Still Here

|

Erica’s observation did cause Peter to look back to her with a questioning expression on his features. Whatever had developed between them shouldn’t prevent the Omega from remembering just what kind of monster he could be. Call him a glutton for punishment, or an egotistical bastard, either way, Peter had no issue with the sins he dragged along. “Surprisingly, many of my packmates would agree with you.” Peter shrugged dismissively, still at the bottom of the food chain with little chance of promotion although it had been more than a couple of years already. No matter, little chance didn’t mean no chance, and Peter would take those odds any day.

Erica’s teasing jest was met with a chuckle, his hand squeezing her shoulder once more before it fell back to his side. “You can bet your ass on it,” he teased back, moving to call over his hostess so that she could pick them up something from the Pride before disappearing to go looking for two cans of soda. “I gotta replace the glasses, and I doubt you can down a whole bottle of orange juice yourself,” he teased, offering Erica a can. “You holding up alright there? I thought I was losing you for a moment…”

---

Peter’s face went through a range of odd motions before it retained his classic veil. Erica accepted the soda easily, popping it open with a flick of her thumb. It was almost funny, the Hale nature to immediately think the worst. She hadn’t even thought of Peter when she had initially spoken. A family trait that apparently could be passed on with the bite. 

Peter’s past was little consequence to her now. He hadn’t harmed her; it wasn’t her place to demand repentance. He was family; that was enough for Erica. The lingering warmth from his hand was enough to maintain the protective cocoon of warm Peter and Alec had woven since her reemergence. 

Erica took a sip to stall for time. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to Peter,  just the blonde didn’t know how to. The bite wasn’t the only thing she had shared with Peter’s nephew. 

|

There was a moment that caused Peter to inwardly hesitate… Was she going to lost her shit? Then, her hand went up to meet his, causing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding to rush out his nostrils. Although Stiles’ focused, Erica’s observation wasn’t wrong: whoever this individual or group was were guilty of the crimes she accused them of. 

“If it helps, he’s cool as hell now,” Peter tried to lighten the mood. “He whooped some ass and managed not to go full on psycho.” If Erica shared his words with Stiles, the vampire would probably think Peter was planning to kill him soon, but the Beta werewolf would take his chances. 

Just as he went to walk away, he felt Erica’s grip on his hand tightening, causing him to squeeze her shoulder as gently as he was able to. “Hey, they aren’t getting away… Scott’s way, the Sheriff’s, or my own, they aren’t getting off clean on this,” he promised. “C’mon, let me get you something to eat. I’ll keep you company till the Sun goes down.”

---

“From what I heard, Scott's generally a little too forgiving for my tastes,” Erica muttered, more to herself than Peter. The twins and Allison being prime examples. Was it wrong or monstrous to disagree with humanity's proclaimed justice?  

The anger still simmered along her veins, but Erica pushed it to the back of her mind. She didn’t have time to feel those tricky, consuming emotions. Those were the strength of feelings that lead to her doing questionable things like challenging alphas. 

The grey was returning, a fog lingering at the edges of her mind, held at bay with a mixture of stubbornness and new familiar concern. She should be ecstatic that Stiles was still alive. That he was still a badass. That he had somehow made Peter unknowingly utter a pun. 

ericareyesexe​:

—

Erica hummed, her lips twitching upward at Roman calling Peter ‘Pete’. She was sure the werewolf loved that. She leaned forward on her elbows, eyes sparkling mischievously. 

“I never learned how to pole dance, but I have to admit I’m curious.” Her eyes swept over Roman’s currently bare eyes. 

“I have some of my backup makeup in my locker. If you promise to behave for the 90 seconds it’ll take me to get it; I can do your eyes for you.” she grinned. “If you tell me more about pole dancing, that is.” The she-wolf fluttered her eyelashes at the vampire. If Erica wanted to keep a closer eye on Peter, she’d need skills that wouldn’t allow him to turn her away. Cora had already told her that Peter had tried to get her to leave the club for her safety. Erica wasn’t going to give Peter the chance to do the same.

 She knew how to hustle too.  

.

The vampire brightened at the thought of having his make up done, and better yet having some lessons. At her cost of teaching her about pole dancing, Roman brought up a hand for her to shake.

“You got it,” he grinned, already excited. As he waited for her to come back, the vampire considered the best first few tips.

Once Erica was back, Roman drummed his hands on the place beside him in the booth, practically vibrating.

“Welcome to pole dancing with Roman! Lesson one and the most important thing; strength training. Now, now- I know since you’re a little wolfie, building up shouldn’t be a problem, but running free in the woods and tossing around other wolves in fights as a super strong werewolf isn’t the same as knowing how to hold yourself up on a pole. You don’t see competitive strongmen knowing shit about acrobatics, after all.”

He had a few decades of pole dance under his belt, and far longer of acrobatics and other dance forms, so it was always nice to teach others what he’d learned over the years.

“I’ve met a few supernaturals who didn’t realise how different it is. Hm, you have any dance experience? Not important, but it’s a bonus.”

---

The strain of a new job had thrown Erica off balance more than she had realized. It shouldn’t have taken Erica so long to connect the dots: Older vampire, works with Peter, named Roman. 

He was Stiles' sire. 

She was going to give him the best damn eye makeup ever. 

Peter instantly realized Erica had yet to be told about Stiles. Made sense since she had disappeared, but it was rather annoying. Anger, Peter could deal with… Whatever emotions had begun bubbling within Erica, however, the older werewolf could only brace for them and hope to do his best. The fact that he liked the Omega was bound to help, or so Peter chose to believe. 

At that moment, however, he could only think: fuck Stiles. Seeing how it was the second time in less than 24 hours that the little twitchy vamper had made Peter take on the role of the good guy. 

Peter reached out squeezing Erica’s shoulder to help ground her, his gaze locking with hers. “You and I have died too,” he reminded her. “Nothing is impossible, Erica… You and I are a testimony to that. And a human? Their options to cheat Death are far more endless than ours… Stiles was saved by the vampire Roman Rose,” he informed her as gently as he was able to. “He’s a vampire now.” Which should’ve explained why he was indisposed at the moment.

--

Relief suddenly coursed through Erica’s veins, closely followed by guilt. Stiles had mentioned to her once how he had wished to stay human. She hadn’t understood, but she had respected it. For him to have that choice forced upon him...

She searched Peter’s eyes. He wouldn’t lie to her about the vampire saving Stiles. Blindly she reached up to grab his hand on her shoulder. Panic and confusion, focusing and morphing into a new resolve. 

Erica had Alec but, it was a shame Peter wasn’t an alpha. 

Her jaw squared, her mind focusing under Peter’s support. With the panic quieted, furry began to rise, simmering just under the surface. 

“So now whoever was behind this is not only responsible for experimenting on downworlders but forcing Stiles to surrender his humanity.” 

Turning to hear Erica apologize, Peter furrowed his brow. Sighing as she explained herself and questioned if he knew of her last interaction with his Alpha, Peter nodded. “Something about him being mean to you,” Peter mocked Scott, trying to get a smile from the Omega. “It struck me as odd, of course, seeing how the Erica I knew would’ve torn him apart with ease… Not to mention, that can mean anything when it comes from him. Did he forget to tell you good morning or something?” he teased with an arched brow and a chuckle.

Walking over to his desk, he grabbed his chair and pulled it around to offer it silently to Erica. “Stiles is… unavailable at the moment, but he’s safe,” Peter promised, knowing that was probably what she was so worried about at the moment and what her and Scott truly argued about.

--

The True Alpha was far too forgiving. Erica grimaced at Peter’s description of how Scott saw their argument. If he didn’t hold people accountable for their actions, he would be taken advantage of. 

Erica didn’t truly regret what she had thrown at the other wolf; how she had done it, and, more importantly, where. Erica should be held responsible. She'd rather take the punishment and move on than it just be brushed off. For there to be no consequences, it had Erica unbalanced. Something to be held against her later.  

The she-wolf opened her mouth to explain the rest of her absence when Peter spoke again. The air seemed to freeze in the room. “--What?” Erica blinked stupidly at Peter.

“No. I found the spot where he died.” Her breath stuttered in her chest. “--The bloodstain, it was too large. Peter. It--” 

.

Kitty’s eyes continued to water at the scent of the place - it was overwhelming with blood, and fear, and pain. She looked down the tunnel, wrapping her arms around herself anxiously. 

“Do you know where these tunnels lead? I’ve never seen them before.” She muttered, shaking her head at herself. She didn’t care about the answer, or so she told herself. It wasn’t her fault what happened to those humans, it wasn’t her place to look into it. 

Still she moved along a little further, following the dim light that Erica was offering. Just ahead she saw a figure and she shuddered, dropping down by them. 

“Oh my g–” She whispered, covering her mouth and seeing another body. Someone with very pointed teeth. “What the hell is going on in this place?”

--

The flesh of the expired wendigo had started to tighten, the face sunken in. It looked almost like wax. Its gray eyes were glassy, clouded over. A mixture of blood and something black had leaked from the corpse. 

Erica crouched down, closer, inching just ahead of Kitty. The anger still simmered just below her skin, easily overtaken by curiosity. “What is that?” she sniffed. “It’s not--” the drying black ooze wasn’t from wolfsbane. It didn’t have that sickening floral note to the decay. 

Wordlessly, Erica ripped a piece of fabric from her new shirt. Tentatively, she pressed it against one of the still wet puddles. It soaked readily into the fabric. It was thinner than expected and completely opaque. Erica held the fabric carefully between two fingers. 

–

Boyd sensed the upcoming emotions in her - her scent not masking any of the turmoil - and he couldn’t do anything but stare. If it was a curse, it wouldn’t be able to recreate that, would it?

When the door was slammed into his face, it was like he finally was starting to feel like he could move and before he knew it, he, again, knocked at the door. But this time he accompanied it an “Erica? Please open the door.” - which was all he could have said, really, as his throat felt like it was closing up. When he stopped knocking, he leaned his forehead against the door, refusing to move even an inch. He wasn’t  going to let her lock herself up. Images of the last time he had seen her flashed up in front of his eyes. No. He would not leave her. “Please let me in.” 

---

It hurt. Erica’s chest heaved as she smothered the sobs before they burst from her lips; each violent lurch like a physical blow. She fixed her fingers over her mouth. She was going to throw up. 

The caramel pleas echoed in her ears, clearer than her memories had ever allowed, even muffled by the door. If this was a trick, it was masterful. Then again, this was a High Warlock’s residence; whatever illusion aimed at the apartment would have to be flawless. 

And it was. Flawless. 

Her instinct knew that it was Boyd on the other side of the door. The broken thread of the old pack bond was reaching out. Her ears, her nose, her heart: they knew. 

Would it hurt more to have this dream fall away? The emotion trying to erupt from her chest was already debilitating. Could she risk never knowing? Was it worth the risk? 

It was Boyd. 

Erica’s hands fell into her lap. For a moment, everything settled; dust fluttered in soft swirls to the ground. Three things could happen if she opened the door: One, it was a dream, and she would wake up as she always did with Isaac. Two, Erica could be taken or attacked, and the illusion could be a ploy to get inside Magnus' ward. It might have been a trap for Magnus or Alec, but it could jeopardize the sanctity of the home. Three, her friend was alive and begging to see her. 

Mind made up, Erica stood. She was no stranger to pain, to nightmares. She had been captured and tortured before, and despite it all, Erica was still here. She wouldn’t let anyone in the Lightwood-Bane home. Erica would risk her entire being her old friend, but she wouldn’t endanger them. 

Erica twisted the warped knob, silently praying that Alec would forgive her if it was a trick. Her forehead rested against the door, bowing to the pull. 

“Boyd.” She called, her voice quiet but steady. She wouldn’t let him inside the wards, but she could leave their safety.  “I need you...” Erica paused, letting out a shaky breath. “To step back two paces.” 

.

Roman peered closer at her work, admiration on his face.

“Wow,” he remarked, liking the eyeshadow too. “you could do that as a job, you know? I knew someone once who made a ton of money just going around homes selling make up to people. I mean, she did it to feed on them too, but these were pre-ambrosia days so you’ve gotta respect the hustle there.”

She’d helped him out once or twice with a feed, but when his personality got too irritating for her she’d soon told him to piss off or she’d rip his head off. Literally.

“I was never much good at art, even now if I draw anything it comes out looking wobbly and really, really cursed,” he lamented. “My skills are strictly in dancing and pole work. I’ve been working for Pete the third longest now, only two got me beat but they ain’t as good on the pole as me. Swings and round-abouts.”

---

Erica hummed, her lips twitching upward at Roman calling Peter ‘Pete’. She was sure the werewolf loved that. She leaned forward on her elbows, eyes sparkling mischievously. 

“I never learned how to pole dance, but I have to admit I’m curious.” Her eyes swept over Roman’s currently bare eyes. 

“I have some of my backup makeup in my locker. If you promise to behave for the 90 seconds it’ll take me to get it; I can do your eyes for you.” she grinned. “If you tell me more about pole dancing, that is.” The she-wolf fluttered her eyelashes at the vampire. If Erica wanted to keep a closer eye on Peter, she'd need skills that wouldn't allow him to turn her away. Cora had already told her that Peter had tried to get her to leave the club for her safety. Erica wasn't going to give Peter the chance to do the same.

 She knew how to hustle too.  

.

Deciding to respect Boyd’s privacy, given all he’d been confided in about, Sam chose to answer from the perspective of a teacher.

“I’m Sam. Nathaniel Chadha’s husband, art teacher? You probably wouldn’t remember me, but I recall you being a keen student of his,” in fact, prior to them adopting Cherry, it had been the light in Nathaniel’s eyes talking about the promising woman before him that sparked the idea that it was time to try. “don’t suppose you recognise that picture over there?”

He pointed to a painting Nathaniel had requested be put up. It was a simple thing, calmer than most Erica had produced his husband had told him, and apparently she’d just never come to collect it from the drying room… 

The reason hadn’t been the whimsical forgetfulness of a teenager unfortunately. 

“Don’t worry, it’s not labeled. But it is lovely- oh, would you like a refill of your drink, or I can get you a sandwich?” 

---

Erica’s eye’s widened at her old high school art teacher’s name. She spun in her seat to look at the painting in the corner. The piece that she had finished shortly before the rock wall -- before Derek. 

It had been about her grandparents; the light blue and gray swirls had been her attempt to reclaim her connection to them, the emotions blurred by years of mourning. A throwback to happier days in the water. The feeling of now being adrift. The yearning for a connection to help keep her afloat, her memories her only cherished lifeline. 

“I had forgotten about it.” Erica ripped her eyes away from the ghost of her old life. She had never picked it up. She had barely spoken to Mr. Nathaniel after she had turned. 

He hadn’t been someone she had wanted to walk over. She hadn’t needed to prove anything to him. 

What would her life have been like if she had gone for refuge in the art classroom, rather than return to the rock wall in an arguably foolish attempt to reclaim her self-pride?

Erica glanced up at the wolf, guilt once again taking hold. “How is he?”

Kitty squinted in the darkness, letting her eyes adjust to the low light, flashing them in order to see better, seeing the same trail that had been pointed out by the other. She moved forward ahead of the blonde, a mixture of anxious and curious.

And then, the trail seemed to stop abruptly.

“Where did it go?” She thought outloud. Pausing, she shoved a fallen mirror out the way, and crouching down she saw a latch of some sort. Without thinking about what she was doing, she pulled it up, and the stench only grew worse, her eyes watering as she was overpowered.

“The… there’s something down there.” She forced out, coughing.

---

There was nothing else to it. As soon as the words left Kitty’s lips, Erica knew what she was going to do. Fishing out on the heart-themed toy flashlights from her pilfered bags, Erica turned it on. Sure enough, in the weak light, she could see the bottom, the continuation of the trail, and gray and white fluff. 

Erica jumped down the hole. The thump of her feet hitting the ground echoed around in the narrow space. The she-wolf crouched over the stuffed animal. The paw was torn, stained with dried blood, and something else. Erica took it in hand anyway, carefully putting it in her bag before turning her light back on to the underground tunnel. “This must be how the body got in the maze,” she muttered. 

|

It should’ve been odd that a scent that had annoyed him the first few he’d sensed it now brought him peace. Instead, he reveled in it. Erica was safe, and that was all that mattered. His hand cupped her face for a moment as he nodded. Whether she had credited him or not with having taught her how to deal with the attackers that night, it still brought him pride that she had fought. It still made him feel relieved she had not been taken somewhere to serve as an experiment or hostage. She was safe.

“Couldn’t. The unveiling has shone a very…. problematic light on supernaturals,” Peter reminded her. “And I’m still a McCall Beta.” The words slipped his lips, dragging his molars with them. “We defended ourselves.” He motioned forward a security staff member and handed her the weapon, watching her disappear towards the main security station. “The Sheriff and his people were here soon enough and took the ones we secured.” 

“Come on, we’ll speak in my office,” he stated. “You don’t need to worry about all this. What happened to you, Erica? Where were you? I thought you left town.” Because he had stubbornly refused to believe she had died. “Or… that you were taken.” As he opened his office’s door, Peter paused to let Erica walk in first, watching for any reaction in case she’d been warned against speaking of it. 

---

The anger was still snarling in her chest. It was for the best, that Peter had handled the situation as he did, Erica knew that, logically. But still... The urge to walk over those that had done the same to her still lingered. I wasn’t as looming as a presence as it had been as a fifteen-year-old but still present. After all, for her, it had been less than a year ago. 

Death was funny that way. 

Erica followed Peter silently to his office, keeping close as they walked through the clearing destruction. Peter must have had it handled. Erica couldn’t pick up a single note of blood from the clubs' walls. When Peter closed the door, Erica resisted the urge to hug the man again. Family they might be, but Erica doubted showing this much weakness would keep her in the elder Hale’s good books. 

“I’m sorry.” she sighed, unable to stop as her arms came up to hug her own form. "After I got out, I went to see my parents at the hospital. Then the police found me and took me in for questioning." She felt fifteen again, explaining herself to Peter. "The Sherriff got me out, and then..." Erica Petered off, guilt threatening to break through the flood gates again. A week was barely enough time to process her grief. 

Erica closed her eyes and sighed. "I'm assuming you know about the fight I got in with your alpha."

–

As Boyd heard her two spoken words, he almost flinched. Not real. Did it mean she wasn’t real or that she didn’t believe he was real?

This curse - or not curse - was really starting to mess with his head. He needed to say something. He opened his mouth, not quite sure what he wanted to say but no words came out. 

For a short moment, he had to close his eyes to gather himself and just before he opened them again, he feared, that maybe she’d be gone again but she was still there.

“Erica.” It was all he could say really. Holding onto the doll, he had forgotten about Mr. Lightwood-Bane - no matter how much he insisted on being called by his first name, Boyd preferred it that way - had all but forgotten about why exactly he was here.

---

Erica wanted to call out to Magnus, to Alec. Either of them. She wanted them to come and help her deal with this specter. She needed one of them to tell her if it was real. Erica took another step back, the voices in her head screaming. Had she finally lost it? Was it a trick? 

Was it Boyd? 

The jagged edges of the crumpled doorknob pressed into the skin of her palm, just shy of piecing her skin. Her dream uttered her name with a familiar softness. Erica flinched. Her knees were weak.  

Had she knocked over one of Magnus’ vials without realizing it? Had one of the cats? 

How could she check if it was Boyd without leaving the wards? What if her imagination fooled her again? What if it was another hunter’s trick? A lure to capture more supernatural to experiment on? 

Dammit, all to hell. Erica ripped her gaze away from the illusion, her heart aching. Why had no one called her? It couldn’t be Boyd. Someone would have called her. 

She mumbled Magnus' name soundlessly over and over as if it could make the warlock suddenly appear and protect her from her mind. 

Erica was sixteen again, trembling in the woods.

She slammed the front door closed, knees finally giving out and smacking the tiled entryway with an echoing smack. Her hand, still embedded in the metal of the doorknob, but Erica didn't bother to free herself. With a thump, her forehead bumped up again the door, the distant thrum of Magnus' wards tingling against her skin.  She let out a shuttering breath that threatened to turn into a cry, beads of moisture gathering at her lashes. 

.

Pleased that Olivia’s new hire wasn’t another bore, Roman blew a kiss at her comment as she walked away to get his order.

While he waited for the wolf to come back, Roman drummed on the table and looked around the bar. It was so different to the strip club, in that the people there engaged more with one another while the staff seemed to be nothing more than wallpaper until another drink was needed; the bartender was god while making the cocktails, but non-existent thereafter. 

He wondered how many tips the workers here were given compared to the performers at White Fang.

The vampire was surprised the woman greeted him again by name, but didn’t question it too much as he accepted his drink.

“Taking a break from work over at White Fang, pay’s fantastic don’t get me wrong, but putting your feet up somewhere like ‘ere’s definitely it,” Roman told her, taking a sip from his drink. “this is also one of the only places except for where I work, where I can get a decent drink and not, eh, you know.”

Joshua’s invention was genius, he couldn’t deny, but regardless it wasn’t the same.

Roman smacked his deep ruby painted lips in satisfaction after another sup.

“This is a good place to people watch too. Say, d’you do that eye look yourself? I always end up poking myself when I try.”

---

So he worked at Peter’s. Erica breathed easier. She didn’t know why the vampire needed a babysitter, but it didn’t seem to be of the dangerous variety. It had been her understanding that Elysium and White Fang had a respectful sort of partnership. It had been part of the reason why Erica had come to Olivia in the first place. 

If she wasn’t ready to work for Peter yet, that wasn’t going to stop her from staying close. Hunters could try to pull another attack. Erica wouldn’t mind the excuse to get her claws on them. 

Erica shifted closer to Roman, carefully closing just one eye so Roman could get a better look at her work. There was something classic about a clean cat-eye. It was something Erica could still claim she had pride in. “I always had a way with a paintbrush when I was growing up.” she breezed. Her time in Mr. Nathaniel’s art class was her only happy memories of school pre-bite. “This is just a smaller brush, really.” 

-

Cora makes a face not understanding her sister’s reasoning than again maybe it was something she would only understand if she knew her better. “My experience with drunk idiots is usually twisting an arm or breaking a hand. And taste isn’t something I would call good but everyone has their opinions.” She replies with a shrug, while she enjoyed that kind of thing she assumed her sister had a different experience. 

Looking Erica over it was impossible for Cora not to smell the change in her pheromones, mixed with the pressure added to her hand. Letting out a sigh she places her free hand over Erica’s that clung to her. “Laura would be an idiot not to want to be friends with you, I mean I am and I’m almost a perfect judge of character.” Did she feel uneasy about their friendship yes but she had to admit to herself that it was her own issues stemming through and it was more between her sister and her than it was Erica. “I just…its been a long time since I knew Laura. Derek and I were always close, she was much older so it was like having two moms and got old fast.”

---

It’s been a long time since you knew me, the dark voice in Erica’s head whispered into her ear. “Well, I’m glad someone here is a good judge of character,” she told Cora weakly. Erica kept the tight grip on Cora’s hand. One step forward, and she would stumble. There was a demon on her back trying its most damn to mar her reunion with Cora. Erica couldn’t let it. She wouldn’t. 

Kitty’d got a fair few scratches and bruises during her time in the mirrors, fighting her way out of the maze once everything seemed to have quietened down. Her own pathway out must’ve still been free, so she shrugged, deciding it couldn’t hurt - if only for the extra pair of hands to scavenge.

“I’ll lead the way.” She nodded, zipping up her bag and moving towards the maze. It was somewhere near the centre, I think? If you can really figure out where that was now, this place is a mess.” She commented, moving through, carefully avoiding jagged pieces of glass. There was a strange scent in the air, one that churned her stomach, and she moved further through. “Let’s just get in and out as quick as possible.”

---

Erica swiped up one of the themed carnival backpacks from the wreckage to start stuffing various food items that weren’t coated in some manner of bodily fluids. She was a wolf of her word, after all. 

“Had to be; I was in the center when I found the body,” Erica mentioned idly. “Then security came in and... well.” Erica carefully shifted a large piece of mirror, an odd mixture of blood and something else Erica couldn’t quite identify smeared across its surface. 

Further, into the remains of the maze, the blood continued, the odd scent intensifying.  Was Erica still looking for her wolf? Instinctively followed the strange path. It was a trail. Her eyes shone gold as the wreckage fully started to block out the sun. 

|

He smiled to himself, his chin on her shoulder, as Erica pointed out he hadn’t howled either. Once she was back on solid ground, Peter leaned back slightly to further inspect her for any sign of injury. His mind had wandered into the darker side while he’d been looking for her. As far as he’d been able to tell from Belle’s case files, there was a possibility the vampire and wendigos attackers were being experimented on by a third party…. To think Erica could’ve been captured and tortured yet again infuriated him. 

But she was safe.

Erica crediting him with teaching her how to defend herself should’ve fed his ego, and even though it did fill him with pride, it sent a wave of melancholy through him. “Fine? You disappeared,” he pointed out with a furrowed brow. If she was currently in any danger, Peter would’ve wanted to know. 

Looking around when she did, Peter sighed deeply. “Seems it was carried out by rogue hunters. They were targeting vampire and wendigo employees—probably motivated by the recent disappearances and the carnival attack— but anyone who got in their way was fair game,” he informed Erica, moving to pick up the modified cattle prod from the ground. “Nothing to worry about. Cora is already working on new security measures.” The police and the local media had their sob story… The rest, it was for Peter to take care of, but Erica didn’t need to worry about that.

---

It was a lot to take in at once, but if Erica was anything, it was adaptable. The warmth of Peter’s care -- his touch, lingered, it helped tether her to the moment. Guilt from staying away from Peter-- from Alec, was on the back burner. She had miscalculated there; it wouldn’t happen again. 

A quiet snarl escaped her lips at the reveal of the guilty party. She moved with Peter, not ready to be far from him yet. It was hardly surprising. Hunters, what else would it be? It wouldn’t surprise Erica if even more rouge hunters were behind the oddity in the wendigo she had found with Kitty. “Bastards,” she muttered. 

As intrigued as she was that Cora was still in Beacon Hills, the attack took precedence. It was easier, farther away from Alec’s cool influence, to listen to the simmering anger that had been so prevalent in her first life. “I hope you managed to maim a few of them permanently before they stayed down.”  They had attacked a safe place, a protected place. They deserved more than just the injuries that came from Peter's defense. She eyed the prod. “I hope they got to taste the end of that for themselves.”