Stand Still // [tw/spn/sh/twl]

Chapter 38

VATICAN CITY, SATURDAY, 12:07 P.M.

"Does this place have pizza?"

"You really are your grandfather's grandson."

Stiles furrowed his brows at the statement, saying, "what? Everyone likes pizza."

"This is Italy, Mieczyslaw," Mirabel stated before smiling. "Of course we have pizza."

"Does that mean we can get pizza?" Stiles asked, a hopeful gleam in his eyes. It had been a while since he relaxed and chowed down on an old fashioned pizza.

"I suppose we're due for some lunch," Mirabel replied. "I know a good place a few minutes ahead. Come on."

Stiles stayed close to Mirabel as they walked further throughout the town, and, soon, he couldn't help but begin another conversation.

"So are you a spark, or do you just know a lot about them?" he asked.

"Yes, but only an Alpha," Mirabel stated. "My mother was a spark too. She was a Beta. I learned the basics from her. After she died from a mercenary attack, I vowed to learn more, so much more that I could protect the other sparks out there even if there's only a few. I've trained many, Gajos was the only Delta until you."

"Is that why you look younger than you actually are?" Stiles asked. "If you trained my father, you must be at least four or five times my age, maybe more, yet you look young compared to such an age."

"My regeneration is much more advanced than that of a normal spark," the woman stated. "Why? I don't know, but I do know that it's so powerful it works all the time. It's constantly regenerating my cells, which is why I appear to only be in my sixties, maybe fifties if you're pushing it. I'm actually ninety-four. Before you ask, no, I'm not immortal. No sparks are, but we do have a slightly longer lifespan than the average human."

"Hm, so what you're telling me," Stiles began, "is that I could live to see the day Peter Hale dies?"

"Who's Peter Hale, and why do you want him to die?" Mirabel questioned, her voice laced with concern.

"A psychopath," the boy answered much to nonchalantly. "He kinda ruins everyone's lives but, for some reason, we keep him around."

"That sounds unhealthy," Mirabel commented.

"It is. Very," Stiles agreed, "but, surprisingly, he's not the worst thing to happen in my life."

Mirabel shot the boy a cautious glance, saying, "how old are you again?"

"Seventeen. Eighteen soon," Stiles answered.

"Kids these days concern me," Mirabel said, shaking her head.

The topic of the conversation was dismissed as they arrived at the pizza parlor. Stiles felt isolated as Mirabel spoke to the owner in Italian to make communication easier, and, before he knew it, they were sitting at a table with a fresh pizza and two drinks in front of them.

"You'll need to learn basic Italian while staying here," Mirabel stated. She pulled off a slice from the pizza and dropped it onto her empty plate. "People are wondering about you."

"It's a small town," Stiles replied, taking a slice for himself.

"Yes, so everyone knows my status and job," the woman explained. "That means they also know you're not just here for a plain visit."

"Is that a bad thing?" Stiles questioned.

"For your sleep schedule it is," Mirabel began with an amused scoff. "Nothing interesting ever happens here. When a spark comes into town, especially one they don't know, they get excited. They wanna see what you can do, what you're capable of. I guarantee they're gonna start parading you around like a Día de los Muertos float soon enough."

"I need to learn Jiskra too," Stiles reminded.

"You will. We've got time," Mirabel said to which the Delta Spark muttered, "not really," which the woman heard.

"So how many people are actually looking for you?" she asked. "You said you've got some targets on your back. How many, and who's the worst? I need to know what to expect if foreigners start come knocking at my door asking where you are."

"Just a few," Stiles shrugged, taking a bite of his pizza, which he chewed slowly, "dozen. Maybe hundred. Who's counting? I'm not."

"Great," Mirabel sighed. "Who's the worst."

Stiles looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping before answering with, "the Volturi," and Mirabel's eyes practically bulged out of her head.

"Why would you come here then? Volterra is four hours away from here, Idiot!" the woman hissed. "What the hell did you do to piss them off?"

"Apparently, my existence is enough," Stiles replied before lowering his voice, "them targeting me was also why I left. A target on me meant a target on my friends and family."

"I do not want to get involved with the Volturi," Mirabel snapped quietly before glancing around to see if anyone was listening.

"And you won't as long as we keep this whole thing on the down low," Stiles assured. "Besides, once I'm trained, they'll have a difficult time taking me down."

"On a level from one to ten, how fucked are you with them?" the Alpha Spark asked.

"Probably eleven," Stiles responded, and Mirabel rolled her eyes with a frustrated sigh.

"What did you do?" she wondered aloud.

"I told you, my existence pisses them off enough," Stiles stated before shrinking back, "and I may have, possibly, maybe also killed one of their coven members."

"Oh my lord, if they don't kill you, I will," Mirabel promised with a small growl as she kicked the boy from underneath the table.

"They kidnapped me first!" Stiles exclaimed, causing the woman to kick him once more as a silent command to quiet down.

"You are more like your grandfather than I would like," Mirabel sighed. "Finish up. I want to get started as soon as possible."

Stiles leaned back in his chair, quietly sipping on his drink as Mirabel stared daggers at him. He could only imagine how the next few days, weeks, and maybe even months of his life were going to play out.

[EDITED]