◤ chapter fifteen: ❛ wailing
woman ❜ ◢
✧
NORA WHITTEMORE TAUGHT HER SON THE TOOLS OF NEGOTATION. Be friendly not combative, smile politely, treat them like a friend before snapping like an enemy, then walking away with some gains while calculating the losses. Patience, she stressed, was the most important aspect. Patience and understanding.
Cooper was all out of patience though. More murderers committed with no new prospects, dead end after dead end, and the realization that Deucalion might want to expand his pack from just Alphas to a siren. Cora Hale had set off a fuse in him and he didn't know how to quell it; only how to move forward and let it simmer.
Scott placed a hand on his shoulder, easily shrugged off, and sent him questioning gazes. Concern, mostly, but also assessing how likely Cooper was going to blow his top. Still, Scott didn't object to going to meet Morrell with him, nor did he try to dissuade Cooper from joining.
He didn't speak up, letting Scott control the meeting. Cooper had never been a negotiator or interrogator, to his mother's disappointment, but Scott was friendly. He drew people in with simple charisma, had puppy-like features, and was well-liked. Liked more than Cooper, at least.
"Why are you bothering me when you know the clock is ticking?" Morrell eyed them, a pleasure in her eyes as she smirked, "When you know someone else is about to be taken?"
He balled his hand into a fist. Cooper placed his hand above him, motioning for him to calm down. He didn't, but he did stuff his hand in the pocket of his hoodie.
"By you," Scott accused.
Morrell scoffed. "Come on, Scott – shouldn't you leave the interrogation to someone like Stilinski."
"You're going to tell us," Cooper interjected, staring dead at her, "Either willingly or I'll make you."
"Oh, the siren's grown a backbone."
His statements amused her more, quick with the smirk turning to a smile and mirth flickering in her eyes.
"I could make you deaf with one whistle."
The threat was clear. She almost laughed.
"Are you the one killing people?" Scott asked.
"Are you listening to my heartbeat?" Morrell shot back mockingly before sighing, "No, I'm not the one killing people. Truth is, I'm all that stands between Deucalion and the lives of your friends. I've been the one pulling the leash taut when they're salivating for a bite."
"What do you mean?"
The amusement drained for her face, the features morphing. Eyes brighter grew dark, and the mouth that twitched upwards stayed calm. Serious. "He wants a True Alpha in his pack. He thinks it's you. And a little distraction like a few human sacrifices isn't gonna dissuade him from the prize."
Scott shook his head. "I'm not an Alpha."
"But you're well on your way, aren't you?"
The wolf looked away. Cooper read his face, noting that the thought of being an Alpha saddened him more than delighted him. He was sure others would proudly take on the title of Alpha, greedily killing to conquer their dreams, and yet Scott...
Scott vehemently denied it.
Cooper didn't like the thought of being an Alpha either. Really, the idea of being a werewolf didn't entertain him. Jackson desired becoming a supernatural creature, begged Derek to turn him, and that in itself caused a point of contention between the two brothers.
Cooper Whittemore used to be human. Plain, boring, and normal. He rather liked that life. No, he didn't have many friends, his nights weren't as interesting, but his life was simple. He knew what would happen tomorrow, had his weekends planned, and there was a set of motions to it. Cooper Whittemore the siren didn't operate on these motions and nothing was clear; everything muddled and dangerous, no clear vision for tomorrow.
"Then what is he waiting for?" Scott asked impatiently, "What does he want me to do?"
"He wants to make a killer out of you. That's what he does."
Cooper's eyebrows furrowed. Scott echoed the sentiment, asking, "But, if I kill someone, I can't be a True Alpha, right?"
"Exactly," Morrell nodded, "You want the psychologist's perspective? He's an obsessive who both desires you and is threatened by you. If the obsessive can't have the object of his desire, he'll choose to destroy it instead."
Her eyes turned sharp. "You'll either willingly become part of his pack, or he'll make a killer out of you – destroying your potential to be a True Alpha."
Cooper backed away slowly. It felt rather like the childish argument of if I can't have you, no one can! but this time with higher stakes.
"Neither of those is ever going to happen."
"Don't be so sure. You're playing his game...and while you're trying to figure out what to do next, he's thinking ten moves ahead with checkmate already in sight."
The amusement in her eyes returned. Like Deucalion, she thought it a game. A silly little game with a small price of death. Nothing too drastic.
Scott inhaled sharply. Cooper watched the wolf leave before turning his gaze to Morrell. She merely raised an eyebrow.
"Are you going to be dumb enough what he wants with you?" she questioned.
He didn't entertain her. "I know what he wants. I'm a siren; it's simple."
"Perhaps. Deucalion obsesses over Scott, but you...he adores the idea of you," she tilted her head, eyes slowly drifting over his figure, "Sirens are the perfect killers, aren't they? One song, and you're dead, but most people don't mind if you kill them."
I'm not a killer, his mind blurted out. It was the first response he wanted to give, but in the terms of Deucalion, what he wanted didn't matter.
"If I'm the perfect killer, then I'll just kill Deucalion."
Morrell laughed. "If only it was that simple. And, Cooper, what would the others think? You, a murderer."
He pretended not to know what she meant. Scott abhors the thought of killing someone, he wouldn't trust you if you did, and the others would turn their backs on you. He would not be manipulated by her. Some things just had to be done.
(But, if he was being honest, Cooper Whittemore was not a killer. And the thought of murdering Deucalion churned his stomach. But Cooper Whittemore also wasn't a puppet for Deucalion to deploy whenever he wished.)
✧
"A DEPUTY AND a teacher...?" Cooper recited, blowing out a puff of air as he looked at the woods lining the back of the school. The radio sung a slow tone, melancholic, and he looked away from Scott in the passenger seat, "A deputy and a teacher..."
"I don't think repeating it is going to make it make more sense," Scott shook his head.
Cooper shot him a glare. "Sitting here isn't doing anything either, and yet here we are."
"We'll figure out the link – we always do."
"And it's always too late. Either we figure it out after the second death and can't save the third, or we put everything together after it's done," Cooper pointed out, "Neither of those are helpful. So, what's the link between teachers and police officers?"
"I don't know."
"Think, Scott."
"I've never been the brain. I'm not smart," the wolf looked away, "That's Stiles; he figures everything out, not me."
Cooper frowned. "That's not true."
"It is."
"I think you're plenty smart."
"Tell that to my grades," Scott snorted.
He rolled his eyes. "Okay, so you don't get the best grades, so what? Neither do I. Especially now. I never have the time to study anymore with stupid Deucalion and the darach, I can't imagine how you've been passing before all of this."
Scott perked up a little, smile twitching on his lips. "I wasn't."
"Well, then maybe it doesn't have anything to do with how smart you are, but all the other shit you have to do," Cooper suggested.
The werewolf kept his eyes on Cooper. Appreciative sparks in his eyes, nodding with him, smile present. Cooper's heart warmed with it, knowing that he had done something to make Scott feel better, but before that warmth could go anywhere, he shook it away. Such a weird feeling, an unknown one. He didn't quite know what to make of it yet.
Scott opened his mouth, but when his phone buzzed, he closed it. Accepting a call from Allison, he put the phone on speaker. "Allison?"
The warmth in his heart altered into a bitter bile of his throat. Allison wasn't that bad, and he never had such a strong reaction to her before, but right now, the thought of the hunter filled Cooper with bitterness.
"I think I found the link. It's not guardians, it's philosophers," she said.
Cooper's eyebrows furrowed. Then how did the deputy, Tara, play into this? Last he checked cops weren't really philosophers by any definition.
"Philosophers?" Scott repeated. Allison confirmed again. "Thanks, I gotta call Stiles."
He hung up the phone, quickly dialing Stiles. The phone rang, every second passing leaving Cooper's heart to start racing more. There was a chance – maybe a sliver of one, but a chance to save the last philosopher.
"Find anything?" Stiles asked as soon as he answered the call.
"It's philosophers, as in teachers. Allison and her father just found Mr. Westover."
"That makes sense. Tara, she wasn't always a cop – she used to teach middle school."
Oh, so that's how police officers and teachers linked together. "Then the last one's gonna be another teacher," Scott continued.
"Yeah, but there's dozens of them, Scott, and they're all headed home."
Scott looked out the window. MEMORIAL CONCERT TONIGHT sign catching his eye. Cooper's eyes followed, the sign feeling him with a sort of hope, maybe there was a chance, maybe it wasn't all over.
"No...no, they're not," Scott disagreed with Stiles, "They're all going to the recital."
"I'll meet you there."
Stiles ended the call, prompting Scott to put his phone back in his pocket. Cooper turned the car off and got out, following Scott into the school, trailing behind other parents piling inside. The auditorium was filled with students, teachers, and parents. His eyes found Danny with Ethan, moving past recognizing various teachers.
"I thought you were going home?" Scott's question called Cooper to notice Lydia.
Her eyes were wild, unfocused. Taking in everything and nothing, like she was seeing something they weren't. Her movements were slow, leaning closer to Scott.
"I can't," she admitted, voice low, "I don't know why I am the one that keeps finding the bodies, but maybe...if I just stopped trying to fight it...I'd find them before it happens. Maybe with enough time for someone like you to do something about it."
Scott turned solemn. "You get me the time, and I'll do something about it – I swear to God, I will."
Lydia hesitantly nodded. With the promise granted, she started to walk away, stopping only when Cooper grabbed her arm. "Do you want Scott or I to come with you?"
He didn't like the thought of leaving her in this state. Lydia Martin was perfectly capable of handling herself, he'd known that for years. She was smart, rather manipulative, and knew how to survive off of her instincts. But this delicate paleness of her skin, unfocused eyes, and slow movements worried him.
Still, she shook her head. "I'm okay, Cooper, really. I'll call you guys if I need you."
She brought her hand into his, squeezing softly, before breaking apart and leaving the auditorium. Nothing about the action comforted him, but he let her go.
Turning back to Scott, he locked eyes with the wolf. He parted his lips, an unspoken worry about to be voiced, but Scott nodded, knowing it anyway and agreeing. If he had to be with anyone worrying over Lydia, he was glad it was Scott.
✧
THE RECITAL STARTED, but something was wrong. The music wasn't classical...it was chanting. The siren in him clawed to sing along – this was a song of sacrifice, not one known to him, but one he desperately wanted to learn as it continued. His saving grace came in the form of Scott, pulling him out of the auditorium with Stiles.
"We have to find Lydia," Stiles said.
Cooper swallowed, running with them, calling out Lydia's name. He got out his phone but she didn't answer. Rushing around the school and checking classrooms went nowhere.
"Lydia?"
"Lydia!"
"Lydia!"
No response. No answered phone calls or texts. Silence. Guilt overtook him. He knew something was wrong, he knew he should've stayed with Lydia, but he hadn't, and now they couldn't find her. She was gone.
"She's not answering texts. What do we do?" Stiles asked, head turning to Scott.
Cooper attempted to catch his breath, looking at Scott for answers too. His throat called for something – a song, a sacrifice, a chanting. He refused to sate it.
Scott let out a groan, falling to his knees and covering his ears. The same pose as when Cooper charmed something – but he wasn't, he wasn't charming anyone, was he? No, he wasn't. And Julia wouldn't, but Scott heard something.
"Scott?"
"Scott?"
Their calls to his name gathered no response. Slowly, like the noise finished, Scott uncovered his ears, looking at them with tears in his eyes. "It's Lydia. She's screaming."
Four words, then he was running. Cooper and Stiles didn't waste a second before following. His lungs burned with how fast and long he ran, already drained from their search before.
They turned corner after corner, running up the stairs, into a dark classroom. Cooper's eyes found Sheriff Stilinski's, who was on the ground with a knife imbedded in his chest, before turning to see Lydia unconscious in a chair and Jennifer Blake standing before her.
Jennifer Blake.
The darach.
Scott didn't waste a second, rushing towards her with claws out, thrusting his body towards her only to be thwarted with every move. She brought and hand and forced him back, sending him tumbling into the desks. Cooper pursed together his lips, not the song of sacrifice, but the song of submission – the song of pain.
Jennifer halted, touching the blood that spilled from her ears, then turned slowly to him. "The siren," she commented, a sadistic smile on her lips. She walked towards him, not in pain as she should be. He tried to punch her when she was close enough but she caught his arm and twisted it, earning her a yelp.
She pushed him back, and he flew into the desks with a grunt, body screaming.
Seeing Stiles approaching, she forced the desk against the door, thwarting him.
"Stop it!" the sheriff pointed his gun at her again, "There was a girl...years ago, we found her in the woods, her face and body slashed apart. That was you, wasn't it?"
He shot as she approached. The bullet wound in her thigh stitched itself together, then it looked as if there never was a found. She continued towards him.
"Maybe I should've started with philosophers – with knowledge and strategy," she invaded his space, pressing herself against him, "Healers. Warriors. Guardians. Virgins."
She kissed him before flying him out of the room, crashing through the window. Scott, on his feet, pulled Cooper up, who groaned. Stiles broke through the door and they stared at where Jennifer and the sheriff once were.
"Dad?" Stiles asked, though it was pointless.
The sheriff was gone, the darach was gone, and they didn't know what was going to happen next. All the hope inside Cooper's chest dwindled into dread.