c h a p t e r t h i r t y n i n e
plan: take down jackson
"Oh, what the hell is this?" Sheriff Stilinski grimaced, pulling the burger away from his face, his mouth full. He had obviously realised that it wasn't the normal, meaty, greasy mess like he was used to.
"Veggie burger." Stiles replied, moving forward and grabbing his drink off of the sheriff's desk that they were eating at.
"Stiles, I asked for a hamburger." Noah's nose was turned up in disgust as he carried on chewing through the mixed up vegetables and other ingrediants inside.
The Stilinksi boy lifted up his salad. "Well, veggie is healthier. We're being healthy." He peeled open the lid and shot his dad a sarcastic smile.
The Sheriff pulled open another box only to reveal carrot and cellery sticks. "Oh hell, why are you trying to ruin my life?" He grumbled, glancing over at his son's girlfriend. "Hey, Harper has a hamburger. Why can't I?"
Harper beamed at Noah. "Because, I suffered being vegetarian for thirteen whole years of my life. No way am I going back to those things." She pointed at the veggie burger that Noah had placed down in front of him.
Harper's parents had both been vegeterians, so of course she was brought up as one too. She ate just like them, but after they died, she had her first bite of a hamburger from McDonalds- and no way was she ever touching another veggie burger again.
Stiles nodded along to Harper's claims. "Yeah, and I'm not trying to ruin your life. Okay, I'm trying to extend your life, okay? Could you just eat it please? And tell me what you found."
"No, I'm not sharing confidential police work with two teenagers." The Sheriff looked at his son as if he was crazy.
Harper's gaze flickered from her hamburger up to the board behind Noah, and a small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Is that it behind you?" She jerked her head in the direction of the board with pictures and arrows.
Stiles perked up, trying to look behind his dad's head. Noah shook his head, waving a hand at Stiles, "don't look at that. Avert your eyes."
"Okay." Stiles replied, but didn't look away, even going as far as to push himself up in his seat using the arm rests either side of him.
"Hey!"
"Okay-"
"He-" Noah tried to block his view.
"Just- it's just- I see arrows pointing at pictures." Stiles muttered, sitting back down properly in his seat.
"Okay, okay, stop." Noah waved his hands again, cutting Stiles off. "Fine. I found something. The mechanic and the couple who were murdered. They all had something in common."
"All three?"
"Yeah. You know what I always say. One's an incident. Two's a coincidence."
"Three's a pattern." Stiles and Harper both mumbled at the same time, the light feeling leaving the air as they stared at the Sheriff in front of them more seriously.
"The mechanic, the husband, the wife- all the same age. All twenty four."
Harper frowned, her eyebrows furrowing together. "What about Isaac's dad? He definitely wasn't twenty four."
Noah nodded. "That's right. Which makes me think either 'A,' Lahey's murder wasn't connected or 'B,' the ages were a coincidence, until I found this, which would be 'C'." He handed Stiles some paper, showing a military armed forces personnel file. "Did you know Isaac Lahey had an older brother named Camden?"
Harper slightly nodded, remembering that Isaac had told her about how his mum and brother were both dead that night in the graveyard before she had been bitten inside the school.
"'Died in combat'?" Stiles read the bold, red letters printed across the page.
"But if he were alive today, take one guess as to how old he'd be."
Harper hummed, "I'm gonna go with twenty four."
...
The three had moved to stand in front of the investigation board, the bright light of the Sheriff's lamp lighting up the entire thing. Harper looked between all of the pictures of the deceased people, her fist curling when she saw Mr Lahey's picture.
"Now what if same age means same class- I mean, did you think of that?" Stiles wondered out loud.
Noah nodded, "yeah, yeah." He didn't sound too convincing. "Well I would've. I mean, I- look, I just got Lahey's files two hours ago."
"Two hours?" Stiles repeated in disbelief, whirling around to face his dad. "Dad, people could be dying."
"Yeah, I'm aware of that. Thank you." Noah glared back at his son.
Harper sighed at their fighting, deciding to change the subject quickly. "Okay, what about checking old Beacon Hills High yearbooks? Surely something will come up."
Noah and Stiles' eyes both widened and the Sheriff quickly got hold of all of the files and yearbooks that he could. He slammed them on the desk and they searched through them, Stiles being the one to find it.
"Okay, this is it. Class of 2006." He pulled out a folder and opened it, his eyebrows furrowing together. "They all went to Beacon Hills."
Sheriff Stilinski pointed his finger at a file he had in his own hands. "Including Isaac's brother."
"All right, but so what if they all knew each other, you know? I mean, two of them were married, so maybe they all just hung out." Stiles pointed out, looking at his dad.
Noah shook his head as he flipped through the pages. "They could've had the same classes together, they could've-" He paused, staring down at the paper in front of him.
Harper moved to Noah's side as Stiles frowned at him. "What?" He asked.
The young girl's eyebrows raised when she saw Mr Harris' face printed on the paper, and for some reason she wasn't surprised.
"Harris was their teacher?" Harper frowned. "All of them?"
Noah nodded, "all four." He confirmed. "And I don't know how Mr Lahey fits in, but this- kids, this is definitely a pattern. All right, Harper, pass me the 2006 yearbook. These names, we need faces."
Harper quickly obeyed, her dainty hands shuffling through all of the books on the desk until she found the yearbook that Noah had previously requested.
"Which ones?" She asked, flipping it open as Noah began to call someone on the telephone beside him.
"Everyone in that chemistry class." Sheriff Stilinski replied as Stiles hovered behind her. "If the killer's not done killing..."
"One of them's next."
...
Harper sighed as she finished applying her mascara, knowing that it was now time for her to go downstairs. Of course Harper didn't have a problem with her grandmother, instead it was the other way around. It was as if Rose was now the teenager, ignoring and being angry with Harper.
The young brunette completely understood, she just wished it was different. Her grandmother only had a few more months left on this earth, and she didn't want them to spend them angry at each other.
Harper grabbed her school bag and jogged down the stairs, into the kitchen. She shot her grandmother a smile and Rose replied with a weak one, turning back to the dishes that she was cleaning in the sink.
"Grandma... How many times do I have to say it? I'm sorry." Harper sighed, opening a cupboard and pulling out a breakfast bar. "I'll do anything to make you forgive me."
Rose just sighed loudly. "Harper... I don't feel like doing this today. Please. We can talk after school- if you decide to show up, that is."
Harper's face fell. "Grandma-"
Rose shook her head. "Actually, no. You know what? You will be home by three thirty today, because you are grounded. You do not get to decide what time you get home. You got that?" She spoke, her voice attempting to be stern, but Harper could see right through it.
Biting her lip, the brunette nodded. She unwrapped her breakfast bar just as the sound of a horn outside came to her attention. Harper knew from the strange tune that it was her boyfriend and couldn't help but smile a tiny bit.
"See you tonight. Three thirty. Love you." Harper nodded at her grandma, grabbing her bag from where she had placed it on a stool, slinging it over her shoulder.
"I love you too."
Harper smiled as she opened the front door, the chilly air immediately hitting her face and biting at her cheeks. She closed the door quietly behind her and hopped down the stairs coming from her porch, moving down the smooth pavement until she reached the familiar blue jeep.
She pulled it open, her eyebrows raising when she saw Scott in her place. "Excuse me, Mr McCall. What happened to that stupid bike of yours?" She raised her dark eyebrows.
"I have news," was all he said, a smirk on his face.
Harper huffed at the werewolf before climbing up, acting as if he wasn't there as she moved her body over his, leaning towards Stiles. She pecked his lips and sent him a smug smile.
"Morning, Sti." She chirped.
Scott groaned. "Do you really have to kiss each other while you're practically sitting on my lap?"
Harper rolled her eyes as she moved, climbing straight over Scott and flopping onto the back seats. Stiles just chuckled, shaking his head as he started the car, pulling it out of the driveway.
"So," Harper began. "What is this news you speak of?"
Scott sighed dramatically. "I couldn't get us tickets to the underground show thing. Did you know that they're seventy five dollars each? Anyway, that's not the point."
"So, what is the point then?" Stiles grumbled, frustrated. He didn't take his eyes off of the road as they made their way to school.
"The point is, Jackson turned up and just cut the line- I think he was in Kanima mode or whatever."
Harper's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "I'm sorry, I don't think I understand. You didn't get tickets because Jackson cut the line?"
Scott let out a groan of frustration. "No! I mean, kind of. He was acting really weird. He freaked out the girl selling the tickets so much that she just left. He just stared at her the whole time. He didn't say a word. It was intense."
Harper leaned her head against the seats behind her. "Great. So now you two don't have tickets. Just great." She muttered sarcastically. "I don't want to go to that thing alone. Especially not with Matt. You two need to figure something out now. And fast."
The jeep pulled up in front of the school and they all clambered out. "There's got to be some other way to get tickets, right?" Scott questioned hopefully, looking over at the two of them who had gotten out of the car on the other side.
"It's a secret show. There's only one way, and it's a secret." Stiles explained, annoyed.
He also didn't want Harper to go alone to the underground rave with Matt. Not only was the Kanima going to probably be there, but Harper had agreed to go on a date with some guy that wasn't her boyfriend. Even if she said it wasn't a date, Stiles knew that Matt thought otherwise.
"Hey."
Speak of the devil.
The three turned around to face Matt, and Stiles quickly wrapped an arm around Harper's waist, pulling her closer to him. He glared at Matt a little, but the blue eyed boy just scoffed.
"Do any of you guys know why no one's getting suspended after what happened the other day at school?" Matt questioned, looking between the three of them curiously.
They were all lucky that the Argent's worked for the school now. With Gerard as the principal and Victoria Argent at the front desk, they had been people to explain what happened to the library, thankfully.
"Just forget about it." Stiles spoke rather harshly. "Nobody got hurt."
Matt turned to look at him. "I had a concussion."
"Well, nobody got seriously hurt." Stiles glared at him and he felt Harper shift underneath him, knowing instantly that she wanted him to shut up.
It was Matt's turn to glare. "I was in the ER for six hours."
"Hey, do you wanna know the truth, Matt?" Stiles only grew more annoyed, letting go of Harper and edging a little closer to the other teenage boy. "Your little bump on the head is about this high on our list of problems right now."
Stiles moved his hand to the ground, his voice raising the more he spoke. Harper and Scott both shared glances, with the two of them definitely being the peace makers in the friendship, they couldn't help but feel a little bad for Matt.
Matt had no clue about the supernatural, so Stiles was looking like the biggest jerk ever right now. Actually, almost everybody thought Stiles was a bit of a jerk from his short temper and sarcastic remarks, but anybody that truly knew him knew that he was the softest person ever on the inside.
Harper grabbed Stiles by the arm and pulled him up from where he was still kneeling down, sending him a glare. He didn't miss the amused look in his girlfriend's eyes.
"Are you okay?" Scott asked Matt.
"I'm fine now." Matt's eyes awkwardly shifted over to Stiles, as if waiting for another sarcastic comment from him. "So you didn't get any tickets last night either."
Scott shook his head as Stiles looked away, annoyed. "Are they still selling?" The werewolf asked him.
"Uh, no, but I managed to find two online." He looked over at Harper and smiled, causing Stiles to glare harder. "I can pick you up an hour before on Friday."
"Great." Harper forced a smile.
Matt didn't seem to notice it was fake as he walked away, smirking at Stiles. Stiles glared after him.
"I don't like him. Actually, you know what? I hate him." The Stilinski boy muttered before turning to Scott. "Are you sure about this?"
"Last time, whoever's controlling Jackson had to kill somebody because he didn't finish the job, so what do you think he's going to do this time?" Scott told them both.
"Be there to make sure it happens." Harper realised.
Scott nodded and Stiles huffed as the three of them began to make their way to class.
...
"Ketamine?" Scott read from the bottle that Deaton was holding up, a small frown on his face as his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.
"It's the same stuff we use on the dogs, just a higher dosage." He placed the clear bottle and the needle down on the metal table in front of the three teenagers. "If you can get close enough to Jackson, it should slow him down enough to buy you some time."
Harper reached forward and grabbed the needle, inspecting it with a disgusted look on her face. Deaton moved behind him and picked up another glass jar, this time filled with some sort of dark powder. He held it up to them.
"This is some of what you'll use to create the barrier. This part is for you, Stiles. Only you." Deaton instructed firmly, looking the Stilinski boy straight in the eyes as he placed down the glass jar.
"Uh, that sounds like a lot of pressure." Stiles muttered, leaning forward and picking up the jar to look at the label. "Can we maybe find a slightly less pressure filled task for me?"
Scott shot him a look, causing Stiles to shoot one back, his filled with defensiveness.
"It's from the mountain ash tree, which is believed by many cultures to protect against the supernatural." Deaton explained, ignoring Stiles' previous request. "This office is lined with ashwood, making it difficult for someone like Scott to cause me any trouble."
Harper frowned at this, placing the needle back down on the table at the same time as Stiles put his jar back down.
"Okay, so how come I can pass through it easily if I'm supernatural, too?" Harper questioned. "Is it different with Empaths?"
Deaton nodded. "That's right, Harper. Seeing as you are the first Empath I ever met, I am not too sure on the in's and out's of it, but I think you, like the Banshee, are immune to supernatural poisons, such as mountain ash and wolfsbane."
"Cool." Harper wasn't sure on how to respond.
Stiles changed the subject. "So then what? I just spread this around the whole building and then either Jackson or whoever's controlling him can't cross it?"
"They'll be trapped." Deaton confirmed with a small nod of the head.
Scott glanced at Stiles. "Doesn't sound too hard." He tried to encourage him.
"Not all there is." Deaton interrupted them. "Think of it like gunpowder. It's just powder until a spark ignites it. You need to be that spark, Stiles."
"If you mean light myself on fire, I don't think I'm up for that." Stiles told him, causing Harper to snort.
Harper had only met Deaton on a few occasions, but she knew that most of what he said was metaphorical- just like Ms Morrell. The brunette didn't know if she liked that about them both or not. At times it was frustrating and boring, but sometimes it was inspirational and motivating.
She wondered if they could be related. After all, they spoke the same and they kind of looked familiar. She wouldn't be surprised.
"Let me try a different analogy." Deaton began. "I used to golf. I learnt that the best golfers never swing before first imagining where they want the ball to go. They see it in their mind and their mind takes over. It can be pretty extraordinary what the force of your own will can accomplish."
"Force of will." Stiles repeated, breathing heavily out of his nose as he nodded. He didn't sound convinced at all.
"If this is going to work, Stiles, you have to believe it." Deaton made hand gestures, his eyes not leaving Stiles as he smiled.
There was a small silence as Harper and Scott turned to look at the boy with the buzz cut. Stiles inhaled deeply, letting out a mumble as he copied the hand actions that Deaton had done just before. He gave a small smile, ending the conversation there.