We're getting real close to the finale ahh!
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Liam and Scott returned from their talk, Scott still seeming unsure. I didn't blame him; Theo did kill him, after all.
Theo wiped away some of the blood from under his nose as Liam walked up to him. Malia still tried to get to him a few times, only to be held back.
"I can put you back in the ground anytime," Liam told Theo, beginning to lay the ground rules for if Theo was to stay above ground.
However, we all knew that sitting by and being told what to do, wasn't Theo's style.
"You also need a transformer that can handle five billion joules of electricity. I know where to find one and I can show you how it works."
"Well, isn't that convenient," I said, rolling my eyes.
"If you want Stiles back, then yeah, it is," Theo retorted. "I'll tell you if Malia promises not to kill me."
Malia's response to the question was to growl again, glaring across at the Chimera. Scott, Isaac and I remained silent, not sure whether or not to stop her from ripping his throat out.
"She promises," Liam told Theo on Malia's behalf.
"No, I don't," Malia said, finding her voice as she turned to Scott. "We're really gonna do this? Trust him?"
"Unless you have any suggestions, Mal, I don't think we have much of a choice," I admitted. No matter how much I hated Theo, I cared more about getting Stiles back.
"I've got an idea," Malia stated as she began to walk through the kitchen. "It may not be better. But at least it's not him."
Malia walked out of the house without another word. I looked at Isaac and Scott, sighing lightly. "I'm gonna go with her. I'll call you guys later."
I rushed out the door, running until I caught up with her. "So, what's this big idea of yours?" I asked as I walked beside her.
"Peter," she replied simply.
"Our dad?" I scoffed. "You think he's going to help? When has believing that ever worked out for us? The last time we saw him, he was trying to kill Scott."
Malia stepped in front of me, stopping to look at me. "Weren't you the one who was going to visit him in Eichen?"
I didn't say anything; we both already knew what the answer was. Yes, I had gone to visit him back when I wanted answers about his relationship with my mother.
"Look, Riley, right now it's as simple as 'who do you trust more?'"
She was right. I couldn't judge her for going to him if she thought he had answers about the Ghost Riders. "All right. But be careful. I need to go and fill Charlotte and Iris in and check in on Lydia."
"I'll let you know if I find anything," she told me, hugging me. "I'm sorry we didn't believe you about Stiles earlier."
"That doesn't matter now. You guys are helping, and that's what matters," I told her.
♧♤♢♡
When I got home I sat at the kitchen table with Iris and Charlotte and began to recap the day for them. It was our new rule for if I was going to be going out on my own without them each day.
They wanted to help but they both had jobs, and no matter how that may have seen less important, we still needed an income or we'd lose the house.
"Wait a second, so you finally managed to get rid of the guy who buried you alive, and then this kid went and brought him back?" Charlotte asked with wide eyes."
"In simple terms, yeah," I sighed.
Iris' brows furrowed as she crossed her arms on the table. "I think I've been here long enough to be able to tell you that that sounds like a horrible idea."
"I know that it sounds that way, but Liam is convinced that Theo can help us find Stiles," I explained. "And even though I hate Theo, right now, if he can help us, I'm happy to put up with him."
"You shouldn't have to put up with him," Charlotte insisted, her features softening as she looked at me. She was worried that I was going to end up in a box again - part of me worried about that sometimes, too.
But my main priority right now was getting Stiles back and sending the Ghos Riders away. I knew the risks, it was the same as every other day for us.
Iris reached over and placed her hand on top of Charlotte's, trying to steady her. "Didn't you say there might be another idea? Malia left?"
I nodded, pursing my lips as I hesitated. "She went to go and see Peter."
Charlotte's eyes widened, "Peter. . . Peter Hale? Your father?"
When I didn't answer, she slipped her hand free of Iris and stood up from the table, running her hands through her hair.
"This just keeps getting better and better," she mumbled to herself.
"Char, you know I'm not going to do anything to put myself in deliberate danger," I tried to reassure her.
It didn't work, though, considering she immediately laughed sadly. "I know you, Ri. If it meant saving your friends, you would do it in a heartbeat. So, don't lie to me."
"I'm sorry," I said sincerely. "But then you also know that I can't just dismiss Theo and Peter if there's a chance they can genuinely help save not just Stiles, but Beacon Hills."
"What do you mean? What's going to happen to Beacon Hills?" Iris asked.
"We went to a town called Canaan. The Ghost Riders were there almost thirty years ago, and they took the whole town. Well, all except one; the Banshee."
"Lydia," Charlotte deduced.
I couldn't help but notice how fast she'd caught on and became comfortable with the supernatural. I was glad, it made me less nervous about not being here with her constantly.
Plus, now she had Iris to look after her as well. I watched as the woman went over to my sister, putting a hand on her shoulders and talking softly to her.
My heart ached as I watched them. I had a relationship like this, I know I did. That part of me that remembered was eating away at me, creating a void and making me feel incomplete.
A knock at the door threw me, making me jumps slightly. I cleared my throat as I stood up. "I'm going to see who that is."
After everything that I had just told them, Charlotte was hesitant, probably wanting to talk more, but nodded either way. Charlotte and Iris went into the living room as I went to the front door, opening it to find Lydia on the other side.
"Lydia, hey, I was just about to call you," I said, stepping aside to let her into my house.
She gave a tight smile as she stepped inside. "I had this thought about Stiles and what we saw in Canaan that I just couldn't shake, and I needed to talk to someone about it."
"Of course," I nodded, leading her to my bedroom.
We took a seat on the bed and Lydia began to pick at her nails nervously. Whatever she was thinking, she either wasn't sure she was right or wasn't sure I would believe her.
"Lydia?"
She bit her lip for a moment, before placing her hands in her lap and turning to face me. "Okay, so you know how Lenore conjured up Caleb so that she didn't have to be alone?"
The mere thought of the child made me shiver. We'd seen some weird things before in Beacon Hills, but certainly no ghosts. I nodded, continuing to listen.
"Well. . . what if the Sheriff is doing the same thing? What if he conjured up Claudia to deal with losing Stiles?"
My mouth fell open a little as I took in what she was saying. "Look, Lydia, she gives me weird vibes too, but we both saw her. She's alive."
"No, you saw how she looked at us when I went to peel back the wallpaper. And you told me how she treated you when you started asking questions again. There's more to it," Lydia shook her head.
"There's something I didn't tell you all - about what I found when I was researching Claudia."
"What did you find?"
"She had frontotemporal dementia. She should have died from it, but suddenly, she was miraculously healthy, which isn't possible because-"
"You know what they're looking for, right? It's called frontotemporal dementia," a voice said in the back of my mind.
"Areas of your brain start to shrink. It's what my mother had. It's the only form of dementia that can hit teenagers."
"There's no cure," I completed, making eye contact with the girl.
I found my breathing unsteady as I tried to grab back onto the voice. But, as quickly as it came, I could feel it slipping. It was Stiles, I knew that. Which only confirmed that Claudia had frontotemporal dementia, and should have died as a result.
"Exactly," Lydia confirmed.
"Well, Scott and the others have a plan to catch a Ghost Rider tomorrow night, so maybe we won't have to do anything about Claudia," I suggested with hope, not wanting to be the one to break the Sheriff's heart.
"Riley, what if having Claudia there is the thing that is stopping him from being able to remember Stiles?" Lydia asked.
My eyes drifted to my wall where all the photos were still pinned up. I looked so happy in all of them; all because of Stiles.
"You're right," I said softly.
"I think you should be the one to tell him."
At this, my eyes widened. "What? You're the Banshee, though."
"And you're the one who had the closest connection to Stiles," she countered. "If anyone is going to be able to convince him, it will be you."
♧♤♢♡
I didn't sleep at all that night. Any time I tried, my thoughts kept me awake. I was in a constant battle against my subconscious which continued to try and keep Stiles from me.
Plus, what Lydia said had been eating away at me also. All the logical facts said that Claudia Stilinski should not be alive, and yet, she was at home with her husband. Lydia's explanation was the only thing that made sense.
If the Sheriff hadn't conjured her up, he surely would have felt that something was missing.
That's why I had found my way back to Isaac. With Stiles gone, I needed someone there. I just felt bad that that was Isaac.
But at least Isaac was alive.
To go over there and tell the Sheriff that the woman he was living with was actually just a manifestation and that his wife was really dead? Those scenarios weren't exactly similar.
I managed to avoid doing anything for several hours, finding excuses such as homework and cleaning my room. As I turned the page of the book I had picked up to distract myself, I heard my phone ringing from my bedside table.
Walking over and picking it up, I was expecting to see Lydia's name on the screen, so you could imagine my shock when instead I saw 'Sheriff Stilinski' written across my screen. Hitting the answer button, I put my phone on speaker.
"Hello?"
"Riley, hey," the Sheriff said, sounding out of breath.
"Are you okay, Sheriff?"
I heard the man stumble a few times, trying to figure out what to say.
"There's something I need to show you. Are you able to stop by?"
No more excuses.
"Of course, I'll leave now," I told him.
Acting on instinct, I unpinned some of the photos where I was in a room I didn't recognise and put them in my bag. Grabbing my keys, I got into my car and started the engine before I could think up another excuse to not go. Was I really about to do this?
When I arrived at the Stilinski home, I went up and knocked on the door. A very tired looking Claudia answered, not surprised to see me. Her husband must have told her I was coming.
She told me he was down the hall, before walking back into the kitchen. I thanked her quietly, before heading down the hallway.
Walking around the corner, I saw the Sheriff standing and staring at a gaping hole in the wall, exactly where Lydia had begun to tear back the wallpaper. When he saw me walk up, the Sheriff went over and opened a door that had been hidden behind the drywall.
We stepped into the room together, the Sheriff giving me a moment to look. The room was empty and looked like it had been for several years. The windows appeared to be boarded up and dust had settled all over the floor.
My heart leapt at the fact that Lydia and I had been right. There had been something behind the wall after all.
"You knew about it, didn't you?" The Sheriff asked as I faced him.
I nodded lightly, trying to keep myself composed as I looked at the room.
The man looked frustrated with himself as he shook his head, "God, it was on the blueprints. It was here when we moved in. That was eighteen years ago."
Pulling the photos out of my bag, I instantly began to notice similarities in some of them. Glancing up from the photos for a moment, I could have sworn his bed was in the room- the bed in the background of the photo I was holding.
Changing photos, I saw a corkboard, which then appeared in the room.
"Riley?" I heard the Sheriff say. His voice broke my concentration, and suddenly the room was empty again.
"What is it?"
"This was his room," I said softly, holding out the photos.
The Sheriff took a quick look, comparing them to the room. By the expression on his face though, he didn't seem to be making the connections I had.
"I just don't understand how you knew this was here."
I accepted the photos back, holding onto them tightly. "Lydia sensed it - her being a Banshee - but the last time I was here, I swear I felt it. It was almost like. . . magnetic."
The man took a moment before continuing, his voice barely above a whisper. "If you want to discuss the possibility that I had a son. . . I'm listening."
I bit back a smile, nodding, "That's all I wanted, Sheriff."
Walking past him, I shut the door so that we could be alone and undistracted. Lydia was right - he needed to know about Claudia. And as far as 'right-times' went, I couldn't imagine it getting any easier than right now.
♧♤♢♡
"So, wait a sec," the Sheriff said, supporting himself with the wall. "So, this woman 'Lenore', she conjured up her dead son?"
I nodded as he walked over to me. "She was the last person left in Canaan, and she didn't want to be alone. She had to fill a void. So she filled it with her son."
"And you saw this kid?"
"Yes. We all did - in fact, he almost killed us. But, that's beside the point," I said quickly. "I promise you, he was real and there. But. . ."
I got close, but the words were struggling to come to me.
"But what?" the Sheriff pushed.
"Lenore saw the Ghost Riders take everyone in Canaan. Instead of accepting that they were all gone, she chose to ignore it. Choosing to believe in her son, instead."
"What are you trying to say?"
He knew exactly what I was trying to say, but he was going to force me to actually come out with it, wasn't he?
Taking a breath, I said what we both knew I was thinking. "Sheriff, what if you can't remember Stiles, because you're filling a void of your own?"
The man scoffed lightly as he gave me a confused look. "You think Claudia is not real? You think I made up a phantom wife?"
"I think," I said calmly. "That you're afraid to remember him. Because remembering him would mean giving up Claudia."
"She's a flesh and blood woman," the man claimed, his voice no longer at a low volume. "She's real. Everything else here is just. . . is just speculation. Conjecture. It's just, it's a theory based on a. . . on a ghost town."
I didn't take his words to heart, I knew he was just saying it because he was hurt. I had proof that Stiles was real, and I wasn't about to give up on him.
I was about to reply to the Sheriff when I noticed something behind on. On a seat by the shelf sat a lacrosse helmet, a jersey hung over the back of it.
"Can't say I don't love seeing you in that uniform," I heard my own voice echo in the back of my mind as I approached the chair.
Part of me thought it might have been like the bed and the board, just my mind trying to remember, but I reached for it anyway. When my fingers met the fabric and I felt it, a few tears escaped my eyes.
I picked up the jersey, staring down at the number '24'. Bringing it to my face slowly, I touched it to my cheek just to be sure. I let out a shaky breath of relief, before breathing it in. I tried to link it to memory, but I couldn't remember what he smelt like. But I knew, this was his.
When I turned back around, I saw the Sheriff looking at me like I had just stepped out of Eichen. Biting the inside of my cheek to keep from crying, I squeezed the jersey tighter, realising what was happening.
"You don't see it, do you?"
He gave me a sympathetic look, his tone docile. "I see a deeply disturbed young woman."
I shook my head, "No. You're just afraid I'm right. You're afraid to remember him because you know what it means."
"Why do you care so much if I remember him?" He asked through gritted teeth, looking like he was fighting back tears also.
I gave him a small, encouraging smile, "Because you loved him."
Taking a leap of faith, I threw the jersey his way. Even though he couldn't see it, the Sheriff reached out.
Moments later, he caught the jersey in his hands, his eyes narrowing in confusion as he looking down at it. Slowly, it seemed to unlock a memory, his eyes beginning to widen.
♧♤♢♡
I stood beside my car, waiting for Malia to arrive at the Preserve. She wanted to look for any signs of where Peter may have come through. If we could find that, there was a chance we could trace it back to where Stiles was being held.
Seeing her headlights, I walked over towards the entrance to the Preserve while she parked her car. I was about to speak to her when I noticed the passenger door open.
None other than Peter Hale climbed out of her car, looking slightly less overcooked.
"You know, I was in pretty bad shape when you found me. I don't really have a clear picture of where I was," he called to Malia as she walked over to me.
As soon as she was near me, I stepped in her path to get her to stop. "Malia, why is he here?"
"Because he was there. He might notice something we don't," she explained. She then looked over her shoulder to reply to our father. "I marked the territory."
When both Peter and I gave her a strange look, she was quick to clarify that she had marked it visually.
"We didn't see you come out. That's why you're here."
"Let's just go," I sighed, beginning to walk.
Peter followed, continuing to be of no use. "It's a supernatural rift, it's not the Golden Gate Bridge. I doubt we can even see it, let alone get through. This is a horrible waste of time."
"You promised me," Malia reminded him. "On your death bed."
I noticed Peter glance my way, before turning back to Malia. I didn't know what went down at the hospital, but if he knew something that could help and was actually willing to give us a hand, well, I wouldn't say no to that.
"I just saw a kid get burned alive trying to escape the Hunt," the man informed us, all of us continuing to walk towards where Scott, Malia and Isaac had found him. "If you two try and save Stiles, he's gonna die the same way. Humans can't get through."
"There can be more than one way to break him out," I shrugged, trying to not let his negativity bring me down.
Malia nodded. "But first we have to get in."
The two of us walked ahead together, Peter trailing behind. "Neither of you have self-preservation instincts. How are you my daughters?"
"Just lucky, I guess," I muttered.
As we walked further into the Preserve, I told Malia about what had happened at the Sheriff's house. I went through everything from the room that had been behind the walls, to the photos and finally, the jersey.
"You know what, I think you need to admit that you have an unhealthy attachment to Stiles, Riley," Peter said from behind us. "You got to let him go."
I scowled at him as I continued to walk. "I don't walk away from the people I love. I know that's right up your alley, but I'm not like you."
He knew exactly what I was referring to. When we met for the first time, long before he attacked Scott and me in the woods.
His jaw clenched as he slowed down, "I made that decision for your mother."
"Don't act as if you care," I scoffed, beginning to walk away from him.
Peter strode over, grabbing my arm and getting me to stop. I looked up at him, to see his jaw was set and his eyes searching my face.
"Your mother was one of the only real connections I made in my life," he admitted, as I stared at him silently. "When I found out about you, I considered the possibility of a family. But I'm glad she told me to leave; fatherhood clearly isn't for me."
"Clearly," I muttered, pulling my arm out of his grasp.
'I'm glad she told me to leave'
I steadied my breathing to make sure he didn't realise how much that had hurt to hear him say.
"Nothing you say is going to change my mind. I need Stiles back."
"Well, he's not coming back," the werewolf countered as he began to follow Malia and me once again. "He was hunted. He got caught."
"And yet, you still went to the trouble of bringing us his keys," I challenged.
"I risked my life to escape the Hunt. Not to reunite sentimental teenagers."
"You wanted us to know about Stiles," Malia said as she continued to search for where Peter had come through. "And Canaan. You were warning us."
Peter didn't say anything - all three of us knew Malia was right, even if Peter didn't want to admit to it.
"This is where we found you," Malia announced as he stopped in front of a section of burnt ground.
Peter looked around for less than a second, before throwing his hands up. "Like I said, there's nothing here."
"You're not even looking."
"You can't just poke around and expect to find a supernatural train station," he laughed. His face fell as he turned at the sound of horses echoing through the Preserve.
"Do you hear that?"
"The Ghost Riders?" I asked.
"Yeah," he confirmed, looking back to face us. "And judging by the sound, we don't have a lot of time."
"For what?" Malia inquired from beside me.
"For you to run."
Scoffing, I shook my head. "You're leaving. Again."
"I'm saving you," he corrected.
"But if we can hear them, it must be close," the werecoyote pointed out, referring to whatever the Ghost Riders were using to pass between Beacon Hills and the train station Peter had spoken of.
Peter stepped closer so that he was standing right in front of us. "There'll be another chance. Go now."
Malia and I shared an unsure look, trying to decide what to do. When Peter saw we weren't moving, he raised his voice. "Malia, Riley, run! Go!"
We backed away, before doing as we were told and running back in the direction of our cars, leaving Peter to face the Ghost Riders alone.