The whole time in the Argents' basement, hands tied above my head with electrical cords, duct tape over our mouths as the electricity surged through Boyd, Erica and me, all of us an inch from breaking at the pain.
Gerard kept asking about Derek, but I just had this urge to protect him, an urge or instinct I didn't understand, and Boyd and Erica acted the same.
In the dark room, last thing we expect to hear, "Ow, ow, ow, ow," in Stiles' voice as someone tossed him down the stairs.
I could barely make him out, but I blinked in the brightness of the light when he had finally found the switch.
He stared at us in shock, horror, as electricity sizzled through us, none of us able to make out a word.
Why was Stiles here?
Stiles had come closer, trying to untie the wires, but I shook my head, mumbling words against the tape over my mouth that he couldn't understand, and he put a finger to his lips. "Shh." Just one touch and it sparked. "Ow!"
The basement door opened, and Gerard's voice came as he walked down. "They were trying to warn you. It's electrified."
"What are you doing with them?" Stiles asked.
"At the moment, just keeping the comfortable." Was he serious?! "There's no point in torturing them, they won't give Derek up. The instinct to protect their Alpha's too strong."
"Okay. So what are you doing with me? Because Scott can find me, all right? He knows my scent. It's pungent, you know? It's more like a stench. He could find me even if I was buried at the bottom of a sewer covered in fecal matter and urine."
"You have a knack for creating a vivid picture, Mr. Stilinski. Let me paint one of my own." With each of Gerard's next words, he stepped closer to Stiles. "Scott McCall finds his best friend bloodied and beaten to a pulp. How does that sound?"
"I think I might prefer more of a still life or landscape, you know?" Stiles looked Gerard over. "What--what are you, 90? Look, I can probably kick you ass up and down this room."
Gerard back slapped him to the floor easily, then leaning down, grabbing his lacrosse jersey.
"Okay. Wait, wait, wait," Stiles said before Gerard punched him. "Okay, wait, wait."
I closed my eyes as Gerard kept hurting Stiles, hanging my head down, not wanting to watch.
Gerard had let Stiles go some time ago, but, now, his son, Chris, Allison's dad that had stopped her from killing me, was down here with us.
"You know, my family's done this for a long time," he told us, next to the table with the electrical box. "Long enough to learn things like how a certain level of electric current can keep you from transforming. At another level, you can't heal. A few amps higher, and no heightened strength. That kind of scientific accuracy--it makes you wonder where the line between the natural and the supernatual really exists. It's when lines like that blur. You sometimes find yourself surprised by which side you end up on."
I tensed when he reached for the electric box, whimpering slightly, thinking he was either turn it a little higher, or all the way up to where it could kill us.
Until he turned it off completely.
I already felt the sparks fading, slowly, relaxing slightly as Chris turned and left the basement, and I looked over to Erica and Boyd.
As soon as we were healed enough . . . .
We were out of here.
When the sparks faded completely, I pulled at the wires, bringing them down from the ceiling, grunting with the duct tape still over my mouth as I broke free of the wires, falling toward the ground but landing awkwardly as I took off the wires.
I straightened up as I heard Boyd do the same thing I had just done, pulling the tape off in one quick jerk before I turned to Boyd and Erica.
"You guys wanna run so you can get caught again, go ahead," I told them. "Or do you want to go back, stay, fight, and be safe with Derek and Isaac and Scott and all of them?"
Boyd peeled the tape off as he stared at me, all of us still in pain and breathless. He looked at Erica, who nodded slightly.
He looked back at me. "You tried to save us. You actually did save Erica. I think we can go back for that."
I nodded as we both went to help Erica down.
We were running back for Derek and Isaac, Erica and I in front of Boyd when he called, "No, wait!"
We slowed to a stop, looking back at him.
"What?" Erica asked. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I just need to--catch my breath," he answered.
"We're almost there," I said impatiently. "Let's--" I had turned around and stopped in my tracks as we saw ourselves surrounded. "--go."
There were five people surrounding us, only one of them a girl. Two were twins, right next to each other and looking around our age, both identical boys, and another man, bald and a giant, while the last had a blind man's cane and glasses. The girl didn't have shoes, showing off claws for toe nails.
The twins were pale, had dark, short hair. The blind guy had dark, short hair too, but in a nice suit, the girl with darkish skin and brown, almost black hair while the bald giant was . . . well, a bald giant.
All but the blind guy had claws spread wide out, eyes red, pointed ears with hair on the side of their cheeks, canines revealed.
Werewolves.
And not just werewolves.
Alphas.
All of them, by the way their eyes glew red.
Why were there so many Alphas here, surround us, in Beacon Hills?
And what did they want with us?
