Chapter 18: Abominable snowman.
They arrived at the police station, the three teens trailing behind Noah Stilinski.
The woman at the front desk looked thoroughly unamused to see him. "It's two in the morning."
"Believe me, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't extremely important," Noah said, leaning his arms on the counter.
"We look at the hospital stuff first, okay?" Stiles said.
"Why?" Scott asked, unsure why the murder committed at the hospital was so crucial.
"Because all the murders were committed by Jackson-except one, remember?" Hope answered, looking at McCall. "The pregnant girl, Jessica. Since Matt had to kill her himself, someone at the hospital could've seen him."
"Kids," Noah called out, and the three of them moved to follow him, heading down the familiar hallway.
They entered his office, where he pulled up everything related to the night of the hospital murder.
Noah sat at his desk, clicking through security footage on his computer. "I don't know, guys. I mean, look at this." He sighed, nodding toward the screen, which showed dozens of people flooding the hospital hallways. "There was a six-car pileup that night. The place was jammed."
"All right, just keep going," Stiles insisted, waving his hand toward the monitor. "He had to pass one of the cameras to get to Jessica, okay? He's gotta be in there somewhere."
"Hold on, stop!" Scott cried out. "Did you see that? Scroll back."
The footage reversed, and their eyes widened when Matt's back appeared on screen.
"That's him! That's Matt!" Stiles pointed at the screen.
Noah paused the tape. "All I see is the back of someone's head."
"Matt's head, yeah," Stiles insisted, nodding frantically. "I sit behind him in History. He's got a very distinct cranium-it's weird."
"Are you crazy?" Noah shot his son a disbelieving look.
Stiles sighed. "All right, fine, then look at his jacket. How many people do you know that wear black leather jackets?"
"Millions," Noah deadpanned. "Literally."
"Okay," Scott interrupted, ending the Stilinski bickering. "Can we scroll forward? There's gotta be a shot of him facing the camera."
Noah complied, and the footage resumed. The three teens watched in anticipation.
Only a few seconds later, the figure reappeared. His back was still facing the camera, but this time, he was talking to someone.
"There! Stop! See? There he is again!" Stiles exclaimed.
Noah shook his head. "You mean there's the back of his head again."
Hope chuckled, shaking her head. "Look. He's talking to someone."
Scott leaned forward, eyebrows furrowed, before his eyes widened in recognition. "He's talking to my mom."
He quickly called her. "Mom, do you remember this kid?"
"Scott, do you know how many people I deal with in a day?" Melissa replied, confused.
"This one's sixteen. He's got dark hair, looks like a normal teenager."
"Yeah, he looks evil," Stiles chimed in, still unwilling to drop his long-standing claim that Matt was creepy from day one. Hope believed him.
"Scott, I already talked to the police about this," Melissa said.
"Okay, I'm sending you a picture," Scott said, snapping one from the yearbook and sending it. "Did you get it?"
"Yeah."
"Do you recognize him?"
"Yeah, I do. I remember stopping him because he was tracking mud through the hall. Scott, what's going on?"
Their eyes widened. They could place Matt at another crime scene.
"It's-It's nothing, Mom," Scott stammered. "I'll explain later. I gotta go." He ended the call just as Noah grabbed another folder and sifted through the papers.
"We've got shoe prints alongside the tire tracks at the trailer site," Noah said, pulling out a specific report.
"And if they match, that puts Matt at the scene of three murders," Stiles concluded. "The trailer, the hospital, and the rave."
While they were talking, Hope quietly slipped out. No one noticed-except Stiles. He always noticed everything when it came to Hope.
"Actually, four," Noah corrected, scanning another document. "A credit card receipt for an oil change was signed by Matt at the garage where the mechanic was killed."
"When?"
"A couple hours before you got there."
"Okay," Stiles breathed out, "if one's an incident, two's a coincidence, and three's a pattern... what's four?"
"Four's enough for a warrant," Noah replied.
A grin spread across Hope's face while Stiles fist-pumped in triumph.
"Scott, call your mom back, see how fast she can get here. If I can get an official ID, I can get a search warrant. Stiles, go to the front desk and tell them to let Scott's mom in."
"On it." He turned to leave, but Hope stopped him.
"You stay here, I'll do it." And with that, she left.
Hope scanned the area for threats. It was eerily silent. She knew they were coming-it was almost time.
The front desk was empty. Earlier, she had put the front desk lady to sleep and hidden her safely, leaving behind an illusion of her dead on the floor.
And the illusion was still intact.
She felt cold metal press against the back of her head.
"Don't move."
She slowly turned to find Matt standing behind her, a creepy smile plastered on his face. She met his eyes without a flicker of fear.
"You don't want to do that, Matt," she said in a sweet, sickly voice. "Trust me-pissing me off is the last thing you want."
"Feisty. I like it. Now get moving."
She obeyed, walking forward. She couldn't use magic in front of Noah, but now, no one was watching. The whole station was already under her illusion-and Matt had no idea.
Stepping inside the office, the three males glanced up, and their eyes widened the moment they saw Matt with the gun.
He then shoved Hope forward, pressing the barrel harder against her head.
"Try that again, and you'll regret it," Hope said coolly, as she made her way between Scott and Stiles.
Noah slowly straightened up, his eyes focused on the gun in Matt's hand. "Matt? It's Matt, right?" he asked. Matt only nodded, his grip on the gun tightening as he glanced over at Hope, who was ready to strike if necessary.
"Matt, whatever's going on, I guarantee you there's a solution that doesn't involve a gun."
Matt grinned. "You know, it's funny you say that, because I don't think you realize just how right you are."
"I know you don't want to hurt people."
"Actually, I want to hurt a lot of people," Matt corrected, tilting the gun in his hand with a casual shrug. "You four weren't on my list, but I could be persuaded. And one way to do that is by trying to dial someone on your cellphone-like McCall is doing."
Scott's hand shot out of his pocket quickly.
"That could definitely get someone hurt. Everyone," he gestured with the gun, "phones on the desk. Now."
"Come on," Noah mumbled, trying to console the three teenagers.
Reluctantly, they all pulled out their phones and placed them on the desk so they were in plain sight.
And it was only the beginning of a long night.
Allison was sitting on the bed, mourning her mother, when Gerard walked in.
"Sweetheart."
"I don't want to talk," she said softly, not looking up. She didn't have the energy right now.
"I understand. I'm not sure there's anything I can say. I won't pretend to know what you're going through." He spoke like an understanding grandfather, but his eyes told a different story. He craved power and revenge.
"Then leave."
"Of course. I just wanted to give you something from your mother. Partly because I couldn't help noticing that things had been... difficult between you two," he said, exploiting her grief. "But it can wait."
He turned to leave-one step, two steps-
"What?" Hooked.
"What is it?" Allison finally looked up at him.
"No, really, sweetheart. It can wait. You get some rest."
"What is it?" she asked more sternly now.
And he played her. Manipulated his words into what she wanted to hear. She was mourning. She was vulnerable. She was guilty-and that guilt turned into anger. All she wanted was revenge. She wanted Derek and his pack to pay.
She burned the letter Gerard handed her, getting ready to fight-never noticing the glint of satisfaction in Gerard's eyes.
She was just a 16-year-old kid at the end of the day. A wounded teenager who had just lost her mother.
Hope and Scott stood off to the side, watching as Stiles handcuffed his father to the bench in the holding area.
Matt had ordered Stiles to do it, to make sure Noah wouldn't get in his way.
Hope glanced around the room, eyes sharp. Spotting the security cameras, she whispered spells under her breath, deactivating them one by one.
The sound of clicking signified that Stiles had completed his task, but Matt wasn't satisfied.
"Tighter," he demanded.
Noah glanced up at his son. "Do what he says, Stiles."
Hope and Scott exchanged a look-Hope's expression calm but calculating, already planning ahead. With Noah out of the way, at least one variable was under control. Hopefully, he'd be safe.
Stiles sighed, leaning forward to tighten the handcuffs.
Scott and Stiles then saw the illusion of dead bodies.
"What, are you going to kill everyone here?" Scott asked, horrified.
"No. That's what Jackson's for. I just think about them, and he kills them for me," Matt said smugly-though he had no idea what was coming.
Stiles and Scott shredded all the evidence while Matt kept Hope in his hold, getting creepier by the second. She didn't flinch.
Hope remained still, her expression unreadable-but she had already secured every piece of evidence. She had backups, and she had a plan.
She wasn't worried.
And that was her biggest mistake.
Too confident. Too used to working alone. And far too powerful.
That would never change-no matter how hard things got.
Stiles slammed his finger against the enter key with force. "Deleted. And we're done. So, Matt, since all the people you brutally murdered apparently 'deserved it' because they killed you first-whatever that means-we're good here, right? I'll just get my dad, we'll go, and you can carry on with your vengeance thing. Enjoy the Kanima."
Headlights spilled through the open blinds of the office, and all three of their hearts dropped simultaneously. Melissa was here-and about to step into something far larger and more dangerous than she could ever be prepared for.
"Sounds like your mom's here, McCall," Matt announced. Scott's head snapped in his direction.
"Matt, don't do this," Scott pleaded, tears shining in his eyes. "When she comes to the door, I'll just tell her to leave. I'll say we didn't find anything. Please, Matt."
The creak of the metal door hinges drew all their eyes toward it. The door slammed shut, tension crackling in the air as they all silently vowed to protect Melissa at any cost.
"If you don't move now, I'm gonna kill Stiles first-and then your mom," Matt growled, leveling the gun at Stiles, who stood beside Scott.
"Open it!" Matt barked, agitation creeping into his voice. "Open the door now!"
Scott inhaled sharply and obeyed, while Hope silently shifted her weight, preparing to strike. But when the door finally opened, revealing the figure behind it, everyone was surprised-except Hope.
It was Derek.
Scott exhaled in relief, his shoulders sagging. "Oh, thank God."
But before anyone could shout a warning, Derek hit the ground hard. The Kanima-Jackson in his hybrid form-stood expressionless in the doorway as Derek collapsed with a heavy thud.
"Shit," Hope muttered under her breath.
"This is the one controlling him?" Derek said flatly, staring up at Matt. "This kid?" Of course, he already knew the answer-he just wanted to mock him.
Matt's face twisted in rage, his glare sharp. "Well, Derek, not everyone's lucky enough to be a big, bad werewolf." Stiles and Scott whipped their heads toward Matt, confused. "Oh yeah, that's right. I've been learning a few things. Werewolves, hunters, Kanimas-and the witch."
He jerked his chin toward Hope, whose eyes narrowed slightly.
Hope tilted her head slowly, voice calm but laced with curiosity. "Funny... the bestiary never mentioned a witch. Someone's been whispering secrets they shouldn't."
"It's like a frickin' Halloween party every full moon. Except for you, Stiles. What do you turn into?"
"Abominable snowman," Stiles shot back instantly. Hope raised a brow, glancing at him sideways. Really? Now?
"But, uh, it's more of a wintertime thing-seasonal," he added with a half-hearted shrug.
Typical Stiles. Even with a gun to his face, he couldn't stop provoking people.
Matt gave Jackson a nod. Without hesitation, Jackson slashed Stiles at the back of the neck. His knees gave out, sending him toppling onto Derek, who let out an annoyed grunt.
"Hey!" Scott cried, lunging forward, but Jackson raised his claws menacingly.
Hope reached out and gripped Scott's arm, giving him a firm look. Don't.
"You bitch," Stiles mumbled, his face smooshed against Derek's chest, paralyzed.
"Get him off me," Derek grunted.
Matt chuckled, crouching beside them. "I don't know, Derek. You two make a pretty cute pair. Must suck to have all that power stripped away with just one little scratch."
"Still got teeth," Derek warned. "Come a little closer and we'll see how helpless I really am."
"Yeah, bitch," Stiles muttered from the floor.
Another car pulled into the lot. More headlights.
Hope's stomach sank. No. Not now. She's early. Or I'm late.
Her gaze flicked to Jackson. His eyes were cold and snake-like. She didn't have a choice anymore. The moment Melissa stepped in, she was using magic-control be damned.
"Is that her?" Matt asked, standing. "Do what I say, and I won't hurt her. I won't even let Jackson touch her."
"Scott, don't trust him!" Stiles shouted.
Matt's face darkened. He grabbed Stiles by the shirt, yanking him off Derek and slamming him to the floor. Then he pressed his boot against his throat.
Hope's jaw clenched. Her hands trembled. The lights began to flicker again.
"This better for you?" Matt asked, pressing harder on Stiles' neck.
"Hey! Just stop! Stop!" Scott cried, panicked.
"Then do what I tell you."
"Okay! All right!" Scott gave in, but Matt didn't move.
"Stop!" he repeated, desperate.
Matt finally removed his foot, and the lights steadied.
"You," Matt pointed at Jackson, "Take them in there." Then he turned to Hope and grabbed her roughly by the arm, yanking her forward. "You and McCall are coming with me."
He released her only once they were in the hallway. Scott immediately moved to support her protectively.
At the end of the hall, Hope caught a glimpse of blue scrubs.
Matt shoved them forward, and they stumbled into Melissa's view.
"Mom?" Scott breathed.
"Oh, you scared me. Where is every-" Melissa's words cut off as her eyes locked on them-on their wounds, their fear, the blood.
She didn't know Hope, but the worry in her eyes said she cared anyway.
"Mom, just do what he says," Scott said gently. "He promised he wouldn't hurt you."
Matt smiled-but then lowered the gun slightly and pulled the trigger.
A shot rang out.
Scott cried out in pain as the bullet tore into his side. Hope instantly moved-but she was too late, too unstable. Her magic fizzled. Instead of a gun turning to a flower, she was met with the sound of another shot.
And fire.
Pain erupted in her abdomen.
Her legs gave out. Her hand flew to the wound. It burned-horribly, unnaturally.
Looking up at Matt, she saw his grin widen.
"This wasn't just any bullet," he sneered. "I got a special package this morning, just for you. Witchbane. Nasty stuff. Rips the magic right out of you, burns you from the inside out." He leaned closer, voice lowering to a whisper. "If I can't have you, Hope... then no one can."
She collapsed, wheezing, vision spinning.
"Stiles? Hope?" Noah's voice echoed. "What happened, Scott?"
"Oh God!" Melissa gasped as Hope dug her fingers into her wound.
"Don't-" Melissa tried, but Hope gritted her teeth, crying out as she pulled out the bullet, which sizzled in her palm before falling to the floor.
She slumped against the wall, her breath shallow and labored.
Even with the bullet out, the herb was still in her bloodstream-eating her alive.
Melissa moved to help, but Matt growled, "Back. Back!"
"Mom, stop!" Scott groaned.
"I said get back!"
"Scott," Melissa said weakly, looking from him to Hope. The tribrid turned her head slightly, her voice hoarse.
"Do it. Please, Mom," Scott begged.
Melissa obeyed, though everything inside her screamed not to.
"Matt! Matt, listen to me!" Noah called.
"Shut up! Shut up! Everybody shut the hell up!" Matt screamed, then glared at Hope and Scott. "Both of you-get up, or I shoot her next!"
Hope winced as she pushed off the wall. She shouldn't be able to move. Every step was fire. But she still helped Scott up without hesitation.
Matt shoved them forward, steering them toward the holding cells.
"No," Noah breathed when he saw the blood.
Both teenagers clung to the walls, barely staying upright.
"Please-they need a doctor," Melissa begged, her eyes locked on Hope and Scott.
"You think so?" Matt mocked and shoved her into the cell, locking it.
"Hey! You listen to me!" Noah shouted, but Matt ignored him.
"It's all right," Hope called, her voice raspy. Everyone turned to her as blood still poured from her wound. "Not how I imagined meeting you, Miss McCall... bleeding out on the floor. But hey, hi-I'm Hope."
Then she looked at Scott. "You never told me your mom was that hot," she mumbled dazedly.
"Hope!" Melissa cried, shaking her head. "No, honey, you're not okay!"
"It doesn't hurt, Mom," Scott muttered, trying to stay strong.
"That's adrenaline," Melissa said, her voice trembling. "Please-just let me take a look, I can help-"
Matt's gaze darkened. "They have no idea, do they?"
"Please," Melissa sobbed. "Let me stop the bleeding."
"Shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP!" Matt shouted, trembling.
Hope growled softly-but the movement made her gasp.
"Okay," Melissa whispered. "Okay."
"Back to the front. Now!"
"The evidence is gone," Scott announced as they were in the office where Derek and Stiles were lying on the ground still paralyzed. "Why don't you just go?"
Matt looked at them in disbelief. "You think the evidence mattered that much, huh? No, no, I want the book."
"What?" Hope asked, her voice cracking as sweat built up on her forehead. "What book?"
"The bestiary," Matt stated, and everything fell into place then. "Not just a few pages, I want the entire thing."
Hope rolled her eyes and leaned against the desk. "We don't have it, genius."
Scott's eyes widened, quickly shifting Matt's attention to him. "It's Gerard's. What do you want it for, anyway?"
"I need answers."
"Answers to what?"
"To this," Matt grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal clear skin where a large patch of Kanima scales was supposed to be. The pattern matched Jackson's exactly.
He stared at the clear skin in confusion, then laughed out loud, realizing he no longer needed the book. He shoved them into another room.
Scott asked for his tragic backstory; Matt rambled about nearly drowning because of the people he'd killed. But Hope tuned it all out. Her surroundings were growing hazy, blood trickling from her nose. This is bad, she thought. Her body ached all over.
Suddenly, a smoke bomb exploded in the room. Gunshots rang out. Hope couldn't move, but she forced herself to get up, clutching her bleeding side as she searched for Stiles. She found him with Derek just as Scott did.
"You take Derek. I've got Stiles," Hope said, her voice strained. Scott nodded. Ignoring the agony, she lifted Stiles with every ounce of strength and moved toward safety.
"You're bleeding, Hope."
"Shh... it's okay," she whispered. "Everything's going to be okay."
But then she was blocked. Allison stood before her, pointing a crossbow with an unreadable expression.
"Allison? What are you doing here?" Hope asked, trying to steady her breathing, still holding Stiles firmly in her arms.
Allison remembered her grandfather's words.
"I forgot to add one more thing, sweetheart. You have a friend who's a witch, right?"
"What about Hope?" Allison asked, tears threatening.
"I begged her to help your mom, but she refused. Said she could very easily heal her with a few spells-but she chose Derek."
"You're lying! She's not like that. There must be no way to heal a werewolf bite. No, I won't-"
She was cut off by the recording Gerard played.
"Are you sure about that, dear? We could help each other. Allison is your friend."
"I can, but I won't... even if Allison is my friend."
Allison broke. The tears she had been holding in fell freely now. It hurt. It hurt more than losing her mother.
"Sometimes friends are worse than enemies. They know how to hurt you." Gerard's voice echoed in her head as she stared at Hope-pale, breathless, still standing.
Hope had no idea what was going through Allison's mind, but she did know one thing: she was losing strength fast.
"Never mind. Can you help me hold Sti-" Her sentence ended in a sharp gasp as the bow pierced her old, unhealed wound.
Stiles watched in horror as Hope instinctively shifted their positions, shielding him completely and taking the full brunt of the attack. The arrow embedded itself deeper in her side.
You'd think she'd be in unimaginable pain-and she was-but the words Allison spoke hit harder than any wound ever could.
"We're not friends, Hope Mikaelson," Allison said coldly, walking past them.
"Hey! What's wrong with you?! DON'T YOU SEE SHE'S HURT?! ALLISON! ALLISON ARGENT!" Stiles screamed, helpless, as blood poured out of Hope. So much blood.
He had never felt this useless. Paralyzed from neck to toe, he couldn't do anything but watch as the girl who'd protected him suffered. He hated himself for it.
Hope's trembling hand reached for the arrow, pulling it out. As she did, her bones began to crack one by one-her body forcing itself to shift. Her wolf was clawing its way out.
She screamed.
"What's wrong, love? What's happening?" Stiles asked, his voice shaking as tears fell down his face. He'd never seen anything like this. Each crack of her bones felt like a blade through his own chest.
She looked at him through the pain and managed a faint smile, trying to reassure him even now.
"It's okay, Stiles... it'll be over in a minute," she gasped, every breath laced with agony.
Minutes stretched like hours. Finally, her body gave in to the transformation, turning into a majestic white wolf.
His jaw dropped. She was stunning-even in this form. Not like Scott or Derek. No-she was a true wolf.
The beast-Hope-stepped forward and licked away his tears, nuzzling him playfully.
"I feel like petting you... but also like you'll kill me if I do. Then again, I can't even move my hands to try," he muttered.
He moved slightly-his hand twitched.
"Oh look, I can actually pet you."
The wolf growled.
He quickly dropped his hand. "I guess not." He pouted.