fall ↠ hale | 1

twenty two

lorde - glory and gore

" in all chaos, there is calculation "

Jackson was dead and Stiles was missing. The whole locker room was in turmoil as they speculated about what had happened. Jackson's death hadn't been officially announced yet as the coroner hadn't confirmed it, but any supernatural being could tell that he was past saving. Isaac and Scott had said that he reeked of it, and when I so much as thought about him I felt the overwhelming sense of grief and loss and emptiness that you feel when death is nearby.
Stiles hadn't been found since the game ended. In all the commotion surrounding Jackson, he had disappeared. So had Gerard and any trace of the two. Gerard had probably just wanted to get as far away from the scene as possible, but we were hanging on to any possibility that he might have Stiles because otherwise we were at a loss.

"I need to meet with a medical examiner to try and figure out what happened to Jackson," The sheriff told Scott, Isaac and I as we stood in the locker room. He seemed lost as he tried to hold on to any hope that his son was okay. "I've got an EPB out on Stiles. His Jeep is still in the parking lot, so that means...ah, hell, I don't know what that means. Look, if he answers his phone, if he answers his e-mails -"
"We'll call you," Isaac nodded.
"Look, he's probably just freaked out from all the attention or something. We'll find him," Scott added reassuringly.
"Yeah. I'll see you, okay?" The sheriff walked off and Coach Finstock replaced his position in front of us. He looked frustrated and shaken.
"McCall, we need you on the team, okay? You know I can't put you on the field next season if you don't get your grades up,"
"I know, Coach,"
"I know I yell a lot, but I mean, it's not like I hate you, God, it's - well, I kind of hate Greenberg but, you know, that's different. It's Greenberg. I'm just saying, we - I need you on the team," Emotion filled Coach's voice. It was so strange to see the usually-angry and unreasonable man reduced to pleading.
"I will," Scott said determinedly.
"I know," Coach replied softly, exiting the locker room after the last of the players.
"Is that everyone?" Scott asked.
"I think so," Isaac replied, sniffing to see if he could smell any unwanted company. As he finished his sentence, the sound of ripping metal filled the room. Scott had pulled Stiles' locker door off its hinges. The twisted sheet of metal fell to the floor with a clang as Scott reached inside to pull out some of the missing boy's belongings.
"You're going to find him by scent?" Isaac asked.
"We both are,"
"Then what do I do," I said.
"You're here to make sure he's not dead,"
"Great," I muttered, less than overjoyed that my powers lead to me being given the most morbid tasks.
"How come you get his shirt and I get his shoe?" Isaac questioned, holding Stiles' old sneaker with a less-than-pleased expression on his face. Suddenly, footsteps sounded from behind us and we turned to see Derek standing with a man who I didn't recognise. Something wasn't right about him, though. The feeling was so strong that it was distracting me from Derek's presence mere hours after he broke my heart. The feeling was overwhelming all of my senses. It felt like death. But he couldn't be dead, he was standing right in front of us. Then I realised that he was the man who had used Derek and I to, somehow, resurrect himself. And I realised why the name Peter was all too familiar.
"We need to talk," Derek said stoically. "All of us,"
"Holy shit," Scott mumbled. "What the hell is this?"
"You know, I thought the same thing when I saw you talking to Gerard at the police station," Derek glared. Peter had a smirk on his face and was revelling in the scene that was unfolding, enjoying every second of the conflict.
"Hold on, he threatened to kill my mom! And I had to get close to him. What the hell was I supposed to do?"
"I have to agree with Scott on this one. Have you seen his mom? She's gorgeous," Peter spoke his first words. The joke played lightly on his tongue and he seemed to enjoy the taste of it in his mouth. How he was able to make jokes at a time like this was unnerving, to say the least.
"Shut up," The two arguing wolves said in unison.
"Who's that?" Isaac asked.
"That's Peter Hale," I said, looking him right in the eyes as he turned his head to me with interest. "He's Derek homicidal maniac of an uncle who killed innocent people just to get Scott to join his pack, then tried to kill him too when he refused. He also killed Allison's aunt, but from what I hear she was a total bitch so that part's understandable, I guess. And last time I checked, he was dead," The whole group looked at me suspiciously. None of them had told me what exactly happened that night or who he was, but I'd managed to catch on anyway.
"Your new friend catches on quickly," He purred, slowly pacing over to me with his hands behind his back. "And is that -" He sniffed the air around me. "Wow, that's new. I haven't encountered one of you in years, and definitely not outside of Europe,"
"Y-you know what I am?" My eyes widened. The answer I'd been searching for was finally in front of me, right in my grasp.
"Of course. I'm surprised these idiots didn't smell it straight away. Then again, I have more experience in my pinky finger than all of them combined,"
"Tell me," I demanded.
"Don't you think there are more pressing issues at hand, hm?"
"Rose, I know that you need to know this, but I promise there are other ways. You can't trust him," Anger boiled inside of me. He knew how important this was to me, that this may be my only chance at finding out what I really was. I didn't care that Peter was untrustworthy, I wanted answers and I didn't care who they came from. It was the same case as usual. Everyone else's issues came first and what I so desperately needed to know was pushed to the back. None of them had made any sort of effort to help me, and when I was finally close, they pulled it away from me once again. Scott was right, there were other ways, but none of them were possible without the help of my friends, which was seriously lacking.