chapter nineteen
[ season 2 | episode 10 ]
[ fury ]
WHEN MARLEY LIVED IN HER FOSTER HOME, she remembered thinking about what it would feel like to be shot. She used to think it was this automatic burning pain. That it felt like a fire had dragged across her body and was suffocating her in its toxic smoke.
Instead, it was numbness. Yes, it hurt like hell, but the shock of it all just numbed that pain. Especially as she watched Scott McCall fall to the ground with a bullet making its way through his lower abdomen. As she watched one of her classmates point a gun at Melissa McCall and Louise Hawthorne, who were both trying to help the wounded boy. As she heard that loud bang for the second time tonight.
"Mom, mom, stop! Mom!" Scott reached out to his mother, trying to halt her movement as Matt shifted the gun onto her. Everyone's words blurred as Marley stared at the growing puddle of red, just a mixture of yelling and crying and pleading.
Glossy eyes met Scott's, a promise passing between them. Swallowing whatever emotion tried to claw its way into her throat, she turned to hold Melissa back, her hands resting gently on the older woman's shoulders. "Mrs. McCall, you need to stay back, please. It's the best thing you can do for him, okay?"
The woman held her hands to her mouth, sobs wracking at her chest. "Scott," she cried out, the panic of a mother echoing through her voice.
As another shockwave of pain radiated through her thigh, Marley watched Scott clutch the bullet wound in his stomach. He stared up at his mother with pleading eyes, her heart pounding within his chest. "Mom, do it." Sucking in a breath, he furrowed his brows and softened his words. "Please, mom."
Marley saw Matt's grip tighten around the handgun, his knuckles whitening at the hold. "Get up, McCall." He nodded his head toward the wounded teenaged boy, eyes still trained on Melissa and Louise as they both feared for their children. Distantly, she could hear Stilinski pleading, his cuffs clanging against the metal pole.
Testing her leg, Marley stepped forward and held her hand out towards the boy. "Matt, please, just—"
"Shut—" he waved the gun, pointing it at her chest, "shut— shut up! Everybody shut the hell up! Now, McCall, get up, or I shoot them all next."
Her eyes squeezed shut as she heard Scott scramble up to his feet, listening in on his mother's rapid heartbeat. Her blood pulsed beneath her skin as she tried to just think. There had to be something she could do, something that could save her and everyone else in the damn station. She'd already tried to fight. What else?
Marley flinched as Matt yelled out, his words harsh. "Marlowe! Help him up. Get to the back with Stilinski. Go!" Images flooded through her head as she quickly supported Scott's weight, her thigh screaming out as an ache carved its way into her bones. "You two, follow us. If any— any of you try something, I swear to god—"
"You'll kill us." Her body went frigid as her grandmother spoke, rebellion laced into the tightness of her words. The woman stepped forward towards Matt, eyeing the way his hand tightened around the grip of his weapon. "After you."
Releasing a breath, Marley half-carried Scott towards the back, where Stilinski sat, his head buried in his hands. Everything seemed distant as Matt locked the two nurses in a cell, ordering his wounded hostages to the opposing corner of the room. She barely even acknowledged Scott's mother pleading, a line of mascara beneath her eyes. She didn't comprehend any of his threats, simply watching as a boy waved his gun around. She hardly even felt the barrel dig into her back as Matt shoved her forward, her thigh pulsating with fiery pain.
Stumbling into the room, she stared down at Stiles and Derek, her chest caving in as they laid there on the floor, limbs completely rendered useless. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling that emptiness as it grew over the vast expanse of her heart. A sense of hopelessness began to creep in, a shadow falling above the plains of nothing, and Marley suddenly saw clearly again.
As if she'd yawned, her ears popped into clarity, Scott's voice not as muffled as before. "The evidence is gone," he said, gesturing towards the bucket full of shredded paper. "Why don't you just go?"
She'd tried not to wince as Matt huffed out a laugh, his forehead shiny with sweat. She tried not to flinch away as he continuously waved the gun. "You— you think the evidence mattered that much, huh? No, no, I want the book." With furrowed eyebrows and an increasing worry pulling at her stomach, she attempted to calm her racing heart.
The world around them was still as Scott stared back at the kanima's master. "What? What book?"
Matt shuffled forward, his eyes bulging from his head. She could smell it on him. The anger, the despair, the aching willingness to go to any extent necessary. That cold and lonely place of constant hopelessness. "The bestiary," he spat, his eyes tightening. "Not just a few pages, I want the entire thing."
"I don't have it." She could also hear the desperation in Scott's voice, the way he was silently pleading with Matt to just let them all leave without repercussion. "It's Gerard's. What do you want it for, anyway?"
He ran his fingers beneath his nose, pacing in the small office. "I need answers."
Scott leaned forward, his forearm comfortingly brushing against hers as her heart sped up. "Answers to what?"
Something squeezed her organs, a ruthless panic seizing her entire being. She wanted to cry. The urge wasn't sudden, nor was it surprising, but it was present enough for her to point it out. "Matt, we don't—"
"Answers to this." He cut Marley off, raising the side of his shirt with a single hand. At first, she didn't see it. At first, it looked normal. And then her eyes caught the first scale, its green tint shadowed from the placement of the lights. Her heart lurched at the sight, throat clenching.
The scales climbed from below the waistband of his jeans up to the middle of his abdomen, just a section of reptilian skin. When she got a closer look, she noted how similar it was to the rubbery scales that appeared on Jackson. Matt looked like a kanima. She tried to step forward, stilling as something rippled through the scales.
As she tried to hold back a bubbling gasp, she felt Jackson's sharp nails nearly pierce her skin, his hand forcefully shoving her forward. She stared at Scott's back as the trio slowly began to walk forward, Matt grabbing his phone and furiously tapping the screen.
She watched him the entire way, sliding the device into his pocket before readjusting his gun and pointing at them both once more. Her feet were light against the carpet, thigh aching as her skin healed itself, unlike Scott's abdomen, which was still pushing wine red blood from his wound. Brows furrowing, she turned back to Matt.
"There." Motioning a few paces in front of him, he watched the two werewolves stand side-by-side, both tending to their own bloody wounds. Her hair stood as he moved to Scott, eyes trained on my blood stained hands. "You know, I— I feel sorry for you, McCall, cause right now you're thinkin', how am I gonna explain this when it heals? And the sad part is, you don't even realize how incredible it is that you are actually healing."
Marley could feel her heartbeat slow in her chest as he turned to her, a sadistic smile lightening up his face. "God, and you. I don't even think your grandmother noticed that you'd been shot. How 'bout I just shoot you again to be safe?"
Everything in her screamed to be calm, obedient, but that all stopped when she thought back to her grandmother staring right at Matt's gun. "Oh, yea? Well, how about you just shove that gun right up your—"
Her lips tightened when the smooth barrel pressed against her neck, goosebumps surrounding it as it made an indent in her skin. Ice continued its excursion on her veins, climbing and traversing through every single one. There was no more blood inside of her. Now, now it was liquid fear. Terror ran through her body as she imagined his finger pressing down on that trigger and the world falling into darkness.
She didn't think she'd ever wanted to live more than she did in this moment.
With closed eyes, she could feel his hot breath on her skin as he stepped closer, seething with anger. She could smell it, and it scared her. "You know what happens to everyone else when they get shot? They die. You know a thing or two about death, now don't you?"
Cold metal pressed against her as she gulped, trying not to panic with the gun still pointed directly at her throat. Trying to calm down, she listened to Scott's rhythmic heartbeat, his organ pumping furiously, yet slower than her own. He could tell she was panicking. "Is that what happened to you? You drowned, didn't you?"
As much as she tried to suppress it, Marley let out a small sob of relief once the gun lowered. Sweat glistened upon his collarbone as he turned, hands resting on a deputy's desk. "He shouldn't have let them drink." She recognized that bonk expression. The glaze that came over his eyes as he thought back to his memories.
"What—who—" Scott shifted, his hand gently holding her elbow as he took the smallest step forward. "Matt, what do you mean?"
"Lahey!" Her chest constricted as Matt whirled around, glaring at the duo with shining skin and angry eyes. He sounded almost dumbfounded as he spoke. "He shouldn't have let them drink."
She barely recognized anything Scott said as she held onto Isaac's surname, her distaste for Mr. Lahey growing even more. "What, who was drinking?" Scott shook his head, obviously not as caught by the name of Beacon Hills' old swim coach.
"The swim team, you idiot!" Training her eyes on the gun, she watched it wave in the air. "I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know they had just won state, and Lahey, he's letting his favorites come over to have a couple drinks to celebrate. Who cares if they're seventeen, right?"
"Were you at Isaac's?" Her arm tensed in Scott's hand, not knowing how he could still speak as Matt looked around, reliving his traumatic childhood.
"He had this first edition Spider-Man, or wh— what was it? Batman?" Matt's eyes were trained on the floor, gloss even stronger as he relayed everything. She hated how absolutely human he seemed as he told them this vulnerability. This secret that he'd obviously been holding in for years. "And we were gonna make a trade. But then I'm over there and I hear music, and everyone's having a good time, and I see Sean. He throws Jessica in the pool. And then— and then Bennett goes in and—"
"Bennett? What, the hunter?"
Matt ignored him, still trained on that floor. "And then Camden. Isaac's jarhead brother, he grabs me. He thinks it's funny." She couldn't help but picture Isaac, watching everything happen, watching his brother grab the boy he simply wanted to trade with.
"They threw you in."
"I—" he choked, emotion clinging to every word he managed to speak. "I yelled that I can't swim, but nobody listens."
She pictured it: a little boy, his arms in the hold of this big teenager, screaming as the pool grew closer and closer.
"I go under and I swallow water, and no one cares."
She pictured that little boy, his body crashing through the surface, fear flooding his system. She pictured him flailing, trying to grab something, finger slipping through water as his body began to sink. She could see his face, tense and terrified as water leaked in.
"And I see these bodies underwater. I— I see Jessica's got her hands down Sean's board shorts, Tucker's grabbing Kara, and I'm drowning." The water is fire. It's fire and it's hot and the little boy is a little girl. "I'm dying and they're laughing." The little girl is dying and her mother is laughing.
Fire and pain and noise. Marley could see herself, standing above her mother as Mauricia's hands were wrapped around a little girl's throat, nails digging into her skin. Fire and fire and fire.
"All of a sudden, I was just— I'm lying by the pool. And Lahey is right there, right above me, and he says—"
You should've been there! "He says you tell no one!"
We both should have been there! "This, this is your fault!"
We should be dead! You— you should be dead, Marlowe! "What little bastard doesn't know how to swim?"
"And I didn't." He's in front of her again, staring into Marley's eyes as they dampened with unshed tears. "I didn't tell anyone. And I would see them at school, and they wouldn't even look at me." His gun was loose in his hand as he gestured, still immersed in his memories. "I'd wake up in the middle of the night. I'd gasp for breath. And my parents, they thought I was asthmatic. They— they even gave me an inhaler."
She felt her lungs constrict as she continued to look at him, empathizing with everything he began to describe. "They didn't know that every time I closed my eyes, I was drowning." And fire, and fire, and fire. "You know that little white light that they talk about, you see it when you die? Well, I didn't see anything. Just darkness. Everything was dark. But then—then came the Argent's funeral, and everything changed."
He looked back at them, the smallest smile on his lips. "I was taking some photos, and then, purely by accident, Lahey gets in one of the photos." She thought back to him, his camera pointed at Allison and her family as he passed the herd of reporters. "I look down at the screen of my camera, and I just had this unbelievable rage that fills up inside of me, and I just— I look at him. And I want to see him dead. And the next day, he actually was."
The ally was dark that night as the rain came down, pelting Marley and Isaac as they hid behind a wall. She heard Mr. Lahey's screams like they were still there, his shouts blending with the constant patter of water. She'd listened to a man die, yet she couldn't muster the smallest bit of remorse. He deserved death. Even as it encircled his throat and dragged him into the depths of hell.
"You know, Einstein was right. Imagination is more important than knowledge." Feeling a small shudder, she thought back to Mr. Harris. Imagination was so much more important than knowledge; especially in her world. "It was like something out of Greek mythology. Like—like the furies coming down to punish Orestes. You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"
Scott looked at her before turning back, lips pressed tight. "Was— was that the guy who stabbed out his eyes?"
"Oedipus." Her eyes were cast downward as she said it, lashes damp as tears threatened to spill over her bottom eyelid. "He's the one who stabbed his eyes out."
Her skin tingled as silence ensued, both boys staring at her as she tried to hard to put on a brave face. To simply pretend that she wasn't afraid to die. "Wow, look at that. One of you isn't a complete dumbass!" Her muscles tensed as Matt shouted. "The furies are deities of vengeance. Their tears ran of blood and they had snakes for hair. If there was a crime that had gone unpunished, the furies would do the punishing. Jackson is my fury."
As badly as she wanted to say something, her jaw had locked. She couldn't force her teeth to part, couldn't force words to form. Her teeth became a cage as she sat there, listening to Matt describe how he nearly got away with murdering an entire swim team.
"So, I took more pictures. All I had to do was take their picture—and Jackson would take their life."
The mere sentence left a coldness in her veins, her skin itching as Matt basically confessed to stealing a teenaged boy's free will. Her stomach twisted at the though, absolutely disgusted with the person she was looking at. She regretted comparing her situation to his.
Because she didn't become a murderer. She learned and grew. She became better, not worse. She didn't give in to that dark hole begging for revenge and misguided justice. She knew right from wrong, and she knew that revenge wouldn't do anything but hurt her in the end.
All at once, the trio was shoved into darkness. The lights shut off and Marley could feel Scott pull her closer, his hand still locked on her elbow. Her heart began to pound through her chest, threatening to break her ribs apart. "What the hell?"
"What is this?" Matt, his voice sounding further than before, asked. She felt her heart pause at his confusion, at the large jump in his heart rate. Her head felt like it would split open as alarms sounded, blaring as the station was encompassed in a blinding dark. "What's going on?" He began to yell, obviously oblivious to the situation.
Scott's hand pulled her back, farther away from the teenager with a gun, as he looked for anything. "I don't know."
Something from the window lit the room up, showing Matt's barrel pointed directly at Marley's head. She saw his finger tighten the slightest bit before gunfire rang out, her head swarming at the panic. The windows caved in, glass shattering as bullets pelted through the frames. Allison.
Something grazed her arm, pain erupting from the limb as she ducked behind a desk, praying to a god she didn't even believe in. From where she sat, she could see Scott ducking beneath another desk, his eyes frantic as he searched for her. Through mascara tears, she made eye contact and nodded, hand pressed to the bleeding wound.
Everything moved. The world was flurrying around her as she tried to catch her breath. Adrenaline shot through her veins as she saw bullets knock objects from the wooden surfaces, things falling to the floor around her.
Something flew in from the window, landing at her feet. Before moving to pick it up, she saw Scott's hand, his eyes set on the projectile. 'Smoke bomb,' he mouthed, covering his nose. Smoke bomb.
She couldn't bring her shirt up fast enough before it went off, the smoke filling her lungs. Everything was blurred, a mix of mascara and smoke and tears, until she felt something drag her from where she huddled. Panic seized her, fear fueling it as she tried to squirm away. Until she saw whose hand it was, Scott trying to calm her as she moved.
They ran through the door, knocking Jackson aside and finding Derek and Stiles. She went to help her alpha, confused when he swatted her away. "Take him." Marley could hear the smoke in his throat as he coughed it out, his claws bloodied. "Go!"
She knew not to argue. Both she and Scott supported one of Stiles' arms, carrying him towards a back room where he'd be safe. Eyes straining to see anything through the thick mist, she dropped his arm, turning to catch Jackson as he raised his claws. Her heart beat wildly, pumping adrenaline through her body as she fought the kanima.
She was strong, but Jackson was stronger. His arms overpowered hers, shifting and shoving her against the wall. Her back hit the surface hard, fire blossoming. As she was held against it, she cried out, feeling the pure, raging sting of his finger digging into her arm's fresh injury. His eyes were trained on hers as he pressed further, a shrill shout breaking through the panic of gunfire.
Baring her teeth, she pushed back. The pain added determination, a vendetta against the oversized lizard, and her arms ached as she shoved him off of her. Her fist came up, hurting as she came into contact with his cheekbone.
The two danced around one another, teeth bared and claws ready, until Scott shouted. She turned, seeing him motion towards a door, and shoved Jackson to the far wall. She didn't even wait to see him hit before following through the doorway, and locking it behind her. Scott held up Stiles' other arm, leading them through a hallway.
Once they reached the end, Marley locked a metal door, silence ensuing as they were cut off from Jackson's rampage. Her throat was dry as she looked back at dumb and dumber. "What the actual hell is going on?" Hands slicked her curls back, one still wet with blood, and tried to catch her breath.
Scott set his friend down in a chair, looking between him and her with wide eyes. "The Argents." His hand went to the doorknob, panic still clinging to his figure. "Don't move," he looked down at Stiles, "—you know what I mean."
She didn't even give herself a moment to think before she was running back down the hallway, clicking the door shut behind her and settling on a simple thought: survive. All of her instincts kicked in, an eerie calm falling over her as she caught up to Scott, preparing to round the corner. Focusing on that irrational calm, she moved until someone stopped her, a tall, thin figure pushing her back into the hallway.
The expression on Allison's face made her own drop, worry interrupting the serenity that was there. She blinked, expecting a relieved grin to light up her face. Instead, Allison stared down the werewolves with something alight in her eyes. "Where's Derek?"
Marley's face dropped, her eyes wide as she studied the Argent. Her sharp features were taut, a terrifying determination pulling at her skin. But the grim look of Ally's face wasn't what made Marley's heart drop. It was the crossbow, pointed right at her as she shielded Scott.
"Allison," he said, still out of breath from carrying Stiles. She could hear the confusion and heartbreak in his voice as she continued to act as a human shield. "What are you doing?"
A porcelain hand tightened around the trigger of the weapon, a young huntress carrying the world upon her shoulders as she held the bow with a steady grip. "If neither of you are going to tell me, then get out of my way." Her tree brown eyes met Marley's for a second before they flickered back to him.
His hand moved to her shoulder, slightly pushing her to the side as he stared Allison down directly. "Allison."
There was a hint of emotion behind her pupils as she lifted her crossbow, finger still hovering above the trigger. They'd come a long way from Stiles accidentally pulling it, nearly impaling his best friend. "Where is he."
Her black hair was pulled back from her face, leaving her sharp cheekbones exposed. She stared the werewolves down, rebellion and fury hidden behind glassy pupils and a frozen heart. She brought her weapon back down when Scott moved forward, her name falling from his lips. "Scott. Scott, you need to stay away from me right now." The arrow would have landed perfectly in his heart if she decided to shoot it. "I need to go. Just stay out of my way."
Without even sparing Marlowe a glance, Allison shouldered her way through, moving down the hallway with danger laced around her feet. She left the duo behind with blank stares and heaving lungs, confusion tainting the surrounding air. Everything stilled once they realized what had happened. The girl who'd confided in Marley while parked outside of Lydia Martin's house died with Victoria Argent. Now, a Phoenix was born from the ashes of her mother's body.
Fighting back a light sob, Marley tried to blink away any unshed tears. "Scott." Her throat was hoarse when she spoke, emotion clinging to her vocal chords like duct tape. "Scott, we need to go." He didn't budge, eyes still trained on the corner that Allison disappeared around. "Scott! Let's go."
The world was underwater as she shook his arm, trying to tug him away from the place he'd locked himself to. Everything blurred together once she finally let go, chest caving as she walked away without looking anywhere else but his tense figure. She didn't even know if she said anything when she was leaving, just comprehending the movement of her feet and lips.
She could faintly hear her grandmother shriek, along with Melissa McCall crying out, the sounds pulling her towards the holding cells. Shoes thundered against the concrete floors, the noise echoing throughout the station. Distantly, Derek growled, the kanima hissing in harmony with the sound.
Her curls were a blur behind her as she ran, baring her fangs and claws with little to no caution. With nothing but the sound of Derek being thrown around the concrete room, she could feel panic rising in her chest. Time slowed as she rounded a corner, watching Jackson hiss in the werewolf's face, a row of razor-sharp teeth biting at his face.
She didn't even think, didn't even register the fact that her grandmother and Mrs. McCall were watching, when she moved forward. Her hands were her weapons, lethal and threatening, at her sides, and she wasted no time in digging her claws into Jackson's leathery scales, ripping at his reptilian skin. Registering the screech that he blew into the atmosphere, she used her hold on him to send him across the room, back hitting the wall with a deep thud.
The faintest golden glow illuminated the room, her irises bright with that vibrant yellow as she stared the kanima down, her fangs bared. It didn't waste any time getting up, rising to its full height and combatting her stare with his reptilian slits. He let out a horrifying scream, the sound resonating like nails on a chalkboard, before charging.
Her body twisted in the air as she moved to avoid his hits, constantly blocking anything she could. A few of them, the ones that were faster, hit. She could feel her skin burning as the kanima landed a punch to her side, his knuckles colliding with her rib cage.
Blood rushed through her eardrums, the noise overpowering everything else as she fought. Her muscles burned, thigh hot with a white pain and still stinging from the bullet, as she continued to push herself. The world blurred, edges dimming and environment fading. Right now it was just her and Jackson; her and the kanima.
Dodging another hit, she didn't even see the claws until three sank into her waist, ripping apart flesh and tearing at nerves. Her eyes dimmed, that yellow flickering as Jackson tore into her. Fire radiated throughout her entire body with every slight shift of his fingers, sending those claws deeper and deeper into her skin. Everything began to blur, her eyes filling with tears.
Finally, she felt oxygen slam against her open wound as Scott pulled the kanima away, slamming it against the floor and nearly collapsing on the ground. Marley could hear her grandmother, the words shaken as they hesitantly ventured out into the open air. "Oh, god, Marlowe. Marley, baby, look at me," she begged.
Her voice was congested, hands sliding down the cell door as Louise sank to her knees. "Oh, please, Mar, look at me." As soon as Marley could register her own body, she realized it was against the concrete, blood pooling around her wound as her grandmother begged for an answer.
She could see Scott rising, his back to her as he faced his mother. Melissa shrunk back, eyes flickering to the girl with blood pooled around her before staring at her son. Marley could see the world cave in around his mother as she was engulfed by darkness, backing away from the werewolves with fear. And then she looked at her grandmother.
Her stomach hardened, expecting disgust and anger and disappointment, but Louise was none of those things. She held her bony hand through the bars, reaching for her granddaughter with a gut wrenching look in her eyes. "Marley, please, just tell me you're okay."
Pushing away the burn of the scratches on her side, she pulled herself up with a quick nod. Pain gave her strength, flowing through her body and pulsating at the edges of her ripped flesh, and she embraced it as she rose. Her eyes, alight with a golden hue, seemed to shine brighter than the sun, determination whistling beneath that gold mask.
Facing her grandmother, Marlowe tried to swallow any lingering burn, her own claws digging into her palm as she tried to hold all of that pain at bay. Her focus didn't waver as Scott ran, not even as Derek followed, and her eyes stayed steady on Louise's, something close to understanding passing between the women of familial blood.
Relieving clarity punctured the world at that moment, as Marley's back straightened. Louise knew everything.
THE HOUSE WAS QUIET. A blanket of darkness, the only light being that from the sheer curtains, where the moon's rays gently kissed the tiled floors, sat over the Hawthorne and St. Claire residence at four in the morning.
Sitting, a warm mug in hand, Marley studied the dark crevices and corners, almost expecting a shot to ring out—a bullet puncturing her skin once more and Matt smiling on the other end of it. Sitting, a warm mug in hand, she couldn't help but feel that familiar burn in her thigh, where the flesh had already pieces itself back together. Or her waist, where the kanima's claws sank into her muscles.
She didn't want to admit it. That every single time she closed her eyes, she could see the barrel of a gun pointed directly at her forehead. That every single time she closed her eyes, she saw her grandmother on the receiving end of the gun's bullets. She saw fire ripping through her thigh and a reptile throwing her across the room and those bodies—bloodied and torn. Every single time she closed her eyes, she saw the night play out over and over again, a horror movie with no end and constant jump scares.
Her heart beat wildly in her chest as she looked ahead, aware of her grandmother's blank stare. The two had been sitting in silence since the microwave beeped, signaling the completion of their hot coco, because neither wanted to bring up the events of the night.
It wasn't until the clock's larger hand reached the six, a small click signaling the middle of the hour, that Louise placed her mug gently on the table, her hands rubbing against it for a last sliver of warmth. She tucked a strand of grayed curls behind her ear before Marley heard her lips move, chapstick making the smallest noise before any words managed to make themselves known. "That boy," she said, surprising her granddaughter. "—that boy is the one killing people, isn't he?"
With ice in her veins, she looked up through thick lashes to meet the elder's patient gaze. How could she tell her grandmother that Matt was controlling the kanima? How could she tell anyone that a giant reptilian shapeshifter was responsible for the murders. "Well—"
"He's the one controlling the kanima?"
Silence fell. Two hearts were beating against it as Marley stared at her grandmother, stomach twisting. She tried to make an excuse, tried to rationalize the fact that Louise knew what the kanima was. Knew that Matt controlled it. Something, anything. "What? How—"
"Your grandfather and I had a complicated relationship," she interrupted. It took Marley off guard, the complete change of subject making her head spin. She furrowed her brows, focusing further on her grandmother's wistful, glazed over stare. "We were together for a year before I met his family."
Though her mind was whirling with questions, Marley settled further into the sofa and listened. She'd never heard Louise talk about her late husband since his death, which happened while Marlowe's mother wasn't speaking to the two, so the intrigue of the story outweighed her confusion. Her movements were gentle as she fidgeted, almost scared to break the moment as it played out.
Louise sighed, smiling to herself as her eyes flashed with memories. "I used to think he was ashamed—of me or his family, but looking back, I understand. It was shame, but not towards someone. It was shame towards his name, the meaning behind it." The house was quiet, just her steady voice as she recalled her past, her granddaughter listening with wide eyes and eager ears. "The Hawthorne legacy goes back generations, similar to the Argents or Calaveras."
With that, Marley straightened, looking with wider eyes as her mind whispered insane theories into her ear. Just like the Argents or Calaveras. "They began hunting when a matron was killed by a Wendigo, a catalyst that began a generational business, one that would become renowned for its infamy."
Hunting. Her grandfather, a man she remembered almost nothing about, was a hunter. Her grandmother, a woman who took her in and treated her the way a child was supposed to be treated, was a huntress. And she was a wolf, an imposter in the line of perfection.
"Marley, I know this is a lot. And I know it's all very sudden," Louise spoke, her voice thin and crisp against a static-filled silence. "But this doesn't mean I don't accept you. After your father and mother married, a wedge was driven between us. She taught me the wrong in hunting the supernatural." Looking away, she sighed. Marley could tell the story was coming to it's end.
Stillness made her hold the oxygen in her lungs, waiting for her grandma to finish. "It was never a mountain lion. No, it was a pack—lead by a man named Deucalion. All because of the people your grandfather and I had wronged." A tear slipped from her eye, blurring her vision as she watched Louise stare blankly at the wall.
"I have blamed myself every single day for what happened to your father and siblings. For what happened to you. And I told myself the only way to seek forgiveness was to give you the best life I could." With her heart beating rapidly, Marlowe looked at her hands in her lap, studying her fingernails while trying to avoid the mournful eyes of her Gran. "I tried to keep you from this side of the world, but I failed."
Thump, thump, thump. Her chest felt like it would burst as her heart banged against her ribs, threatening to break free. "I won't fail you again, Marlowe. I promise."
As she digested the information, mouth agape with shock, Marley was unaware of a boy, head held beneath water and panic dimming the edges of his vision. She was unaware of a Hale, previously dead yet now reincarnated. Unaware of a man, palm held outward. Unaware of a kanima, bonding and shaping itself to its new owner.
Unaware that this—her making it home safe after being held hostage by Matt, was only the beginning of the end, a prequel that would leave her world hanging by a mere thread. Unaware that, as she readied herself for sleep and felt her stomach ease, she would soon be facing something bigger than a high school student with a grudge. She would soon be facing an Argent.
word count: 6012
a/n
here, have another chapter
also, mr demon wolf got a little cameo yessir
i haven't had any inspo for teen wolf, so y'all probably won't be getting another update for a little while, and i sincerely apologize for that. i also finally got a job, so i don't have much free time anyways
tell me what y'all thought of this one <3
— andy