They say that when someone goes missing, there's a 48 hour window. That's it. 48 hours. That's 2,880 minutes. 172800 seconds. In the grand scheme of things, it's such a laughably miniscule amount of time to be searching for someone until all hope is lost.
But this was a proven fact. 48 hours and the percentage of finding the person - alive and still in one piece - drastically drops until, mathematically speaking, there was no hope to find them.
48 hours.
"How long has it been?" Stiles' voice derailed my thoughts, but I didn't lift my head from my hands. I pressed the heels of my palms deeper into my eyes until lights erupted behind my closed lids.
"Four days." I couldn't muster the energy to be embarrassed about how my voice sounded like I was holding back tears. Derek had been missing for four days and I hadn't slept for three of them. Four days ago I'd returned to the loft to find it locked with the alarm system set, the floor inside littered with brass bullet casings and blood, and no sign of Derek.
Four days of Peter, Jackson, and myself running around trying to find any trace of Derek. Four days of long days and longer nights. Four days before Peter told me to round up the others and admit I needed help.
"These were left here," Chris spoke up, and I looked up to find him holding out one of the bullet casings to Scott, who took it and examined the skull engraved on it. "It's the mark of a family of Hunters based out in Mexico. The Calaveras."
"What would they want with Derek?" Lydia was the one to ask.
Stiles glanced at me before voicing his next question. "You don't think they killed him, do you?"
I swallowed the anxiety threatening to overwhelm me. "I... don't know." I admitted, fingernails biting into my palms as I clenched my fists. I looked up at Lydia. "I was hoping you could tell me."
I grabbed the box I'd put the bullet casings in and held it out to Lydia, who reached in and took a handful of the casings, rolling them around in her hand before closing her eyes and letting them drop from her fingers. They hit the floor with dull metallic clicks that were unnaturally loud in the silence.
No one said anything for a tense few seconds, everyone watching Lydia stare at the casings, entranced. "Is he dead?" I asked, trying and failing to keep my voice steady.
"No." I breathed a sigh of relief. "But I'm not sure he's alive either."
"What does that mean?" Stiles frowned at her, and the anxiety threatened to drown me again.
"I don't know." She admitted, looking frustrated with herself. "There's something not right, I just... I don't know."
"So if the Calaveras have him, how do we find them?" Scott asked when I put my heads back in my hands, gripping my hair in frustration.
"I know the Calaveras." Chris said. He put a hand on my shoulder in some semblance of comfort that, remarkably, helped me a little. "Their leader, Araya, used to work with my father."
"Would she listen to you?" I asked, lifting my head to direct my question at Chris. He shook his head.
"The last time I spoke with Araya she wasn't happy with me, more specifically my retirement." He said. "And even if she was willing to talk to me, she wouldn't just hand Derek over. If we're going to do this we're going to do it the hard way."
Stiles let out a breath through his nose that might have been a laugh. "Looks like we're going to Mexico."
-x-x-x-
The Mexican village sat high atop a mesa in the desert. The last time I'd been in a place like this I distinctly remembered that there had been more alcohol and celebration involved, though not this time around. This time, I was sitting in Chris' SUV, tugging at the sleeves of Derek's leather jacket I was wearing and wondering if James Bond ever felt like puking before infiltrating somewhere.
I certainly wouldn't blame him if he did. The idea was growing more and more appealing for myself.
"Are you sure this is gonna work?" I blurted suddenly. "I mean, won't it be obvious what we're trying to do? What if someone asks me about stock prices or something? I don't know anything about stocks - I'll give us away and -"
Chris hand on my shoulder made my mouth snap closed. Okay, yes, I was babbling. Fine.
"Ginger." His voice was low and calm. "You need to calm down."
"But what if -"
"Ginger." He cut me off again, speaking slowly, as if he was coaxing my down off a ledge twenty stories up. "If you don't think you can do this, tell me now. Panicking in there isn't something we can afford." I nodded, and Chris ploughed on. "I wouldn't have let you come if I didn't think you could handle it. Derek's going to need you once we get him out."
Derek's name was a trigger. I straightened in my seat and set my jaw. This was for Derek.
"Alright." Chris squinted out his window, appraising the building we were about to storm. It didn't look like much; the windows had thick iron bars across them and the doors were large and wooden. Pretty unremarkable as far as secret Hunter bases went. "Let's go."
The twin slams of the SUV doors were lost in the cacophony of late night life. The skyline was a black silhouette against the bruised, navy sky and the air was thick with heat. Chris was heading for the doors and I trailed after him, doing my best to keep the panic from my expression.
At our approach, one of the two men guarding the doorway straightened. His flat eyes tracked from me to Chris and back, and grunted something in Spanish. Chris responded with the password we needed to enter the building, and the door behind the two men opened suddenly, making me flinch.
Chris nodded at the guards as he stepped over the threshold, me right on his heels.
We were standing in a narrow corridor, definitely not the kind of place I'd expected for a secret club of psychos. The wallpaper was a deep crimson that was barely visible in the dim light the wall lamps offered and most visibility was lost when the door closed behind us. Our footsteps echoed as we walked, our shadows thrown distorted across the ground, and I allowed Chris to take the lead as we headed towards the door at the end of the hallway.
We paused in front of the door and Chris raised his eyebrow. Ready? I gave a single, curt nod, and Chris pushed the door open.
The space was larger than expected; the walls were the same blood red as the hallway, a spiral staircase at the far end of the room leading to a balcony overlooking the dance hall, and a full length bar claimed a back corner. The club was packed with dozens and dozens of people, lights flashing blindingly and music so loud it vibrated in my ribs.
I stuck close to Chris as we did our best to move inconspicuously through the crowd. When I felt the heat of someone's gaze on me I turned to find Scott hidden in the shadows on the opposite side of the room, eyes burning like hot coals when they met mine, which glowed in response. He gave me a single nod and I returned it before scanning the crowd for Kira, but she was impossible to spot.
Chris was waiting for me at the door at the south end of the room, one I wouldn't have spotted had the Hunter not been beside it. He cast his gaze around the room to make sure no one was paying attention to us, then opened the door and pushed me through. He followed quickly and pulled the door closed behind us, muffling the music.
He pulled a gun out of the back of his waistband and started down the corridor, clicking off the safety as he went. I kept close, senses flared out wide and picking among the distant thumping of the music so I could listen for anyone around us. After just under a minute of walking through the maze of corridors I held up a hand to halt Chris, hearing the thumping of heartbeats up ahead.
How many? Chris mouthed silently, shifting the gun in his grip. I closed my eyes and listened for a second, then held up two fingers. Chris moved closer to the wall and I shifted, red bleeding into my eyes, and attacked.
I was on one guard before they even had time to process what was happening, arms closing around his neck - one snaking over his windpipe and the other keeping his head from shoving backwards into my face, a classic sleeper-hold. The guard in my grip fell to the ground in a heap a second before Chris brought the butt of his gun down on the other guard's head, who fell next to the first one.
I followed Chris' example and picked up one of the guard's guns, holding it awkwardly in my hand. I hated guns, but right now the piece of metal in my hand was an advantage, even if I had no hope of actually firing it. These people wouldn't listen to reason, but a gun to the head might work.
Chris and I stood at either side of the door the guards had been stationed outside of, and I focused my hearing on the voices inside.
"We're here for Derek Hale," Lydia's voice was calm and collected, like she frequently found herself trying to purchase werewolves from insane Hunters.
"Is that so?" I assumed this voice belonged to Araya. I could hear the smirk behind the words and my grip tightened around the pistol.
"We know you have him." Stiles accused.
"And we've heard he can be bought." Lydia finished. I heard the sound of something being placed on the table, followed by four more.
"It's fifty thousand for Derek." Stiles said.
There was silence following the offer and I had to physically stop myself from rushing in to make sure they weren't about to get their heads blown off. This part of the plan was the one I'd been the most sceptical about; Stiles and Lydia, the only human members of our group, were posing as buyers interested in purchasing Derek.
Never mind the fact that the Calaveras hadn't even admitted to having Derek, but it was all we had.
"Now where does a teenage boy get money like this?" Araya said, a hint of something sinister in her tone. "Japanese Mafia?" I didn't know how the Hunter knew the money we were using was the same money the Nogitsune had planted in Chris' apartment when he framed him for Silverfinger's murder, but she did. "Not smart to come alone."
"What makes you think we came alone?" Stiles asked, confidence unwavering.
"You brought a wolf into my home?" Araya spat the word out like it was something foul, and my lip curled into a snarl.
"That's not all we brought." Lydia said, and I took that as a good time to make a dramatic entrance. I kicked the door open and stepped into the room, training my gun on one guard while Chris aimed his at the other. Both guards, who had been reaching for their own weapons, put their hands up in surrender.
"I knew you had given up Hunting, Christopher, but working with wolves?" The woman behind the desk sounded like a disappointed parent, narrowing her eyes at Chris. "You bring shame to the name Argent."
The walkie-talkie on the table came to life, drawing everyone's attention. "Stiles," Scott's voice came through the device loud and clear, "take ten off the table." Stiles gave Araya a smug look and took one of the five stacks of money from the table and pocketed it.
"I want my brother back." I snapped, and Araya turned her sharp gaze on me. Slowly, a wry grin worked its way onto her face.
"My lobito, you're a long way from home." She said mockingly, and I bared my teeth at her. "But we don't know where Derek is."
"Bullshit." I snarled, eyes flashing red.
"We want to find him as well," she continued as if I hadn't spoken. "We weren't Hunting him at your home, but the one who took him, and you know who that is."
I grit my teeth. "If I knew who took him I wouldn't be here!" I said, irritation and fear both rising in my. If she was telling the truth - and there was no indication that she was lying - then Derek wasn't here.
"You don't know because you haven't figured it out yet." Araya said, raising her eyebrows at me. "Who had a reason, a vendetta particular to your family? Who had the power?"
"I don't know what you're talking about!" I growled, anger coursing through my veins and showing itself in the form of glowing red eyes. My grip on the gun was white-knuckled even if I had no intention of pulling the trigger.
"Think, lobito, who could have turned without you knowing? Turned, but not by a bite?"
I opened my mouth to snap at her again when an image flashed through my head; Kate Argent's empty casket. Someone who had a grudge against our family, turned but not by a bite.
There was Peter, once again covered in blood and standing over a body, red pooling underneath Kate's prone form from where he had torn out her throat.
"Kate."
-x-x-x-
The air inside the SUV was tense, Chris and I equally reluctant to be the one to break the silence. I was staring at the setting sun outside the window, wondering what kind of shape Derek would be in when we found him.
Araya had let us go without a fight, telling us where Kate was last spotted and even going so far as to give us directions how to get there, on the condition that we returned her to them once we found her. I didn't even care that the Calaveras were getting us to do their dirty work. All I did care about was getting Derek as far away from Kate as possible.
"You knew she was alive, didn't you?" I eventually asked, and Chris' sigh was telling.
"Not for sure." He admitted, keeping his eyes on the blue jeep in front of us. "I knew the casket was empty when we buried it. The Calaveras heard she'd been killed by an Alpha's claws, so they took her body to make sure that if she did come back, they'd enforce the code."
The code, the one that said a Hunter had to take their own life before the change, the one they treated like law. "They didn't do a very good job." I muttered, and Chris shook his head.
"She faked her death and killed six of them to escape." His grip tightened on the steering wheel. He glanced over at me. "How did you know she was alive?"
"There were these Hunters in New York that we thought might be out to get us," I said tiredly, rubbing at my eyes which were irritated from lack of sleep. "When we broke into their house I found out that they were hunting Kate, not us. I came back to Beacon Hills to look for her, but..."
"But it's Beacon Hills." Chris finished, and I snorted because yeah, pretty much.
The jeep in front suddenly swerved to the side and skidded to a halt, kicking up a cloud of dust in its wake, and I had to throw my hands out and grab the dash to keep my head from colliding with it when Chris slammed his foot on the brakes. The wheels slid against the sand, for a moment losing their traction entirely, and I clutched at the dash as if to send a message to the wheels about what to do.
The SUV stopped inches from the jeep and I was out of the vehicle in an instant. "What happened?" I called out as everyone scrambled out of the jeep.
"It felt like we hit something," Stiles said as the four of them checked the jeep for any sign that they had hit something, but there didn't seem to be any sign of damage.
"We need to keep moving," Chris said when he joined us, glancing around the endless stretch of sand surrounding us. "It's too dangerous to go after dark."
"Go," Scott told me, not even needing time to consider. "We'll catch up as soon as we can, just find Derek."
I hesitated. As reluctant as I was to leave the teens, I knew that every minute we wasted was another minute Derek was in danger, and waiting until tomorrow just wasn't an option. I nodded to Scott in thanks and followed Chris back to the SUV, glancing at the four of them one last time as Chris pulled away.
The jeep became a pinprick of blue in the distance under the quickly setting sun. The endless blanket of golden sand gave me the uneasy sensation that we were driving into nothing, and by the time we finally reached our destination the last rays of sun were giving way to the coldness of night, the blue sky melting into a dull grey.
We parked just outside of the town, not willing to risk the car trying to navigate the terrain. The buildings that had once made up the town were rubble, most of them nothing more than a collection of stones that had once been walls, but the church standing in the middle of the ruins was completely unaffected by what had destroyed the town.
When I stepped out of the car a shiver went down my side that had nothing to do with the chill in the air.
"La Iglesia," Chris said as we began to walk. I glanced at the ruined buildings as we passed, tense and on edge though I couldn't pinpoint why. "An earthquake levelled the town."
I frowned at him. "Then why is the Church still standing?"
"The locals think it's because of what's underneath." He said darkly, and another shiver went down my spine. "The Church was built over the ruins of an Aztec temple," he continued, eyes scanning the area as we walked. "It belonged to the Nagual."
I almost tripped over my own feet.
"Werejaguars?" I asked incredulously, and Chris nodded. "We're walking around in Werejaguar territory?" He nodded again, and something clicked. "Wait... do you think Kate's -"
"Yes." Chris said tightly, pulling the gun out of its holster as we neared the church. "I don't know why she became one instead of a werewolf, but she did."
I didn't know a lot about Werejaguars, but I did know that they weren't something you messed with. Jaguars were stronger than wolves, after all.
"The shape you take reflects the person you are." I muttered to myself, keeping right on Chris' heels as we walked. I didn't know it was possible to feel more tense than I had been, but I was.
Night had fallen swiftly, making the looming church seem even more intimidating. The heavy wooden doors leading into the building had caved in on themselves and we had to navigate our way through the rubble to enter. When we finally got inside Chris pulled out two flashlights and handed one to me, and though the beams didn't reach far they offered enough light to see.
The interior of the church wasn't in any better condition than the exterior; half of the roof had caved in and destroyed several pews, littering the ground with rubble that shifted and crunched under our feet. The remaining pews were rotting and covered in dust, the cobwebs hanging from the remains swaying in the breeze coming in from the open roof.
"If we find Kate..." I let the sentence trail off. I knew exactly what I wanted to do to Kate once I found her, and I was sure Chris wouldn't appreciate me finishing what Peter started.
"There's a place I can take her." He said, leaving no question as to whether the Calaveras were getting Kate back or not.
I climbed over a pile of rubble. "She won't go quietly."
"I don't expect her to." He said. "And I'll do what's necessary." He kicked a wooden beam out of his way and asked, "Can you catch Derek's scent?"
"Already got it." I'd caught the scent that was distinctly Derek the second we'd stepped through the doors, and with my senses reaching out so I could follow it I easily caught the noise emanating from somewhere deep in the church and threw my arm out to stop Chris.
"What is it?" He asked, instantly alert, and I tilted my head to the side to listen.
Nothing.
"There's something in here with us." I said, expecting something to jump out of the shadows at us any second now. The sound of Chris flicking the safety off was abnormally loud in the silence.
"Something like what?" He asked, and I frowned. It had sounded somewhat like a distant roar, distorted in its echo, but the hairs along my arms were standing on end, instincts telling me that I was in danger.
"I don't know," I admitted, "but it's nothing good."
We shared a look before continuing, both tense with nerves.
The air grew steadily cooler and the cobwebs grew in number as we descended beneath the church, the only light coming from the flashlights in our hands. The walls were embedded with black glassy stone that glinted in the light and we walked side by side even as the corridors grew narrower the further we walked, neither of us willing to let the other go first.
If it wasn't for the fact that it was growing darker and more overgrown the longer we walked I would have been convinced we were going in circles. The depths of the church were a maze, and soon the space became narrow enough that Chris took the lead - after only a few minutes of arguing that Chris won because he had a gun and 'I won't hesitate to shoot you'.
I couldn't help but glance over my shoulder when we came to a fork in the tunnel, the back of my neck tingling unpleasantly, the sensation that only occurred when I was being watched. It was still and silent behind me, but silence didn't mean there was nothing following me, just that whatever was following was very good at keeping quiet.
I'd just turned back around when the hairs on the back of my neck prickled again and I whirled around, fully expecting to come face to face with something, but was met with an empty hallway once more.
We descended further into the tombs, brushing vines and cobwebs out of the way as we went. The darkness was enveloping us on all sides, the corridors ahead and behind us fading into nothingness beyond the beams of our flashlights. The sinister chill of wind whistled down the corridor, whispering as if it was trying to warn me.
My fists were clenched so hard I could feel the pulse pumping in me, and it was a fast pace, my heart hammering in my chest as we walked. The third time I span around to look behind me, Chris noticed.
"What?" He asked in a whisper, turning to squint down the hallway to find what had caused me to stop.
"There's something following us," I whispered back, and Chris stared into the darkness for a moment longer before continuing, and I followed, trying to ignore the feeling of nails creeping up my spine.
I glanced over my shoulder every few seconds as we walked and I noticed Chris doing the same, finger tensing on the trigger every time he turned. It was several minutes of walking in tense silence when a chilling noise made us stop in our tracks.
Chris whirled around immediately, gun trained into the black corridor behind us, and claws prickled at the end of my fingers. It was the same low rumbling I'd heard upon entering the church, louder now, and I stared into the dark. All I could see was cold and empty which, for the moment, meant safety, but I could still feel the eyes watching.
Something shot across the corridor, faster than anything I'd ever seen, and when Chris pulled the trigger I almost leapt out of my skin. I backed down the corridor as Chris continued to shoot into the dark.
"Where is it?" He demanded when he stopped to reload his gun. "Do you see it?"
"No!" I was desperately scanning the darkness, and then the thundering sound of something running echoed towards us. "It's coming back!"
"Get behind me!" Chris commanded, raising the gun again. "Ginger, get behind me!"
Instinct took over and a roar ripped its way out of my throat and past my lips, all the anger and frustration and fear that had been building inside me since Derek had gone missing poured into it, and it felt unbelievably good to be able to release it.
The roar echoed down the corridor long after I'd stopped and when it finally stopped bouncing off the walls the silence was deafening. We stayed where we were for a long moment, waiting, but the hallway was still and silent once more.
"I think I scared it." I said a little breathlessly.
"I think you scared everything." Chris replied, and the laugh that escaped me was a little hysterical. "Come on, let's move before it decides to come back."
The silence was a little less menacing as we continued onwards, the prickle on the back of my neck disappearing for now, and I could only hope that whatever was following us had retreated and wasn't just waiting for a better opportunity to strike.
After five minutes of walking we finally reached the end of the hallway and stepped into a large room. It was completely empty, no other entrances or exits, the only thing of interest the carving on the wall opposite us, and I made my way over to it.
It was a large circular carving, intricate symbols surrounding the snarling face of what could only be a jaguar. It was taller than I was, the stone cool to the touch when I ran my fingers over the symbols.
Chris stepped up beside me. "Tezcatlipoca."
"Gazuntite."
The Hunter gave me an exasperated look that rivalled Derek's. "It's the Aztec god of the nocturnal sky, ancestral memory, and time." He reached out to brush a hand across the carving. "It's who the Nagual worship."
Thump, thump, thump.
I frowned at the noise that had been steadily growing louder, then looked around the room desperately because it was a sound I was so familiar with. Derek's heartbeat, as familiar as my own, was somewhere in this room.
I whirled around to face the carving, drawing my fist back and letting it fly towards the stone before I even realized what I was doing. The wall crumbled easily beneath my hands and I frantically pulled the rocks away, Chris holstering his gun so he could help me create a sizeable hole in the wall.
A hand, pale and covered in cobwebs, reached out, and I grabbed it tightly in my own. Chris grabbed the discarded flashlights and shone one of them into the hole, illuminating the figure inside.
My mind skidded to a standstill with the noise of a needle scratching off a track of vinyl.
"...Derek?"