Wouldn't that be funny, Stiles? If you were stuck down here for all eternity? Would you say that makes you feel crazy? Angry? Do you think that would open the door even more for chaos?
Hearing the trickster's words Stiles was seriously on the verge of a heart-attack when something jolted him back into reality—Hans. Stiles had a sarcastic greeting on his lips, but Hans didn't give him a chance. "Forget the filing and follow me," he said. "You've been summoned."
"I—what?" Highly unexpected. "Summoned where?"
Hans's face was grim. "To see the queen."
Stiles noticed his escort was leading him to the main business buildings of the Court, the places where all royal governing was conducted. Shit. This was more serious than he had thought. And indeed, when he was finally ushered into the room where Natalie Martin waited... well, he nearly came to a standstill and couldn't enter. Only a slight touch on his back from one of the guardians with him kept him moving forward. The place was packed.
The room was heavily decorated, conveying an old-world royal feel, with painstakingly carved floral molding and shining gold candleholders on the walls. There were actually lit candles in them, too. Their light reflected off the metallic decorations in the room. The people in the room sat at a long table. Natalie herself sat at the middle of the table, with five half-breeds on one side and four on the other. The Council.
The people sitting on either side of Natalie were the ten half-breeds for the nine acting royal families. Both Scott and Kira, who were not eighteen yet, were missing. Stiles was looking at the princes and princesses of the supernatural world. The oldest member of each family claimed the royal title and an advisory spot beside Natalie. Sometimes the eldest waived the spot and gave it to someone the family felt was more capable, but the selectee was almost always at least forty-five. The Council elected the king or queen, a position held until death or retirement.
Stiles remained near the entrance to the room, shifting uneasily from foot to foot, wondering what was in store. He hadn't just earned public humiliation—he had apparently earned it in front of the most important half-breeds in the world. Wonderful.
A gangly man with patchy white hair stood up and cleared his throat. Immediately, the hum of conversation died. Silence filled the room.
"This session of the Royal Council is now in order," he declared. "Her Royal Majesty, Natalie Martin, is presiding." He gave a slight bow in her direction and then discretely sat back down.
"Thank you," Queen Natalies said. She was using her royal voice, resonant and impressive, filling the room. "We will be continuing our conversation from yesterday."
Wait... what? They had been discussing Stiles yesterday, too?
Bob was chuckling at the back of Stiles's head.
"Today we will be hearing testimony from a newly made guardian." Natalie's sharp gaze fell on Stiles. The whole room's did. "Mieczyslaw Stilinski, will you please come forward?"
Stiles flinched upon hearing his first name and was thankful none of his friends were there. He did go forward, keeping his head high and posture confident. He didn't exactly know where to stand, so he picked the middle of the room, directly facing Natalie. He gave a small, proper bow and then met her eyes directly, bracing for what was to come.
"Guardian Stilinski, will you state your age?" she asked.
"Eighteen?" It sounded like a question.
"And how long have you been eighteen?" she asked.
"A few months."
She waited a couple moments to let it sink in, as though this were important information. "Guardian Stilinski, we understand that around that time, you withdrew from the Academy of Beacon Hills," she went on. "Is this correct?"
That was what this was about? Not the Vegas trip?
"Yes," Stiles said, frowning. He offered no more info.
"And you went to Istanbul to hunt vampires."
"Yes."
"As a type of personal revenge following the attack at Beacon Hills?"
"Er... yes."
More like sort of, Bob put in.
No one said anything, but Stiles's response definitely caused a stir in the room. People shifted uneasily and glanced at their neighbors. Vampires always inspired fear, and someone actively seeking them out was still an unusual concept among them. Oddly, Natalie seemed very pleased by this confirmation.
"We would assume then," she continued, "that you are one of those who believe in direct strikes against the Cold Ones?"
"Yes?" Again it sounded like a question.
"Many had different reactions to the terrible attack at Beacon Hills," Queen Natalie said. "You aren't the only guardian who wanted to strike back against the Cold Ones—though you were certainly the youngest."
Stiles hadn't known about others going on vigilante sprees, aside from some reckless people in Turkey.
"We have reports from both guardians and Alchemists in Turkey that you were successful." This was the first time Stiles had heard the Alchemists mentioned in public, but of course they would be a common topic among the Council. "Can you tell me how many you killed?" Natalie asked.
"I..." Stiles stared at her in surprise. "I'm not sure, Your Majesty. At least..." He racked his brain. "Seven. It might have been more."
"Indeed, that is a modest estimate compared to what our sources say," she noted grandly. "Nonetheless, still an impressive number. Did you perform the kills by yourself?"
"Sometimes I did," he admitted. "Sometimes I had help. There were... some other humans I worked with once in a while."
"They were close to your age?"
"Yes.
Natalie said no more, and as though receiving a cue, a woman beside her spoke up. Stiles didn't know her name.
"When did you kill your first vampire?" she asked.
Stiles thought back. "Uh, last December."
"And you were seventeen?"
"Yes."
"Did you perform that kill yourself?"
"Well... mostly. A couple friends helped with distraction."
The woman and the others—who soon joined in the questioning—wanted to know about his kills. They were slightly interested in knowing when other humans had helped him—but didn't want to go into when he had help from half-breeds. They also glossed over his disciplinary record. They talked about how he had protected Scott whenever they were out in the world alone and finally concluded with his exceptional trial scores.
"Thank you, Guardian Stilinski," Queen Natalie said. "You may leave."
Natalie's dismissive voice left no room for doubt. She wanted him out of there. Stiles was only too eager to comply, giving another bow, and then scurrying out. He cast a quick glance at Derek Hale as he did, and the queen's voice rang out as he cleared the door, "That concludes our session today. We will convene again tomorrow."
Stiles stumbled on Lydia outside. She raised an eyebrow. "You're a politician now?" she said.
"Your mother called me to ask about the vampires I've killed," he told her. "You know anything about that."
"No clue. I'm the last person to ask about political stuff," Lydia said. "I don't even go to those things."
"I got the impression this was part of something they'd already been talking about, she mentioned their last session."
"It was closed," Lydia told him. "Like tomorrow's. No one knows what they're discussing. I heard her talking about holding a vote soon, though."
"Why? And why would I have anything to do with the government?"
Lydia looked around like she had somewhere to be. "Maybe they're voting to make you Scott's guardian after all," she said.
Stiles was so astonished that he couldn't say anything for several seconds. He stared at Lydia with wide eyes. "Seriously?" The session had been an examination of his skills, after all. It made sense. Except... "No. The Council wouldn't go to the trouble of holding sessions for one guardian assignment."
Lydia gave a shrug of acknowledgment. "True. But this isn't an ordinary guardian assignment. Scott's the last of his line. Everyone, including my mother, has a special interest in him. Giving him someone like you who's... controversial, could upset some people."
"And that's why they actually wanted me there to describe what I've done," Stiles thought aloud. "To convince people in person that I'm competent." Even as Stiles spoke the words, he still didn't dare believe them. It was too good to be true. "I just can't imagine it, seeing as I seem to be in so much trouble with the guardians."
"I don't know," Lydia said. "It's just a guess. Maybe they do think the Las Vegas thing was just a harmless prank." There was a bitter tone in her voice over that. "Maybe Mother wants you as Scott's guardian now but needs to make a public display to justify it."
That was a startling thought. Stiles was about to answer when they were interrupted by Hans. "Stilinski," he said, one eyebrow arched as he stood over them. "You and I have some very different ideas about the definition of 'punishment.'"
He had a point. In Stiles's mind, punishment involved easy things like lashings and starvation. Not filing.
Returning to his miserable punishment, Stiles cheered up a little at the joy running through him via the bond. Scott had spent the whole day on his campus tour of Lehigh, and it was everything he had hoped it could be. He loved it all. He loved the beautiful buildings, the grounds, the dorms... and especially the classes. He wanted to see and do everything that the school had to offer. And even though he wished Stiles was there, he was still excited about the fact that it was his birthday.
Once all the touring was done, Scott's entourage went to have dinner, but Stiles was too distracted with his own work to pay attention to Scott's conversations. Before he knew it, Scott's group was getting up and heading for the restaurant's door. It was dark out now, and Scott couldn't help but feel the weirdness of being on a human schedule. The group had hung out at the restaurant far past the normal dinner hour, so the lot was mostly empty as they walked across it. Scott's new guardians, Carrie and Grant, hadn't exactly parked in the back, but they weren't near the main entrance either. They had, however, made a point of parking next to one of the street lamps illuminating the lot.
Except it wasn't lit now. The light had been broken.
The guardians noticed it right away. It was the kind of little detail they were trained to notice—anything unusual, anything that might have changed. In a flash, the two of them had stakes out and were flanking Scott. That was something else they were trained to do. Be on guard. React. Follow your instincts.
They were fast. All of them were fast. But it didn't matter.
Because suddenly, there were vampires everywhere.
Stiles wasn't entirely sure where they came from. Maybe they had been behind the cars or on the parking lot's edges. If he had been there, he might have had a better sense of it all. But he was watching the scene through Scott's eyes, and the guardians were going out of their way to block him from the vampires who seemed to have appeared out of thin air as far as he was concerned. Most of the actions were a blur to him. His bodyguards were shoving him around, trying to keep him safe as white, red-eyed faces popped up everywhere.
But before long, both of them could see people dying. Carrie, fast and strong, staked a male vampire cleanly through the heart. Then, in return, a female vampire leapt at Grant and broke his neck. Carrie still tried her best to keep Scott safe, but she was extremely outnumbered. While a vampire tore out Grant's throat with her teeth, Carrie was backhanded hard against the asphalt, landing facedown and not moving. Scott—pushing so hard against the SUV that it seemed as though he might become one with it—stared wide-eyed as one vampire swiftly and efficiently ripped into Carrie's neck, pausing to drink her blood.
And then he was all alone.
Scott's emotions shifted into something beyond fear, something that hardly felt like anything at all. He was in shock. Numbed. And with a cold, hard certainty, he knew that his death was coming and accepted it. He seemed to wish for Kira, for the touch of her hand, for the small comfort of knowing she still loved him.
But then he saw something else—Matt Dahler.
"Don't try anything, McCall," he said, "or I'll hurt you."
Scott finally found his voice, even with his air cut off. "What is that supposed to mean? You're going to kill me anyway."
"Actually," Matt said, voice pleasant amid the grim scene, "I'd rather you stay alive. At least for a little while longer."
Stiles felt Scott's face move to a frown. "Why?" he asked.
Matt's eyes gleamed and he smiled. "Because I need you to be bait for Stiles."
In Stiles's panicked mind right then, getting up and running on foot to Lehigh—despite it being miles and miles away—seemed like a totally solid plan. A heartbeat later, he knew this was out of his league.
As he shot up from his table and tore out of the room, he felt a sudden longing for Chris Argent. He had seen him jump into action at Beacon Hills and knew he could take charge of any situation. And he would respond to any threat Stiles brought to him. The guardians at Court were still strangers to him. Who could he go to? Hans? The guy who hated him? He wouldn't believe Stiles.
Running down the quiet hallways, he dismissed all such worries. It didn't matter. Stiles would make him believe. He would find anyone I could. Anyone who could get Scott out of this.
Only you can, Stiles, Bob hissed in his head. You're the one Dahler wants. And you want to be his guardian, don't you? I vote that you should just go alone.
Stiles ignored that too, largely because in his distraction, he collided into someone rounding a corner. Braeden. Stiles grabbed her sleeve and began tugging her toward the stairs. "Come on! We have to get help!"
Braeden remained where she was. She frowned, face calm. "What are you talking about?" she asked.
"Scott!" Stiles shouted. "He's been taken by vampires. We can find them. I can find them. But we have to hurry."
Braeden's confusion grew. "Stiles..." she said slowly, "how long have you been down here?"
Stiles didn't have time for this. Leaving her, he fled up the stairs to the main levels of the complex. A moment later he heard her footsteps behind him. The office was in chaos. Guardians were running around, calls were being made, and voices rose to frantic levels. They knew, Stiles realized. They already knew.
"Hans!" he called, pushing his way through the crowd. He was on the other side of the room and had just hung up on a cell call. "Hans, I know where they are! Where the vampire took Scott."
"Stilinski, I don't have time for your—" His scowl faltered. "You have that bond."
Stiles gave him a hasty nod. "I saw it. I saw everything that happened." Now Stiles frowned. "How do you know already?"
"Carrie," he said grimly.
"Carrie's dead..."
Hans nodded. "Yes. But she turned on her tracker. We have Alchemists coming to get her, and... clean up. Now come on. We need you. There are teams already forming."
There was another surprise. Stiles hadn't expected him to bring him on so quickly. A new respect for Hans settled over him. He might act like an asshole, but he was a leader. When he saw an asset, he used it. In one swift motion, he was hurrying out the door, several guardians following him. Stiles struggled to keep up and saw Braeden coming as well.
"You're doing a rescue," Stiles told Hans. "That's... rare."
Hans gave him a wry look. "So is the McCall prince," he said.
Scott was precious to Stiles, worth more than anything else in the world. And for the half-breeds, he realized, Scott was precious, too. He was the last in his line, the last of one of twelve ancient families. For him, the guardians would risk a rescue mission.
Stiles just had to hope that it would be enough.