says. “We want to build a sanctuary here.”

Cerberus nods. “So I’ve seen. Very well. I can tell you how to find them. There are three beings known as the Dread Doctors, and they use the telluric currents to travel. You’ll have to use the currents to find the Doctors.”

“What do they want?” Moira asks.

“To resurrect the Beast of Gavaudin,” Cerberus replies after a pause. “That is the other reason I’m here, to stand against the Beast. The Doctors will be trying to create chimeras if they haven’t already done so.”

Lydia frowns. “What’s a chimera?”

“An amalgamation of creatures,” Cerberus says. “A werewolf and a lamprey, for example.”

“That sounds absolutely horrifying,” Noah mutters.

Parrish’s facial expression doesn’t change as he says, “You are not wrong, Alpha.”

“Will you join with Jordan?” Moira asks.

There’s a long pause, and Cerberus replies, “If you can destroy the doctors, I will join with him. Until that time, though, we must remain separate so I can protect him and the mission.”

“Understood,” Moira replies. “We’ll do our best to take care of the problem.”

Cerberus cocks his head to the side. “They’ve been operating for hundreds of years. You might find it more difficult than you think.”

“I doubt they’ve ever had to deal with a spark,” Stiles counters. “But I’ll keep your warning in mind.”

The flames begin to die, and Derek quickly realizes that Parrish’s clothing hasn’t survived the fire. He dashes inside and grabs a throw blanket from the back of the couch. Lydia is closing out the ritual when Derek returns, and he throws the blanket over Parrish.

“Thanks,” Parrish mutters. “I got a lot more out of it this time.”

“Were you aware the entire time?” Lydia asks.

Parrish nods as he wraps the blanket around himself. “Yeah. I still felt like a passenger in my own body, but—less so. I can’t describe it any better than that.”

He accepts the hand that Derek holds out to help him up. “I hate to ask, but—”

“You can borrow some of my clothes,” Derek says easily. “Take whatever you want.”

Parrish makes sure the blanket is securely wrapped around his waist before walking away from the ritual circle.

Danny stretches. “So, the telluric currents, huh? How are we going to find these Dread Doctors with those?”

“The same way we found the Darach,” Stiles says with a little smirk. “We set traps on the ley lines, and we track them down that way.”

“Just so, young spark,” Moira says approvingly. “Every time we overcome an obstacle, we learn something that we can use to overcome the next one. Let’s take a break, and then we’ll reform the circle and get started.”

Stiles approaches Lydia, and Derek decides to go check on Parrish, make sure he’s still good.

He hears the shower running when he goes upstairs, so he sits on his bed, waiting for Parrish to emerge.

Parrish is wearing a pair of Derek’s joggers and a t-shirt when he emerges from the bathroom, and he says, “Thanks, Derek.”

“You didn’t even need to ask,” Derek says. “Are you okay?”

“I know Lydia is right,” he admits, sitting down next to Derek. “I have to figure this out, or it will use me.”

“With some luck, they’ll track down and end the Dread Doctors,” Derek says. “And then you and this hellhound can figure out how to integrate. Maybe you can figure out how not to burn your clothes off when you access those abilities.”

Parrish snorts. “Yeah, maybe. Honestly, I think I’d rather be a werewolf.”

“Maybe we need a hellhound,” Derek counters. “I’m not sure we’d have known about the Dread Doctors until it was too late. If the Nemeton was trying to tell Stiles about them, but wasn’t able to get through, things might have been a lot worse.”

Parrish nods. “Do you think they’ll be able to find them, whoever they are?”

“It’s Stiles and Moira,” Derek replies. “I wouldn’t bet against them.”

Parrish laughs a little at that. “No, I guess I wouldn’t either.”

Derek figures the smart money is always on Stiles and Moira, at least when it comes to magic.

~~~~~

Stiles takes a long drink of water and wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He knows they’re in for a long few hours of setting traps on the ley lines, and he’s hoping he can convince his dad to order something in for dinner, because they’re not going to be up for cooking.

“You okay?” his dad asks, putting a solicitous hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

“We’ve got our work cut out for us,” Stiles replies. “A lot of tedious, annoying work, but it will be worth it if we can find these assholes.”

Noah smiles. “How do you know they’re assholes?”

“Well, they have a hellhound after them, and they’re trying to bring back something called the ‘Beast of Gavaudin.’ I’m guessing it’s not because they missed playing fetch with it,” Stiles jokes.

“Fair,” Noah says. “I’ll call for pizza tonight. If you’re trapping the lines, no one is going to be up for cooking.”

“You’re the best, Pops,” Stiles says.

His dad pulls him into a rough hug. “It’s the least I can do since you and the coven are apparently cleaning up a mess before it becomes my problem.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” Stiles says. “Like Moira says, it’s part of the business of being magical.”

He puts his glass in the dishwasher and grabs a handful of chips to take the edge off his hunger.

Stiles heads back outside, Batman at his heels, and Stiles drops down to one knee. He presses his face to the side of Batman’s neck, not because he’s all that anxious about the work ahead, but just because sometimes he wants to hug his dog.

“Are you okay?” Moira asks as she kneels next to him. “We can set the traps tomorrow if you’re feeling uncertain, mo chroi.”

Stiles shakes his head firmly. “We can’t afford to let them do whatever it is they’re doing for any longer than we can help it. I just needed a moment.”

“Be certain, Stiles,” Moira replies.

“At least we’re not in the middle of a full-scale attack—yet,” Stiles says. “I’m certain.”

Moira gets to her feet. “Then, when you’re ready.”

He gives Batman one last pat, and gets to his feet. For this ritual, he’ll be anchoring the circle. Since his affinity is for earth, and he’s probably the one most sensitive to the telluric currents, he’s the best one to lead.

Which is the reason that he’s just a little concerned, if he’s honest. If they don’t catch these Dread Doctors, there’s no telling how many bodies they might have on their hands. Stiles thinks that’s what the Nemeton has been trying to tell him.

If they don’t stop these fuckers now, things are going to get ugly. Stiles feels that right down to his bones.

Stiles sits down at the northern point, watching as the others take their places. Lydia’s gifts don’t run in this direction, so she’s sitting this one out. Danny sits down across from him, with Moira on left, Alana on his right. Noelani is staying outside the circle to hold the space.

Besides Stiles, Noelani is probably the most sensitive to the telluric currents, and if they use those to travel, she should be able to know if they’re on their way.

In theory.

Derek joins them with Parrish, and he asks Noah, “What are we doing?”

“We’re watching them set traps and calling for pizza later,” his dad replies. “Just in case.”

Stiles figures having a couple of werewolves and a hellhound watching their backs is only to their benefit.

“All right, let’s do this,” Stiles says. “Spirits of the north, I invoke thee. Let earth guide us to those who would seek to do us harm.”

The others invoke their own elements, each of them putting their own spin on things, although all of them ask for revelation and cleansing.

Stiles then starts setting traps—the magical equivalent of tripwires. He thinks about how he’d known what was in the boxes, the resonances he felt, and he thinks he knows how to make the ley lines tell him the same thing.

Or at least how to ping him if there’s anything other than the coven using them.

He has to set each one individually with the coven’s help, trusting the others to help guide him to the individual intersection points, to power the ritual so Stiles doesn’t completely exhaust himself.

By the time they’re done, the sun is starting to set, and Stiles is tired, but not as wiped out as he could have been. He’s not sure if that’s because he’s getting better at this, he’s getting stronger, or something else entirely.

“That was good work, young spark,” Moira says approvingly. “I hadn’t considered creating boobytraps quite like that before.”

Stiles grimaces. “I hope they work. They’re designed to pick up resonances in the ley lines that the coven doesn’t create. I’m pretty sure I’d recognize anyone in the pack or the coven just by feel alone, but it might capture random magic users, too.”

“A random magic user shouldn’t be operating in this area without us knowing about it,” Moira replies. “So that’s all to the good.”

Stiles nods. “Shouldn’t I be more tired?”

“The strength that you’ve provided to the growing Nemeton is there to help you,” Moira replies, putting an arm around his shoulders. “That’s one of the reasons I allowed you to invest in it so heavily. I just wasn’t sure when it would pay off. I only knew that it would.”

“I could feel it,” Danny says, stretching and twisting to work the kinks out. “It felt like we had a lot more to work with.”

Alana hums her agreement. “It did, because we did. I’m not sure I fully realized just how much of a hindrance the old Nemeton was, which means our magic will only get easier.”

“We can hope, barring any other problems or magical corruption,” Moira says. “I would hate to count our chickens before they hatch.”

Noelani tucks her arm through Danny’s as they enter the house. “I’m just glad it’s my cheat day, because I want pizza.”

“Tutu, it’s always your cheat day when there’s pizza involved,” Danny says, sounding very amused.

“Why do you think I wait for Noah to order pizza?” Noelani asks. “I never order it for myself.”

Stiles grins at that. Both Moira and Noelani have a black belt in getting exactly what they want and making you think it was your idea to give it to them. Since they always use their powers for good, Stiles doesn’t even mind.

“Derek went to pick up the pizzas,” his dad says as they enter the house. “Should be here shortly.”

There are voices coming from the den, and Stiles knows that Lydia said she would stick around. He’s not surprised to find her with Cora and Malia. Cora and Lydia are chatting amiably, but Malia has wedged herself into a corner of the couch, and she’s not saying anything.

That could just be Malia. She’s been known to retreat into her own thoughts after a difficult day, but Stiles thinks it has more to do with what they’d seen in the scrying bowl earlier.

Lydia looks up as Stiles enters. “How did the rest of it go?”

“Boobytraps set,” Stiles confirms, sitting next to Lydia when she pats the cushion next to her. “Hopefully, we’ll know when they move, and then we can stop them before things get out of hand.”

Malia shifts. “What did you find out?”

“We found out that there’s a group called the Dread Doctors who are planning on resurrecting something called the Beast of Gavaudin,” Stiles says succinctly. “So, we’re going to stop them before they can.”

Malia’s expression doesn’t give anything away when she asks, “Anything else?”

Cora’s nostrils twitch. “Why do you smell like fear?”

“I don’t,” Malia says quickly.

“I can’t comment on chemosignals, but I can feel your fear through the bond,” Stiles comments.

Malia stands up in a rush. “God! Stop spying on me!” She rushes out of the den, then out the back door.

Cora frowns. “You’d think she never lived in a pack house.”

“She hasn’t,” Lydia points out.

Cora raises her eyebrows. “Uh, hello? She’s been living with pack for at least the last six months.”

“That’s hardly any time at all,” Lydia replies, matching her impatient tone. “And it’s her mom.”

Cora straightens. “Wait, what?”

Stiles sighs. “I’m not sure we were planning to tell the rest of the pack, Lyds.”

“Well, that’s stupid,” Lydia says with some asperity. “What will people know to look out for otherwise?”

Cora gestures at Lydia. “What she said.”

His dad comes into the room. “Malia isn’t ready to talk about it, and we’re not sure whether she’s a threat. We might not have a lot of secrets in this pack, but I do want to give people their privacy as much as we can.”

“Yeah, but my mom was worried enough about Malia’s birth parents knowing about her that she actually hid her with regular humans,” Cora points out. “I get that maybe Mom did things differently than what this pack would, but she didn’t act for no reason.”

Stiles lets out a breath. “Cora has a point, Dad.”

Danny comes in and sits in one of the free recliners. “I know what I would do.”

“What’s that?” his dad asks, and Stiles can hear the worry and the stress in his voice. He can understand why it might be difficult balancing duty to the pack with duty to the individual members of the pack sometimes.

And his dad is always cautious about parenting anyone who’s not his kid, even when they’re in the pack.

“Have my mom run a background check,” Danny says. “If she’s clean, you can give Malia her space. If she’s not, then you have a good reason to step in that has nothing to do with Malia keeping secrets.”

Alana enters the den. “I’m happy to do that, Noah. I just need whatever information you have on her. I’ll be discreet.”

Stiles can hear his dad’s sigh. “All right. I’m going to take you up on that, Alana, and thank you. I’ll go find her.”

Stiles clears his throat. “I think she needs time, Dad. Following her right now is only going to spook her, and she’s pretty deep in the Preserve right now. I think—yeah, she’s in the clearing where we spend the full moon.”

“She’ll be safe there, Noah,” Moira adds. She has a glass of wine in hand. “Besides, going after her and trying to haul her back before she’s ready will have the opposite effect from what you want.”

Noah nods. “Fair enough. I know how much Malia likes pizza. I don’t think we’ll have to wait too long, all things considered.”

Derek turns up at that point with Parrish and the pizzas, and they sit around the long dining table to eat. On days when they’re doing a big magical thing with the coven, it’s rare for anyone other than those involved and those actually living at the house to show up.

Scott has said that while he’s happy that Stiles has magic, it’s a little too far outside his wheelhouse for him to feel comfortable. The rest of the pack seems to feel the same way.

They’re starting to put away the leftovers when Malia creeps in the back door.

“Malia, grab a plate,” his dad says, his tone mild. “Have a seat. Let’s talk. You’ve probably figured out that Moira and Stiles saw something when they were using the scrying bowl.”

Alana stands. “I don’t think we need to be here for this. Noah, get me the information you have, and I’ll do what I can.”

Noelani presses a quick kiss to Moira’s lips. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, dear heart.”

Parrish also stands. “I think that’s my cue as well. Thanks for the pizza, sir.”

“You’re handling this better than most,” his dad replies. “You should be proud of that.”

Parrish flushes. “Thank you, sir. That—that means a lot to hear.”

Cora and Derek stay where they are, as do Stiles and Moira. Stiles understands why. Derek is the right hand, but he and Cora are also Malia’s family. Moira is the acting emissary, and Stiles will be.

Malia does grab a piece of pizza, but no more than one, and Stiles knows that she can polish off half a pie on her own if presented with the opportunity.

When she sits down, Malia sits on the edge of her seat, and Stiles knows that she’s ready to run again.

Noah turns to look at Derek. “I’m going to let you handle this, son.”

Derek blinks, clearly surprised, but he nods, apparently accepting that his dad thinks Derek has the better claim. “Help us understand, Malia,” he says softly.

Malia pauses mid-bite. Stiles thinks she was expecting someone to come after her hard.

“Stiles says he saw her outside the school, and we think she’s been parked near the driveway the last couple of nights,” Derek continues when Malia seems disinclined to say anything. “If she just wants to get to know you—”

“I don’t know what she wants!” Malia protests. “She says she wants to get to know me, but I don’t know if I trust that.”

Derek nods. “Okay.”

Malia seems to be waiting for the punchline. When it isn’t forthcoming, she asks, “Okay?”

“Okay,” Derek replies. “It’s your biological mom. I don’t blame you for wanting to get to know her, or for not completely trusting her. All we ask is that you not share pack business with her.”

Malia slumps in her seat. “I thought you’d be mad.”

“Why would we be mad?” Noah asks. “You’ve had a lot taken from you, Malia. If you can get even a fraction of that back, none of us here would blame you for wanting that.”

Malia heaves an audible sigh. “I haven’t told her anything about the pack, but she knows things anyway. She said she knows that I’m living with the Sheriff, and that I’m a were-coyote.”

“What did you tell her?” his dad asks.

Malia shrugs. “Nothing. I told her I was fine, and that you were letting me live with you since my—my adoptive dad ran off.”

Stiles frowns, hearing something in her voice that makes him think there’s a little more to it. Given that Malia had such a strong reaction to learning to drive, he thinks it might have something to do with the accident that killed her adoptive mother and sister. “What did you remember?”

Malia stares at him. “What do you mean?”

“I think you remembered something,” Stiles insists. “Something that’s making you uncertain about her.”

Malia hesitates. “I think she was there the night my adoptive mom and sister were killed.” She pauses and adds in what’s almost a whisper. “The night I killed them.”

Moira is the one to gently press, “Are you sure it was you? We’ve made some assumptions, but we weren’t there. If this woman was, then we don’t know for sure that she wasn’t involved in some way.”

Malia appears stricken by the question. “I don’t know. I thought—I’d done it.”

“You were a child, Malia,” his dad says gently. “But let’s just be cautious, okay? I think it’s natural that a parent would want to get to know their biological child, so her interest could be innocent.”

Malia nods slowly. “I’ll be careful.”

“That’s all I can ask,” Noah replies. “And if she’s bothering you, or you need us to run her off, you can let Derek or me know.”

Malia stares down at the table, and Stiles can tell that she’s starting to shut down. He thinks Moira probably senses it, because she says, “Why don’t you go on up to bed, dear? I know this is very difficult for you to talk about.”

She stands up. “Yeah, I will. Thanks for the pizza.”

Stiles figures even that is progress, as is Malia putting her paper plate in the trash.

Cora also stands. “I’ll go up, too.”

Since Cora takes her role as Malia’s cousin and protector very seriously, Stiles knows that Malia is in good hands.

Once they’ve gone upstairs, Stiles drums his fingers on the table. “I don’t like this.”

“Some were-coyotes don’t trust wolf packs,” Derek says slowly. “And if there were any irregularities with the adoption… Malia’s mom would have no reason to trust us.”

Stiles bobs his head. “Okay, yes, that makes absolute sense, but I still don’t like it.”

“All right,” his dad says heavily. “Derek, Stiles, talk with Cora and Erica, and ask them to help keep an eye on things. We should keep an eye on the situation, but we need to tread lightly.”

Moira clears her throat. “Stiles and I will know if she tries to come onto the property.”

Stiles knows there’s really nothing more they can do. They just have to be on their guard.

But Stiles has the feeling that all these minor problems are going to blow up—and probably all at once.

~~~~~

Noah sends Alana the information they have on Malia’s mother the next day. They have the name from the birth certificate Derek found in the vault, as well as the make and model of the car she’s apparently driving. He’s seen Alana do a whole lot with less, so maybe they’ll figure out what she really wants out of all this.

He’s willing to trust Stiles’ instincts, though. Noah gets the feeling that Stiles is becoming more sensitive, or maybe he’s getting stronger, and he makes a mental note to ask Moira about it.

Noah parks behind the station and heads inside, finding Dave and Paul still on duty, even though they should have been off an hour ago.

“What are you two still doing here?” Noah asks.

Dave looks up from his computer. “Sorry, sir, but we had an assault last night, and we’re still working on our reports.”

Noah doesn’t like the sound of that, especially after the quiet of the last few months.

Well, relative quiet, anyway.

“There was a scuffle at one of the bars, and a woman pulled a gun,” Paul replies. “She shot the guy who was hassling her, and ran before we arrived on scene. We asked the manager to send over footage from the security camera, and it should be here later today.”

Noah sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “How bad was he hurt?”

“He needed surgery, but Mel was working last night, and she thought he’ll make a full recovery,” Dave says. “We got witness statements, and the bartender was sober and gave a good description of the woman.”

Noah looks around his busy station, and is very grateful for his people, and the fact they’re in the know. He can trust them with the truth.

“All right,” Noah says. “Finish up your reports and then come see me in my office.”

“Uh, oh,” Dave says jokingly. “That sounds like we’re in trouble.”

Noah snorts. “Only if you’ve done something I don’t know about that you should be in trouble for.”

“Promise we haven’t,” Paul quickly says.

“Then you don’t have anything to worry about,” Noah replies. He likes giving his deputies a hard time on occasion, just to keep them on their toes.

With the report of the assault—and assault with a deadly weapon a serious crime—he knows there will be plenty of reports to catch up on. Granted, a crime like that could have had much worse results, and they’ve dealt with worse, but Noah has a bad feeling about all of this.

Maybe his kid’s worry is rubbing off on him.

Noah is catching up on everything that happened overnight when Paul raps on the doorjamb. “Come in, and have a seat.”

Dave closes the door behind him as they enter, and they take the seats across from Noah’s desk. “What’s up, sir?” Dave asks.

“I don’t know if it’s going to be a problem or not, but Malia’s birth mother approached her the other day, and she’s been seen near the pack house,” Noah says bluntly, knowing that he doesn’t need to beat around the bush.

“What does she want?” Paul asks, frowning.

“She says to connect and make sure Malia’s okay, but Malia isn’t sure she trusts that,” Noah replies. “And both Moira and I think there might be something more to it.”

Paul drums his fingers on his leg.

“Something you want to share with the rest of us?” Noah asks.

“It’s a legend among some were-coyotes,” Paul says slowly. “So, it might not even be true.”

“Some folks might say that werewolves are a legend,” Noah points out dryly. “And we both know better.”

Paul snorts. “All right, fair point. My mom always told me that there are some female were-coyotes who won’t have children, because some of their power passes on to their kids.”

Noah frowns. “Okay, so? Being a parent takes a lot out of anybody.”

“They think about it more like going from having the strength of an alpha, to having the strength of a beta,” Paul corrects. “Mom always said that most who wanted kids wouldn’t look at that as a bad deal at all.”

Dave stares at Paul. “Is that why your mom seems to resent the hell out of you?”

Paul shrugs. “I took her power, and I was a real disappointment, so yeah, pretty much.”

Noah knows that both Dave and Paul either left home or got kicked out, and that’s part of the reason they’ve sort of burrowed into the pack. Not that he minds, since having a couple of adults around has spread the load.

Certainly, he worries far less about Boyd and Isaac getting the attention and mentorship they need these days.

“I’m not sure how you could ever be a disappointment,” Noah comments mildly. “But their loss is our gain.”

Paul flushes a bit at that. “Thank you, sir. If you think it would help, I could talk to Malia.”

“We’ll keep an eye on the situation, and I’ll let you know,” Noah replies. “But I wanted to let you know what was going on in case it turns into an emergency.”

“We appreciate that,” Dave says. “And if there’s anything you need us to do—outside of station business—just tell us.”

Noah smiles. “I trust you both to know how to color inside the lines, or at least to cover your tracks.”

“We still celebrating the full moon, right?” Paul asks.

“We’ll all be at the pack house,” Noah confirms.

Dave replies, “I’ll coordinate our contributions with Stiles and Moira—and I include Isaac and Boyd in that.”

“I appreciate you both taking those boys under your wings,” Noah says. It’s not the first time he’s said it, but it bears repeating.

Paul smiles. “We’re happy to share the load, sir. Neither of us is interested in being parents, but we can help take care of the pack. If Malia is any indication, she’s not going to be the last foundling, and we’re just letting you know that you have help.”

There are two things that the last couple of years have taught Noah. The first is that he can’t do it all alone, and he needs to trust his pack—including his deputies at the station. The second is that there are times when he can use the law against their enemies, and other times he’ll have to work around the law.

But the pack is worth it. His pack is worth it.

“Like I said, their loss is our gain,” Noah says. “Get some good sleep, you two.”

Dave and Paul both duck their heads like boys, even if they’re not that much younger than Noah. Then again, Noah has some idea just what it means to have the approval of a father figure, mostly because he never had it.

Noah had sworn to himself that he would never withhold his approval from the people who deserved to have it, whether that was his kid, or his people.

“Thank you, sir,” Dave says softly. “Love you, too.”

Noah laughs at that. “Get out of here. Hug the dogs for me. I’ll see you on the full moon.”

“Number one Alpha!” Dave says, as the one who’s always ready with a joke. He’s also the one who always tries to get the last word, and Noah is going to let him have it.

Noah is still working through paperwork, including the requisition reports, which are the current bane of his existence, when the security cam footage from the bar shooting arrives.

Mark brings it back to his office and asks, “Do you want me to have Derek or Parrish review this?”

Noah shakes his head. “No, I’ll take a look. I have a better chance of recognizing them if they’re a frequent flyer.”

“You want company?” Mark asks.

“I wouldn’t say no,” Noah replies. “Two sets of eyes are usually better than one.”

The bar’s technology is apparently stuck in the 90’s, because the manager sent over a VHS tape, rather than a disc or a digital file. Noah keeps a VCR player in his office for just this reason, though, so he plugs in the tape.

The TV is angled so the best view is from the couch or one of the chairs across form his desk. Mark takes the chair, while Noah sits on the couch and presses play.

He’d checked Dave’s report to get an idea of when things happened, then hits play and starts fast forwarding. He watches as the bar starts to fill up, and it looks like a pretty ordinary evening.

“Looks normal so far,” Mark remarks.

“It usually does, right before it doesn’t,” Noah replies.

Sure enough, things pop off all at once, and so quickly that Noah has to hit stop and rewind the tape. Moving a little more slowly, Noah sees a brunette woman sitting at the bar, sipping from a high ball glass. A man approaches her from behind, then leans on the bar next to her, half boxing her in.

There’s no sound, but Noah doesn’t need to hear what’s being said to have an idea of what’s going on. When the woman glances over and away in a very dismissive way, the man leans in closer, clearly not taking the hint. When that doesn’t work, he puts a hand on her ass.

The woman pulls a pistol from under her jacket, presses the barrel against his shoulder and pulls the trigger. And then, as confusion erupts, she disappears.

Noah rewinds again to see if he can get a better view of her face. She stays angled away from the camera for the most part, though, as if she’s deliberately trying to obscure the view.

But there’s a half second where her face is clearly visible, and Noah pauses it there. “Can we get a screen grab of that and blow it up?”

Mark nods. “Sure thing, sir. Do you recognize her?”

“I do, actually,” Noah replies. “But how I know her isn’t exactly going to fly in a court of law, which is why we’ll be relying on someone else to identify her.”

Mark raises his eyebrows. “Do I even want to know?”

“Magic,” Noah says dryly. “But I’m pretty sure that’s Malia’s biological mom.”

Mark sighs. “Of course, magic. I low key hate it, even if it saved Stiles’ life.”

Noah chuckles at that. “You and me both, but you do get used to it, at least to a certain extent.”

“You going to take it to the school and do it there?” Mark asks.

Noah shakes his head. “No, I’m going to have Derek pick her up from school and bring her back here. Derek’s the closest thing to a guardian that she has right now, and I’m hoping she’ll be a little more comfortable in his presence.”

“Do you have a name, or just a visual?” Mark asks.

Noah pulls out his notebook where he’d written down the details from Malia’s birth certificate. “Yeah, a Corinne Waters.”

“I’ll get the warrant ready to go, pending Malia’s identification,” Mark replies as he stands up. “Once again, I’ll just say that it’s better you than me.”

“My life has been enriched,” Noah says, and there’s only a little bit of sarcasm in his tone. He honestly believes that his life is better for the pack, even if his worries have multiplied.

Mark laughs. “Well, not everyone could handle it with the grace you have, that’s for sure.”

Noah shakes his head. “I don’t know about that, but thanks. Send Derek in when he gets back from patrol, will you? I still have more paperwork to finish.”

“You got it,” Mark replies.

It’s a rare day when Noah doesn’t have much on his calendar, a day when he can actually work on getting through the paperwork that only the sheriff can complete. It means he might actually be able to get home in time for dinner and spend time with his kid.

Derek knocks on his door midafternoon. “Mark said you wanted to see me, sir?”

“I need you to pick Malia up from the high school after the last bell and bring her back here,” Noah replies, not wanting to beat around the bush. “There was a shooting at a bar in town last night, and the person firing looked a lot like the woman Moira saw in her scrying bowl.”

Derek grimaces. “So, Malia’s birth mom shot someone.”

“Maybe,” Noah replies. “We don’t know that for sure, since I can’t actually put ‘I saw her face in a scrying bowl’ in a warrant. If Malia can make a positive ID, then we can use her ID in the warrant.”

Derek nods. “You got it, sir. You want me to question her, or—”

“You’re going to be looking after her interests during the interview,” Noah replies. “I’m going to have Tara or one of the other ladies do the questioning.”

Derek nods. “Got it, sir. School should be getting out shortly. I’ll bring her straight here.”

“Concerns?” Noah asks.

Derek shakes his head. “Not after last night. Now that we have everything out in the open, and Malia knows we’re not going to kick her out of the pack just because her bio mom shows up, I think she’ll be fine.”

“Good,” Noah says. “Keep an eye on her, Derek. This is going to be a confusing time.”

Derek nods. “You got it.”

The whole thing worries him, though. He doesn’t begrudge someone protecting themselves, but the way she pulled the weapon—there had been no hesitation. To Noah, that suggests a history of violence, and that makes him wonder what she really wants from Malia.

And what she might do if she doesn’t get it.

~~~~~

Derek has no problem going as Noah asks, and he’s actually glad to have an excuse to speak with Malia alone. Maybe with a little privacy, she’ll be more forthcoming.

Or maybe she’ll be less inclined to speak with her mom knowing that the woman has a penchant for pulling a gun.

Then again, this is Malia, so that might actually be a selling point.

Derek enters the front office and smiles at the secretary. “Mrs. Jones, lovely to see you again.”

“And you, Deputy Hale,” she replies warmly. “Are you here on official business?”

Derek hitches his shoulder. “In a sense. We think Malia Tate might be able to help us identify a person of interest.”

Mrs. Jones clucks. “That poor girl. I just can’t believe her father would abandon her like that, but at least the Sheriff is a good man.”

Derek manages a smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, I can page Malia, or—”

“I texted her to meet me here,” Derek replies. “She shouldn’t be long.”

Indeed, Malia turns up about two minutes later, wearing a slightly sullen expression. “I got your text.”

“Come on,” Derek replies. “I’m your ride.”

“I thought I wasn’t in trouble,” Malia mutters as they leave the school.

Derek shoots her an amused look. “I told you that you weren’t.”

“You’re picking me up from school in uniform,” Malia says.

“Because I’m still on duty,” Derek replies. “There was a bar shooting last night, and the Sheriff thinks you can help him ID the suspect.”

Malia frowns. “Me? Why? I don’t—” She stops. “My bio-mom.”

“Technically, you’re the only one who knows who she is,” Derek says. “Noah saw her face in the scrying bowl when Stiles projected it, but that was magic, and not exactly something he can put in an arrest warrant.”

Malia frowns. “Why did she shoot someone?”

“You’d have to ask her that,” Derek replies. “I wasn’t there, and I’m not inside her head.”

Malia groans. “Why does everything have to be so fucking complicated?”

“Because life gets complicated,” Derek replies. “Do you want to tell me what your bio-mom really wants?”

“She didn’t give me anything other than wanting to get to know me,” Malia says on a sigh. “But she smelled—greedy.”

“Maybe ask Paul about that,” Derek encourages. “He’s a born were-coyote. He might know a few things.”

Malia grimaces. “Yeah, okay. I guess.”

“Totally up to you,” Derek says. “You want to tell me what you remembered?”

Malia sighs. “Stiles’ thing he does with the bond is really annoying.”

“It can be, but it can be really helpful, too,” Derek counters. “So?”

Malia drums her fingers on the car door. “Can it stay between us?”

“If it doesn’t endanger the pack,” Derek promises.

“She was there,” Malia says. “The memory keeps getting clearer. She shot the car. That’s what caused the accident, and that’s why I transformed. The accident wasn’t my fault.”

“It never was,” Derek points out gently.

“No, I know that,” Malia says impatiently, and Derek knows by now that she gets short whenever strong emotions are involved. “But it’s different knowing that she killed them. I wasn’t sure before.”

Derek takes a deep breath, and he now understands why she’d asked him not to say anything to anyone. “You can’t kill her.”

“Why not?” Malia demands.

“Because right now she’s wanted for assault, and we’re going to let the Sheriff decide how to handle her,” Derek replies. “Because that’s how we do things in this pack.”

Malia frowns but doesn’t argue, which is a miracle in itself. “What if the Sheriff can’t catch her? Or what if he can’t put her in jail?”

“Then the left hand of the pack will take care of it,” Derek replies. “That’s kind of Dave’s job, and he gets sad when someone tries to do his job for him.”

That actually pulls a laugh out of Malia. “Dave does pout sometimes.”

“Maybe, someday, you’ll have a role like the left hand,” Derek says. “But right now, that job belongs to Dave. So, we let the law handle it, and if the law can’t, then we let Dave handle it.”

Malia frowns. “Fine. I’ll leave it for now.”

“But if this woman is pulling guns on people, then I think you need to be especially careful around her,” Derek adds.

Malia nods. “I was already planning on it.” She pauses. “I thought—for a moment, anyway—that I might have a parent again. And then I remembered that I have all the family I can handle.”

When Malia says “family,” Derek knows she means pack. “Yeah, I get it.”

Derek pulls up behind the station in the county vehicle he’d been using for patrol earlier that day and leads Malia inside.

Tara is waiting for them, and she offers Malia a reassuring smile. “Come on. I have the interview room set up. We’ll watch the security video, and if you know her, you can tell me how. Derek can stay with you if you’d like.”

Malia nods. “Yeah, I would.”

Tara leads them back to the interrogation room, and Derek sits next to Malia, across the table from Tara. She’s set up a small television, and she presses play.

It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for Malia to say, “That’s her. That’s the woman who approached me at school, claiming to be my bio-mom.”

Tara nods. “Thank you, Malia. “Did she give her name?”

“Just Corinne,” Malia says. “But if it is her, the full name was on the birth certificate that Derek found in his mom’s stuff.”

Tara makes a note of it. “Has she approached you at any other time?”

“Just at school,” Malia says, rubbing her eyes. “Why did she shoot that man?”

Tara shakes her head. “Maybe she felt threatened by him,” she suggests. “But we can’t know for sure until we speak with her, and you’ve helped us identify her, which is the first step. We appreciate that, Malia.”

Malia nods unhappily. “What’s going to happen to her?”

Tara hesitates, then says, “I don’t know. Based on what we could see in the video, her response was pretty disproportionate, so she’s probably in at least a little bit of trouble. It also depends on whether she has a criminal record.”

“Got it,” Malia says. “Thanks.”

“It’s not something you need to be concerned about,” Tara assures her. “Unless you feel that she presents a threat to you.”

Malia shakes her head. “No, I don’t think she does, but if that changes, the Sheriff has already told me to let him or Derek know.”

Tara nods. “Good.” She starts to pack up her things. “Derek, the Sheriff told me to let you know that you can take off early to give Malia a ride home.”

Derek nods. “Thanks, Tara.”

“We look after our own,” she replies with a wink to Malia. “That’s what being pack means. Malia, I’ll see you for the full moon.”

Derek ushers Malia out of the station, and when they reach the parking lot, he asks, “Do you want to go home or somewhere else?”

“I told Asha I’d meet her at the library if this didn’t take too long,” Malia replies.

“How are classes going so far?” Derek asks.

Malia shrugs. “I don’t know. Fine, I guess.”

“Still thinking about taking a break after graduation?” Derek asks. They’re all careful about pushing Malia, knowing how much trauma is there under the surface. She’d been on her own—in were-coyote form, anyway—for years, so they don’t want to put too many restrictions on her.

Still, Derek wants Malia to know that he cares about her future, and that she has options. And that she can change her mind if she wants.

Malia hesitates at that question. “I don’t know.”

“You could take some time off to decide,” Derek says. “Or even just take a couple of classes at the community college to see if that’s something you enjoy.”

“Maybe,” Malia says slowly. “I just—didn’t have any thought about what I’d do in the future for so long, it’s hard to wrap my head around things.”

Derek can relate. Until Noah suggested he become a deputy, Derek hadn’t been able to give any real thought to the future. He’d been too busy surviving.

“When survival takes up all your mental energy, it can be really hard to make plans for the future,” Derek offers. “And sometimes it can be hard to switch gears, even when you’re safe.”

Malia rubs the palms of her hands against her jeans. “I’m not sure I am.”

“Is this about your bio-mom?” Derek asks as he pulls up in front of the library.

Malia shakes her head. “Not just that, anyway. Can’t you feel the uneasiness through the bond with Stiles?”

“To be honest, he’s always kind of felt on edge to me,” Derek admits. “It seems normal now.”

“It was better this summer,” Malia points out.

Derek frowns. “I guess I hadn’t noticed. It’s been building up gradually.”

Malia smirks at him. “You should pay more attention.”

“Maybe I should,” Derek admits. “Call me later if you need a ride.”

“Sure,” Malia says. “Thanks, Derek.”

She grabs her bag and heads inside the library. Derek watches until she’s inside, just to make sure she’s safe, and that her bio-mom doesn’t approach her.

Derek decides to head home, since he has the rest of the day now, and there wouldn’t be much time left in his shift anyway.

Besides, he could use a little extra time to get dinner started.

When he steps inside the house, he immediately knows that it’s empty, but he can sense Stiles through the pack bond. As far as Derek can tell, he’s heading home, and then—because Derek was open to it—Derek can feel when the trap gets sprung.

Derek feels as though he’s been hit by a ton of bricks, and he reaches for the kitchen counter to steady himself.

When his head clears, Derek immediately reaches for his phone and calls Moira.

She answers on the first ring and before he can get a word out, she says, “Not now, Derek. We know where the Dread Doctors are, but there’s a good chance they won’t be there long.”

“What can I do?” Derek asks.

“Call Dave,” Moira orders. “And then call the Sheriff. We’ll probably need the Alpha and the left hand before all this is over.”

She hangs up as soon as she says that, and Derek wastes no time in calling Dave.

“Hey, Der,” Dave says, clearly speaking through a yawn. “Something come up at the station?”

Derek takes a deep breath. “The trap Stiles and the coven set for the Dread Doctors has been triggered. Moira said to call you.”

There’s a pause, and then Dave says, “I’ll meet you at the house with my rifle. Are you calling the Sheriff next?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan,” Derek confirms. “I’ll let you know if Moira wants us at a particular location.”

“Sounds good,” Dave replies. “Let me know what the Sheriff says.”

Derek calls Noah next, and he picks up immediately. “What’s the problem?”

“Did you feel it?” Derek asks, staring out into the backyard.

“Hard to miss that,” Noah mutters. “Is it what I think it was?”

Derek nods, and then remembers that Noah can’t see him. “Yeah. Moira told me to call Dave and you. Dave’s heading this way with his rifle.”

“Don’t wear your uniform,” Noah says. “We’re not addressing this problem as law enforcement officers.”

“Yes, sir,” Derek says. “I’ll change.”

“I’ll meet you at the house unless I hear differently from Moira,” Noah says. “Stiles should be there in a few minutes.”

The call ends, and he runs upstairs and quickly strips out of his uniform, hanging it neatly in the closet, before pulling on a pair of dark jeans and his leather jacket over the black t-shirt he’d been wearing underneath his uniform shirt.

He can hear the front door open, and Stiles calls, “Derek!”

“I’m on my way,” Derek calls back.

He heads downstairs and finds Stiles in the kitchen, guzzling from a bottle of water. “Moira’s on her way,” Stiles says. “We know where they are now, but I think it would be better to wait until it’s dark to try and stop them.”

“If they move, can you find them again?” Derek asks.

Stiles nods. “I have the feel of them now. They use the telluric currents to travel, which means I’m going to know exactly where they wind up next.”

Derek takes a deep breath. “Okay, good. Dave’s on his way, and so is your dad.”

Stiles nods and finishes up his bottle of water. “I figured. Moira and Noelani should be here soon, too.”

“Are you okay?” Derek asks.

Stiles blows out a breath. “Yeah, I’m fine. Having that trap get triggered felt like getting punched in the face, but if we can stop them, it will be worth it.”

Derek looks him over carefully, looking for any signs of strain, but Stiles seems more resolute than anything else. He’s noticed that Stiles might be a mess of nerves in the lead up to an emergency, or immediately after, but he’s cool as a cucumber during.

“I’m using the breathing techniques Jack’s taught both of us,” Stiles says knowingly.

Derek smiles. “I never worry about you losing your cool during.”

“At least if I’m not being threatened with cutting off a limb,” Stiles jokes.

The front door opens, and Moira calls out, “Boys!”

“In the kitchen,” Stiles responds.

Moira comes through with Noelani, Parrish trailing them with a confused expression on his face. “Look who I ran into when I was pulling up,” she says.

Parrish is still in uniform, and Derek says, “Noah said no uniforms.”

Parrish frowns, then looks down at himself. “Oh, yeah. I should change.”

He doesn’t immediately move, and Noelani puts her hand on his arm. “Do you have a change of clothing in your truck?”

That question seems to get through the fog. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll go grab it.”

Derek sends Moira a questioning look, and she says, “The Hellhound has been triggered, which probably doesn’t mean anything good.”

Moira turns to Stiles. “Do you have that map of the telluric currents?”

Stiles nods. “It’s in my room. I’ll grab it.”

“What are we looking at, Moira?” Derek asks.

“The Dread Doctors have used some sort of combination of magic and science to prolong their lives, so I’m not entirely certain,” Moira admits. “We’re bringing the whole coven, plus ‘wolves to this fight.”

Parrish heads up the stairs with his duffel bag, and Derek wonders if his clothing is going to survive the confrontation.

Stiles returns with the map, and they spread it out on the kitchen island as he starts to trace the lines representing those currents on the map. “They’re here,” Stiles says, pointing. “But—I think they’re underground.”

Moira nods. “I agree. I think the Nemeton is working hard to tell you what you need to know, Stiles.”

Stiles grimaces. “Yeah, I just hope the tree baby doesn’t hurt itself.”

“Right now, it’s pure,” Noelani says. “If these Dread Doctors can accomplish their aims, it could end up be polluting the ley lines again—possibly even worse than the nogitsune did.”

Parrish comes downstairs, looking a little more alert. “Sorry about earlier. I think—Cerberus was getting pretty heavy handed about me showing up here. It’s a little better now.”

“They’re going to be a lot harder to stop underground,” Stiles points out. “A sniper rifle isn’t going to do us much good.”

“We can wait for them to move to a more advantageous location,” Parrish says.

Dave is the next to arrive, with Paul in tow, his sniper rifle in a case slung over his shoulder. “What are we looking at?”

“Three targets, unknown capabilities,” Moira admits. “They’re using the telluric currents to move around, and we set up traps to alert us when they’re moving. Right now, we think they’re underground, probably at the old power plant.”

Stiles taps the map. “Not exactly an ideal location for an ambush.”

Dave snorts. “You’re not wrong. It would be a lot easier with a clear line of sight.”

Stiles closes his eyes, keeping one hand on the map, his other hand drifting to the top of Batman’s head. “They’re getting ready to move, I think.”

“Do you have any idea where they’re going?” Noelani asks.

Stiles frowns, then gives a negative shake of his head. “No. It might be easier to figure it out if we knew their ultimate aim, but I’m not sure about that either.”

Noah comes through the front door still in uniform, and he says, “Let me get changed.”

“We’re still waiting on Danny, Lydia, and Alana,” Noelani says. “We need the whole coven for this.”

Noah nods and retreats to his bedroom.

“I’ve never been involved in anything like this,” Parrish mutters. “What are we doing?”

“We’re stopping a threat before it becomes more than what we can handle,” Moira replies firmly. “And these aren’t people we can put in prison, so we’ll deal with the supernatural threat they present.”

Dave frowns. “Too bad we can’t deal with the hunters the same way.”

“That’s not off the table,” Derek replies. “Depending on how much of a problem they end up being.”

Noah joins them, wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a canvas jacket. Derek catches sight of his service weapon in a concealed shoulder holster. “How quickly can the targets move?”

“Pretty fast,” Stiles admits. “At least, that’s my sense, and I—I don’t know what this gift means.”

He shoots a look at Moira, who just shrugs. “Between your connection to the earth and your connection to the Nemeton, we’re in uncharted waters here, young spark. Just follow your instincts. I don’t think they’ll steer you wrong.”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Right. No pressure.”

“No pressure,” Noah insists. “We’re dealing with this as a pack, Stiles.”

Stiles nods. “I understand.”

“We’ll see if the rest of the coven being here can help clarify things,” Moira says. “It might.”

Derek figures that once again Stiles and Moira are going to pull a rabbit out of their hat, and it’s impressive. He’s still a little worried that they’re going to get too used to it, and it will come back to bite them in the ass.

But they’ve always come through in the past, so he doesn’t want to doubt them.

Lydia, Danny, and Alana all arrive together, and they join the others in staring at the map of the telluric currents.

“Maybe I should have done that research project after all,” Danny jokes. “I’d be better prepared.”

“Is anyone prepared for the Dread Doctor Inquisition?” Stiles jokes right back.

Moira is smiling as she says, “All right, let’s focus in on the map and see if their movements can tell us anything about where they’re going next. Hopefully, it’s a spot where we can set up an ambush.”

They don’t set up the circle this time. Instead, Moira waves Parrish over. “Come, you can join us.”

“I don’t—me?” Parrish asks.

“You’re connected to the dead, you and Lydia both,” Moira insists. “Maybe you don’t have magic, but you are supernatural.”

Parrish doesn’t seem convinced, but he gamely holds out a hand, which Danny grabs. Moira takes his other hand, then holds out a hand to Lydia. One by one, they link up in a circle to stand around the map, and Stiles says, “Did you feel the trap spring earlier?”

Danny nods. “Felt like I got punched in the face.”

“Yeah, right under that punch was the feeling of them moving through the telluric currents,” Stiles says. “Just—follow me.”

Danny grins crookedly. “You know I will.”

Stiles’ eyes warm. “Yeah, I know.”

“We’ll all follow you,” Moira says. “Lead the way.”

Stiles closes his eyes, and the rest of the coven—including Parrish and Lydia—follow suit. It’s not as though Derek can see what it is they’re doing. It just looks like a bunch of people standing around a map holding hands with their eyes closed.

Then Stiles’ eyes open, and they’re glowing beta-gold. “They’ve been moving back and forth between the old power plant and various homes. I think they’ll go back to the same location tonight as they were last night.”

“How sure are you, mo chroi?” Moira asks.

Stiles makes a face. “About ninety percent.”

“Good enough for me,” Dave mutters.

Moira looks at Noelani. “Can you tell?”

“I think Stiles is correct,” Noelani says.

Danny nods. “Same.”

Parrish’s expression is still confused, but he says. “I don’t know how I know, but yeah. I know where they’re going to be.”

“Good enough for me, too,” Noah says. “Where is this?”

Stiles points to a place on the map, and Noah leans in to get a better look. “I think I know who lives there.”

“Who?” Paul asks.

“The defense attorney, Stewart,” Noah replies.

“Cora is dating his daughter,” Derek comments. “She was going over there tonight.”

Stiles frowns, his eyes still glowing. “Text her. Tell her there’s a pack emergency, and we need her home.”

Derek gives him a look. “She’s not going to like that.”

“Maybe not, but I don’t think we want Cora anywhere near this,” Stiles says.

“I’ll tell her she should take Tracy out somewhere,” Derek replies, but Stiles gives a quick shake of his head.

“They’re targeting someone at that residence, Der,” Stiles says regretfully. “I don’t know who, and I don’t know why, but I know they are. It might be Tracy’s dad, but it could be Tracy, too.”

Derek frowns at him. “Then we should get Tracy out of there.”

“If we did that, we could end up redirecting the Dread Doctors, which would sort of ruin our plans of an ambush,” Stiles counters. “And also draw them to whatever location Cora chooses.”

“Thinking about drawing them somewhere else is giving me the urge to scream,” Lydia says, her voice tense.

Stiles looks at her. “But no urge if we go there?”

Lydia thinks about it for a moment. “Not for anyone in this room.”

“Good enough,” Noah says. “Let’s gear up. Stiles, come with me.”

Derek wonders what Noah’s up to, and then Noah adds, “Derek, Parrish, if you don’t have appropriate holsters for your weapons, let me know. I might be able to find something that works.”

Derek frowns and glances at Parrish. “I’ve got you,” Parrish replies. “I keep a few things in my truck.”

Derek follows Parrish outside to his truck, and Parrish opens a large, metal toolbox in the bed. Only, instead of tools, there are—a lot of weapons.

“Is this legal?” Derek asks.

“I have permits for all of them,” Parrish replies. “But it’s really only a few guns, a couple of combat knives, and a variety of other things I might need in an emergency.”

That includes a truly impressive first aid kit that wouldn’t have been out of place on a battlefield, and a couple of holsters that will hold their service weapons and can be strapped to their thighs.

“You can keep that one,” Parrish says. “It’s my spare.”

Derek shrugs and buckles it on. “Thanks. What do you think about all of this?”

“I think I’m living in a crazy world,” Parrish says. “But then I’ve known that since I got sent to a war zone. What are you thinking?”

“I’ve been involved in crazier shit,” Derek admits.

“Like what?” Parrish asks.

“The alpha pack, getting my sister back, getting magically roofied by an evil druid,” Derek trails off. “Need I go on?”

“Please don’t,” Parrish replies. “How bad do you think this is going to be?”

Derek shrugs. “If we all survive, I’ll be happy.”

Parrish sighs. “Yeah, that’s about how I feel, too.”

~~~~~

Stiles is on his way back to the pack house when he feels the trap being sprung. He immediately pulls over to the side of the road with a sharp turn of the wheel.

Batman whines from the backseat, and Stiles manages to say, “I’m good, bud. We’re good.”

He thinks they’re good, anyway. The trap has been triggered, and Stiles gets smacked in the face with the Nemeton’s alarm. Ever since working with the ley lines, he’s had a better idea of the shape of the threat, although he doesn’t think the Dread Doctors are the only one they have to worry about.

Stiles hasn’t forgotten about the hunters, or about Malia’s bio-mom, and there might be others, too.

Right now, though, they need to figure out how to take out the Dread Doctors.

He calls Moira, who immediately asks, “Are you safe?”

“I pulled over as soon as I felt it,” Stiles admits. “I was on my way back to the pack house.”

Moira hums thoughtfully. “The trap was sprung at a very particular node.”

“I know,” Stiles replies, closing his eyes and feeling for the current nearest to him. “I don’t know what they’ve been up to, but I doubt it’s anything good.”

“No, I’m sure it’s not,” Moira replies. “But now that we know where they are, and have a better sense of how they move through the currents, we may be able to figure out where they’re heading next.” She pauses. “Derek is calling. Head to the house and we’ll regroup there.”

She hangs up before Stiles can reply, and he blows out a breath. “Right, well, ready for another adventure, Batman?”

Batman whuffs at him, and Stiles looks over his shoulder to see Batman’s doggy grin.

“I know I can always count on you,” Stiles says.

He puts Roscoe in drive and heads for the house, parking next to Derek’s Camaro and going inside with Batman. He grabs a bottle of water out of the fridge and starts to guzzle it.

Over the next thirty minutes or so, the necessary parties start filtering in. Stiles isn’t surprised at who shows up: the coven, including Lydia and Parrish, as well as his dad, Dave, Paul, and Derek.

Stiles is operating out of instinct as they look at the map and make their plans. He feels strongly that they shouldn’t confront the Dread Doctors in their underground lair, but rather out in the open—or as close to open as they can get.

He’s not sure he would ever quite be able to explain what he feels from the telluric currents. Maybe the feeling is akin to what a spider feels when a fly lands on the web, a sort of trembling vibration that he feels in his bones.

From those currents, and from his connection with the earth and the new Nemeton, and with the help of his coven, Stiles gets a sense for where they had been going most recently.

As they formulate a plan, Stiles can tell that Derek isn’t thrilled with texting Cora to come home and leave Tracy at her house.

But again, Stiles’ instincts are screaming at him that Tracy’s house is the target location, and that trying to track down the Dread Doctors somewhere else is just going to lead to death.

More deaths, anyway. Stiles thinks there have already been several, although he’s not sure.

Stiles half-expects his dad to at least make a token request for Stiles to stay home, but instead, he asks Stiles to follow him back to the master bedroom.

“I’m not doing this lightly,” his dad says, sounding a little grim. “But I understand that this is a supernatural threat, and not something that I can arrest and put in jail. Because it’s supernatural, you’re going to be involved.”

Stiles stares at the floor. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Your magic is part of you, and this is part of our lives now,” Noah says. “I know you have skills, but I want you to have more protection.”

Stiles watches as his dad opens the safe he uses for his guns. Besides the Glock he carries for work, Stiles knows his dad has several other weapons, including a Sig Sauer Stiles has practiced with on the range.

Noah hands him the Sig, already in a leather holster. “This is just in case. Be careful handling it. If you cause damage that I can’t easily explain, it could cause problems.”

Stiles straps on the weapon, the holster landing just above his right hip, easily covered by his flannel shirt. “I understand. I’ll be careful, and I’ll only use it if I don’t have another option.”

His dad pulls him in for a rough hug. “I know you have a good head on your shoulders, kiddo. I’m just asking that you use it.”

Stiles hugs him back tightly. “I know.”

“I wish you didn’t have to be in the middle of this sort of thing, but better to nip this in the bud before things get worse,” Noah adds.

Stiles pulls back, and he says, “I’m sorry we can’t pull Tracy out of there, too.”

“I understand your reasoning, and I agree with it,” Noah replies. “Let’s hope we can stop them without any corollary damage.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees. The weight of the gun feels unfamiliar, and is not entirely comfortable, but he’s glad to have it.

When they emerge from the master bedroom, Derek and Parrish both have thigh holsters strapped on, which—

Stiles might be dating Lydia, but he’s not blind, and he’s not entirely straight. Seeing the two of them armed is doing something to Stiles’ insides.

Dave has the case holding his sniper rifle open on the kitchen island, and he’s checking the sight and the magazine. He’s wearing a green Army shirt that stretches across his broad shoulders, and Paul is leaning on the counter next to him, wearing a blue t-shirt.

And really, everyone in Stiles’ pack is just ridiculously attractive, so Stiles shunts it aside and focuses on the task at hand.

“How are we doing this?” Stiles asks.

“Dave and I are going to go over and get set up,” Paul says. “We’ll find a location, and I’ll be his spotter.”

Noah nods. “Good. Derek, Parrish, go with them and take support positions near the Stewarts’ house. I’ll stick with the coven.”

“What are we looking at with these Dread Doctors?” Parrish asks. “If we shoot them, will it do any good?”

Moira grimaces. “The short answer is that we don’t know. We’ll try magic, and Stiles’ strength is likely to come into play, but beyond that, we’ll have to play it by ear.”

“My rifle will punch a hole in just about anything,” Dave asserts. “And if I need to put several holes in them, I can do that.”

His dad gives him a warning look. “Just make sure we don’t wind up with secondary casualties.”

Dave offers a sloppy salute. “You got it, sir. Everyone other than the Dread Doctors will be safe as houses.”

“From your lips to god’s ears,” his dad mutters.

Derek clears his throat. “Cora is on her way back. Judging by the emojis, she’s not exactly happy about it, but she’s coming.”

Noah nods. “Good. Stiles?”

“We can get close and wait for them to arrive,” Stiles says. “If nothing else, we can wait in our vehicles.”

His dad sighs. “If that’s as good as it gets, that’s as good as it gets. All right, let’s saddle up.”

Stiles’ Jeep is pretty distinctive, as is his dad’s county vehicle, so Lydia drives Danny and Alana over, while Noelani drives Moira, Stiles, and his dad.

The Stewart house is on a large lot in a leafy neighborhood. There’s plenty of street parking and lots of trees and bushes they can use for cover.

As Noelani pulls up, Moira says, “Stiles and I will get a little closer. I’d like the rest of the coven to stand by.”

Stiles is texting Lydia with instructions, and she responds, got it.

“They’re going to sit tight,” Stiles confirms, and a sense of calm overtakes him. Whatever happens next, they’re dealing with it as a pack—and as a coven. He thinks this might be the first time that the two sides have needed to work so closely together.

His dad turns from his position in the front passenger seat. “Remember what I told you, Stiles.”

Stiles nods. “We’ve got this, Dad.”

“And if you don’t, we’ll find another way,” Noah promises.

Noelani reaches out to Moira around the front seat and grips her hand. “We’ll be here lending strength.”

Stiles and Moira get out, Stiles with Batman in tow. In this case, having a service dog makes it easier to fly under the radar. They look like pair out for a walk with a dog, and Stiles already knows that Batman is good in a crisis and doesn’t mind magic.

“Let the telluric currents guide your actions,” Moira murmurs as they walk past the Stewarts’ house. “The new Nemeton will give you what assistance it can.”

Stiles nods. “What do you think it’s going to take to stop them?”

Moira shakes her head. “I’m not sure. This is a new threat for me.”

They don’t say much as they walk in circles around the block, always staying within sprinting distance of the house. The sun was already descending when they arrived, and the streetlights start to wink on one by one.

Stiles feels the change in the air, like the electricity felt during a thunderstorm, right before a lightning strike. “Moira—”

“I feel it, young spark,” Moira says grimly.

“Back of the house,” Stiles replies. “And I think—no, I know Tracy is the target.”

They move quickly to the back of the house, and Stiles frowns. He can’t see the Dread Doctors, and he realizes they’re here, but they’re not going to show themselves, not unless Stiles can do something about it.

“What are the ley lines telling you, Stiles?” Moira says urgently.

“They’re—out of phase,” Stiles says. “They’re still using the currents to move, and they’re going to appear right inside Tracy’s bedroom, the creepers.”

Stiles knows his magic well enough by now to know that he does better if he can create a visual to shape the power that lives inside him. Much like he’d pictured the way a lock pick works, now he imagines the telluric currents becoming sticky, like molasses.

“Stiles, if you prevent the magic from flowing easily, we’re going to be hampered in our own work,” Moira warns him.

Stiles has his eyes closed, but he doesn’t need to be looking at Moira to know that she’s wearing her worried expression. “I know, just another few seconds. I just need them to be visible.”

All of a sudden, three figures materialize out of what seems to be thin air. All three are wearing masks that look like they’re fashioned out of metal and leather, like old fashioned gas masks.

As soon as they appear, Stiles imagines the power in the telluric currents flowing freely, like the water in a river after a spring storm.

One of the figures turns towards Stiles. “You are not fit for our purpose.”

“You’re not welcome in Beacon Hills,” Stiles counters. “So, you should fuck off immediately.”

The figure takes a step towards him. “We haven’t fulfilled our mission.”

“You can take your mission and shove it,” Stiles says.

He’s deliberately keeping their attention on him as Moira moves to flank them. Stiles can feel the other members of the coven approaching, taking up positions that will create a circle around the back of the house.

Stiles and the coven need to keep them here and visible, because Stiles can feel a malevolence rolling off them. They’re touching the earth, which means Stiles can get a good read on them, and they’re beyond unnatural.

Even though they’re using the telluric currents to travel, the earth wants to reject them entirely.

Stiles is in a catch-22; he needs to prevent them from using the telluric currents to escape, but he can’t afford to cut the coven off from the energy.

And then he spots the nearby trees and he has an idea.

Stiles uses the power he feels rushing through the telluric currents, through the earth, through the Nemeton, and he encourages the trees to spread their roots, to break through the soil and hold the Dread Doctors in place.

All of that takes maybe a few seconds as they advance on Stiles with slow, methodical menace, only to be halted in their tracks.

Their forms flicker momentarily, but the earth is grounding them, and a second later there’s a faint popping sound. Stiles has seen bullet wounds before, but these aren’t regular people, and Dave’s sniper rifle is a large caliber. A hole appears in the lead Doctor’s chest, big enough to see daylight through if the sun were still up.

“NO!” The scream comes out of nowhere. “You can’t! They’re not done!”

Something hits Stiles from behind and sends him tumbling, and Stiles realizes from the glowing eyes that it’s a werewolf.

Only—it’s not a werewolf. He feels wrong.

There’s another snarl that has nothing to do with the werewolf attacking Stiles, and the ‘wolf leaves off trying to swipe his throat with his claws to kick back at Batman, who’s sunk his teeth into the kid’s leg.

That gives Stiles enough breathing room to punch the kid in the throat, recognizing him as Theo Raeken in that moment. He feels a moment of fear, worrying that he lost his grip on the magic holding the Doctors in place, but he feels a pulse of reassurance from the Nemeton.

Then there’s another snarl, and a huge, fully transformed werewolf with glowing red eyes hits the kid, standing over him and roaring.

Stiles trusts that his dad has that situation under control and rolls to his feet. The Nemeton has managed to keep the tree roots in place, and now all three doctors have holes in their chests the size of Stiles’ fist.

“Good job, Dave,” Stiles mutters. “Way to stay on task.”

“We were not done,” the lead Doctor says, but the voice is weaker now. “We were…”

And then they kind of shrivel, the clothes they’re wearing collapsing inward.

“Is that supposed to happen?” Danny asks.

“It’s a new one for me,” Moira admits. “Stiles, are you all right?”

Stiles climbs to his feet and checks himself over. Now that the adrenalin has settled, Stiles realizes that all those judo competitions this summer had been helpful. Without even thinking about it, he’d rolled with the attack and protected his throat. There are holes in the sleeves of his flannel shirt, but the claws had only managed to catch fabric, not skin.

“I’m good,” Stiles replies. “Yay judo.”

He starts to approach the piles of clothing, and Moira cautions him, “Careful.”

“Whatever was animating them isn’t here anymore,” Stiles says absently. “Did you guys hold the tree roots in place, or was that the Nemeton? I felt its reassurance.”

“We powered the circle, but I believe the Nemeton followed your lead, Stiles,” Noelani says. “It was an inspired idea, holding them with the earth.”

“It is my element,” Stiles says modestly. “Also, the earth low-key hated them and wanted them gone.”

Lydia tucks up next to Stiles, putting her arm around his waist in a subtle show of support. “You did great. I can feel the relief.”

Stiles can, too, part of his burgeoning new skillset. He and Lydia both feel the vibrations, just in slightly different ways, and through different mediums. “Thanks, Lyds,” he replies. “I’m glad you were here.”

His dad’s voice calls for his attention as he shouts, “I said, stay the fuck down!”

Stiles has never heard his dad sound quite that angry, but his dad has also never watched Stiles get attacked by a werewolf before.

The kid on the ground stops moving at that order and turns his head, whimpering when he sees all that’s apparently left of the Dread Doctors.

And then Parrish strides into the backyard, flames emanating, and a girl comes running outside. “What is going on?” she demands. “Sheriff Stilinski? Stiles?”

His dad is still clearly focused on the kid, whoever he is, and Stiles figures Theo is the only remaining threat.

Derek is jogging up, but he isn’t exactly the most comforting person here, even if he is the right hand.

Stiles turns to Danny. “Hey, could you—”

Danny turns his reassuring smile towards Tracy. “Hey, it’s Tracy, right? We’re sorry for the mess. Why don’t we go inside, and Mom and I will explain.”

Tracy is staring at him, but Danny’s charm is hard to resist, and when Alana turns her very comforting smile towards Tracy, and says, “I’m Danny’s mom, Alana. Why don’t we go inside while Sheriff Stilinski deals with the prowler he found?”

Tracy’s expression clears up, maybe because she’s desperate to be offered an explanation that makes some kind of sense. “Okay.” Then she glances at Parrish, and her eyes widen.

“Don’t mind him,” Danny says. “He has an unfortunate condition.”

“He catches on fire?” Tracy asks, sounding a bit dazed.

Alana puts an arm around her shoulders. “It’s a very unique condition, thankfully, but it has its uses. Imagine if you ever went camping with someone like that.”

That pulls an uncertain laugh out of Tracy, and Alana steers her back inside.

Parrish is kneeling next to the lead Doctor, and he touches the pile of clothing. Stiles hurriedly lets the trees know that they need to pull their roots back, and they retreat before the clothing goes up in flames, leaving the mask behind. He repeats the process with the other two piles, and now they’re left with three metal masks.

“You okay there?” Derek calls.

“This part of my purpose has been fulfilled.” And it’s definitely Cerberus talking, not Parrish. “Thank you, Stiles, Moira.”

“It was a group effort,” Stiles deflects.

Cerberus gives him a very unimpressed look, which fades slightly until it’s mostly Parrish. “I think we both know better,” Parrish replies.

Stiles turns from Parrish to his dad, who’s still keeping the kid on the ground. Parrish and Derek flank Noah, who lets the kid up now that he has backup and the situation is contained.

“Who are you, and what’s your connection here?” his dad growls, holding on to the front of Theo’s t-shirt.

Stiles is watching carefully, so he sees Theo’s expression slip into something calculating for just a split second before clearing. “I—my name is Theo Raeken, sir. I helped Scott the other night.”

“And you just attacked my son without provocation,” Noah replies. “Do you want to explain that?”

Theo holds up his hands, clearly trying to look helpless and vulnerable. “They—the Doctors were helping me, and it looked like Stiles was attacking them.”

“Because the Doctors were a threat, which certainly begs the question as to whether you’re one,” his dad says.

Theo shakes his head. “No, sir. I just saw Stiles attacking the Doctors, and I thought I would help them.”

“He’s not a werewolf,” Stiles says flatly. “He’s got the teeth and the claws, but he doesn’t have the spark.” He’s not sure why he hadn’t felt it at the high school the other day, but it might be why Theo had avoided actually touching bare soil.

Theo’s eyes glow gold. “I am a werewolf!” he snarls.

“No, you’re really not,” Moira comments. “I agree with Stiles. You don’t have the spark.” She gets closer and grabs Theo’s chin between her thumb and forefinger. “Hm. He has the werewolf abilities, but he’s not supernatural. I think we know what the Dread Doctors were doing. How many more of you are there?”

Theo twists in his dad’s hold, trying to get away, but Noah keeps a tight grip. “Answer her question.”

“I’m the only one,” Theo finally says.

“And Tracy?” Stiles asks, beginning to see the shape of the situation.

“They were going to make her another chimera,” Theo says, apparently realizing that Noah isn’t going to let him go without getting answers. “They’ve been considering her, and they were supposed to start tonight.”

Noah is glaring at him, but he finally releases Theo. “I suggest you beat feet. Whatever the Doctors were going to do for you, it’s not going to happen now. Keep your nose clean, and I’d better not catch you attacking any of my pack members, Mr. Raeken.”

Lydia’s arm tightens around his waist, and Stiles gives her an answering squeeze around her shoulders, his free hand resting on top of Batman’s head.

Theo stares at his dad, then at Stiles and the others, and then he does what his dad says. He runs.

Stiles blows out a breath. “That’s going to present a problem.”

“Let’s not borrow trouble,” Moira cautions. “But we’ll certainly keep a sharp eye out.”

His dad puts an arm around Stiles’ shoulders, squeezing Batman between their legs, but the dog doesn’t seem to mind. “You sure you’re okay?”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, I’m good. At least we stopped the Dread Doctors, so that’s one thing we don’t need to worry about.”

But he can’t shake the feeling that their problems aren’t over.

His dad releases him to talk to Moira, and Stiles turns to Lydia. “I’m going to need some sleep.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Lydia says firmly. “I’m going to back Danny up. I’ve been getting to know Tracy, at least a little bit.”

Stiles presses a firm kiss to her mouth with just a hint of heat. “See you tomorrow,” he promises.

And Stiles is grateful to have his pack and his coven, whatever happens next.

 

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