Reading Time: 110 Minutes
Title: A Subtle Threat
Series: What We Gain
Series Order: 7
Author: enigmaticblue
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Genre: Angst, Drama, Family, Hurt/Comfort
Relationship(s): GEN
Content Rating: PG-13
Warnings: *No Mandatory Warnings Apply
Word Count: 80,250
Summary: The hunters appear to have gone quiescent, but Noah doesn’t completely trust the lull. The younger members of the pack are preparing for senior year, but Stiles is uncertain about the future. And Derek is trying to hold everything together.
Artist: ringspells
Chapter 4
Noah is relieved that Stiles hadn’t been injured, and that the Dread Doctors are off the board. That said, Noah feels as though there are threats nipping at the periphery of his pack, with Theo and whatever is going on with him, and with Malia’s bio-mom, and whatever the hunters are up to.
Parrish has burned through most of his clothing again, so Noah asks Derek to drive him back to the pack house, and he turns to Moira. “Should I talk with Tracy?”
Moira shakes her head. “Alana will set her to rights. If someone needs to take her memories, Alana is more than capable of it.”
Noah is just as happy not to have to explain why there had been a coven and a couple of werewolves in her backyard. “All right. I’ll take your word for it.”
“You’d best get home,” Moira advises. “You’ll probably need to settle Cora down.”
Noah groans, but can’t argue with Moira’s take.
“Come on, I’ll drop you off,” Noelani offers. “Since I drove.”
“I appreciate that,” Noah says. He’s already texted Dave and Paul, giving them the all clear and telling them to head out.
They collect the masks, or whatever they are, and Noah assumes that Moira’s going to investigate them once she has a chance.
It takes about twenty minutes for Noelani to drive them back to the pack house. Noah lets Moira take the front passenger seat for the drive back, wanting to keep Stiles close, even though Batman sits between them. Stiles keeps an arm around Batman for the entire drive.
“You sure you’re okay?” Noah asks.
Stiles manages a smile. “Yeah, I’m just tired. Not tired enough to pass out, but not far from it.”
“That was a big job tonight, Stiles,” Moira replies. “I recommend that you drink a large glass of water, then go straight to bed.”
Stiles nods wearily. “That’s the plan.”
Noelani pulls up to let them out, and she and Moira exchange a warm kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow, dear heart.”
“Of course,” Moira replies. “Sleep well.”
Noah feels a bit of a pang at that. He’s at least starting to get to a point where he might be interested in dating. It would be nice to have a partner again.
He glances down at his hand, and realizes that he’s left his wedding ring off, so maybe his subconscious is trying to tell him something.
They get out of the car, and Noah leads the way to the front door. Any plans they might have had to go straight to bed end when they step inside, where Cora is facing off with Derek.
“I could have helped! I could have at least kept Tracy calm!” Cora is shouting.
“No one who didn’t need to be there was there,” Derek says, sounding tired.
Noah catches sight of Parrish sneaking down the stairs, clearly intent on leaving without getting in the middle of things. His eyes widen when he spots Noah, but Noah waves him out the door. There’s no reason for Parrish to become collateral damage.
Parrish mouths, “Thanks,” and quickly slips out.
“You can go, too,” he murmurs to Stiles, but his kid just squares his shoulders.
“I’m the next emissary, and it was partially my decision,” Stiles murmurs. “Besides, I think Derek could use my support.”
“I love you, kiddo,” Noah says.
“Right back at you,” Stiles replies, and then he rolls up his sleeves and wades in, even before Noah or Moira can say anything.
“Enough!” Stiles snaps. “The Alpha, the emissary—both myself and Moira—the right hand, and the left hand made the call. In this pack, that’s how decisions are made. You know that, and you’re being a dick to Derek.”
“I can be a dick to my brother if I want!” Cora snaps back.
Stiles crosses his arms over his chest. “So, you want to be a dick to your brother for doing his job as right hand when we all agreed to the plan?”
Cora glares at him. “Tracy’s my girlfriend.”
“And the Dread Doctors didn’t experiment on her thanks to us and our actions tonight. You’re welcome.” Stiles just raises an eyebrow, staring her down.
Noah is content to watch the fireworks, and apparently so is Moira, because she just crosses her arms and leans against the wall.
Cora is clearly still spoiling for a fight, but Stiles keeps his arms crossed and doesn’t back down.
Finally, Cora’s shoulders slump. “I don’t like that you put her in danger.”
“She wasn’t in danger,” Stiles counters. “She was safe inside until the situation was contained. We made the decision we did in order to end the threat and protect Tracy.”
“Fine, whatever,” Cora mutters. “It was still shitty.”
“The situation was shitty,” Stiles replies. “But that wasn’t Derek’s fault.”
Cora nods sharply, then turns to Derek. “I’m sorry.”
“I understand why you were upset,” Derek says. “But it’s not like I wanted anything to happen to her either.”
Cora’s expression softens, and she says, “I know. I shouldn’t have come out swinging. It’s just that Tracy was pretty freaked out when she texted me.”
“Great, everyone is friends again,” Stiles says. “I’m going to bed.”
Moira smiles and pushes off the wall, pulling him into a hug. “You did good tonight, young spark.”
“Thanks,” Stiles says. “‘night, Dad, Derek, Cora.”
He and Batman both retreat upstairs, and Noah looks at Cora. “Have you spoken with Tracy more recently?”
“She just said something weird was going on in her backyard,” Cora admits. “When she said she recognized Stiles and Batman, I knew there was an emergency of some kind.”
“Danny and Lydia were getting her settled down when we left,” Noah explains. “They’ll tell her the bare minimum of what she needs to know, or Alana will take care of it, if she judges that to be for the best.”
Cora nods reluctantly. “I understand, and I know it was necessary.”
“Good,” Noah replies. “Now, I think it might do everyone good to get some sleep.”
He makes sure to put some finality in his voice, because he thinks it’s better if everyone goes to their separate corners, and Derek looks wrung out.
Cora doesn’t argue with him, just heads upstairs, and Derek says, “Thanks, Noah.”
“I didn’t do much,” he replies honestly. “That was pretty much all Stiles.”
Derek manages a smile. “I’m pretty sure Stiles was channeling you.”
“Do you know where Malia is?” Noah asks, wanting to be sure that she’s at home before he sets the alarm.
“She was here when we got home,” Derek replies. “But she headed straight upstairs as soon as Cora started yelling.”
Noah gives him a look. “You could have shut that down, Derek, and I think you should have.”
Derek shrugs. “It’s Cora. She needed to get it out of her system.”
“That doesn’t mean you need to be her punching bag,” Noah reminds him.
Derek frowns but then admits, “Jack’s said something similar. I’ll work on it. Good night.”
Noah watches as he heads upstairs, and he turns to Moira. “I’m going to grab a beer. I think we still have half a bottle of wine in the fridge.”
“I’ll take you up on that,” Moira says. “I could stand a glass of wine.”
Noah grabs a beer out of the fridge, and pours Moira a glass of wine, and they go sit in the den.
He lets out a sigh, and Moira smiles wanly. “Well, that was quite an evening.”
“Do you think that Theo is going to be a problem?” Noah asks.
Moira grimaces. “He’s a child, and we don’t know enough about chimeras. He won’t have the exact same instincts as a werewolf, but he might have some of them.”
“Is he going to need a pack in order to avoid going feral?” Noah asks.
“That’s part of what I don’t know,” Moira admits. “To be honest with you, Noah, I’m not sure. I’m hoping once I have another look at those masks they were wearing, I might know more about how they made a chimera, but so much of this is a mystery to me.”
Noah is used to Moira having most—if not all—of the answers, and he’s not sure whether it’s nice to know that there are things beyond her ken or not.
Noah sighs. “Well, I guess we’ll have to take the problems as they come.”
“And the thing with Cora and Derek?” Moira asks.
Noah shakes his head. “Tensions flare at times. Cora has a tendency to lose her temper, and Derek will take it unless someone else comes into the line of fire.”
Moira shakes her head. “He’ll need to figure that out if he’s going to be Alpha someday.”
Noah laughs a little at that. “He has time.”
“Thank god for that,” Moira says. “What about Malia’s bio-mom?”
“There’s a warrant out for her arrest for the assault,” Noah admits. “She shot someone, although she might be able to give us a decent reason for that once we talk to her.”
Moira raises her eyebrows. “Does the fact that she’s a were-coyote raise a concern?”
“Holding her might be a problem,” Noah admits. “I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
Moira takes another sip of wine, and she says, “I don’t think we can discount the continued danger from the hunters either.”
“I’m not discounting that danger until most of them are six feet under,” Noah mutters. “But we can’t maintain a high level of alert. The best we can do is keep an eye out and not take stupid chances.”
Moira sighs. “I don’t disagree. I’m glad you’re at least keeping an eye out, and I’ll do the same. The wards will do a lot to protect us here.”
They sit in silence as Noah finishes his beer and Moira finishes her glass of wine, and then she stands. “Thank you for the wine, Noah. I hope you sleep well.”
“You, too,” Noah says.
He rinses his beer bottle out and drops it into the recycling bin.
Noah looks out the kitchen window to the Preserve beyond, and he wonders what the darkness holds.
~~~~~
Stiles wakes slowly the morning after they take care of the Dread Doctors, feeling as though about a million years have passed.
He figures that’s always the way of things, though. Taking down the Doctors had been a significant endeavor, and it’s like it took no time at all and also years.
The full moon is coming up, though, and that will be a good time to reconnect as a pack, including those members who hadn’t been around for the thing with the Doctors.
Stiles still has school, and he rolls out of bed and shoves his feet into a pair of slippers and pulls a hoodie on over his pajamas. He lets Batman outside, then heads back inside to get cleaned up.
He doesn’t really think about the clothing he’s pulling on, just grabbing whatever’s clean and comes immediately to hand.
Once he’s dressed in his usual attire, Stiles heads back downstairs with Batman’s vest and leash. He lets Batman back inside and pours kibble in a bowl.
Stiles grabs a bowl of cereal for himself and starts eating, waiting for Cora and Malia to join him.
His dad comes into the kitchen and pauses to drop a kiss on the top of Stiles’ head. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“I’m good,” Stiles insists.
“Good,” Noah replies, filling a travel mug with coffee. “You giving the girls a ride to school?”
Siles shrugs. “If they make it downstairs in time.”
They will, he knows. Cora and Malia both know that they need to be downstairs on time if they don’t want to have to run to the school.
Literally. It’s less strenuous for a werewolf and were-coyote, but Stiles knows it’s not something they want to deal with.
“All right,” Noah says. “I need to get going. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Have a good day, Dad,” Stiles replies.
He’s putting his bowl and spoon into the dishwasher when Malia and Cora come thundering downstairs.
“Do we have time to eat?” Cora asks hesitantly.
Stiles is a champion grudge-holder, but he’s learned to let things go when it comes to pack members.
Also, Stiles knows that Cora and Derek are siblings, which means they’re going to fight. Stiles and Scott fight, after all, and Scott is the closest thing to a brother Stiles has.
So, he’s able to easily say, “You’ve got five minutes to grab whatever you want.”
They keep prepared breakfast sandwiches in the freezer, and Malia and Cora each nuke one to eat on the road.
Stiles puts Batman’s vest on, and they head out for the day. When they get to the school, Stiles feels his heart sink when he sees Scott standing in front of the school with Theo Raeken.
“Is Scott talking to Theo Raeken?” Cora asks.
“He certainly seems to be,” Stiles mutters. “Which is interesting.”
“Your heartbeat jumped,” Malia says flatly. “You’re angry.”
“I get a little pissed off when someone attacks me,” Stiles admits. “And Theo attacked me last night after we stopped the Doctors.”
Cora frowns. “You were attacked? Why?”
“I have no idea,” he admits. “But I’m guessing it had something to do with whatever deal he thought he had with the Doctors. He said they weren’t done.”
Cora frowns. “We’ll keep an eye on him—and Scott.”
They get out of Stiles’ Jeep, and Stiles loops Batman’s leash around his wrist. As they approach the front of the school, Theo breaks away from Scott and heads inside.
“What was that about?” Stiles asks suspiciously as they reach Scott’s side. He had texted the group that the Dread Doctors had been taken care of, but figured he’d leave the particulars until he sees them in person. He probably should have been a little more explicit about Theo’s role in things.
Scott frowns. “It was nothing, Stiles. We were just talking.”
“Did he tell you that he attacked me last night?” Stiles demands.
Scott frowns. “What? No. Why did he attack you?”
“I don’t know,” Stiles says. “So, if he tells you his evil plan, please share with the rest of the class.”
Scott looks outraged. “I’m not going to be friends with someone who would attack you out of nowhere. I thought he was trying to be nice because he doesn’t really know anybody else.”
Stiles relaxes slightly. “Yeah, well, just be on your guard. I don’t know what he wanted with the Dread Doctors, but he was definitely mad that we got rid of them.”
Scott frowns as they head inside the school. “You know, just because he was connected to the Dread Doctors doesn’t mean he’s evil.”
That sounds like Scott, who always thinks the best of everyone.
“You know I love you, Scotty,” Stiles begins. “But I think I’d prefer to operate from a state of cynicism when it comes to ancient, evil doctors who apparently wanted to resurrect the biggest, baddest monster that ever walked the earth.”
He says all of that in a whisper, not wanting to draw attention to themselves.
“Yeah, but what if they forced him to participate?” Scott objects.
“If they did, why wouldn’t he be falling at our feet in thanks?” Stiles asks. “He attacked me out of nowhere, Scott, with teeth and claws.”
Scott’s shoulders slump. “Yeah, I hear you. It’s just—”
“You can’t help but think the best of people,” Stiles supplies. “And I love you for it, but let’s not do the trust but verify thing. I’d rather verify, then trust, at least with Theo, especially after last night.”
Scott nods. “I’ll do my best.”
“Good. Thank you,” Stiles replies.
They split up to head for their respective lockers, and Stiles is just hoping to have a relatively quiet day. He’s less tired from the previous night than he anticipated. In the past, a working like that would have laid him flat for at least a day. Today, he just feels like he hasn’t gotten enough sleep.
“What’s the word, Doctor Strange?” Erica asks as she joins him while he’s switching books out of his backpack. “Scott looked like he has his tail in a twist when I passed him just now.”
Stiles sighs. “We should probably have a meeting after school so we can fill everyone in at once, but the short answer is that we don’t like Theo Raeken, and Scott has never met a stranger.”
“Well, good thing for everyone that the rest of us are fine with not liking someone,” Erica says cheerfully. “I’ll make sure that Boyd and Isaac get the message. I assume the other girls already know?”
“They rode in with me this morning, and Cora and Derek had a fight about the whole situation last night,” Stiles mutters. “So, yes, and I’m pretty sure they’re also on board.”
“Of course, they are,” Erica replies. “And if not, I’ll set them straight.”
Stiles smiles at her. “I know I can always count on Catwoman.”
They might not spend as much time together as they had when his dad first bit her, but he and Erica have been simpatico from the start.
Lydia comes up with her books in her arms. “Hey, Stiles.”
Stiles brushes a kiss over her lips. “How are you feeling today?”
“Me? I’m great,” Lydia replies. “I slept like the dead last night. What about you?”
Stiles slings his backpack over his shoulder. “I’m less exhausted than I thought I would be.”
Lydia puts an arm through Stiles’. “Good. I have to admit that it felt pretty good last night.”
“What? Solving a problem before things get crazy?” Stiles could have said before the bodies started dropping, but he doesn’t want anyone to overhear him and draw—well, not the wrong conclusions, but conclusions Stiles doesn’t want anyone even thinking about.
“Something like that,” Lydia says primly.
“I’m sure the next emergency will present itself in short order,” Stiles says. “It pretty much always does.”
Lydia’s dimples flash. “Then we’ll handle it together.”
It’s a reassurance Stiles hadn’t known he needed, and it’s a good reminder that whatever comes next, it’s not as though he’ll have to deal with it on his own.
Stiles has a heavy academic load for his senior year, as do most of the pack members. Even Scott has AP Biology, and Stiles is taking three AP classes this semester.
The more college credits he can get now, the faster he can get through undergrad, and the less debt he’ll accrue. Stiles already knows that he’ll go to whatever university accepts him and offers the best financial aid package.
Stiles’ dad would tell him not to worry about it, but worry is part of Stiles’ nature at this point.
Even if there’s a small part of Stiles’ brain that keeps telling him that Stanford has the best psychology and pre-law programs in the area, and might be exactly what he needs.
At lunch, Stiles is relieved to eat with his pack, and to see Theo Raeken on the other side of the cafeteria with Liam Dunbar, who’s two years behind them. From what he’s heard, Liam is Beacon Hills High’s best chance to continue taking the state lacrosse title after they graduate.
As far as Stiles is concerned, Theo can just stay over there with Liam, who is in no way Stiles’ problem.
“So, what’s the deal with Theo?” Isaac asks.
“We can talk about it after school,” Stiles says firmly as he sees Tracy heading their way in Cora’s wake. “Just not here.”
Isaac follows his gaze and nods. “Yeah, I get it.”
“What’s everyone doing after school?” Stiles asks.
“Didn’t you hear?” Boyd asks, deadpan. “Pack meeting.”
Stiles laughs at that as Cora comes up to him, her expression somewhat defiant. “It’s okay for Tracy to eat with us, isn’t it?”
Stiles leans back to look at Tracy, and he raises an eyebrow. “If she wants to eat with us, she’s welcome.”
Danny comes up behind Tracy. “See? I told you Stiles doesn’t bite. Come on, sit.”
Tracy offers a small smile. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if I’d be welcome.”
Stiles glances at Lydia, who’s on his left, and she gives Tracy a kind look. “Are you feeling better?”
Tracy nods. “After the commotion last night, I slept really well for the first time in a while.”
“Let us know if that changes, okay?” Lydia asks. “There might be something we can do.”
Tracy glances at Cora, who puts her hand on Tracy’s forearm. “You can tell me,” Cora says softly. “I would have asked Moira to get involved if I’d known what was going on.”
“Moira’s your grandma, right?” Tracy asks Stiles.
“Maybe my honorary one,” Stiles says, because Moira’s place in his life is a little hard to explain to someone who isn’t fully in the know. “We’re close.”
Tracy’s expression is a little uncertain, but she says, “That’s really awesome.”
She says it like she doesn’t know what else to say, but Stiles already knows how this is probably going to go. Cora seems fairly attached, and Tracy is giving off a lost lamb vibe that means she’ll probably wind up pack adjacent if not a pack member.
“It’s just me and my dad,” Tracy offers.
Cora bumps Tracy’s shoulder with her own. “You have me, too.”
“There are always room for more girls in the group,” Erica says cheerfully. “I was totally outnumbered for way too long.”
Stiles snorts. “It wasn’t that long.”
“It was long enough,” Erica replies firmly.
That pulls a more genuine smile out of Tracy, and she looks over at Cora. “I like your friends. They’re nice.”
Cora smirks. “They can be. They can be real assholes, too.”
“We all have a little bit of asshole in us,” Stiles comments. “Except maybe for Scott.”
Scott, who had been ignoring the conversation around the table in favor of chatting with Kira, looks up at the sound of his name. “Oh, I’m pretty sure I can be an asshole, too,” he says cheerfully.
“Well, I’m a ray of sunshine,” Danny says. “But I can attest that everyone else at the table can be a little bit of an asshole at times.”
The easy banter between the pack members feels as though it’s putting another barrier between the pack and the rest of the world. No matter how much time they spend apart, they always come back together as though no time at all has passed.
When they’ve finished eating, and they’re clearing the table, Stiles waits until Tracy and Cora leave before he says, “My house after school, right?”
There are nods all around, and the rest of the day is thankfully quiet.
The full moon is in a couple of days, so it’s not unusual for the pack to spend more time together during the lead up. Stiles does wonder if folks will ever start comparing notes and realizing that there’s a pattern to the days off the sheriff’s foundlings need.
Then again, Stiles has noticed that most people are fairly incurious and unlikely to spot a pattern unless it punches them in the face.
Stiles gives Cora and Malia a ride, and he asks, “How was Tracy today?”
“Better, less freaked out,” Cora replies. “Danny and Alana helped calm her down last night. She said they explained that there were people who meant her harm, and the sheriff was there to stop them.”
“Well, that has the benefit of being the truth,” Stiles comments. “Was she satisfied with that explanation?”
Coar nods. “Like she said, she slept well. She told me she was having night terrors—really bad ones. Mrs. Martin wasn’t all that helpful either. She just got on her case about her grades suffering because of the lack of sleep.”
“Maybe she wasn’t having nightmares,” Stiles comments. “Keep an eye on her. If they come back, or she starts getting sick, or whatever, be sure to let me and Moira know.”
Cora frowns. “You think they might have done something to her?”
“I don’t know,” Stiles admits. “Theo said we got there before they could, but Theo is also not a werewolf. I have no idea what it takes to make a chimera, but I’m going to guess it’s not exactly pleasant.”
Stiles pulls up in front of the house, and the girls follow him inside. “I’m going to get changed,” Cora says. “It’s definitely time for sweatpants.”
“Same,” Malia says fervently. “And I want cookies.”
“That can be arranged,” Stiles replies as he heads to the kitchen. He pulls out the cookies Moira has stored in the freezer and puts them on the counter, tossing Batman a dog biscuit.
The others start filing in before the girls come down, and Stiles isn’t surprised when Erica drags Kira upstairs to change. Apparently, the girls had all agreed that it was going to be a pajamas sort of meeting.
Stiles’ phone buzzes in his pocket, and he fishes it out, seeing that his dad is calling. “Hey, Daddio,” Stiles says.
“I’m going to be a little late tonight,” Noah replies. “Agent Rodriguez wants to go over some details on the investigation into Eichen House, and this evening is the only time we could manage it.”
“I think we’re having a sleepover,” Stiles replies. “I’ll fill everyone in on the Dread Doctors. Can we order pizza?”
“Sure,” Noah says. “You know where the credit card is, and Derek should be home at the usual time, unless he decides to do something else tonight.”
“We’ll be here, hanging out, playing video games, and eating pizza,” Stiles says. “Be safe, Dad.”
“You, too, kiddo,” Noah replies. “Keep the doors locked once everyone is there, all right?”
“You got a hunch about something?” Stiles asks.
“Probably just the full moon making me itchy,” his dad says. “But let’s not take any chances.”
“Got it,” Stiles replies.
“Good,” Noah says. “See you later tonight.”
Scott fishes a cookie out of the container and shoves it into his mouth. “So, I talked to Liam after school today.”
Stiles crouches down to take off Batman’s vest. “I didn’t think you two were friends.”
“I’ve been trying to get to know him,” Scott says. “He’s really good at lacrosse, and if Beacon Hills has a shot at winning State again after we graduate, it’s probably down to Liam.”
Stiles takes a cookie for himself. “Okay, go on.”
“Liam said Theo was telling him that our gang was weird,” Scott says. “We have too much power in the school, or something like that.”
Stiles raises his eyebrows. “And what was Liam’s response to that?”
Scott shrugs. “We’re graduating this year, and for a popular clique, we’re really nice. We don’t pick on people, we treat everyone with respect, etc.”
“So, basically, he has nothing to worry about,” Stiles says. “Hm.”
Scott looks at him. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that a werewolf probably wants a pack, even if he’s not a real werewolf, and Theo isn’t—don’t worry, I’ll explain,” Stiles says. “Which means he probably needs to undermine ours, or try to, since he’s already kind of shot himself in the foot by attacking me. The problem is that I don’t think he understands the outlines.”
Scott smirks. “You mean the fact that the entire sheriff’s station is basically in the pack? Yeah. I think Theo is missing the big picture. That said, if he was up front about what he wanted, and what he was doing with the Dread Doctors, he might have a shot with the Sheriff.”
Stiles knows that he’s a champion grudge-holder, and he comes by it honestly. Being in law enforcement, his dad isn’t exactly the trusting type either.
On the other hand, Theo coming clean would go a long way. Right now, it seems obvious that he’s playing some sort of game, but who knows what it is?
“All right,” Stiles says. “That’s good information, Scotty. Thanks for talking to Liam.”
Scott shrugs. “You know I’m going to put the pack first, Stiles. I’ve learned my lesson there. I just don’t want to discount the idea that Theo might have some redeeming qualities, or that he maybe got caught up with the wrong crowd.”
Stiles smiles. “How about you keep your sunny disposition, I’ll stay cynical, and we’ll try to meet somewhere in the middle?”
“Fair,” Scott replies.
Isaac and Boyd show up just then, and Isaac calls out, “Are we doing the sleepover?”
“Looks like it,” Stiles replies. “Cookies are in the kitchen, but we’ll have our meeting in the rec room once the girls come downstairs.”
“I’ll go get the controllers set up for when we’re ready,” Scott says.
The girls all grab cookies from the container when they reappear wearing lounge pants and t-shirts, and then they head down to the basement rec room, which is where they have sleepovers.
There’s a large sectional with an ottoman that can easily be shoved against the walls to provide a sleeping area, and there are shelves and cubbies for pillows, blankets, and thick mats. The extra-large TV on one wall with the gaming system makes it ideal for these sorts of gatherings, especially if the adult members are also present and want to monopolize the den.
“Where’s Lydia tonight, Stiles?” Kira asks.
Stiles shrugs. “She said her mom wanted her at home. Since she’s starting to come around to the whole idea of Lydia being supernatural, Lydia’s trying to meet her halfway.”
“That’s better than my parents want to do,” Erica mutters.
Boyd puts an arm around her shoulders, and she snuggles close. “At least they don’t seem to mind your friends,” he points out.
Erica snorts. “They’re just glad I have friends, and since one of them is the Sheriff’s son, they know I’m staying out of trouble. Things could certainly be worse.” She fixes Stiles with a look. “But we want to hear how things went down with the Dread Doctors. All you said was that they’d been taken care of, and no one was injured.”
Slowly, Stiles describes the events of the day before, from his trap being triggered, to tracking them down to Tracy Stewart’s house.
“Okay, and I’m not trying to argue with the decisions that the Alpha made,” Cora begins. “But why not move Tracy to the pack house for safety?”
Stiles takes a deep breath. “Because we couldn’t risk the entire pack and make this place a target. We were fairly certain we could keep them contained and prevent any harm to Tracy.”
Cora doesn’t seem happy with that explanation, but she just asks, “Do you think she was being targeted?”
Stiles nods. “Theo confirmed it after he attacked me.”
Isaac leans in. “So you said, but what exactly happened?”
So, Stiles describes how he and the coven managed to destroy the Dread Doctors by holding them with the earth and using magic against them, and then how Theo came out of nowhere to attack him.
“I used my judo moves to roll with it and hold him off, and Dad rescued me,” Stiles explains. “Theo said the Doctors weren’t finished. After Dad roared at him, he also confirmed that they were planning on making Tracy a chimera, which is what Theo is, basically an unnatural mix of different magical creatures. He’s not a true werewolf.”
“Doesn’t mean he doesn’t want or need the same things we do,” Boyd comments. “Which means he might try another angle.”
Scott nods. “I spoke with Liam after school today, just to see what Theo told him during lunch. He was trying to convince Liam that we shouldn’t be so popular, or something.”
Malia shrugs. “Maybe he just wants to be part of our pack and thinks he blew it after attacking Stiles.”
“I mean, who wouldn’t want to be part of our pack?” Isaac asks. He’s sprawled out on the chaise part of the sectional, with Malia sitting cross legged next to him.
Scott and Kira are also snuggled together in one corner, with Boyd and Erica in another. Since Stiles is the one with the details from the previous night, he’s sitting with Batman on the ottoman.
“Anyway, that’s where we are,” Stiles says. “The Dread Doctors are no more, and Cerberus—the Hellhound—seemed pleased with that.” He looks at Malia. “Any updates on your mom?”
Malia grimaces. “Nothing. She hasn’t approached me again, but if she knows I’m staying here, and that the Sheriff lives here, then she probably also knows she’s in trouble for shooting someone.”
No one seems terribly surprised, which makes sense. Secrets don’t stay secret for long in a pack, especially since Derek had picked Malia up to take her to the station for a statement.
“Well, Dad wants us to stick close tonight, and the full moon is coming, so who’s up for a gaming marathon?” Stiles asks in a bid to change the subject given Malia’s clear discomfort.
And with that question, they’re back to being any other group of high school friends spending an evening together.
~~~~~
After the events of the night before, Derek is grateful for a relatively normal, quiet day on patrol.
Granted, it’s nice to have a resolution to a problem that doesn’t result in a death—or more than one death—but it was still weird. And yes, the Dread Doctors died, but that really doesn’t count, given what they were planning to do.
Derek gets a text from Alana Mahealani towards the end of his shift, asking him to drop by once he’s done at work because she has some information for him. He has no idea when she’d been able to get any work done with the events of the night before, but it is Alana, and she is a member of the coven. Maybe it had been magic.
He sends her a quick confirmation, but then shoots off another text to Parrish. Derek knows the kids are having a sleepover at the house to get the update from Stiles, and he figures he might give them—and Cora—some space.
In truth, he knows Noah thought he should have shut his sister down the same way Stiles had, and Derek is working on that very thing with Jack. Derek has an appointment with him the following afternoon.
Of course, as Stiles might say, having a therapy appointment on the same day as the full moon is a choice, but he already had the day off.
Still, wanting to give Cora space, and needing some himself before his therapy appointment, Derek thought he’d find something else to do, and somewhere else to be. Plus, Parrish might need a friendly ear.
In response to his text, Parrish sends a link to a new BBQ place in town and a proposed time, to which Derek responds with a thumbs up emoji.
Noah is on the phone when Derek checks to see if he’s free, so Derek just drops an appointment on the pack calendar to let people know where he’s going to be.
Derek doesn’t have to account for every moment of his day, but there are still threats out there, and it only makes sense to give people a way to find him.
There’s a locker room at the station where people can get changed if necessary, and while he doesn’t often use it, he’s grateful for it today. He hangs the uniform up in the back of his Camaro and tosses his duffel bag after it.
When he gets to the Mahealanis’ place, the front door swings open before he can ring the doorbell, and Alana smiles at him. “Sorry for the short notice, but I thought time was of the essence given everything that’s been going on.”
“To be honest, I have no idea how you managed to get anything done given last night’s events,” Derek admits.
Alana laughs. “Noah forwarded the police report yesterday before things started heating up, and I have alerts that can work in the background. I had a breakthrough this afternoon.”
“I can’t wait to hear it,” Derek replies.
“Well, it’s not exactly good news,” Alana cautions him. “Although I doubt it’s going to surprise you.”
Derek snorts. “Let me guess, Malia’s bio-mom is terrible.”
“She’s a gun for hire,” Alana confirms. “And while I try not to judge others’ career choices, she’s been linked to a number of deaths.”
Derek follows her downstairs to her office. “How many deaths are we talking about?”
“Dozens potentially,” Alana replies. “And from what I’ve been able to find out, she’s not squeamish about who she kills either.”
Derek sighs, feeling disappointed on Malia’s behalf. He knows she’s been conflicted about her mom approaching her, and while her mom’s crimes might seem to clarify matters, Derek knows better. “That’s not great.”
“No, it’s not,” Alana says bluntly. “I don’t think she’d hesitate to kill her own child if she thought she could get something out of it.”
Derek grimaces. “Dave said that some were-coyotes believe that the mother sacrifices some of her power to her child.”
Alana hesitates as she sits down behind her computer. “It’s—not untrue. Pregnancy can take a lot out of any woman, and any woman who’s ever been pregnant and given birth will tell you that. When the child is wanted, it’s a worthy sacrifice.”
“We already know that this pregnancy wasn’t exactly planned, and likely wasn’t wanted,” Derek replies as he slumps in Alana’s very comfortable chair. “What do you think we can expect?”
Alana winces. “If Corinne is here to take her power back, the best time for that is on the full moon.”
Derek frowns. “Tomorrow night.”
“As I said, I believe that time is of the essence,” Alana confirms. “Moira’s wards are top notch, so if she comes to the house, you’ll have plenty of advanced warning.”
Derek rubs his hands on the legs of his jeans. “You don’t think she can circumvent them?”
“It’s always a possibility,” Alana admits. “The day you get overconfident is the day you find out just how vulnerable you are, but it’s Moira. Even though she’d be the first to admit that she’s not infallible.”
Derek takes a deep breath. They had used the warehouse as a stalking horse of sorts after being targeted by the contract killers, but they’d stopped after a few months. Even if they hadn’t, though, Corinne obviously knows where they live.
“What if Malia spent the full moon somewhere else?” Derek asks.
Alana takes a deep breath. “She could spend the night elsewhere. Here, or at Noah’s old house with Dave and Paul, or even with Parrish. But do you really want to worry about her on the next full moon or the one after that?”
Derek immediately understands what she’s getting at. Maybe they’d stopped the Dread Doctors, but the hunters are still out there, and they don’t want to fight a war on two fronts, or be continually worried about Corinne attacking Malia or the pack.
“So, we set a trap,” Derek says.
Alana nods. “I asked to see you first because Malia is your family, but my next stop is the sheriff’s station.” She pauses. “That, and I have an update on the Calaveras.”
Derek braces himself for bad news. “They were sheltering Victoria.”
“Emphasis on the past tense,” Alana replies. “I was able to find someone who was willing to pass on information, at no small risk to themselves.”
Derek frowns. “Who?”
“The emissary of a local pack who makes a habit of keeping an eye on the hunters as much as the hunters keep an eye on them,” Alana replies. “The Calaveras keep themselves to themselves, and try not to draw the attention of the federales. When they started sniffing around, the head of the family told Victoria she was no longer welcome.”
Derek has to admit to feeling some surprise at that. “It can’t just be that.”
“No, probably not,” Alana admits. “I suspect that the truth finally started leaking out. Say what you will about some of these hunting clans, and I could say a lot, most do draw the line at harming children.”
Derek takes a breath. “And you think word reached them that Kate killed kids.”
Alana nods. “I do. I think they got enough credible information from a source they trusted to know the truth of it, and they took the excuse of the federales to send Victoria packing.”
Derek figures that’s both a good and a bad thing. It’s good, because it means that the Calaveras may not target their pack, at least not without more reason, but it’s bad, too.
They have no idea where Victoria might go, or whose support she might try to garner, and they don’t have any way of tracking her.
“Do we have to worry about the Calaveras coming up here?” Derek asks.
Alana grimaces. “That would be another reason to wrap things up with Corinne quickly. The Calaveras have a price on her head, for very good reason.”
“She’s something that they would hunt,” Derek says, and in that he can’t even argue. If Corinne is really that dangerous, then she absolutely needs to be stopped, and as a were-coyote, a human prison is likely out of the question.
Alana nods. “Take care of her now, and do it quickly and quietly, and I don’t think you’ll have any problems with them.”
Derek takes a deep breath. “Got it. You’re going to tell Noah the same thing?”
“I am,” Alana confirms. “But you’re the one paying for the intelligence, so you get to hear it first. I’ll pass it along to the Sheriff because he needs to know in that capacity and as the Alpha.”
Derek nods. “I appreciate that. As always, I’m impressed with how quickly you work.”
“I do my best,” Alana replies. “And if I have anything else for you, I’ll let you know.”
Derek accepts the warm hug that she offers, and he heads outside to his car. The sun is beginning to set, and he has just enough time to meet Parrish.
As he dives to the new restaurant, he checks his rearview frequently. He’s on the lookout for the car they’d seen Corinne driving—or the car they assume she’s driving.
He doesn’t see anything suspicious, but he resolves to continue to keep a sharp eye out. From what Alana said, Malia is probably Corinne’s main target, but she might try going through the rest of the pack to get to her if she thinks that’s what she needs to do.
Derek pulls up in front of the building, which is on the edge of town and looks more like a rough dive bar from the outside than anything else. The parking lot is gravel and already three-quarters full, so Derek parks at the far end next to Parrish’s pickup, where the lot borders a swathe of grass with trees growing thickly not 10 yards away. The sign above the door reads “Pete’s Pit BBQ,” and Derek can immediately smell smoked meat.
Parrish is standing near the door, apparently waiting for him, and he greets Derek with a smile. “Hey, how did your shift go today?”
Derek shrugs. “Nothing out of the ordinary. It was fairly quiet.”
“Same here,” Parrish says. “I think I wrote three speeding tickets, and that was about it.”
They step inside, and it’s far more inviting than it looks on the outside. The wooden floor is polished to a high shine, and the wooden booths and tables are upholstered in a burgundy leather. The smell of smoked meat is more intense here, and Derek’s mouth begins to water. Lunch suddenly seems very far away.
The hostess, a young woman with dark skin and a cascade of braids, greets them warmly. “Table for two, gentlemen?”
“That’s right,” Parrish replies. “Thanks.”
“Is a booth okay?” she asks.
“Perfect,” Derek confirms.
She leads them to a nearby booth and hands them their menus. “Carlos will be helping you tonight. Enjoy.”
Derek glances down at the menu. “My mouth is watering.”
“Same,” Parrish agrees. “Mark said he ate here last week and couldn’t say enough good things about it.”
Derek chuckles. “Well, Mark definitely knows his food.”
It doesn’t take long for their server to appear with two glasses of ice water, asking if they want anything else to drink. Parrish orders a beer, and Derek does the same to be sociable.
“Do you know what you want?” Carlos asks. “Or I can give you a few more minutes?”
Parrish glances up at him. “We heard from a coworker that everything is good here. What’s the best way to get a sample?”
Carlos grins, dimples flashing. “I’d get the BBQ feast for three. You’ll get four meats, three sides, and there should be enough for leftovers unless you’re really hungry.”
“Perfect,” Derek says. “Let’s do that.”
“That will be right out,” Carlos replies. “Thank you.”
Once Carlos is gone, Derek lowers his voice and asks, “How are you?”
“More settled in my skin,” Parrish admits after a moment’s thought. His green eyes are clear and calm. “He’s resting easier knowing that the main part of the mission has been taken care of.”
“That’s good,” Derek says. “I’m glad you’re feeling better about everything.”
Parrish shrugs. “It helps to see that there are others dealing with gifts they have to figure out how to control. I might be unique, but I’m not alone, if that makes sense.”
Derek smiles. “Yeah, well, that’s what it means to be part of a pack.”
“What about you?” Parrish asks. “You said you were meeting with Alana before this.”
Derek starts to fill Parrish in on what Alana had told him about Malia’s bio-mom, and the Calveras.
He’s halfway through the summation when Carlos returns with a platter of food and two plates. The conversation breaks off to allow Carlos to arrange the table, and then to fill their respective plates.
Once that’s done, Derek continues, and says, “So, we need to take care of Corinne, hopefully tomorrow night, and Victoria is back in the wind.”
“I can be there tomorrow,” Parrish offers. “I don’t have anything else going on.”
Derek nods. “That might be helpful. I suggested sending Malia somewhere else, but Alana didn’t think that was wise, and I could see her point. Noah will make the final call, though.”
“No offense, Derek, but why didn’t she go straight to the Sheriff with this information?” Parrish asks.
Derek shrugs. “I’m paying for it, and Malia is a member of my family, not just pack.”
“Okay, fair,” Parrish agrees. “Just let me know what you all decide to do, and if I need to be there. If my presence isn’t helpful, let me know that, too.”
The rest of the meal passes mostly in silence as they apply themselves to the truly excellent barbecue. Derek thinks the brisket might be his favorite, but Parrish prefers the pulled pork
It would be a little pricey to feed the whole pack, Derek thinks, but as an occasional treat, he bets they’d enjoy it.
Once they’ve finished eating, they split the bill and the leftovers equally between them and head out to the parking lot.
“You heading home after this?” Parrish asks.
Derek nods. “Yeah, I figure I’ve given the kids long enough to get settled in the basement, and I can head up to my room.”
“Cora will get over her snit eventually,” Parrish predicts. “Tracy’s her first girlfriend, right?”
Derek sighs ruefully. “She is, and I do actually remember what that’s like.”
“So, she got it out of her system, and Tracy is safe,” Parrish says. “It’ll be fine.”
“Sure, I know that,” Derek replies, and whatever he’d planned to say next gets punched out of him.
Almost literally—it feels as though a giant fist has hit him in the solar plexus from behind, throwing him into Parrish. Parrish grabs him out of reflex and brings them both down to the ground under cover.
The pain is searing, and it takes him a few seconds to realize that Parrish is asking, “What happened, Derek? Are you hit?”
“My side,” Derek manages to gasp out. “Back.”
Parrish pulls Derek’s shirt and jacket up even as he keeps his own body between Derek and whoever shot him, Derek’s back against the big truck tire.
“Yeah, I can see the entry wound, but there’s no exit,” Parrish says. “I need to get you to the hospital.”
Derek shakes his head almost frantically. “No, not the hospital.”
“What? Why? The pack has people there now, don’t they?” Parrish demands.
Derek manages a nod. “Mel, and Ellie, but this isn’t something they can cure. Look at it again. Do you see black lines?”
He already knows the answer to that question, because he’s been poisoned by a wolfsbane bullet before. He can feel it crawling into his veins.
“Yeah,” Parrish says slowly. “Oh, shit. Wolfsbane?”
“I need Moira,” Derek manages to grit out. “If the bullet is still inside, she might be able to figure out strain of wolfsbane they used.”
Parrish nods, his expression resolute. “Just—hang on. Since there’s no exit wound, I’m guessing they shot from a distance, and hopefully won’t take another shot.”
He boosts Derek up into the passenger seat of his truck, and has the presence of mind to grab their doggie bags, too.
Derek figures that it’s more out of a sense of operational security, not wanting to let on that anything had just happened. He stays doubled over in the passenger seat, his breathing harsh with pain.
Parrish swings into the driver’s seat and inserts his key into the ignition, cranking the engine and reversing quickly but with control. As soon as he has the truck moving in the right direction, Parrish digs his phone out of his pocket and finds the right number in his contacts.
“Yeah, Moira, it’s me,” Parrish replies, putting her on speaker. “We have an emergency.”
“How bad?” Moira asks.
Parrish takes a deep, audible breath. “Derek was shot while we were standing outside the restaurant. It was a wolfsbane bullet, and it’s still inside him.”
“Did you see who did it?” she asks.
“They shot from a distance,” Parrish replies. “It had to have been from pretty far since there was no exit wound.”
Moira sighs. “Are you coming to the pack house?”
“Yeah, Derek insisted,” Parrish replies. “I thought to take him to the hospital, but—”
She cuts him off. “No, you’re doing the right thing. Bring him up to my apartment. I have what we need there. I’ll let Stiles know. Just get here as quickly and safely as you can.”
“Got it,” Parrish replies and ends the call. He shoots Derek an anxious look. “How are you doing, Derek?”
Derek just shakes his head. There’s no limb to cut off this time; it’s in his gut. He doesn’t think he’s going to make it through this one, but he also knows that Moira and Stiles will provide his best chance.
~~~~~
Noah hadn’t been expecting a visit from Angelica Rodriguez that afternoon, but he’s not displeased by the idea. He assumes that she has news about the Eichen House investigation that she doesn’t want to deliver over the phone—or maybe she was just in the area.
She knocks on the door jamb around 4:30, just after he gets off the phone with Stiles. Noah is glad that the kids are all staying at the pack house tonight and will be safe.
He has an itch between his shoulder blades that he can’t quite explain, but he’s not going to ignore it. Not for the first time, Noah is grateful that he’s had so much life experience, because he knows better than to not listen to those instincts. Even if he can’t articulate why he’s feeling that way, he knows to pay attention.
Still, he greets Rodriguez with a smile, standing to shake her hand. “To what do I owe this honor?” he asks.
“I was in the neighborhood for another investigation, and thought I’d stop in and see how things were,” she replies. “I hope I’m not disrupting your day too much.”
Noah shakes his head. “Not at all. I’m glad to see you. Have a seat.”
She closes the door behind her before sitting. “Well, I appreciate you taking the time. I do have some news about the investigation into Eichen House, and I hope it’s good.”
“I’ll take good news,” Noah replies, turning off his computer monitor and leaning back in his chair.
Rodriguez smiles. “The investigation is complete. The former administrator is going to collect a variety of charges, including obstruction of justice, mismanagement of public funds, bribery, and corruption. Let’s just say that he wasn’t terribly inclined to get people well, since that would mean he no longer received funds from the state for those patients. There are three others who will also be charged with lesser offenses.”
“That is good news,” Noah agrees.
“And the feds are going to get involved,” she adds. “Since we think there might be some civil rights violations thrown in.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Noah admits.
Rodriguez raises her eyebrows. “You know that you’re getting quite the reputation, Sheriff.”
“What reputation is that?” Noah asks, although he can guess.
She starts ticking off points on her fingers. “Catching a serial killer, including someone helping her within the BI. You then catch another serial killer operating at a state-run mental health facility and expose corruption. And you stopped three contract killers wanted for something like two dozen murders. You’re getting the reputation of being a trouble magnet, and someone who is going to eat trouble for breakfast.”
Noah shrugs modestly. “I can’t help what trouble comes my way, but I can sure as hell put an end to it when it does.”
The intercom buzzes, and Maria says, “I’m sorry to bother you, Sheriff, but Alana Mahealani is here, and she says she has information about that recent assault we had.”
Noah glances at Rodriguez to see if she has any objection, but she just shrugs. “That was pretty much my business, Sheriff.”
He almost tells Rodriguez that she can leave if she wants, but then thinks better of it. She’s a were-coyote, and she might have some insight as to Corinne’s motivations. “Would you mind staying?” he asks. “I think you might have some ideas about our current problem.”
Rodriguez shrugs. “Happy to. I don’t have to leave for another thirty or forty minutes.”
“Send her in,” Noah instructs Maria over the intercom.
Alana enters after a brief knock on the door, and if she’s surprised to see Special Agent Rodriguez there, she shows no sign of it. “I apologize for not calling ahead, Sheriff, but I thought this was time sensitive, and I already spoke with Derek.”
“Then it’s about Malia’s biological mother,” Noah says.
Alana nods at the seat next to Rodriguez. “May I?”
“Please,” Noah says. “Alana Mahealani, this is Special Agent Angelica Rodriguez with the California Bureau of Investigation.” He pauses. “Alana is a member of the local coven, and a private investigator who’s provided both Derek and the department with a lot of good information.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Rodriguez says.
Alana smiles, her dimples flashing briefly. “And you’re a were-coyote, if you don’t mind me mentioning it. I wouldn’t have, but the subject of this investigation is one.”
Rodriguez raises her eyebrows, looking at Noah. “Is that why you thought I might be able to provide insight?”
“It’s a bit of a complicated situation,” Noah confirms. “And yes, it does involve a were-coyote.”
Rodriguez shrugs. “Just as long as you realize that were-coyotes aren’t a monolith. In fact, every family is a little bit different.”
“Any insight you can provide would be valuable,” Noah replies. “Paul had some thoughts, but he’s no longer close with his family.”
Rodriguez makes a face. “Well, I’m still tight with mine, so I guess I can at least offer a different perspective.”
“Right,” Alana says. “With the name and picture, I was able to get a better idea of who exactly Corrine is, and she’s considered a person of interest in multiple murders. Nothing is proven, but she’s a gun for hire known as the Desert Wolf.”
Noah grimaces. “Well, I can’t say I’m terribly surprised to find out that she’s not on the side of angels, but what would she want with Malia?”
Rodriguez blows out a breath. “This is Malia Tate, right? She was adopted out of the pack? The one that was at Eichen House when you raided it?”
“Hidden with a human family,” Noah confirms, having told her about the situation during the course of the investigation. “The daughter of Derek’s uncle and Corrine. From what we were able to tell, Derek’s mom forced the issue.”
Alana’s gaze sharpens. “You have an idea, Agent Rodriguez.”
“Did your deputy tell you about the myth of mothers giving up some of their power should they have a child?” Rodriguez asks.
Noah nods. “He said it was a myth, or that if a mother does give up part of her power, it’s considered a worthy sacrifice.”
Rodriguez turns to Alana. “Do you have children?”
“I have a son, Danny,” Alana says. She doesn’t ask why, which would seem the obvious question, so Noah keeps his peace as well.
“Would you say that he’s a weakness for you?” Rodriguez asks.
Alana smiles gently. “All children are a weakness, but the strength I gain from being his mother outweighs anything else.”
“That’s what my mami always says,” Rodriguez replies. “She thinks the myth is bullshit, and she has six kids. I’m the oldest. She always said that while she might have given part of her power to each of us, we return it to her tenfold with the good that we do in the world.”
Noah raises his eyebrows. “That’s not quite the same thing as losing part of your power, or being depleted. Although, I know that everyone I add to my pack brings something valuable, even if the addition presents challenges.”
“I wouldn’t have a child,” Rodriguez admits. “My career is too important to me, and I’ve never found the right partner. I use every bit of what I have on the job. So, I guess I’m saying that I understand why Corrine might want to take that power back, especially if she never wanted a child.” She pauses. “At least, someone like Corrine would think that way. If I were her, I’d probably just take Malia home to my mom. She’d love that.”
Alana laughs. “Well, thank the universe you’re on our side then.”
Rodriguez smirks. “My mom might not be thrilled that I don’t have kids, but my siblings all have at least one, so she tolerates it.”
Noah sighs. “Okay, and I can’t believe I’m even asking this, but how would a were-coyote go about getting her power back?”
“If it can be done, it would be on the full moon,” Rodriguez says. “But I don’t think it’s that easy.”
Alana nods. “I told Derek the same thing. I think Corrine will strike on the full moon, and while Derek suggested moving Malia somewhere else, the Desert Wolf is wanted quite desperately by the Calaveras. You’d be best served stopping her as quickly as possible.”
Noah rubs his eyes. “Okay, right. We’re trapping a crazy were-coyote tomorrow night. Got it. Fun times.”
He probably learned that phrase from Stiles, but he knows the other kids use it as well, and the point stands.
Then again, they took care of the Dread Doctors, and taking out a murderous were-coyote seems like the next problem to handle.
“I’ll talk with Moira,” Noah says after a long pause. “She’ll probably have a few ideas.”
Alana’s dimples flash. “She usually does, and she’s not shy about sharing them.”
Rodriguez stands. “I should get going. It was good to see you today, Sheriff.”
“Thanks for the visit, and the insight,” Noah replies, accepting the hand she holds out. “Drive safe getting home.”
Rodriguez lets herself out of his office, but Alana remains seated. “Anything else?”
“Just in case you’re wondering, I gave Derek this information first because he paid for it,” Alana says.
Noah shrugs. “I get it. You’re not on my payroll.”
“That said, besides the concern about Corrine, I also received information about Victoria Argent, and she’s no longer with the Calaveras,” Alana says. “That doesn’t mean that there isn’t a faction still helping her, but the main branch used the attention of the federales to send her on her way.”
Noah sucks in a breath, and the news doesn’t thrill him. Even if they hadn’t been able to reach Victoria Argent while she was in Mexico, at least they’d known where she was and who was helping her. If she’s in the wind, they don’t even have that much.
Still, there’s not much he can do about it now, and the FBI has an active warrant for her. If she tries to cross the border, she’ll likely be picked up, unless she uses the services of a smuggler.
“All right,” Noah finally says. “I think we all learned last spring that Victoria isn’t above hiring someone to commit murder, so we’ll just continue to keep an eye out.”
“There’s not much else you can do,” Alana agrees.
Noah is about to ask another question about her source in Mexico, and whether they can get more information on the Calavera family, but he’s interrupted by his cell phone buzzing.
He glances at the caller ID, and when he sees Parrish’s name, he says, “I have to take this.”
Noah knows two things: Parrish and Derek were having dinner together, and Parrish isn’t the sort to call Noah’s cell phone unless it’s an emergency.
“Stilinski,” he says when he answers.
“Sheriff, I’m driving Derek to the pack house,” Parrish says, his tone both calm and urgent. Noah recognizes that tone, and the hair on the back of his neck stands up. “He was shot outside the restaurant after we finished dinner. It’s a wolfsbane bullet, so Derek didn’t want to go to the hospital.”
Noah is already out of his seat, grabbing his gun belt. “Have you been able to reach Moira?”
“You were my second call after her,” Parrish replies. “She’s going to let Stiles know.”
“I’ll meet you there,” Noah replies. He wants more information, but he also wants Parrish to get off the phone for his own and Derek’s safety.
He quickly checks the calendar online to see the entry Derek had made, and where it was. He notes that they were meeting at the new BBQ place, and glances at Alana. “Derek’s been shot, and I have to get home. It was a wolfsbane bullet.”
Alana is on her feet, her purse already slung over her shoulder. “I’ll head that way myself. You might need the coven for this one.”
Noah isn’t going to argue with her. He needs to send a team to the restaurant to collect whatever evidence they can—preferably without raising a lot of eyebrows.
When he exits his office, he spots Dave and Paul, who have arrived a little early for their shift, which is pretty typical for them.
“Dave, Paul, my office,” Noah calls, as Alana scoots past him, giving him a nod as she leaves. “Quickly, please.”
They turn up in his office with alacrity, and Dave is the first to ask, “Did something happen, sir? I felt something along the pack bond, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.”
“Derek was shot with a wolfsbane bullet out at the new BBQ restaurant,” Noah says. “Parrish is taking him to the pack house, and Moira is already aware. I need you two to go to the scene and see if you can find anything.”
“Is he all right?” Paul asks, blue eyes worried.
Noah shakes his head. “He’s still alive, but that’s all I can tell you right now. I need to get to the house.”
“Go,” Dave replies. “We’ll go to the scene. I assume we want to keep this quiet.”
Noah nods. “We do.”
Paul just says, “We’ll get changed into civvies and head over, sir. Keep us updated if you can.”
Noah heads out back to where he’d parked his vehicle, and he refrains from speeding by a sheer act of will. He’s never been as attuned to the pack bonds as Stiles, so he hadn’t really noticed a change.
Now that he knows, and he’s concentrating on it, he can feel a thin echo of Derek’s pain.
He parks haphazardly in front of the house, but he’s stopped by Alana before he can go inside. “We have Derek in Moira’s apartment. We thought it would be quieter, but we may need to move him to the ritual circle.”
Noah heads around the side of the house to the separate entrance to Moira’s apartment above the garage, then takes the stairs two at a time, Alana on his heels.
He knocks briefly on the door before entering, and finds Derek on his back on the living room floor. There’s a thick towel under him, and someone has removed his jacket and shirt, as well as his pants.
“We need to get the bullet out,” Stiles says. He’s kneeling on one side of Derek, and Moira is kneeling across from him on the other side.
“Mel and Ellie are on the way,” Moira replies.
Noah glances at Derek’s face, which is deathly pale and clammy, dark circles under his eyes. He’s fairly certain that Derek doesn’t have that long.
Stiles shakes his head, echoing that concern. “Mrs. McCall said ten minutes. We can’t wait.”
“Do it,” Derek says weakly. “I trust you.”
Stiles bites his lip. “I also don’t want to kill you, dude.”
“I’m dying anyway,” Derek says, and whatever heat there would normally be in his voice is gone.
Stiles looks at Moira for guidance, and she glances at Noelani. “What about a magnet?” Noelani asks. “We can pull the bullet out back the way it went in.”
Stiles’ expression clears at that. “I can strengthen a magnet, and pull it out. I think. I hope.”
“I have one,” Moira says. “You’ll just need to increase the strength.”
Her bag is never far from her, and Moira pulls it over, rummaging around inside and coming up with a thin, dark, metal square.
“We’re going to roll you over now, Der,” Stiles says gently.
Noah moves to help, and he can feel how cold and clammy Derek’s skin is. “Is there anything I can do?”
Stiles glances up at him, his expression grim and set. “Just—focus on the bond you have with him. You can lend him some of your strength.”
It doesn’t seem like enough, but Noah will do what he can.
~~~~~
Stiles is in the middle of shooting bad guys in a Halo marathon when he feels a sharp pain in his side, followed by a burning pain that starts to spread through his body. His character in the game dies due to his momentary inattention, and Scott gives him a sharp look.
“Stiles? You okay?” he asks.
Stiles closes his eyes, taking a moment to gather his impressions, realizing that the sensations had come from his bond with Derek.
“I’m fine, but Derek isn’t,” Stiles says. “Erica, check the pack calendar and see if Derek updated his plans for tonight.”
Erica whips out her phone and says, “He was having dinner with Parrish at that new BBQ place in town.”
Stiles doesn’t have a bond with Parrish, which means he has no way of knowing whether something had happened to him as well. Based on what he felt, he assumes Derek had been shot, and he knows there aren’t a lot of options.
If it’s a regular bullet, Derek will heal quickly. If they used wolfsbane, the choices are the hospital or the pack house, and Parrish will probably call someone, which means Stiles should get the news shortly.
Knowing that doesn’t calm his anxiety in the least, however.
Scott pauses the game, and asks, “Should we go look for him?”
Stiles shakes his head. “Dad asked us to stay close to the house tonight. We’ll give it five minutes to see if Parrish calls.”
He doesn’t have to wait that long before his phone vibrates with a call, and he breathes a sigh of relief when he sees Moira’s name. “Moira.”
“You felt it then, young spark,” she says matter-of-factly. “Parrish is bringing Derek here. It was a wolfsbane bullet. I need you to collect the first aid kit—the big one—and prepare my apartment. We’ll deal with it there. Call Mel. I don’t know if she’ll be able to help, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a medical professional available.”
“Got it,” Stiles replies. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Tell the others to stay in the main house,” Moira orders. “We don’t need a crowd, and you can draw on the strength of the entire pack no matter where you are.”
Stiles takes a deep breath. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t worry, Stiles,” Moira advises. “Between the two of us, we’re going to figure it out, okay?”
Stiles swallows hard. “I know. We always have before.”
But Stiles knows there might come a day and a circumstance when they won’t be able to pull a miracle out of their hats.
Stiles ends the call and looks around at his friends. “Derek got shot with a wolfsbane bullet. Parrish is bringing him to Moira.”
Scott frowns. “What about my mom?”
“She’s my next call,” Stiles replies.
“I’ll call her,” Scott replies. “That restaurant isn’t far from here. Get the supplies you need and I’ll let you know what Mom says.”
“Thanks, Scotty,” Stiles says. “Moira asked the rest of the pack to stay here.”
Erica nods. “Go. We’ll hold down the fort. I’m not really the praying sort, but we’ll think good thoughts or something.”
“Thanks,” Stiles replies, and heads upstairs to the front closet. They keep their coats in there, but at the bottom of the closet is a massive first aid kit.
Moira had been the one to stock it after the thing with the contract killers. While the ‘wolves probably won’t need it, Stiles, Moira, Lydia, or one of the other coven members might. Stiles is fairly certain that someone could perform field surgery with the contents, assuming they knew what they were doing.
Of course, the only ones with that level of experience would be Dr. Ellie or Mrs. McCall. Scott has some knowledge, too, but it’s limited to animals, although he could probably help in a pinch. The rest of them have some basic knowledge of first aid, and that’s about it.
And Dr. Ellie and Mrs. McCall aren’t at the pack house all that often, so maybe one of the ‘wolves or Stiles should pick up a human anatomy course or two.
Stiles shoulders the bag and finds Batman already sitting by the front door. “I guess you’re not a crowd, buddy,” Stiles says. “Come on.”
Scott had been right. Parrish is pulling up in front of the house as Stiles takes the stairs to Moira’s apartment over the garage.
Moira opens the door as Stiles approaches, taking the bag from him and saying, “Go help Jordan with Derek. We’re still getting set up.”
Stiles glances past Moira and sees that the furniture in the living area has been shoved against the walls. Noelani has a large, embroidered cloth in the center of the floor with ritual symbols worked into the fabric.
“Got it,” Stiles says, thundering back down the stairs to help Parrish get Derek out of the truck.
His truck is high enough up off the ground that Derek basically falls into their arms when he opens the door and tries to get out. Stiles wedges his shoulder under Derek’s right arm, while Parrish takes the left.
Stiles is grateful for all of his physical training, because while Derek is solid muscle, Stiles finds he can take the weight without much trouble.
Derek is pale and sweaty, dark circles already forming under his eyes.
“No offense, Derek, but if this is what barbeque does to you, I think you should skip it in the future,” Stiles says, trying to make a joke, although he’s pretty sure it falls flat.
“Ha ha,” Derek says, wincing as they start up the stairs. “Bullet’s still inside.”
“Mrs. McCall should be on her way,” Stiles replies. “Scott’s calling her.”
Parrish grunts. “Good. I have some basic first aid from my Army training, but nothing like what Derek needs right now.”
Derek’s clearly having trouble using his legs, and Stiles and Parrish have to manhandle him up the stairs to Moira’s place. It would have been easier to get Derek into the pack house, but Stiles understands why Moira insists on using her place.
The pack house is strongly warded, but Moira really only allows Noah, Stiles, and Noelani in her space, which means that her apartment has incredibly strong wards. If the hunters follow up this attack with an action against the pack house, Derek will be in the safest, most defensible position as the pack member who’s currently the most vulnerable.
Stiles and Parrish are both breathing a little heavily by the time they get inside, but Derek is panting in harsh gasps.
“Get him out of those clothes,” Moira orders as they enter. “Then place him in the center, on the towel.”
Stiles gives Derek an apologetic look, but Derek just nods shortly.
As attractive as he finds Derek, that thought is the furthest thing from Stiles’ mind as he helps Parrish strip Derek down to his boxer briefs.
Derek helps as much as he can, but Stiles can tell that he’s in a tremendous amount of pain, and is weakening quickly. Stiles can feel how short their time is, and he knows that whatever they do, they need to hurry.
He and Parrish get Derek laid out on the towel, and Moira checks the wound, which is low on Derek’s left flank. There isn’t nearly as much blood as Stiles would have expected, and black lines are snaking out around it.
There’s a brief knock on the door, and his dad enters as Stiles says, “We need to get the bullet out.”
He can feel the bond fraying, and it’s distressing. Other than his dad, Stiles’ bond with Derek is the strongest, especially after the thing with the Darach.
“Mel and Ellie are on their way,” Moira reminds him.
Stiles knows they can’t wait that long; he can feel Derek slipping away, and the sooner they have the bullet, the sooner they can identify the strain of wolfsbane, and the faster they can heal him.
If they can heal him.
As much pain as Derek is in, his voice is still strong and steady when he says, “Do it. I trust you.”
It feels like deja vu all over again, but this time Stiles has skills beyond operating a surgical saw, and Derek has faith in what Stiles can do.
Noelani comes up with the idea of a magnet, and Moira has one.
His dad comes to kneel by Derek’s head, putting a hand on his shoulder. Parrish asks, “What can I do?”
“Just be here for him,” Stiles replies. Parrish is supernatural, but Stiles can’t draw power from him in the same way he could from a pack member, nor does Derek have a bond with Parrish that he can use.
Stiles shores up the bond between his dad and Derek, hoping that it will buy him a little more time, then he reaches for both the Nemeton and the rest of the pack. Stiles finds both waiting for him eagerly, and he banks some of that power.
Stiles knows he’s going to need it.
“Let’s roll him over,” Stiles says, taking the magnet from Moira as he kneels on Derek’s left side.
Derek grunts as they move him, and Stiles says, “Sorry, sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Derek manages to grit out. “Just do it.”
Stiles focuses on increasing the strength of the magnet, then on the path the bullet took through Derek’s flank. He’s seen enough CSI to visualize it, and he focuses on pulling the bullet back through that same path to minimize the damage. The wolfsbane has prevented Derek from healing, so Stiles doesn’t have to worry about re-injuring him as long as the bullet takes the same route.
There’s a quiet slurping sound as the bullet pulls free of Derek’s flesh, and then a plink as it hits the magnet. Stiles hands the intact bullet to Moira, who holds it in her hand briefly before passing it to Noelani.
“What do you think, dear heart?” Moira asks.
Noelani closes the bullet in her fist and closes her eyes in concentration. “Winter aconite, I believe.”
Moira nods. “That’s what I thought, too.” She starts rummaging in her bag again.
“What are you going to do?” Noah asks.
Moira hums under her breath. “How did you heal Derek the last time, Stiles?”
Stiles grimaces. “We had to find a bullet with the same mixture that shot Derek, burn the gunpowder, and put that against the wound.”
“Exactly so,” Moira says, pulling a small glass vial out of her bag. “But we don’t have that option—or that kind of time—so Stiles will use sympathetic magic to pull the toxins out of Derek.”
Stiles takes the vial and looks at the seed. “So, grow the seed and grab the plant?”
Moira nods. “I’d grow it near the ritual space.”
Batman whines low in his throat. “Easy, buddy,” Stiles says. “We’re okay. Everything is going to be fine.”
Stiles isn’t sure who he’s trying to convince, his dog or everyone else, but he feels the words need to be said.
“Go,” Moira replies. “I’ll get everything ready.”
Stiles doesn’t need to be told twice. He runs outside with Batman on his heels, and heads for the ritual circle. There’s a mulched border surrounding it, and Stiles uses his bare finger to bore a hole in the dirt, then drops the seed and covers it.
Batman scoots forward on his belly, his head on his paws as he looks at the hole Stiles just dug. He whines again, and while his white eyebrows give him a perpetually worried expression, Stiles has learned to parse Batman’s reactions. Right now, he’s worried for Stiles.
Stiles knows why, too. Using sympathetic magic to remove the toxins from Derek’s body is really their only option, but those toxins have to go somewhere. Stiles figures Moira has a plan, but he’s well aware that the endeavor is not without risk.
“I know,” Stiles says, trying to sooth his dog. “But it’s going to be fine. My magic has always protected me before, right?”
Batman whines again, but Stiles is pretty sure he doesn’t really have a choice, not if he’s going to save Derek’s life.
A tug on the bond he shares with Derek tells him that his time is growing short, so he really needs to get a move on. Stiles has grown plants before—like the dandelion when he’d picked up Batman, or the young Nemeton—so this isn’t anything new. He pushes his magic into the seed and watches as a new shoot pushes up through the soil, small, green leaves unfurling before the bud appears and blossoms into a yellow, six-petaled flower.
As soon as it has fully bloomed, Stiles pulls back his magic and pulls the plant from the ground, making sure to get all of the roots. He’s not going to leave wolfsbane lying around to potentially poison other pack members.
Plant in hand, Stiles runs back to Moira’s apartment, taking the stairs two at a time. Mrs. McCall and Dr. Ellie have apparently arrived while Stiles was outside, because they’re kneeling next to Derek, setting up an IV. His dad and Parrish are as close to Derek as they can be without getting in the way.
Stiles isn’t sure how much good that will do, but it can’t hurt to give Derek fluids to help combat the poison.
Moira is in the kitchen with Noelani, and Stiles sees the large stone mortar and pestle on the counter.
“You’ll want to rinse off the roots,” Moira says. “Then we can use the mortar and pestle to make a paste.”
Stiles follows her instructions, and isn’t surprised when Moira uses the sound of the running water as cover to speak with him. “You understand the risks here, mo chroi?”
Stiles nods. “Yeah, I do.”
“You’ll use a neutral oil to help mash the plant,” Moira says. “The oil should contain most of the toxins, but your magic will burn it out of you if necessary.”
Stiles knows what she’s not saying, just as he knows instinctively why it has to be him. As a spark, his magic can contain the toxins if he has faith. Moira, although she has a lot of power, wouldn’t be able to accomplish it.
But there’s still a possibility that the oil and his magic won’t contain the toxin, and so there’s no small risk to Stiles.
“I get it,” Stiles says quietly. “I’ll be careful.”
Moira hands him a set of kitchen shears, and Stiles separates the roots from the stems. He drops the winter aconite into the bowl of the mortar, then pours in the neutral oil.
The harsh sound of stone scraping on stone seems to fill the apartment as Stiles works the contents into a paste. That sound covers Derek’s increasingly labored breathing.
“Do you want a glove?” Moira asks.
Stiles shakes his head. “No. It will work better with bare skin.”
Moira doesn’t argue, which tells Stiles that he’s right, even if wearing a glove would be the safer option. Stiles’ bond with Derek says that they don’t have time to be safe.
Stiles keeps grinding with the pestle until he has a smooth paste, and then holds the bowl out to Moira for inspection.
“That should do it,” Moira says. “I’m sorry we didn’t spend more time on herb-craft this summer.”
Stiles just shrugs. “I still have everything in the world to learn.”
He’s studied the medicinal properties of plants, but using them like this is another matter entirely, and it hadn’t seemed like a priority.
“I’m glad you realize that,” Moira replies. “Nevertheless, we’ll add it to your lessons. Now that the young Nemeton is more established, we can spend some time on that as well.”
Stiles nods, taking the mortar over to where Derek is lying on the floor. “Okay, Derek, I don’t know what this is going to feel like, but it’s probably not going to feel good.”
Derek grunts as he rolls back over to his right side, exposing the wound. “Can’t feel worse than what it does right now. Just do what you need to do, Stiles.”
Stiles glances up to meet his dad’s faded blue eyes, and he can see the worry reflected there. “Are you sure about this, son?”
Stiles manages a reassuring smile. “I can do this, Dad. It’s the only way.”
“All right, I believe you,” his dad says. “Do what you need to do.”
Stiles can feel his dad’s faith echoing down the bond, and he says, “If things don’t go well, you’ll need to call Cora right away.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Noah says evenly. “But if it is, I’ll call her.”
“Right,” Stiles mutters. “Here goes nothing.”
He scoops the paste out of the mortar and slaps it against the wound in Derek’s flank, and then he pulls. At the same time, he reinforces his bonds with Derek, his dad, and the rest of the pack.
The strength of the wolf is the pack, after all.
Stiles pulls the toxins from Derek’s body into the neutral oil and then past it. His right hand is tingling, and Stiles knows that he’s probably absorbing some of the poison through his skin.
He can’t afford to worry about that right now, though. Stiles just keeps pulling, wanting to be sure to get it all so Derek’s healing can finally kick in.
At some point, Stiles knows that the oil can’t hold anymore of the toxin, but there’s still more to do. He doesn’t have any other choice but to pull the poison into his own body, and hope to hell that Moira is right about his magic burning it out.
Stiles reaches for the Nemeton again, even as the numbness in his hand grows, and his heart starts thundering in his chest, as dizziness and nausea crashes over him in a wave, and he grows weak.
“Pull back, Stiles!” Moira snaps. “You’re doing too much!”
Stiles realizes that she’s right, and he’s pulled the poison out of Derek’s body, but is now pulling it from the plant into his own.
The problem is that he doesn’t know how to stop.
Chapter 5
Derek is pretty out of it by the time Stiles starts working his magic, but he can feel the bonds he has with the rest of the pack, and can feel them tying him to his body.
He can feel the web of pack bonds, even though he feels like he’s floating, weightless.
And then he feels Stiles’ magic spreading through his body, burning out the poison racing through his blood. It should have hurt, the way having the Darach’s magic burned out of him had hurt, but it doesn’t. Instead, it feels as though he’s being cleansed and refreshed.
But then Stiles’ magic changes, and Derek can feel his alarm.
Derek manages to pry his eyes open, and realizes that Stiles has broken contact with Derek’s wound, but his hand is still clenched around the plant matter he’d used to draw the poison out of Derek.
Moira grabs Stiles’ forearm and digs her thumb in right below his elbow, causing Stiles’ hand to open spasmodically.
“I’ve got it,” Melissa McCall says, sounding far calmer than Derek feels. She uses gloved hands to first scrape the plant matter off Stiles’ skin, then an alcohol wipe to remove any residue.
Ellie Wagner says, “Let’s get him on the couch. We’ll start an IV with magnesium sulfate and see what that does.”
“We have other things we can try as well,” Mel says.
“What the hell happened?” Noah demands, although he keeps a comforting hand on Derek’s shoulder.
Moira shakes her head. “Stiles pulled the poison out of Derek, but went too far and started pulling it into his own body.”
“Was that supposed to happen?” Noah asks.
Moira gives him a look. “No, of course not, but this isn’t an exact science, and Stiles has never done this before.”
Derek closes his eyes, focusing on his bond with Stiles. It’s still burning brightly, and Derek can feel everyone else in the pack as well. “Stiles will be fine,” he murmurs. “The Nemeton has him, and the pack has him.”
And then Derek passes out, the absence of pain such a relief that he can’t stay awake any longer.
The next time Derek wakes up, he’s in an unfamiliar space, the sun hitting his face from a different direction than usual.
He’s not alarmed, though. He can smell Stiles nearby, as well as a faint floral scent that Derek has come to associate with Moira, and Old Spice, which tells him that Noah had been here.
Derek pushes himself up to sit and starts to look around. Stiles is asleep on the couch next to where Derek had been lying on the floor, one hand hanging off the couch. Batman is lying next to the couch in such a way that Stiles’ hand is resting on the dog’s head.
Derek doesn’t see anyone else right away, and he slowly climbs to his feet. He vaguely remembers that Mel and Ellie had put an IV in, but there’s just a small bandage where the needle had been inserted.
Moira’s front door opens, and Noah slips inside, looking and smelling as though he’s freshly showered.
His expression gives way to relief when he sees Derek on his feet. “You’re up. How are you feeling?”
Derek tries to take stock, but the overwhelming feeling is relief, knowing how close to death he’d come. “A little tired, but I’m fine.”
“You’re off today and tomorrow,” Noah says. “We’ll reassess after that.”
Derek glances at Stiles. “How is he?”
Noah sighs. “I can’t say how touch and go it was, but Moira assures me that his magic protected him, and he’ll be fine once he wakes up.” He pauses. “I did let Cora come over and check on you last night after you both passed out, but it’s probably a good idea to go over and see her and Malia. Alana went home, and Moira and Noelani are getting some sleep. Mel and Ellie stayed until they knew everyone was stable, and then they had to go back to the hospital.”
“You’re not sending the kids to school?” Derek asks.
Noah shakes his head. “Last night was hard on everyone, and they asked to stay home. I didn’t see a problem with it.”
Derek shakes his head. “No, that’s fine. I don’t either. I guess…” He trails off. “I think I’m still just a little fuzzy.”
“Go on over and let Cora and Malia hug the stuffing out of you,” Noah advises. “Get some breakfast and get cleaned up. I brought some clothing.”
Derek realizes that he’s still in just his boxer briefs, although someone had made an effort to clean off the blood. He probably should be embarrassed, but they were in pretty tight quarters at the old house, and Noah is his Alpha.
“Oh, right,” Derek says, and Noah smirks at him. “I’ll just get dressed and head over then.”
“Fair warning, I think they put together some kind of breakfast casserole,” Noah says. “I have no idea how it is.”
Derek shrugs and laughs. “If it’s not good, I’ll keep my opinion to myself.”
He pulls on the joggers and hoodie that Noah brought and shoves his feet back into his boots. No one had thought to take his socks off the previous night, and that reminds him. “Parrish?”
“He’s over there, too, grabbing a shower and a nap,” Noah replies. “He sat with you most of the night. I don’t know that anyone got much sleep.”
Derek grimaces. “We’re going to leave you shorthanded.”
“Parrish said he’d go in, just a little late,” Noah replies. “Thank god the whole station already knows. I’m not going to have to try covering it up the way I did with Tara.”
Derek snorts at that. “Right, I guess there’s that.”
He heads next door, stepping through the front door, and is hit immediately from both sides by Cora and Erica. Derek puts his arms around them out of pure reflex, and then he presses his forehead to the top of Cora’s head, then Erica’s.
“Are you okay?” Cora asks, her voice muffled against his chest.
“I’m tired, but fine,” Derek replies.
“How’s Stiles?” Erica asks, pulling back.
Derek hesitates, dialing into how the bond feels. “He’s sleeping right now. The bond still feels strong, and Noah and Batman are with him now.”
He can’t explain why he isn’t worried about Stiles beyond that. Derek just knows that Stiles will be fine, deep in his bones.
“I told you,” Scott says, coming out of the kitchen. “Scoot over.”
Erica laughs and moves enough for Scott to give Derek a bro hug while still keeping an arm around Cora. That breaks whatever stalemate there had been, and Derek accepts hugs from the rest of the pack as well.
Scott is the one to say, “Okay, everybody, let’s let Derek get cleaned up and set the table. And don’t worry, Mom gave me her recipe for the casserole. She says it’s fool-proof.”
“I wasn’t worried,” Derek says, mostly because Scott really has come a long way. Plus, Derek can smell it, and whatever it is, smells delicious.
Scott grins crookedly. “Thanks, Derek. I’ve been working on it.”
“We’ve noticed,” Isaac says, slinging an arm around Scott’s shoulders.
Derek can feel the lightness in the pack bonds. He’d been too out of it the night before to really understand the burden the others felt, but he remembers a time or two growing up when someone had been sick or injured. Until they’d known their pack member would make a full recovery, everyone was on tenterhooks.
But when the danger had passed, the fear had always been replaced by euphoria, and he can tell that’s what everyone is feeling now.
Derek definitely wants to get cleaned up, so he heads upstairs to take a shower and brush his teeth. He feels a lot better once he’s clean, although he pulls on his most comfortable clothing.
He’s not going anywhere today, and it sounds like the rest of the pack is going to stick close as well.
When he emerges from the bathroom, Parrish is in the hallway, wearing his uniform, hands shoved in his pockets. “How are you feeling?”
Derek shrugs. “I’m a little tired, but I feel pretty good all things considered. How are you?”
“So fucking glad you’re in one piece,” Parrish replies, and hauls Derek into a hug.
Derek hugs him back just as tightly. In that moment, it suddenly hits him just how lucky he’d been. If Stiles hadn’t been able to do what he did, Derek wouldn’t be here right now.
After a moment, Parrish pulls back. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I know it was close, but I’m really okay,” Derek replies.
Parrish blows out a breath. “I never really got the magic thing, you know? Even after what happened with the Dread Doctors, I didn’t get it, not really. But watching Stiles do his thing last night, I swear he pulled you back from the dead.”
“I wouldn’t go quite that far,” Derek replies. “But what Stiles did was borderline miraculous.”
“Borderline?” Parrish questions. “You didn’t see yourself. That was full on miracle, Derek.”
Derek smirks. “Let’s not tell Stiles. I wouldn’t want him to get a big ego.”
“Maybe he deserves to have a big ego,” Parrish counters, following Derek downstairs.
Scott has pulled a couple of pans out of the oven when they reach the kitchen, with extra salsa and sour cream on the counter for people to doctor their own portions. “It’s basically chilaquiles in a breakfast casserole,” Scott is saying.
“It smells great,” Derek says.
“There’s a pan with red salsa, and one with green,” Scott replies. “You get first choice.”
Derek likes both, but he opts for green, hoping that there’s enough left over of the red for him to try some. He finds a seat at the table, and is soon joined by Cora on one side and Malia across from him.
“Are you guys okay?” Derek asks.
Cora leans into him. “Yeah. I’m just sorry I was such a bitch to you.”
“I get it,” Derek says easily. “You were worried about your girlfriend, and we’re fine.”
Malia glares at him. “No, she was a bitch. You should accept her apology.”
Derek raises his eyebrows. “Really?”
Malia just shrugs and doesn’t say anything else, but Isaac says, “She’s right. I mean, that’s what Sabra said when she was here for the pack. If someone is a dick, and they offer a sincere apology, it’s not your job to minimize it.”
Derek feels as though he’s been schooled, and based on Parrish’s snort of amusement, he would probably agree.
Cora kicks him under the table. “See?”
“Somehow I feel like I’ve lost this round,” Derek mutters, and takes a bite. “Scott, this is delicious.”
In a bid to change the subject, it’s successful, because everyone chimes in with their own praise. Scott blushes in pleasure. “Thanks. Kira and Lydia said they’d pick up assignments for everyone and bring them by after school today, by the way.”
It turns out that no one slept the night before, and once everyone has eaten, they all head for the basement to nap. Parrish takes off, needing to get ready for his shift, and Derek starts putting the leftovers in the fridge.
Moira lets herself and Noelani into the house as he’s doing that, and Derek pauses. “Do you want anything?”
Moira smiles. “Breakfast would be lovely. It smells wonderful.”
“Scott stepped up,” Derek admits.
“How are you feeling, boyo?” Moira asks as she starts to dish up.
Derek laughs a little at that. “I think I’m going to get very tired of people asking me that, but I’m fine, really. How are you guys?”
“We weren’t the ones doing the heavy lifting,” Noelani says with asperity. “That was Stiles, and he’s still sleeping.”
Derek frowns. “Is it exhaustion?”
“You could say that, but he’ll replenish quickly,” Moira assures him. “I’m sure he’ll be awake by lunchtime.”
Derek glances away, looking outside. “Did he hurt himself to…” He trails off, not sure how to ask his question.
Moira sighs. “No, Stiles would have been able to remove the toxins from your system without harm to himself, I believe. He just couldn’t tell the difference between the toxins in you and the ones in the plant matter he was holding.”
“Shit,” Derek mutters.
“It’s not your fault,” Moira says firmly. “If we’re going to blame anyone, we’ll blame the person who shot you. Do you remember anything?”
Derek shakes his head. “No. I was just talking to Parrish, and it felt like someone punched me in the stomach.”
“Based on what Parrish said, that’s not too surprising,” Noah says.
Derek turns and sees Noah supporting Stiles, who appears a little loopy, but manages a smile. “Can I get some of that?” he asks.
Derek really can’t help himself; he pulls Stiles into a tight hug. Stiles clings right back and says, “Hey, dude.”
“Don’t call me dude,” Derek mutters. “Aren’t you supposed to be unconscious?”
Stiles lets out a laugh. “I don’t know, maybe? I woke up ravenous, and Dad said there was food.”
“Scott cooked; it’s good,” Derek replies, pulling back.
Stiles sniffs the air pointedly. “Yeah, smells like enchiladas.”
“There’s plenty,” Derek says. “I was just starting to put the leftovers away.”
Stiles doesn’t limit himself to red or green, taking a bit of both and sitting down at the table, starting to shovel in his food.
Derek exchanges an amused look with Noah and Moira, but no one says anything about his table manners. By this point, they all have some idea how much energy Stiles expends when he undertakes the kind of magic he’d used the night before.
“That was really good,” Stiles admits as he finishes up.
“How are you feeling?” Moira asks.
Stiles shrugs. “Fine. I really think the Nemeton wants to help me when things like that happen. I probably would still be unconscious if it didn’t.”
“You probably would be,” Moira admits. “And I’m not too surprised. The threefold rule applies to the good things as well. You fed power to the Nemeton, and now the Nemeton feeds power back to you. That will only become more true as it matures.”
Stiles leans back from the table and says, “I guess that makes me feel better.”
Noah clears his throat. “I have to get to work soon, but we need to talk about tonight, and what will happen if Corrine comes here.”
Stiles frowns. “What now?”
Derek feels as though about ten years passed since he had that conversation with Alana, and he’d forgotten that Stiles would have had no reason to know about it. He glances at Noah, willing to follow where his Alpha leads.
Noah lets out a breath and offers a summary. “It turns out that Malia’s biological mom is likely targeting her to try and get power from her. Whether she can or not is another matter entirely, but if she tries, it will likely be on a full moon.”
Stiles frowns, drumming his fingers on the table. “So, tonight then. You think she’ll come here?”
“It’s a little late to try and set a trap for her elsewhere,” Noah admits.
“The wards are strong here,” Moira points out. “And the entire pack will be present. She might get onto the property, but she won’t get far.”
Stiles hums. “I think we should let Malia take the lead on confronting her, and have Dave on the sniper rifle. She gets to tell her mom to go to hell and maybe exorcise some demons.”
Noah gives him a look. “You think she needs that?”
“I think her bio-mom is a bitch who probably had something to do with the fact that her mom and sister are dead, and that’s part of why her dad abandoned her,” Stiles says. “So, yeah, if Malia wants to vent her spleen and/or rip her throat out with her teeth, I say we let her with the pack as back up.”
Derek nods slowly. “I think that’s fair. You know Dave never misses a chance to break out the rifle.”
“He just did,” Noah points out, but he sounds more amused than anything else.
“Doesn’t matter,” Derek counters. “It’s another chance.”
“I’ll text them,” Noah says. “I owe them an update anyway. Are you guys going to stick close today?”
Stiles nods. “Yeah, now that I’ve eaten, I’ll probably get some more sleep, but I should take Batman out.”
“I’ll handle it,” Derek offers.
Stiles offers a weary smile. “Thanks, Der. Glad you’re feeling better.”
“I don’t think I said thank you yet,” Derek says.
Stiles gives him a very unimpressed look. “We’re pack, Derek. No thanks are necessary.”
Derek doesn’t agree, but he’s also not going to argue with Stiles when he’s so adamant.
Then again, maybe that has something to do with what they are to each other that remains unspoken.
“Well, I’m glad you’re okay,” Derek says.
Stiles just grabs his dishes. “I’m just fine.”
And Derek has to be content with that. He stands up and says, “Batman, you want to go outside?”
Batman gives Stiles a long look, and finally whuffs his agreement, apparently deciding that Stiles doesn’t need close watching right now.
Derek steps outside with Batman, watching him run into the Preserve to do his business, his hands shoved deeply into the pocket of his hoodie.
It’s a crisp fall morning, and Derek tilts his head back to look at the bright blue sky, unmarred by clouds for a change.
Derek has faced death before, and in the past, he’s even half-accepted that he likely won’t live long. Right now, though, he realizes that he wants more time—more time with his pack, more time to enjoy days like this, just more time.
And Stiles has given him that.
~~~~~
Noah stays seated at the dining room table with Moira and Noelani after Stiles heads upstairs to get more sleep, and Derek takes Batman outside.
“What do you think?” Noah asks Moira. “About Corrine.”
“I think Stiles has some valuable insight,” Moira admits. “And maybe it would do Malia some good to confront the woman.”
Noelani hums. “I agree with Stiles, for what it’s worth. Stiles was relying very heavily on the pack bonds last night. Even if he can’t articulate what he learned from that exposure, he’ll have insights.”
Noah grimaces. “I hate leave a kid to do that sort of job.”
“Then just ask her,” Moira replies. “Ask her if it’s something she wants to do, or if she wants to stay inside the house and let you and the left hand take care of it.”
Noah rubs his eyes. “Right. Be reasonable about it.”
Moira laughs. “Always advisable, and Malia is 17. She’s nearly an adult, and she deserves to have some say in things, and to know what needs to happen.”
He knows Moira is right, and Noah has been trying to keep in mind that all the kids are nearly adults, even the ones who haven’t been emancipated. Stiles, in particular, has duties and abilities that Noah can barely wrap his head around.
“All right, I’ll talk to her,” Noah says. “I need to go into the station, but I’ll plan on being back here early afternoon.”
“Do you want me to speak with her?” Moira offers. “Because we’re both planning to stick around today.”
Noah shakes his head. “No, I think this might be a job for the Alpha.” He pushes back from the table. “Thanks for everything you did last night.”
Moira just smiles. “Of course, Noah, although Stiles did all the heavy lifting.”
Noah knows that’s mostly true. He also knows that if Moira hadn’t been come to Beacon Hills, Derek would be dead right now. Maybe a lot of them would be.
He pauses by the front door, cataloging the sounds from the house. Moira and Noelani are still chatting quietly in the dining room, and the kids are napping in the basement, heart beats sure and steady. Outside, Noah can hear Derek call for Batman, and he remembers that Derek had an appointment with Jack, which is probably a good thing.
Stiles probably should be sleeping, but Noah can hear the keyboard of his laptop clicking, and he figures Stiles had probably gone on some research spiral.
There’s a part of him that wants to go upstairs and insist that Stiles get some sleep, but Noah lets it go. If Stiles is responsible enough to pull Derek back from the brink of death, he’s responsible enough to decide to stay awake so he can research whatever has caught his fancy.
Noah is on his way to the station when the radio crackles, and Maria’s voice comes through. “Sheriff? Are you on your way in?”
“I am,” Noah replies. “I’m about ten minutes out. What’s up?”
“We have a report of a potential breaking and entering not far from your house,” Maria replies. “Mark is heading that way now.”
“Send me the address,” Noah says. “I’ll meet Mark there.”
Maria texts him the address, and Noah knows exactly where it is. It’s a rental property the department has been called to multiple times. The landlord has been having problems keeping a tenant in the house, which makes the place an easy target for someone looking for an easy score. A thief sees an empty house with an overgrown yard and tries their luck.
Noah keeps his lights and sirens off as he approaches, seeing Mark’s county-issued vehicle parked about a block away to the west. He parks right behind him and climbs out.
“How’s Derek?” Mark asks immediately.
“He’s fine,” Noah assures him. “Stiles and Moira worked their magic, quite literally.”
“Well, thank god for that,” Mark mutters. “Who shoots a deputy from long range in broad daylight?”
Noah just gives him a look. “The same folks who like to use wolfsbane bullets. We’ll deal with them later. Right now, let’s focus on the job at hand.”
Mark nods, and Noah glances around the neighborhood, seeing the run-down houses prevalent here, mixed in with the shabby, but well-kept properties.
“Do we know who called it in?” Noah asks.
Mark flips open his notebook. “Sounds like it was one of the next-door neighbors. She spotted someone in dark jeans and a black hoodie sneaking through the backyard.”
Noah snorts. “Well, I suppose there’s a point to nosy neighbors after all.”
“Do you want the back or the front?” Mark asks.
Noah laughs a little bit. “Well, he’s probably more likely to run out the back if you knock on the front door, so I’ll take the backyard.”
“Better you than me, sir,” Mark says cheerfully. “I’ll give you a few minutes to get into place.”
Noah jogs the block or so over to the house on the corner, next door to the target property. He keeps that house between him and any windows, jumping the chain link fence.
He jumps the fence on the other side of the yard, then takes a position to the side of the back door that will be clear of it opening.
Noah doesn’t have to wait long. He hears Mark knock on the front door, that knock all cops master by the end of their first year on duty. Hard and authoritative, three knocks, and a loud, “Beacon Hills Sheriff! We had a report of a break in!”
Thirty seconds later, before Mark can knock again, Donovan Donati runs out the back door. He doesn’t see Noah, who grabs him by the back of his hoodie and jerks him up short. A foot between Donati’s legs trips him up, and Noah is able to easily swing him around and shove him against the side of the house.
Donati tries to shove his hand under his hoodie, right at the small of his back, and Noah knows what that usually means. He grabs that wrist and twists, eliciting a cry of pain.
Noah slaps the cuffs on him and pulls the Glock from the back of his waistband. “Congratulations, Donovan, this makes you a three-time loser.”
Donati tries to shake him off, without success. “Fuck you!” he shouts.
“Not interested,” Noah says, and he’ll never admit it, but Stiles comes by his smart mouth honestly and twice over. “But feel free to proposition the judge and see how far that gets you.”
Mark strolls around the house to the backyard. “He didn’t run?”
“He tried,” Noah says. “I was a little too quick for him. I’ve got better things to do than to chase Mr. Donati around the neighborhood this morning.”
“Seriously, fuck you!” Donati says, again trying to twist out of Noah’s grip. “I wasn’t doing anything.”
Noah sighs. “You were breaking and entering while in possession of a firearm, which takes this from a crime you can maybe plead out to a misdemeanor to a three-strikes felony. You remember what the judge said.”
Add what the judge said to the fact that Donati is currently out on bond, and the firearm—he’s earned himself an enhanced sentence.
“I’ll take him, since you were prepared to chase him down,” Mark offers.
“Thanks,” Noah says. “I appreciate it.”
He especially appreciates it because Donati harbors a personal grudge against him, and that’s going to make the ride to the station a lot more uncomfortable.
Noah beats Mark back to the station, and Dave and Paul are still there. “My office, gentlemen.”
They both immediately follow him, sitting down in the chairs across from his desk. “What did you two find on the shooter? Anything?” Noah asks.
Dave glances at Paul, then takes the lead. “We found the location they shot from, but they policed their brass. It was a fair distance at about 1200 yards, but there are plenty of people who could make that shot, so that’s not going to narrow down our options.”
Noah drums his fingers on his desk. “What’s the average range for an Army sniper?”
“One thousand to fifteen hundred yards,” Dave replies. “And before you ask, they had a straight line of sight with no obstacles, so there was no fancy shooting required. There’s a good chance that they weren’t even all that great of a shot.”
Noah frowns. “Explain, please.”
“A trained sniper should have gone for a kill shot,” Dave says slowly. “It’s possible they hit what they were aiming for, wanting Derek to have a slow, agonizing death.”
“Or?” Noah prompts.
“They didn’t account for wind speed, etc. and the shot was off,” Dave replies. “I like that theory better, given the fact that there wasn’t an exit wound. There are weapons that would have done the job if they knew what they doing.”
Noah blows out a breath. “So, you think they used subpar equipment and didn’t manage a deadly shot because they weren’t that good.”
“If it was a hunter, they probably thought they just needed a big gun and some degree of accuracy,” Dave says. “If they hit him, they figured the wolfsbane would kill him. They used the distance because they didn’t think a ‘wolf would sense or smell him that far away, and they were probably right about that.”
Paul snorts. “They are werewolf hunters. That’s one thing they probably have memorized from the cradle.”
“All right,” Noah says, thinking through the problem. “Let’s be realistic about this. Whoever shot Derek is long gone. It might have been part of their plan, or maybe they were just providing a distraction.”
“They could be trying to soften us up,” Paul offers. “Make us scared. Scared people do stupid things.”
Noah shakes his head. “Maybe, but all we can do is guess at their motives. Guessing doesn’t help us. What do we know—or what can we find out?”
“We tracked the sniper as best we could, but they entered the woods from a county road based on what we could smell,” Paul says. “There’s no way to trace them, sir.”
Noah sighs. “No, I suppose there’s not. They were smart about that, anyway. All right, speculation is useless, but I can throw some department resources at Alana. Maybe she can work her magic and see if anyone she’s pegged as being from one of hunter families has, I don’t know, checked into a local hotel. I’ll reach out to Sheriff Morrison, see who’s picked up a traffic ticket recently. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“Luck is a lawman’s best friend, and sometimes our worst enemy, sir,” Dave says. “So, maybe we’ll get lucky, and they won’t.”
“From your mouth to god’s ears, if I believed in that sort of thing,” Noah mutters.
Paul shrugs. “I’ve always preferred the goddess, myself. The moon is our mistress.”
Noah laughs at that. “We should talk about tonight.”
Dave frowns. “Tonight is the full moon. I thought we were all meeting at your house like usual.”
“We are all meeting at my house like usual,” Noah replies. “But I have reason to believe that Malia’s bio-mom is going to show up to try and murder her.”
Dave’s frown turns into a grin. “Does that mean I get to break out my sniper rifle again?”
Noah just sighs. “Stiles called it.”
~~~~~
Stiles really had been heading upstairs to take a nap, but a thought hit him along the way. He knows Alana had met with Derek before he got shot, and then his dad, but he’s also pretty sure that she’d forwarded the report to him. Derek said he’d ask her to do that so Stiles could add the information to his murder board.
Alana has delivered, as per usual, and Stiles opens the report. He really should sleep, but the report is calling his name.
There’s just some instinct telling him that he’ll find the answers he needs if he looks, and that if he doesn’t look, he’ll regret it.
Or maybe he’s projecting and running on leftover adrenaline. That could be it.
Or it could be the Nemeton pressing him.
Stiles pushes that aside, because it doesn’t matter what the reason is. He’s not going to be able to sleep until he reads it.
The Calaveras are mostly off the board, assuming they stay out of California, and assuming they aren’t gunning for the pack for reasons unknown, and assuming they weren’t the ones who actually fired the shot—
Stiles takes a deep breath. He needs to calm the fuck down and focus on the problem. Based on Alana’s intelligence, whoever shot Derek had probably been associated with Victoria Argent and her faction, not the main Calavera branch. He’ll start there.
The Argents have a wide family tree, though, and while Stiles has an updated list of people Alana thinks might be a threat, it’s going to be impossible to know whether they are or not without more insider information. He sorts through his notes, and Alana’s reports, but doesn’t find anyone that stands out as an obvious suspect.
But Stiles has something he’s probably not supposed to have, and that’s Chris Argent’s phone number. He’s not even sure why he has it, except that Stiles treats information like a magpie treats shiny things. He’d seen it in one of his dad’s files when he visited him at the station shortly after the whole thing with the contract killers went down.
Stiles never planned on using that phone number, except in a “break glass in case of emergency” situation, but maybe this counts.
Derek almost died, after all, and they have no idea who pulled the trigger. Without more info, Stiles is pretty sure they never will.
He won’t reach out to Allison, because the terms of her probation wouldn’t allow her to respond, but Chris is under no such order.
Well, he’s pretty sure if he did reach out to Allison, she’d pass the word along to her dad, so this is really just the shortest path between two points.
Since Stiles is contacting an adult who has no reason to like or trust him, he pulls out his best manners. Mr. Argent, this is Stiles. Do you know if there’s a hunter targeting us?
Stiles really isn’t expecting an immediate response, but only a few moments later, he gets, Not that I know of specifically. Why am I hearing from you and not your dad?
It’s a very good question, and not one Stiles is inclined to bullshit on. Probably because I thought of asking you first. They shot one of us with a bullet that had yellow aconite.
He’s purposefully vague on just who was shot, just in case the Argents are harboring some weird bias against Derek. Stiles figures the Argents owe Derek one, though. They certainly owe Stiles a favor.
That’s the varietal my dad favored, comes the response. I can’t tell you who else might use it, just that my own samples are under lock and key, and those allied with us have been warned away from Beacon Hills.
Stiles hears the unspoken denial in what Chris isn’t saying. Neither he nor Allison were involved, and no one following their version of the code would be, but there are others who are operating by a different code.
Thank you, Stiles responds.
There’s a long couple of minutes, and then the next message comes through. Tell your dad to call me. I might have something for him in a couple of days.
Stiles snorts at that. Clearly, Chris Argent is taking a page out of his dad and Moira’s book, wanting to deal with an adult, not a kid.
And it’s not like they’re going to tell the hunters anything about Stiles having magic. That would paint a target on Stiles’ back, and even if Chris and Allison wouldn’t use that information against him, they likely won’t safeguard it the way his pack would.
Stiles plans to turn everything over to his dad, even if he won’t be happy about Stiles sticking his nose in.
It’s Derek, though, and Stiles couldn’t resist.
His phone chimes with another text, and he checks the screen, seeing a message from Lydia. r u ok? ive been waiting for you to txt
Stiles winces. He definitely should have texted Lydia to let her know what was going on, and that he was fine. im good probly shd sleep
sleep then comes the reply from Lydia. c u 2nite?
full moon, Stiles reminds her.
i want 2 b there
It would only be the second full moon that Lydia willingly showed up to, and Lydia has apparently realized that the pack, the coven, and Stiles are all inextricably linked. Lydia wanted to be part of the coven while remaining wary of the pack, but maybe she’s realized that’s just not possible.
will let u know. we have to deal with something first
ok go 2 sleep
will do
Stiles puts his phone aside and shuts his laptop. He does need to sleep, and he’s done as much as he can for the moment.
Maybe Chris Argent’s information will be helpful, but Stiles will let his dad figure that out.
~~~~~
In spite of all the events of the previous day, Derek hasn’t forgotten that he has a therapy appointment. He’s just not sure they’re going to have time to go over everything, from the argument with Cora to getting shot and Stiles saving his life.
Stiles’ heartbeat is steady, indicating that he’s finally gone to sleep after his research binge. He can tell that the other kids are all asleep in the basement, and the other pack members are steady in spite of the coming full moon.
Derek opens his laptop and logs into the portal, finding Jack waiting for him. “Am I late?” Derek asks.
Jack smiles warmly. “No, I was a bit early today. Your text indicated that you might need a little longer than an hour.”
Derek hesitates. “A lot has happened.”
“All right,” Jack says. “Why don’t you give me the nutshell, and then we can start wherever you’d like?”
Derek blows out a breath. “Noah would tell you that Cora berated me for something she shouldn’t have, so that’s one thing.”
Jack nods. “We were going to talk about your relationship with Cora and Malia, and how to make sure you have healthy boundaries with them both. Go on.”
“And I got shot,” Derek says. “With a wolfsbane bullet. Stiles managed to pull off a miracle.”
Jack’s slow blink is gratifying for some reason that Derek can’t articulate. “Where were you shot?” he asks.
“In the side,” Derek says. “Parrish was with me, and he brought me back here. Stiles, Moira, and Noelani managed to get the bullet out and heal me.”
Jack smiles slightly. “So, Stiles didn’t have to cut off a limb.”
Derek laughs at that. “No, he didn’t. He pulled the toxins from my body with magic.”
“That’s one of those facts that makes what I do worthwhile,” Jack jokes. “Granted, I think anyone who’s a therapist would tell you that every case is different, but that’s not something I ever thought I’d hear a client say.”
Derek shrugs. “I don’t really remember much of it, other than telling Stiles to go ahead and try because he was worried he might inadvertently kill me.”
“How do you feel about all of that?” Jack asks. “And do you feel like talking about it during our session today?”
Derek really thinks about the question. “Stiles saved my life. I trusted him to do so, and he did. Maybe I’ll need to unpack that at some point, but I’d put my life in Stiles’ hands any day of the week.”
He doesn’t think he’s going to be ready to talk about his feelings about Stiles any time soon, other than what he’s just said.
“All right,” Jack says. “I know it’s pretty fresh, and I think it’s fair to give you time to process it on your own. If you need to talk about it, though, you’ll reach out?”
Derek nods. “I promise.”
“Okay, why don’t you tell me about this fight with Cora, and why Noah might believe that she treated you unfairly?” Jack prompts.
Derek doesn’t really want to put unnecessary color on what had happened with Cora, but he also knows that Jack would tell him his own perspective is what they’re currently focusing on. He explains what they’d discovered about the Dread Doctors, and the fact they were targeting Tracy. How they had left her in place because it seemed like the best way to stop them in their tracks.
And how Cora had yelled at him, claiming that he didn’t like the fact that she was dating a woman and didn’t approve of the relationship.
Jack stops him at that point. “How did that accusation make you feel?”
Derek shrugs. “I’m bi. Tracy seems like a nice girl. She hasn’t gotten Cora or Malia into any trouble. I haven’t given Cora any reason to think I would disapprove.”
“How did you respond to those accusations?” Jack queries gently.
Derek looks off to the side. “I guess I just shut down. I told her that wasn’t the issue, but then I just—let her get it out of her system.”
“Do you understand why Noah might think that seemed abusive?” Jack asks.
“It probably looked a lot like that from the outside,” Derek admits. “She was yelling at me, and I wasn’t responding.”
Jack nods. “Tell me, Derek, if anyone else had yelled at you like that, would you have shut down?”
Derek already knows the answer to that question; he doesn’t even have to think about it. “Yes.”
“Do you know why you didn’t do that with Cora?” Jack gently prods.
Derek sighs. “Because there’s a part of me that still believes I’m responsible for what happened to our family, and I deserve whatever she throws at me.”
Jack hums. “That’s very well-articulated, but we’ve talked about that. Articulation of why you didn’t respond in the moment is not setting a boundary for the future.”
“I know,” Derek says after a long pause. “I just—in the moment, all I could think was that if things had turned out badly, it would have been my fault again.”
“Who made the decision to leave Tracy in place?” Jack asks.
Derek grimaces. “It was a joint decision. We all agreed to it.”
“Then it wouldn’t have been your decision at all,” Jack points out. “If you had believed moving Tracy was the better option, and had been overruled, would you have still been responsible?”
“No,” Derek says after a moment. “But maybe I should have tried to convince Noah and Stiles to move her.”
“Knowing that hindsight is always 20/20, would you advocate for moving her today?” Jack asks.
Derek sighs. “No. I wouldn’t. We made the right decision.”
“Then I suggest that Cora had an emotional response, maybe because of her own trauma,” Jack says. “And then you had an emotional response. That’s why the boundary has to be drawn when you’re both calm, as well as deciding how you’re going to handle it should it happen again.”
Derek takes a deep breath, knowing that Jack is right. “I would agree with that.”
“Then let’s role play how that conversation might go,” Jack says.
They spend the rest of the session talking through how Derek might set boundaries, and how to be firm but kind. “A boundary tells others how you expect to be treated,” Jack reminds him. “It’s not a punishment, even if that’s how they respond.”
Derek nods. “I know. At least, I get it in my head.”
“Which is why we practice setting those boundaries here until it becomes second nature,” Jack replies. “Good work today, Derek.”
That’s how Jack typically ends a session, and Derek thanks him.
Derek has done enough work on himself to know that the blame for his family’s murders is on Kate and the others involved, not him. Still, there are moments when that’s harder to internalize, and Cora yelling at him was one of those times.
He heads downstairs after his session, too restless to try to nap or read or some other quiet activity.
Derek starts poking around the fridge and cupboards. They’ve been busy enough that he doesn’t think anyone has made plans for the full moon other than showing up.
“Hey,” Cora says, sounding somewhat subdued as she emerges from the basement.
Derek glances at her. “Hey. You okay?”
Cora shrugs. “I should be asking you that. It was too close, Derek.”
“But I survived,” Derek points out. “Do you know if Moira made any plans for the full moon?”
“For dinner?” Cora asks. “I think she said something about pasta.”
Derek nods. “Makes sense. That should feed a crowd.”
“Are you mad at me?” Cora asks in a small voice.
“Why would I be mad at you?” Derek counters.
“I yelled at you about Tracy, and I shouldn’t have. I know you’re not homophobic, and don’t care that I’m dating a girl,” Cora admits. “I just—got really mad.”
Derek remembers what Jack had said, and knows this is his opportunity to have the conversation they need to have. “I understand, but next time that happens, I’m going to walk away to let us both cool off,” Derek says simply. “I should have done that the other night instead of shutting down.”
Cora bites her lip. “Okay, that’s fair. I’ll try not to fly off the handle.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Derek advises her. “We both have a temper.”
“I did say ‘try,’” Cora points out.
Derek smirks at her. “Fair enough. Next time, maybe ask yourself if you’d yell at the Alpha before you yell at me.”
Cora grimaces. “Oh, god. That means I’ll probably never yell at you again.”
Derek just raises his eyebrows.
“Okay, I get it,” Cora mutters. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”
He wraps an arm around her shoulders. “We’re both good.”
She hugs him back and says, “I know. I definitely owe Stiles one.”
“I think we all probably owe him more than one,” Derek replies.
The rest of the younger pack members emerge from the basement around the same time that Moira enters the kitchen.
“How are all my lovelies?” Moira asks.
Derek watches as they all turn towards her with varying degrees of relief. “How are you?” Scott counters. “You were up all night, too.”
Moira pats his cheek. “I have plenty of reserves, although I’ll admit that I don’t want more nights like the last one. Now, I think I’ll put you all to work.”
Her plans involve two large foil pans of baked pasta, and she establishes an assembly line to chop and shred various ingredients while she puts Derek on boiling the water. Derek suspects that she’s deliberately assigned him one of the easier jobs, and he appreciates that. While he’s not feeling bad—especially compared to how he’d felt after getting shot— taking it easy seems like the wise choice.
With everyone helping, they soon have both pans ready to be shoved into the oven for dinner later that night when they’re ready to eat.
It’s late afternoon when they finish cleaning up the kitchen and Noah arrives home. “Hey,” Noah says, greeting the younger pack members. He sounds weary, but mostly fine. “Malia, I’m going to need to speak with you, and the rest of the pack can stay or not, whatever you want.”
Malia grimaces. “Is this about my bio-mom?”
Noah nods. “It is.”
“They can stay,” Malia says. “I don’t really care if they know.”
Noah says, “Let me just go get changed, and then we can sit and talk about how tonight is going to go.”
There’s clearly consternation from the younger pack members, and then Scott says, “Come on, let’s go sit in the dining room. There’s clearly no shortage of shitty parents in this pack.”
That pulls a snort of laughter out of Malia, who could probably use the release of tension. They don’t have to wait long for Noah to emerge, now wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. “All right, I wish we had a little time between emergencies, but we think your mom might try to strike here tonight, and we think it would be best if we let her.”
“Why?” Malia asks.
Noah frowns. “Why what? Why is she coming after you, or why are we allowing her to strike here?”
Malia shakes her head. “No, I get why you’d want her to come here. The pack will all be here, and she knows where we are, right? Best just to get it over with.”
“According to the were-coyotes that I know, there’s a belief that a mother gives up some of her power to her children,” Noah explains. “And they can get that power back on the full moon.”
There are times Derek really wishes his mom were around so he could ask her questions, and this is one of those times. Why would she go to the lengths that she did to ensure Malia would be born if Corrine had been reluctant or even unwilling to carry a pregnancy to term?
It’s possible, of course, that Corrine had initially agreed not to terminate the pregnancy and changed her mind too late. But there’s part of Derek that doesn’t think that’s the case, just because Peter hadn’t seemed to have any knowledge or memories of Malia.
The more Derek thinks about it, the wider ranging the possibilities seem to be, and the only person alive who might have answers is Corrine.
And he doubts that Corrine is going to stand still long enough for them to ask.
“She’s going to try to kill me,” Malia says flatly. “I guess I’m not surprised. She tried it once before.”
Noah nods slowly. “We think she might, but Dave is going to have his rifle, and we’re setting up an ambush.”
“I did some poking around,” Moira admits. “I think she’ll want to get up close and personal with Malia. The rumors say that’s necessary for it to be successful.”
Scott frowns. “Wouldn’t she want to wait until Malia is alone then? She can’t think we’d just—let her kill someone.”
“To be honest, Scott, I don’t think the woman is playing with a full deck,” Noah replies. “She’s wanted in relation to a string of crimes.”
“She’s getting impatient,” Malia supplies. “She needs whatever she thinks she’s going to get out of me, so she won’t wait.”
Noah nods. “There’s a good chance of that, yes. There’s really no way to know for sure, but what I want to know is whether you want a chance to confront her.”
Malia’s jaw squares pugnaciously. “Yeah, I do. I want to tell her exactly what I think of her.” She pauses. “But—why would were-coyotes ever have kids if they lose power when they do?”
Noah hesitates, and then he says, “I think most parents would tell you that while having a child might open you up to heartbreak, it also brings joy. There are just some people who were never meant to be a parent.”
Malia looks at Derek. “Why would your mom do this?”
“I don’t know,” Derek admits. “I wish I did. But Malia—you have the pack now.”
Malia’s expression softens as Cora puts her arm around Malia from one side, and Erica does the same on the other. “I know.”
“Okay, Dave’s going to be standing by with Paul as his spotter,” Noah says. “Moira thinks she’s going to want to get up close and personal, and I’d rather not present any additional targets.”
“We’ll stay inside,” Boyd promises. “Malia, you’re where you belong. We all are.”
That pulls a smile out of her. “Thanks.”
“Scott, I’m sorry, but that means Kira will have to wait to come over until after this business is concluded,” Noah adds.
Scott nods. “I understand.”
“Hopefully, Corrine won’t keep us waiting too long,” Noah comments. “Moira’s wards should tell us when she’s close.”
The pack has handled a number of emergencies over the last week, and Derek realizes that they’ve never been more united. They all have their own strengths, their own places, and there’s no question that they’re all in this together. Nothing can shake that.
Derek hopes that nothing ever will.
~~~~~
Noah honestly doesn’t love the plan they’d devised. In the past, when they’d set traps—for the alpha pack, the Darach, the Dread Doctors—they’d kept the action away from the house, but that doesn’t seem possible with Corrine. She knows where they live, and she’s targeting Malia; there doesn’t seem to be any way to lure her elsewhere.
At the same time, though, Derek had been shot—likely by hunters—and Corrine is a threat to the pack. They’ve learned that it’s best to take care of those threats as quickly and cleanly as possible. Once Stiles wakes up, Noah explains the plan to him,
Noah knows it’s possible that all their plans will come to nothing, and Corrine won’t show up at all. She might try to approach Malia at the school again, but the people Noah trusts think Corrine will try on the full moon, so they just have to hope she’ll strike sooner, rather than later.
The one thing Noah doesn’t want to do is try to fight a war on two fronts, and shooting Derek had likely only been an opening salvo, maybe an attempt to weaken the pack. They hadn’t been successful, but that just means they’re likely to try again.
Noah just hopes they don’t all converge on the full moon.
The sun is just beginning its descent when his deputies turn up, including Tara, Dave, Paul, and Parrish. They’ve all changed out of their uniforms and are wearing casual clothing, and Dave has brought his dogs.
Noah peers at Parrish, who’s had very little sleep over the last few days. “You good? Because you don’t have to be here tonight if you need to sleep.”
Parrish shakes his head, green eyes clear. “I’m good, sir. We talked it over, and Tara and I are going to provide backup closer to the house.”
“Dave and I will set up in the Preserve,” Paul confirms. “We’ll head out once it’s dark.”
“I appreciate this,” Noah says. “I know it’s outside the job description.”
Paul shakes his head. “Malia’s a good kid, and this is our pack, too. That’s why we’re here.”
Noah suspects that Paul feels a certain responsibility towards Malia since they’re both were-coyotes, but Malia can use as many people as she can get in her corner.
Dinner is limited to pack only, including Moira, and the kids are fairly subdued. Noah can sense their worry and concern, and given what had just happened to Derek, Noah doesn’t blame them.
They’re just finishing up when both Moira and Stiles’ heads go up in alert. “Corrine’s here,” Moira says. “She just passed the ward line in the Preserve.”
“We should stage an argument,” Stiles suggests. “Corrine would have to be completely insane to try and come into the house, and it’s not like we’re going to wander through the Preserve at random.”
“That can be done,” Noah replies. “It would probably make more sense for Malia to have a fight with me as the Alpha and the sheriff.”
Scott grins at Malia crookedly. “So, you just have to pick a fight with an authority figure. If you need pointers, let me know.”
That causes everyone around the table to laugh, remembering how Scott had antagonized his dad.
“I’ll figure it out,” Malia replies. “But thanks.”
Paul chases the last bit of pasta sauce on his plate with a piece of garlic bread. “We should get set up. Malia, if you could lure her to the clearing, that would be ideal.”
“I’ll let the dogs out,” Dave adds. “The scents and their heartbeats will help confuse things.”
“Batman can help,” Stiles offers. “Three heartbeats will be better than two.”
Dave nods. “Agreed. If you can convince Batman to bark a few times, even better.”
Stiles glances down at Batman, who’s sitting next to his chair. “Do you think you can be chatty, Batman?”
Batman whuffs, cocks his head, then gives one sharp bark.
“Good boy,” Stiles praises. “You’re brilliant.”
Batman grins a doggy grin at that.
“I’ll let them out,” Stiles offers. “And then I can help clean up.”
“We’ve got it,” Scott offers. “You still look like you’re dragging ass, dude.”
Stiles shakes his head. “No, I’m okay. Maybe a little tired, but I feel fine.”
Noah glances at Moira to make sure Stiles isn’t putting on an unnecessarily brave face. Moira puts her hand on the side of Stiles’ face as though to check on him. “Your energy is back to where I would expect given a major undertaking like the one you did. Another good night’s sleep, and you’ll be right as rain.”
Stiles gives Scott a look. “There, see? I’m fine.”
He leads the dogs outside, and Noah hears him say, “All right, boys. Go cause some confusion,” followed by a chorus of barks and howls.
The kids all start to help clean up as Dave, Paul, Tara and Parrish head outside.
“What about me?” Derek asks.
Noah says, “Once we finish causing a scene, you and I will change into our fur, Derek. That should keep things even more confused, and we can watch over Malia that way, too.”
Derek nods. “Of course. I’ll head out now.”
He changes into his fur right there and runs outside through the back door that Stiles opens for him.
Malia gets to her feet, giving Noah a nervous look. “I don’t actually want to fight with you.”
“You don’t have to fight with me,” Noah replies. “You just need to yell at me as you run out the back door and head for the clearing.”
Malia shifts her weight from foot to foot. “But what am I supposed to yell?”
“How about ‘you’re not my dad and you can’t tell me what to do?’” Scott suggests. “That’s a classic for a reason.”
“Oooh,” Erica says. “How about ‘I’m tired of your fucking bullshit?’ Also a classic, and it’s not like that psycho needs to hear the beginning of the argument, just the end of it.”
Noah is amused that the kids are getting into the idea now, because Isaac offers, “You could tell him to go to hell, or that he’s being a jerk. I wished I could say that to my dad sometimes.”
Boyd says, “If you don’t want to say anything mean, you could just scream in frustration and let her imagination do the rest.”
“No, you definitely need to do more to sell it more than that,” Stiles objects.
Malia shakes her head. “I’m no good at acting.”
Noah knows that’s the truth. Malia is the kid who might be incapable of dissembling—or doesn’t ever see the point in doing so. She’s literal almost to a fault, and trying to make a scene without feeling it might not even be possible for her.
Noah puts his hands on her shoulders, squeezing lightly. “Malia, I know this isn’t easy for you. We know she’s near the property. If you don’t want to confront her, you don’t have to. You can stay in here with the others, and we’ll take care of her.”
“No, I can do it,” Malia insists. “I want to do it.”
“Okay, then how do you want to do it?” Noah asks. “I’ll follow your lead.”
Malia looks over Noah’s shoulder to Stiles. “Can you—be kind of an asshole?”
Stiles rubs his hands together. “Oh, I get it. You need a scene partner to get you in the right head space so you don’t have to actually yell at the Alpha.”
Malia’ face creases with relief. “Exactly.”
“Yeah, okay,” Stiles replies. “No problem.” He frowns in thought, and says, “Do you think it would work if I pretend to be Mr. Tate?”
Malia grimaces. “Yeah, that would do it.”
“Okay, so we’ll both pretend I’m your dad, and you’ll say exactly what you’d like to say to him,” Stiles says. “And then you’ll go say exactly what you need to say to your bio-mom, and you can be done with them.”
Malia gives a firm nod. “Deal.”
Noah moves away from Malia, and Stiles squares his shoulders. “What happened that night?” Stiles demands.
Malia stares at him. “What are you talking about?”
“That night!” Stiles presses. “When your mother and sister were killed!”
Noah is a little surprised that Stiles is going for the jugular right off the bat, but it seems that his kid’s instincts are on the money. Malia’s shoulders go back, and her chin lifts.
He has to wonder if Stiles knows something about the last conversation she had with Tate before he dropped her off at Eichen House.
“Why don’t you just ask what you really mean?” Malia demands. “Ask me if I killed them!”
“Did you kill them?” Stiles asks, his voice rising.
“No!” Malia shouts. “Of course not! I loved them!”
“Then why were you the only one to survive?” Stiles asks.
Malia throws up her hands. “I don’t know! Sheer dumb fucking luck?”
“Yeah, bad fucking luck,” Stiles replies, and now his voice is calmer. He’s clearly saying the words, but there’s no emotion. It doesn’t really matter, though, because Noah can tell that Malia has been triggered by the words enough to cause the scene they need.
“Bad luck for me, too!” Malia says, her voice rising. “It would have been better if you were the one who died! I wish you had! You’re not even my fucking father anyway!”
She lunges for the back door as the words leave her mouth, and she has it open by the time she screams, “I hate you! You can fucking go to hell!”
And then she runs.
“That worked,” Stiles comments blandly.
“She’s been wanting to get that off her chest for a while,” Erica murmurs. “Maybe that will help.”
Noah transforms into his fur and takes off after her, although he tries to keep to the shadows. If Corrine is watching, and she does spot him, maybe she’ll think he’s one of the dogs.
Malia has managed the full shift before, and often does so during the full moon, at least since the pack bonds fully settled. Tonight, though, she just runs, claws out and teeth bared, heading straight for the clearing.
It’s at least far enough away from the pack house that the other kids won’t be targets.
Noah moves faster on four paws than he can on two legs, and he maintains a parallel route. He catches sight of Derek shadowing her on the other side, also keeping pace.
No matter what Corrine has in store, they have plenty of back up.
Malia skids to a halt in the center of the clearing, and Noah remains on the edge, seeing Derek do the same. Noah can sense the dogs ranging around the edges of the clearing, and Batman barks sharply, Cocoa and Nibs sending back their own replies.
Noah knows that Dave, Paul, and Tara are in the area because he can sense them through the pack bonds, and he knows that Parrish is also close. But deploying the dogs means there are multiple heartbeats in the area and noises that are masking their presence from anyone else.
Malia puts her hands on her knees as she doubles over, breathing heavily. To an outsider, she looks overwrought, but Noah has come to know her well, and he can feel the calm settle over her.
She is, above all things, a hunter, and Malia instinctively understands how to use a ruse in order to fool prey. She might have needed Stiles’ prodding to get into the right head space, but now that she’s here, she knows how to play the part.
“There you are.”
The woman’s voice is a snarl as she emerges into the clearing. She’s pretty and about his age. Noah would have known she was related to Malia as soon as he saw them side-by-side because the family resemblance is obvious.
Malia straightens, her shoulders squaring. “Were you looking for me?”
“You’ve surrounded yourself with werewolves,” she says. “How low you’ve stooped.”
Malia snorts. “Me? At least I have a family, and I know how important that is.”
Corrine begins to circle Malia. She has a gun in her right hand, but she tucks it in the waistband of her jeans at the small of her back. “You know nothing, little girl. You shouldn’t even exist.”
“So why do I?” Malia asks. “Why do I even exist, Mom? You could have just ended the pregnancy.”
Corrine snarls at her. “That bitch, Talia, convinced me that having a child would be a wonderful thing. She thought it was a myth that were-coyotes lost their power to their children, but I felt the power leaving me as soon as I went into labor.”
Malia turns to keep Corrine in sight, but her shoulders are relaxed. “Family might be a weakness, but it’s a strength, too. Talia Hale understood that.”
“I want my power back,” Corrine snaps, unsheathing her claws. “I’ve been forced to resort to guns.”
Malia scoffs at that. “Oh, is that why you shot at my mom’s car? They’re dead because of you.”
“I was trying to kill you,” Corrine snaps. “The deaths of a couple of humans were of no matter to me.”
“That was my mom and my sister, you bitch,” Malia snarls.
“You were the one who was supposed to die,” Corrine snaps. “But maybe this is for the best. I’ve heard it works better if I use my bare hands.”
Corrine springs forward but is stopped by a bullet between her eyes, and she falls like a puppet with her strings cut.
Noah transforms back and says, “Good shot, Dave. Malia, are you okay?”
She turns to him, and he sees her wide eyes, the incipient tremble of her lower lip. Noah pulls her close in a tight hug. He can feel her body start to shake, and he rests his chin on the top of her head. “Okay, kiddo,” he murmurs. “You’re okay. Everything is going to be okay. You did great.”
“I have the pack,” she says, her breath hitching. “I know it’s going to be fine.”
“That’s right,” Noah murmurs.
Derek enters the clearing and joins the group hug. “We’ve got you. Fuck her anyway.”
Malia laughs at that, and Noah knows that’s what Derek had been going for. “Yeah, fuck her.”
“Language,” Noah chides, although he knows that’s just going to result in another laugh, and it does.
“How are we going to write this up, sir?” Derek asks.
Tara and Parrish come jogging into the clearing, and Tara says, “We saw the whole thing, sir. We saw Corrine lunge at Malia and threaten her with a gun, so it was a good thing Dave was doing some target practice tonight.”
“See? This is why you’re my favorite deputy,” Noah says.
“Hey!” Derek and Parrish say in unison.
Noah just smirks. “Derek, why don’t you take Malia back to the house and call it in? Cindy is holding down the fort tonight. Tell her that our shooting suspect came after Malia, and Dave handled the situation with prejudice.”
Derek nods. “Yes, sir.”
“Parrish, go with him,” Noah orders. “We’ll wait with the body. Tell Stiles and Scott that the situation is contained, and Lydia and Kira are welcome to come over if they’d like.”
Parrish nods. “Yes, sir.”
Tara glances down at the body. “Does that story work, sir?” she asks once they’re gone.
Noah shrugs. “She was a threat to Malia, and therefore a threat to the pack. And no prison would have held her. Even a were-coyote with diminished power would have been a problem to hold. The story will hold up, especially with her list of priors.”
Dave and Paul come strolling into the clearing, and Paul says, “I gotta say, sir, I think at least some of that was in her head. You know what they say about self-fulfilling prophecies.”
“Well, she certainly found out what would happen when she came after one of ours,” Dave comments. “She got overconfident.”
“Or she just valued her daughter so little she had no way of understanding that we’d value her that much,” Noah counters.
Tara shakes her head. “I get not wanting to have kids, but imagine being this much of a psychopath that she’s blaming a kid for a decision that she made.”
“She’s a psychopath, not unlike Kate Argent,” Noah says. “And we know what to do with those.”
“We put them in prison or under it,” Paul says. “This time, she’s going under it.”
Noah probably should feel bad about that, but he doesn’t. She’d been a threat to the pack, and he knows just what to do with those.
The ‘wolf in him would allow nothing else.
~~~~~
Stiles had known what to say to set Malia off. He low-key hates that about himself, but he knows the sore spots for every single pack member, and he could take each and every one of them apart both verbally and magically if he really put his mind to it.
That might be a superpower of his, but he’s committed to using his powers for good, and not for evil. In this case, he just needs to walk Malia into the right headspace so she can lure her mom in and confront her.
“Dude,” Scott mutters as Malia takes off with his dad in pursuit. “What was that?”
“She needed to get mad, and then work past that to a place where she could lure her mom out,” Stiles says evenly, taking deep breaths to calm his mind. “It looked and sounded bad because that’s what she needed.”
Erica wraps an arm around his waist. “Stiles did exactly what Malia asked. She needed to cause a scene, and she didn’t want to yell at the Alpha, so he made sure she could yell at Mr. Tate.” She tugs Stiles towards the kitchen. “Please tell me you have ice cream, because I think we all need it.”
“Yeah, I think so,” Stiles replies, grateful for her support and understanding. “Thanks.”
“You did what you had to do,” Erica says firmly. “That’s the thing you have to focus on.”
They’re all in the kitchen eating ice cream when Derek and Parrish enter with Malia between them, the three dogs on their heels.
“Is it done?” Stiles asks.
Derek nods. “Yeah, I need to call the station.”
Malia eyes the ice cream. “Can I get some of that?”
“Yeah, sure,” Stiles says easily. “Are you okay?”
Malia shrugs. “She’s not going to be a problem anymore. I think that’s a good thing.”
Stiles knows her emotions are probably a little more complicated than that, but he doesn’t blame her for not wanting to unpack that in front of the pack right now. Things are still fresh.
He puts the tub of ice cream, the scoop, and a bowl in front of Malia. “Go to town.”
Parrish says, “The Sheriff said Kira and Lydia are clear to come over now if they’d like.”
“Oh, good,” Scott says, whipping out his phone, presumably to text Kira.
Stiles fishes his phone out of his pocket and texts Lydia all clear if u want 2 come
Lydia sends back on my way
Stiles tucks his phone away, and Malia pauses in the act of scooping. “Thanks, by the way. She bought it, and that’s what we needed.”
“I’m sorry I had to press on a sore spot,” Stiles counters.
Malia shakes her head. “I asked you to.”
Her tone speaks of finality, and Stiles recognizes that she’s asking him to drop it.
But that puts things to bed for the rest of the pack, too, and Stiles can see Scott’s shoulders drop, and Boyd nods firmly.
Derek has gone out to the den to place the call to the station, and he returns to say, “We’ll need to lead Cindy to the clearing when she gets here.”
“Any issues?” Stiles asks.
Derek shakes his head. “No. I told her it was the shooting suspect, and that she attacked Malia. She didn’t seem surprised by any of it.”
Parrish shrugs. “I don’t think anyone at the station is going to cause a fuss.”
“It really makes you wonder what we could get away with if we were inclined to use our powers for evil,” Stiles mutters.
“Let’s just all be glad we’re going to use our collective powers for good,” Moira says, resting her hands on Malia’s shoulders. “And then we won’t have to worry about it.”
Stiles can’t really argue with that. He trusts his dad to do the right thing, and Moira has impressed upon him how important it is to do no harm.
Karma is a real bitch, after all, and karma exists. Stiles just has to think about what happened with Matt Daehler if he has any questions.
The font door opens, and Kira calls out, “Hello!”
“In the kitchen,” Scott replies.
Both Kira and Lydia have their backpacks, and Lydia pulls Stiles into a hug. “Are you okay?” she whispers in his ear. “You feel unsettled.”
Stiles frowns at her. “You can tell?”
“Vibrations, Stiles,” Lydia says, somewhat impatiently. “I can tell.”
Stiles sighs. “It’s been a difficult couple of days.”
Lydia kisses him. “I’m sure. I’m glad you’re okay.”
They settle down in the den, wanting to know the outcome of everything, and they start up a Friends marathon because it’s on cable and they don’t have to pay much attention to it. When Cindy turns up about fifteen minutes later with an ambulance crew to collect the body, Derek and Parrish leave to show her to clearing.
It’s just after midnight when his dad gets back with Derek, Parrish, and Tara, and he glances around at everyone in the den. “Is everyone okay?” He focuses on Malia as he asks, and she nods.
“Where are Dave and Paul?” Stiles asks.
“They went into the station to give their formal statements,” his dad replies. “They’ll come back here once they’re done. Malia, you’ll need to go in tomorrow to do the same, but I bought you some time.”
Malia nods. “I understand.”
“Stiles, it’s late,” his dad adds. “Why don’t you get some sleep?”
Stiles takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I definitely need it.”
Lydia pulls him to his feet. “Come on. I wouldn’t mind some sleep.”
They aren’t going to fool around, not when the rest of the pack is present, but Stiles relishes the idea of not being alone. He could stay with the others in the basement, but he wants his own bed, and Lydia had been right.
Stiles is unsettled, and he doesn’t know if it’s because Derek had been shot and they have no idea who did it, or if the Nemeton is trying to tell him something.
He and Lydia brush their teeth and get ready for bed, and Lydia sits down next to him on the edge of the mattress. She takes Stiles’ hands in hers and asks, “What’s going on?”
Stiles shakes his head. “It’s just—one thing after another, you know? And with Derek getting shot and not knowing who’s behind it…” He trails off.
Lydia nods. “I’ll stay here with you. Maybe—I know our gifts are different, but maybe you’ll get a better sense of things.”
Stiles shrugs. “It can’t hurt.” He leans in and kisses her with an edge of desperation. “Thank you.”
“They’re my friends, too,” Lydia replies, and then her smile turns a little sad. “I’m not just here for the coven.”
“I’m glad you finally realized that,” Stiles admits. “I wondered if you would.”
Lydia just shakes her head. “It took me a little while, but it’s really all the same, isn’t it?”
“We’re coming together,” Stiles admits. “I guess that’s the important thing.”
“Come on, sleep,” Lydia says.
Stiles curls up around Lydia, feeling the foot of the bed dip as Batman settles. Cocoa and Nibs whine a bit, but they settle on the floor in front of his door in protective mode, apparently waiting for Dave and Paul to return from the station.
He drops off almost immediately, sleeping dreamlessly until something startles him. Stiles’ eyes fly open, his heart pounding. For a moment, he has no idea what’s going on or what woke him.
Stiles is alone in his bed, but it’s possible that Lydia had woken up and joined the others in the basement, or even went upstairs to the girls’ room in the loft.
It’s a little strange that the dogs aren’t in the room with him, but Stiles had left the door open a crack. They might have needed to go out, or maybe they’d joined Dave and Paul assuming they’re back.
Stiles rolls out of bed, his ears straining for any sounds. He doesn’t have a werewolf’s hearing, but when he rolls out of bed and looks across the hall at Derek’s door, it’s shut tight, and Stiles doesn’t sense him.
Stiles feels a frisson of uneasiness down his spine, and his skin breaks out in goosebumps.
He runs down the stairs and heads to the den, which is when his uneasiness turns to terror. His dad, Derek, Dave, Paul, and Tara are sitting on couches and recliners, bottles of beer either on tables near them or dropped on the floor, black goo around their open mouths, dripping down from unseeing eyes.
Stiles runs to his dad, grabbing him by the shoulder. “Dad! Dad!”
There’s no response, and Stiles can see that his skin has already started to go cyanotic. The others are in no better condition, and Stiles shakes one then the other, finishing with Derek.
“No, no, no, no, no,” Stiles says. He doesn’t know who to beg for a miracle, but he realizes that he’d do just about anything to get his dad back.
But if his dad and the other adults are here—
Stiles runs downstairs to the basement, heart hammering in his chest, and finds the rest of the pack in the same condition. He goes to Scott first, shaking him desperately. “Scotty, come on, Scotty, don’t do this to me, dude.”
There’s no response, Scott’s head lolling, and Stiles bites back a sob as he checks each of the others, one by one, but they’re all dead.
“Stiles.”
He turns to the base of the stairs and sees Lydia and Parrish standing there. Lydia is wearing a hospital gown, her mascara running down her face; Parrish isn’t wearing anything at all and is covered in soot.
“Do you see?” Lydia asks. “Stiles, do you see?”
“See what?” Stiles demands. “What am I supposed to see? What the fuck happened?”
“Death is coming,” Parrish says, and his eyes glow with orange fire. “You need to be ready.”
And then Lydia screams, and it feels as though the sound is going to cause his eardrums to burst.
And then Stiles wakes up again, and Lydia has her hands on his face saying over and over, “Stiles, it’s okay. It was a dream, okay? Everyone is okay, I promise, but you have to get out. You have to stay here.”
Stiles pulls in a great hitching breath, and his bedroom door flies open. His dad is standing there wearing pajama pants and a white t-shirt. “Stiles? Are you okay?”
He can’t quite catch his breath, and his dad comes and grabs both him and Lydia into a hug as the dogs also crowd them so that Stiles is surrounded by warm bodies and fur.
For a moment, he wants to believe that it was all a dream, but then he remembers what Lydia had said—both in his dream and after he woke up, and he pulls back far enough to look at her. “What did you see?”
Lydia’s green eyes well up with tears. “I saw the same thing you did, Stiles, but—I also watched you just—fade away. You went somewhere inside your head when we realized what had happened, and I couldn’t bring you back.”
His dad’s expression is bewildered, but he just renews his hug. “Okay,” his dad says. “Okay, I don’t know what happened, but we’re going to figure it out, and everyone is going to be fine. Everyone is fine right at this moment, Stiles. Just feel the pack bonds.”
Stiles can feel them, like thin, golden lines tying him to each pack member, glowing brightly, but he realizes that had been part of the problem in the dream.
In the dream, there had been no pack bonds. That’s how he’d known something was wrong.
Stiles glances up and sees Parrish standing in the doorway, also wearing pajamas, and his green eyes are wide. “Did—did we just have the same dream?” he asks. “Because I’m pretty sure we did.”
“It was a warning,” Stiles says, his voice hoarse. “Maybe from the Nemeton, maybe something else. But someone is coming for our pack.”
And if they’re not careful, Stiles thinks, they’ll manage to kill everyone.
