𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 | stiles stilinski ³ ✔️

THIRTY-ONE , DOCTOR VALACK

  Just as Deaton had said, it was made of glass, giving Harper a perfect view of her father. He looked like he was meditating, his head tilted towards the floor from where he sat on it cross-legged. Stiles's head snapped away from where he had been staring into another cell nervously, his eyes landing on his girlfriend's father.

  He recognised Gabriel Valack from when they were younger. Stiles had met him maybe twenty times in the three years that he had been around before the Eichen shooting, other than that he had always been at work or locked away in his study. However, despite the six or so years since he had last seen the man, he still looked the same. Now, he just had that stupid bandage around his forehead and he wasn't in a suit like always.

  Slowly, Valack looked up from the floor, his eyes not yet looking at Harper but at her boyfriend. She swallowed but her gaze hardened, feeling furious at the man behind the glass.

  "Tell me what you just saw, Stiles," he demanded. "The creature in the previous cell. The Sluagh. The myth is that they can take on the appearance of the lost souls that have become inextricably bound to it. Happen to have seen any lost souls, Mr Stilinski?"

  "Everyone down here," Stiles' voice came out weaker than he had expected it to since he had tried to sound mad at the man that he had grown to hate.

  "Don't give up on us yet," Valack smirked. "We're all works-in-progress." His gaze finally flickered over to his daughter. "I see you found my little dedication." 

  Harper clenched her jaw, not speaking as Stiles pulled out the copy of The Dread Doctors, holding it up so that Valack could see it.

  Harper's dad grinned, a glint in his eye. "Very nice. First edition. Of course, there was only one printing."

  Lydia pursed her lips. "There's no T.R. McCannon is there? You wrote the book."

   He smiled. "No. That's right, Lydia. Harper, you must remember this book? I used to read it to you until your mother said it was morbid. This is what made her realise the truth."

  Harper's hands balled up into fists, her nose turning up at the mention of the woman that he had murdered. She swallowed, glaring at her father with so much hatred that if looks could kill, he would actually be six foot under this time.  

  "When you say the truth you mean the fact that you're a psychopath? Or that you never really loved us or Harry's mother?" Harper seethed, not missing the shocked glint in his eye when she mentioned her half-brother.

   "Something like that," he smiled at her. "But you have to trust me, Harper. This is all for a greater cause. I'm onto something here."

  Stiles' jaw clenched. "You're an asshole."

  Valack ignored him. "Maybe you've already guessed that it's not just a book."

  "What is it?" Lydia also glared, feeling repulsed by the man now stood in front of them.

  "A tool. Designed to open your eyes."

  "To what?" Harper folded her arms against her chest.

  "To them," he replied. "The Dread Doctors."

  "Why did you use a pseudonym?" Lydia questioned.

  "As Harper and Stiles would know, I had a professional reputation once. I wasn't interested in ruining it by putting my name on a second-rate piece of trash."

  "Then why write the book in the first place?" Stiles rolled his eyes.

  "You haven't even read it yet, have you? I wrote it because nobody believed me, and for my research," Valack glanced between the three wary teenagers. "They're here, aren't they? In Beacon Hills."