|| Paw In Hand
If Stiles could've been out of breath, he would've been. "Who's Emelia?"
Allison whistled, "I'll leave you to it. Later, J." She half heartedly smiled, vanishing into smoke and then nothing at all.
"Who told you about her?" Jacy put the vinyl of Allison's choice back into its envelope.
"Your mom." Stiles hit his knuckle to his palm lightly, a nervous tick he had. "She talked to me, but not me, me." He hesitated slightly, "You told me you didn't have any experience with drifters."
"I said little, not none," she defended calmly, putting the record into the space the huntress took it from.
"So, Emelia?" He sounded not just curious, but worried. "She didn't make it?"
"No, she didn't make it."
Jacy hated talking about it, but Stiles deserved to know. He had a right to.
"What happened?" Stiles slowly stepped forward. "Who was she?"
"She went to school with me." Jacy glanced down. "We took ballet together when we were five. Once middle school hit, we stopped being friends, but stuff like that happens all the time." She went to the counter, leaning against it while facing Stiles. "Last thing she did was apologize for that."
Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat, "How did she become a drifter?"
"Party gone wrong. End of sophomore year some of the cheerleaders crashed a frat party. One of the deltas took advantage of Emelia. She said no and he nearly killed her. She drifted for three months."
"How come she fell? Wouldn't three months make her strong?"
"Well," Jacy hesitated, "She was strong, but she corrupted."
"Corrupted? How does a ghost do that?" Stiles' eyebrows knitted together, never hearing the under lying rules for his condition.
"Ghosts can corrupt easy, but for drifters it's different. Spirits typically want revenge and they get strong fast." She motioned over to the record player, "Allison can pick a record and play it without help and she's only a month and a half in." Jacy nodded softly towards her listener. "Yet you sometimes have trouble picking things up without focus."
"Revenge is corruption." Stiles was starting to get it. "The frat guy."
"Emelia only wanted to scare him, but she got worked up when she saw him." Jacy met Stiles' eyes. "She killed him, and it killed her."
"Why didn't you tell me that could happen?"
"Yours was an accident. I wasn't worried about you wanting revenge." Jacy tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "You love your Jeep so I didn't think you'd go and beat it up."
"Loved," Stiles corrected. "She's wrecked and it's in lock up at the station. I doubt I can fix her and the last machanic who worked on her was crushed by her."
"Sophomore year?"
"Sophomore year."
"Well, maybe your Jeep can be saved." Jacy had missed quite a lot of action in Beacon Hills.
"Like you can save me?"
Jacy nodded, "Absolutely."
"My mom told me something." Stiles had conversations about a lot of things, but he rarely spoke about Claudia. "Something I really believe in."
"What'd she tell you?" Jacy set them together, but she didn't pry what Claudia wanted to say to her son.
"To trust you. And I do, completely."
| |
Jacy knew from Jordan that the Hale House was going to be torn down soon, but she also knew that they had taken a break for the day on its deconstruction.
The Honda pulled up after following a small trail through the woods, its driver prepared with a plan. Jacy got out of her car, pocketing her gloved hands in her black peacoat.
Derek was waiting, as he always was, leaning on the hood of a black car. "You've been here before, haven't you?"
Jacy looked up to the house with its roof taken off. eyes following the curves of the charred house. "I was drawn to it."
"So you don't only see ghosts, then?" Derek stood beside her, glancing over to the whisperer.
"Some can transfer memories. That's how I met Talia. She put the memory of the fire in my head when I first got Beacon Hills. I came here without needing directions. I had a guide."
"My mom."
Jacy softly nodded, hands still stuffed away from the cold. "After the dream, I woke up and put on shoes without even knowing what I was doing. I saw this beautiful wolf looking at me and her eyes turned this shining red. I wasn't scared of her. I followed her and found myself here and I knew exactly where I was."
"A memory of the fire?" Derek took in what she'd said, confused. "My mother didn't die in the fire."
"She wasn't in it, I know." Jacy looked up to Derek, "We need to go inside to talk to her."
"Are you sure she'll come?" he asked, walking towards the metal gate surrounding the house.
"She'll be here." Jacy grabbed Derek's wrist, claws extended from his fingertips. "Easy there, wolfie."
"Do you have a better way?" He put the claws away and drew back his hand.
Jacy held up a gold key, "I have the best way."
As Jacy unlocked the fence, Derek lifted an eyebrow. "Should I ask?"
"No." She put the key back into her pocket and opened the door before glancing to him. "And, you don't have to claw off everything."
Derek rolled his eyes a little, going into the fenced off property he grew up in. "And who did you steal that from?"
"I didn't steal it."
Derek stopped next to Jacy on the porch. "That's not any more comforting."
"Let's forget about the key," she suggested, motioning to the red painted door littered with claw marks, a black symbol visible underneath. "Where would the connection be strongest?"
Derek wordlessly went into his childhood home, leading his ghost whisperer downstairs.
"But-"
"I know she didn't die down here, but she used the room a lot." Derek slid open the doors to a dark space. "If there's somewhere strong, it's here."
Not only was this where the fire started, but this was where Allison learned the truth about her family and its trade.
"Kate." Jacy looked around when Derek turned on a flood light that illuminated the room. "She held you here once, right?"
"Tortured me here is more like it, but yeah," he replied. "Allison, I'm guessing."
"She's why I know everything I do," Jacy said, taking in a sharp breath a moment later.
"Did you feel that?" Derek's eyebrows furrowed, looking around the basement. "It got colder."
"She's here."
Derek searched for his mother, but the room was only 10 degrees colder.
Jacy smiled lightly towards the door, a stunning wolf in the frame. "Hello Talia."
The black wolf bowed its head, red eyes flaring in greeting.
"What are you planning on doing?" Derek looked from the empty doorway to the brunette. He couldn't see her.
"Connection." Jacy took off her gloves and put them in her pockets, "If I touch both of you and you focus on getting to Talia, then it should go through."
"You can touch ghosts?"
"One of the perks," she sarcastically replied. "It's because of what's in my blood." A hand went out to Derek. "Do you trust me?"
"Do I trust a ghost whisperer?" Derek rose an eyebrow, glancing between Jacy and her pale hand.
"Asked the werewolf." Jacy wiggled her fingers. "Come on."
Derek took Jacy's hand, admiring how similar to Stiles she seemed.
Jacy looked to Talia, holding a hand towards her. Talia was smart, even in her current form.
Talia trotted over, sitting on her hind legs. She rose up, placing her paw into Jacy's other hand.
Jacy wrapped her fingers around the lightness of the cold fur in her palm as she turned her head to Derek. "Think about getting through to your mom. That and only that."
Derek nodded, closing his eyes when Jacy did.
A rush of cool air struck both the werewolf and the clairvoyant, sending their minds elsewhere.
And for Derek, it all became clear.
| |
Jacy sat on the end of her bed, her legs folded and her feet in fuzzy slippers as she balanced cognitive neuroscience textbook in her lap, thumbing through her current chapter.
"I thought we talked about you and your superscience." Stiles appeared on the sofa, comfortably leaned back.
Jacy looked up, her pen clicking open and closed impulsively. "Guess I'm the kind of person who can't leave a book unfinished."
"Or you didn't listen to me."
"Or," Jacy held up a finger, "I like books, especially smart ones with big words."
"Maybe it's an 'and' we're looking for," Stiles said, knowing he couldn't win that one.
Jacy smiled, returning her eyes to the textbook. She grabbed a highlighter, bringing a section to attention boldly.
"Where did you go earlier? I couldn't find you after I visited the hospital."
"I helped Derek out." Nonchalantly, Jacy highlighted another sentence before changing the page.
"Uh," Stiles furrowed his eyebrows, "with what?"
Jacy gave Stiles a look. "This again, really?"
Stiles held up his hands, "All right, all right."
She glanced to the lilac alarm clock, shutting her book. "Anything new at the hospital?"
"Nope." Stiles found himself eyeing the scratches coming out of the vent. "Everything's steady."
"Good." She swung her legs over the side of her bed, walking over to her desk. She put her book down and left the highlighter and pen next to it.
"Is it bedtime for Jacy?" Stiles watched as Jacy put an extra blanket on her bed. "Okay, seriously. Why haven't you said anything about it?"
Jacy took her hair down, waves sprawling. "About what?" She drew back a corner of her sheets, climbing in.
"About me being cold."
She flicked on her faerie lights, "Hey, will you turn off-"
Stiles motioned with one hand, the light on the ceiling fan going out. "Jacy, I mean it."
"I'm used to being cold. I'm from M-"
"I know you say that, but I'm a different kind of cold." Stiles cut her off as she set her head on the pillow but kept her eyes on him. "Blankets, hoodie, slippers. A michigan native wouldn't need those in California in a not very cold winter."
"Since you're not paying much attention in class - history at least, try to figure this one out." Jacy wasn't being sarcastic or cocky or mean. She was calm and genuine, as well as falling asleep. That was a talent of hers - sleeping.
"Your breath clouded when that ghost was in the kitchen. That doesn't happen when you're around me. In the store today your breath was like that and went away quickly." He went on when Jacy nodded, "So, it's ghosts? That's the key? Ghosts are cold?"
"Ghosts are cold and drifters are slightly less cold." Jacy took in a sleepy breath. "You'll be warm again, Stiles."
Stiles opened his mouth to speak but Jacy's eyes were shutting.
He wasn't sure if he missed sleep or not. It wasn't something he could do, so he couldn't tell for sure. He was starting to forget what it felt like.
Hell, Stiles was starting to forget how it felt to be human.