Pure × Isaac Lahey

62.

       "So, I don't suppose you have any idea why Stiles would frame us for murder?" Argent asked with half a sigh, wrists cuffed to the metal bar under the bench.

       "I didn't think Stiles was smart enough to frame us for murder."

       "To be honest," said Chris, "I'm not entirely convinced that's why we're here."

       Derek's brows furrowed the same way Elora's did, turning his head to Argent. "What do you mean?"

       "McCall is going to come out here in a minute and probably talk attorneys." After tracking deputies, Chris met eyes with Derek. "Say you've agreed to allow mine to represent you."

       "Why should I trust your attorney?" Derek flatly asked.

       "Because," Chris replied, "I'm not calling my attorney yet. I just want more time."

       "To do what?"

       "To figure out what we're really doing here," Argent said, his gaze flickering around the office.

       Derek's eyes fell to Deputy Jordan Parrish, remaining at the station when a third of the department had been called out to the Preserve.

       It had been an alarming struggle for Derek not to call him Camden. They'd had classes together their entire childhood, even through high school up until he and Laura fled Beacon Hills.

       Six years and he resurfaces with a new identity and no one supernatural at the time of his death recognizes him. In what world did that seem reasonable?

       Chris, having barely noticed the deputy directly in front of him, finally took more than five seconds to look at the blond. His brows furrowed slightly, both Camden and Derek growing nervous.

       "Hey," Chris suddenly said, eyes on Parrish. "What's your name?"

       Camden paused before motioning to the wooden name plate on his desk. "Jordan Parrish, sir."

       Argent didn't quite buy it, still watching the deputy. "Are you from Beacon Hills? Did you grow up here?"

       Come on, Elora, Derek thought, legs jittering absently.

       Camden Lahey definitely grew up in Beacon, but did Jordan Parrish?

       Who the hell was Jordan Parrish, anyway?

       "No, sir," the deputy replied after a pause.

       "Really?" pushed Argent. "Because you look familiar. Really familiar."

       The moment clicked in Camden's head - the funeral at the family-owned cemetery. They'd shaken hands when Chris and a balder version of him wanted to vet those running the cemetery before burying a 'friend' that was more than likely a hunter.

       Argent grinned at the look in the young deputy's eyes. He could see that kid standing next to Isaac and his bastard of a father, feel the firm handshake and hear the teen thank him for complimenting it. "Lahey."

       Derek leaned in next to Argent, keeping his voice low. "This really isn't the place."

       Chris backed off, agreeing with Derek. He remembered the file on Camden Lahey, dug up when researching the 2006 swim team last spring. He died six years ago.

       "Delivery," a warm voice chimed, Elora sauntering into the deputy pit with two cups of coffee lacking a carrier. She set a cup on Deputy Parrish's desk, greeting its occupant with a smile before turning to Derek and Chris. "Now what did you idiots get yourselves into?"

       "More like what did Stiles get us into," Derek said with a mild scoff.

       Parrish nearly jumped out of his skin, mid sip when his cell phone rang, clattering around on the surface of his desk. He swore under his breath, answering the call as soon as he could swallow. "Deputy Parrish."

       The trio watched Jordan closer than he would've preferred, all minorly alarmed when his expression changed and he stood up.

       The moment he hung up, Jordan was pulling for his gear. This was the one thing he was sure he knew everything about.

       "What is it?" questioned Elora, holding her cup from Stella's in both hands, leaned back on his desk.

       "There's a bomb on a school bus."

       No, but there was one ten feet away.

x x 

       A good twenty minutes passed in the fairly empty police station, Agent McCall not yet surfacing to bully anyone.

       Elora spun in Deputy Parrish's chair, Scott and Stiles texting her updates from the school, telling her Parrish went in without waiting for the bomb squad still 15 minutes out.

       "I could easily get out of these, you know," Derek quietly said, glancing down to the cuffs binding him.

       "So could I," Chris replied. "But I'm not interested in being a fugitive from the law."

       "It wouldn't be Derek's first time," Elora said with half a grin, peering up from her coffee. "Or second."

       Derek rolled his eyes in annoyance, looking over to Argent. "Well, I'm not interested in being a victim to a seventeen year old possessed by a psychotic fox."

       "Just give me a few more minutes," Argent mildly pleaded. He growled lightly when the wolf made a move to break free. "Derek!"

       Derek eased back grudgingly, "Fine. If something happens, don't expect me to risk my life trying to save yours."

       Elora's phoned dinged once from Stilinski, causing the witch to rise from Parrish's chair. "Oh, my God."

       Just like that, the phones began to ring.

       "Elora? El, what's going on?" Derek hastily questioned, his cousin's eyes on the office behind them. "Elora?"

       Deputies began to high tail it around the office, neglecting their prisoners as panic arose.

       "The bomb isn't on the bus," Elora mumbled, staring in at the office lacking Stilinski's name plate but holding two brown boxes.

       Just as a deputy ran to unshackle Derek and Argent, Elora ran into Stilinski's office.

       "Elora!" Derek screamed, but not before Elora could disappear with the two boxes into thin air.

       A distant boom rattled the ground beneath them, but nothing other than trees and a young witch were harmed.