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"Hey, I should get going." I announced as I entered the dining area where the Argents were finishing their gelatos. "Um, thanks for dinner."
"Oh no, you have to stay for dessert." Kate smirked, gesturing towards the bowl of vanilla ice cream at my seat. "I want to know more about you, sit down."
"So Stiles, what are your hobbies? Is it just lacrosse or is there something else?" She asked.
I took a breath, wondering where to start. Should I mention the online kendo lessons or the fact that I'm trying to become quadrilingual? Or maybe I should stick to something simple, like taking care of your uncultured werewolf friend.
In the end, I settled on something straightforward.
"I mostly spend my free time investigating my dad's cases." I said, though by the way they reacted, it wasn't as simple as I thought.
"Your father works for the Sheriff's department?" Chris inquired.
"Yeah, he 'is' the sheriff."
"What case are you currently working on, Little detective?" Kate asked, giving a curious smirk.
I took a moment and decided to see if I could surprise them even further.
"The animal attacks, or at least that's what they say it is."
Chris furrowed his brows while Kate and Mrs. Argent exchanged a knowing glance.
"What do you mean by that?" Chris questioned.
"Everyone's just saying it's a mountain lion, but the bite marks retrieved from the body are much bigger than that, and the attack patterns don't match."
Kate narrowed her eyes cautiously while Chris silently tapped his bowl in a trance.
"What do you think, Stiles? Any theories?" She pressed.
"I have a few, but nothing solid. The leads I have are unrealistic, just like my theories."
The whole table fell silent while I quickly finished my bowl of dessert. Allison seemed pretty exhausted by the night, just as much as me.
"Ouvre ton esprit, tu verras peut-être plus que tes yeux." Chris suddenly replied, breaking the silence.
I glanced at him as I gulped down the final spoonful. He smiled with his eyes as he saw me and continued.
"Do you know what that means, Stiles?" He asked.
"Vaguely, yes." I nodded.
"'Open your mind, you may see more than your eyes.' My father used to say that to me." He explained. "I believe it means, just because something feels unreal, doesn't mean it is."
—------
Scott pushed open the door leading to the operating table, and Derek rushed in, his breaths heavy and panting.
Derek removed his shirt, revealing the blue veins rising from his forearm and spreading over the left side of his body, blood leaking from his wound. He leaned against the table as his strength slowly faded.
"Does Nordic blue monkshood mean anything to you?" Scott asked as he checked his phone.
"It's a rare form of Wolfsbane. He needs to bring me the bullet." Derek said between gasps.
"Why?"
"Because I'm going to die without it."
"What?!" Scott exclaimed in panic.
"When the infection reaches my heart, it'll kill me." Derek moved away, his legs weakening as he searched for something on the shelves. "If he doesn't get here with the bullet, last resort-."
"Which is?" Scott asked cautiously.
"You're going to cut off my arm." Derek said casually as he picked up the handsaw.
—-------
"I'm so incredibly sorry." Allison said, her face flushed with embarrassment as she handed me my bag.
"For what?" I smirked. "The boyfriend interrogation, no problem. I'm just thinking about what they're gonna do to the guy who takes you to prom."
We chuckled as she led me to the door.
"For that being the worst, most horribly awkward dinner ever in the history of horribly awkward dinners."
I scoffed as I continued to chuckle. "Guess somebody's sarcasm is rubbing off on you."
"Guess it is." She raised her brows proudly with a cheeky grin.
"But trust me, it wasn't the worst." I smiled, cheering her up. "There was one dinner where I heard my mom's not going to be there for the next; this comes in a close second."
Allison shot me a pity-filled smile, and for some reason, I hated it.
"Thanks for coming, Stiles." She opened the door.
"Sure, if you want, we can continue with chemistry tomorrow; you still have the test." I reminded her as I stepped out.
"Yeah, I would like that." She smiled.
—--------
"Fuck!" Scott muttered as he switched on the saw for a moment and immediately kept it down. "What if you bleed to death?!"
"It'll heal if it works." Derek replied as he tied a rope around his arm, applying pressure.
"If?!" Scott asked doubtfully. "Look, I don't know if I can do this."
"Why not?"
"Because of the blood! Too much blood!"
"You faint at the sight of blood?!" Derek cried out in exhaustion.
"No, but I might at the sight of a chopped-off arm!"
"Alright, fine, how about this?" Derek suggested. "Either you cut off my arm, or I'm gonna cut off your head."
"You shouldn't be ordering me around, considering the way you look-." Scott replied haughtily, and just as he did, Derek lunged forward and pulled Scott in, growling at his face. "Fine! Fine! I'll do it."
Suddenly Derek turned back and vomited black stuff out of his mouth; it dripped like greasy ink and spread across the floor.
"What the hell is that?" Scott yelled.
"It's my body, it's trying to heal itself." Derek began to panic as he spread his arm over the table. "Now, you gotta do it now!"
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Scott muttered as he pressed the saw against Derek's arm. "Alright, here we go!"
Derek gritted his teeth and took a deep breath, holding it tightly just as Scott was about to turn it on.
"Scott?!"
Scott looked up from the table with hope and yelled back. "Stiles!"
—------
Just as I walked in, my eyes landed on Derek's arm spread over the table with Scott about to amputate it.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
"Don't yell at me! Yell at him!" He sighed, pulling back the saw.
"I just think I saved you from a lifetime of nightmares."
"Did you get it?!"
I passed the bullet to him; he took it in his hands and analyzed it for a moment.
"What are you gonna do with it?" Scott asked.
"I'm gonna-." Just before he could answer, the bullet slipped from his hands, and he fell back unconscious.
"No! No!" Scott yelled as the bullet rolled into a vent.
"Shit! Scott, get the bullet!" I yelled as I hopped over Derek.
"I'm trying!" Scott cried back.
"I think he's dead!" I screamed as I felt his pulse go quiet.
Scott tore open the vent with his strength and took out the bullet while I gritted my teeth and pulled my fist back.
"Please don't hurt me for this!" I said and punched him straight in the face, breaking his jaw, but in the process, it woke him up.
"Give me that!" He snatched the bullet from Scott and pried it open with his teeth.
He clattered the bullet against the table, spreading the powder on it. He used his lighter to burn the powder. A blue mist rose from it ominously; he secured it in his hands and pressed it against his wound.
"Arghh!!" He screamed as if his whole world was in pain, as if he were burning alive, and for some twisted reason, I liked it, the sound of those screams.
He twisted on the ground as the pain seemed unbearable; the blue veins seemed to retract slowly from his body, and the color returned as the wound slowly began to close, and soon enough, the wound was closed like it was never there.
"That was awesome!" I cried. "Yes!"
"Are you okay?" Scott asked as Derek slowly stood up.
"Except for the agonizing pain?"
"I'm guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health." Derek glared at me, but I'm becoming used to it; it's pretty much his normal face.
"Fine, we saved your life, which means you are gonna leave us alone, you got that?" I asked proactively; what he did today was extremely dangerous and could expose us to threats we are not yet ready to face.
"And if you don't, I'm going to Allison's father, and I'm gonna tell him everything." Scott warned; a threat I was not part of, but I let him say it.
I don't truly think I can trust Chris either; he's a killer too.
"You're gonna trust them? You think they can help you?" Derek questioned.
"At least they are a lot nicer than you are." I stepped in.
"Nice, huh?" He scoffed. "Yeah, I can show you exactly how nice they are."
"What do you mean?" I asked, arching my brows curiously.
—---
We got out of his car and stepped into the Beacons Crossing Home.
"What are we doing here?" Scott asked.
Derek didn't answer and led us into the Home. He calmly walked into a room where a man was in a wheelchair facing the other side of the wall. His sharp nose and long black hair seemed to make him stand out.
Derek watched him like he was in a trance and gulped sadly.
"Who is he?" I asked.
"My uncle, Peter Hale."
I blinked in surprise. Someone else had survived the fire, but I don't remember seeing him in any of the files. How did I miss that?
"Is he like you? A werewolf?" Derek glanced at Scott and then back at me.
"He was, now he's barely even human." Scott blinked in confusion at Derek's statement. "Six years ago, my sister and I were at school. Our house caught fire. Eleven people were trapped inside. He was the only survivor."
"What makes you so sure they set the fire?" I asked.
"Because they were the only ones who knew about us." Derek replied, clenching his fist in rage.
"They must have had a reason." Scott muttered.
Derek's fury intensified, and he turned his head towards Scott with a murderous glare.
"Like what?" He asked, almost growling as he stepped closer to Peter. "Tell me, Scott, what could justify this!"
He turned the wheelchair, and we gasped as we took a step back. Peter's face was burned in half, the skin was destroyed, his muscles disfigured, and his bone peeked out in some parts.
"They say they'll only kill an adult and only with absolute proof, but there were people in my family who were perfectly ordinary in the fire." Derek said, gripping his chain and speaking remorsefully. "My little sister, Cora, she would have been your age if she was alive now. What did she do to die?"
He took a breath and turned around, facing us.
"This is what they do, and this is what Allison will do-"
"What are you doing? How did you get in here?" A voice interrupted Derek, and all our eyes darted towards the nurse standing over the door.
"We were just leaving." Derek replied and rushed out of the room.
Scott followed him, while I stood there for a second, my eyes lingering over Peter for a moment as I felt something, a predatory recognition.
"Stiles, come on." Scott urged me.
"Yeah, coming." I replied as I slowly stepped back.
Something was amiss, and there is definitely more going on between the Argents and the Hales.
I need to uncover this web of complexity.