#deuca

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 Derek stepped into the abandoned mall.

Bright halogen lights – the kind used in construction – stood on tall stands in a circle around him. The glaring lights were pointed at him, making Derek strain to see what lay beyond them in the shadows.

The smallest sounds seemed to reverberate off the walls around him, quiet voices echoing in the darkness. 

Derek squinted against the light, trying to make out the shapes among the shadows. He could see a large walkway overhead, an old railing running along the edge of it—some of the glass panels smashed in and other stained with dirt and grime or covered in graffiti.

The air was stale and dusty, plumes of dust stirred—the particles dancing about in the bright light of the halogens and the silvery moonlight that bled through the dusty skylight overhead.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Scott muttered under his breath as he looked around.

“So do I,” Derek admitted.

Boyd, Erica and Isaac stepped up behind them, turning as their eyes scanned the shadows.

“Hello, Derek,” the man’s smooth voice rang out through the darkness.

Derek turned to see Deucalion standing at the top of the broken escalators, a pair of blacked-out glasses over his unseeing grey eyes and a cane in his hands.

“I’m so glad you came,” Deucalion said, a hint of mockery and insincerity in his voice.

“Why did you ask me here?”

“I come with an offer,” Deucalion told him. “Join my pack or I’ll kill you and your pack.”

“That’s not an offer, that’s an ultimatum,” Derek corrected.

Deucalion’s expression soured.

“Make your choice, Derek,” he said—or rather, warned—his voice deep and threatening.

Beside him, a young woman stepped out of the shadows beside the still escalator. Her lips curled back in a snarl, exposing her sharpened teeth. She flexed her hands, balling her hands into fists before unfurling them again to expose her jagged claws. Her long straight hair hung loose around her shoulders. She wore a loose shirt and a pair of leggings, standing barefoot among the rubble and glass that covered the floor.

Kali.

Behind them, a man made his way up the stairs of the broken escalator that led to the floor below. He was tall and strongly built, with a square jaw and cold clear eyes. His hair had been shaved off. As he stepped into the edge of the light, his eyes lit up red.

Ennis.

From the balcony overhead, two teenagers leapt down, landing on their feet.

Scott turned, watching as their bodied melded together, morphing into a singular towering figure. The alpha had a seam running down the middle of their body like a scar. Their eyes lit up with a crimson glow as they roared.

“I guess we’ll have to make the decision easier for you,” Deucalion said.

He glanced in Kali’s direction and nodded subtly.

Her howl rolled through the darkness as she sprinted at Derek.

Derek braced himself, catching her arms before she could land a blow and tipping her off balance. He tossed her aside, digging his feet into the dusty floor as he faced off against her.

She charged at him again, slashing at him with her jagged claws. She swung her leg, slamming her foot into Derek’s gut and knocking him back.

Scott and Isaac glanced at each other before charging the Alpha twins.

They grabbed Isaac by the front of his shirt and threw him to the floor, quickly deflecting Scott’s attack. He threw Scott back against the nearby wall.

Scott’s back collided with the concrete with enough force to send cracks across the wall like fissures on ice. He collapsed to the floor with a painful thud, letting out a weak groan as he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees.

He didn’t get time to recover.

The Alpha was on him in seconds, slamming their foot into Scott’s stomach and dropping him to the floor again.

Boyd and Erica turned their attention to Ennis.

Erica lunged at him, slashing at him with her claws.

Ennis grabbed her arm, holding it up as he dug his claws into her ribs and tore open her side. He knocked her feet out from under her, twisting her arm behind her back.

Boyd threw himself into Ennis with enough force to make the alpha let go of Erica’s arm.

Ennis recovered quickly, blocking Boyd’s attacks and knocking the teen to the ground.

Ennis grabbed Erica by the front of her shirt, hurling her across the floor. He hauled Boyd to his feet, wrapping his arm around Boyd’s throat in a headlock as he held him still.

Kali stepped over to their side. She swung her leg out in a roundhouse kick, landing a blow to the side of Boyd’s face. Her claws tore through his cheek.

Ennis let go, letting the teen’s body fall to the ground.

Kali stepped over to Erica and pinned her down, digging her talon-like toes into the girl’s throat.

The Alpha twins dragged Scott and Isaac across the floor, making them kneel as they held their claws to the napes of their necks.

Derek froze, looking around at his pack.

Erica struggled beneath Kali’s foot.

Boyd pushed himself onto his elbows, blood dripping from his mouth and streaming from the gashes across his cheek.

“Kill him,” Deucalion ordered, his level voice ringing out through the darkness. “And the others can go.”

Derek looked from Deucalion to Boyd.

Boyd looked back at him, his yellow eyes wide with fear.

“You’re beaten,” Deucalion said, a hint of pride in his voice. He sauntered down the still escalator. “Do it. Take the first step.”

“Are we serious with this kid?” Kali asked. “Look at him. He’s an alpha—to what, a couple of useless teenagers?”

“Some have more potential than others,” Deucalion mused.

“Let him rise to the occasion then,” Kali sneered. “What will it be, Derek?”

Derek looked to Boyd, his eyes wide and full of pain. He was torn.

A sharp whistle broke the silence.

Derek dropped to the ground as an incendiary arrow struck the Alpha twins, bursting into flames and tearing the two apart.

Scott, Isaac and Boyd dropped their heads, shielding their eyes from the bright sparks. Erica squeezed her eyes shut as another arrow struck the ground beside her, igniting into bright white flames and a spray of sparks.

Kali screamed as she staggered back, shielding her face.

“Cover your eyes!” Deucalion bellowed, but he was too late.

Another arrow struck Ennis, knocking him back.

Erica leapt to her feet, swinging her leg and roundhouse kicking Kali. The heel of her boot stuck the alpha’s jaw with a sickening crack, knocking her to the ground.

A figure stepped closer to the railing of the higher level, the light illuminating Allison’s face as she raised her bow and fired another arrow; a normal arrow that pierced Ennis’s chest.

The alpha fell back against the ground with a blood curdling howl.

Isaac sprinted to Boyd’s side, helping him to his feet.

“It’s over, Deucalion,” Derek said, turning to face the man.

“No quite,” Deucalion replied, his voice low. The corner of his lips curled up in a smug smirk.

Derek’s brow furrowed. He opened his mouth to ask something when the sound of claws dragging across the tiles reached his ears.

He turned, looking at the shadows.

He watched as a figure emerged; tall but gaunt, towering over them. The creature was hunched forward, resting their weight against their front arms. Their face was shrouded by an aged deer skull and black antlers rose from the creature’s head. Beneath the jaw of the skull, the monster’s mouth hung open, exposing sharp teeth and rotting flesh.

The creature stalked forward, talon like nails scratching at the marble floors.

Derek’s eyes widened, his heart hammering against his ribs.

He turned to Isaac, who held Boyd up. “Get him out of here!”

Isaac nodded, half-carrying, half-dragging, Boyd out of the mall.

He looked around.

The Alpha pack were gone.

He dug his feet into the ground.

Scott backed up to Derek’s side.

“What the hell is that?” Scott asked, his voice breaking as he stared at the creature.

“A wendigo,” Derek answered.

“What do we do?” Erica asked, joining them.

“Nothing,” Derek said.

“What?”

“There’s nothing we can do,” Derek explained. “Wendigos are stronger and faster than we are. If we run, it’ll hunt us down.”

“Derek?” Allison called from the higher level.

“Allison, you and Erica get out of here,” Derek instructed. “Slowly. Scott and I will keep its focus.”

“Derek…” Erica started.

Derek turned to look at her, his pale aventurine eyes softening as he said, “Go.”

She backed away slowly.

Derek took a step closer to the wendigo, catching its attention.

Scott did the same. “Why hasn’t it attacked us?”

“I don’t know,” Derek replied.

The creature stalked forward, tilting its head as it looked at Derek. Its marbled white eyes stared at the man.

The wendigo reached forward to the exposed concrete before Derek’s feet. It dug its claws into the floor, drawing what looked like four arrows pointing inwards.

Derek looked down at the ground, his brow furrowed in confusion.

The wendigo opened its mouth.

“Help me,” the creature said, mimicking a familiar voice.

Derek froze, his blood turning to ice in his veins as tears pricked at his eyes.

“Cora.”

The name fell past his lips in a breathless whisper.

The wendigo looked down at the insignia on the floor and back up at Derek.

Derek met their gaze.

The creature opened its mouth, letting out a blood-curdling screech.

Derek and Scott dropped to the floor, covering their ears.

When the ringing in their ears died away, they opened their eyes.

The creature was gone, leaving only the symbol on the floor.

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 Derek didn’t sleep. He stood hunched over his desk, surrounded by piles of old hardcover books, leather bound journals and other books that looked like antiques, all bound in magnificent colours of scarlet, burgundy, deep green, gold, and grey. The spines of the books were decorated by gold or silver lettering that read the titles, adorned with small metal studs and a few were even fastened with small hinges that looked to be made of brass or silver.

He turned through the wrinkled brown pages that had been thumbed smooth with reading, searching through pages of runes for something that looked like the symbol the wendigo had drawn, but to no avail.

He grew more and more frustrated, feeling desperate and helpless.

He glanced up, looking to where Boyd sat on the couch. Erica carefully cleaned and redressed the gashes across his face and chest.

The back of her shirt hung low with strings of fabric criss-crossing across her back, low enough that you could see the blood-soaked bandages that covered her ribs.

Injuries inflicted by an alpha took longer to heal.

He had to put an end to this. He couldn’t put his pack in danger again; he couldn’t let the Alpha pack hurt them again.

He let out a frustrated sigh, slumping down in his desk chair.

“Anything?” Isaac asked, stepping over to Derek’s side.

Derek looked up.

Erica and Boyd were also looking at him, hoping for good news.

“Nothing,” Derek said, dropping his gaze.

“Maybe you should take a break,” Erica suggested.

“I can’t,” Derek replied. “Not until I have answers.”

“Maybe try Googling it?” Boyd suggested.

Derek’s brow furrowed. “What?”

Isaac tried to hide his smirk as he picked up Derek’s laptop. He opened it, taking a photo of the symbol and running it through a search engine.

A match showed up.

Beacon Hills First National Bank.

Derek sat upright, opening the web page for the old bank.

“That’s it,” Isaac said, trying to hide the hint of excitement and pride in his voice.

“The symbol is the logo of the old bank,” Derek announced.

“The old bank?” Scott said. “The one that supposedly closed because it was haunted?”

“Yes, that one. And I’m sure that the fact it was robbed had nothing to do with it closing down,” Derek replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Do you think the rumours of the bank being haunted had anything to do with the wendigo?” Boyd asked.

“It’s possible,” Derek answered. “Regardless, it’s a lead I’m going to follow up.”

“We’re coming with you,” Boyd said, wincing as he pushed himself upright.

“No,” Derek said firmly. “If the Deucalion and his pack are there, you’re in no condition to fight them.”

“Or they could be waiting for you to leave so that they can kill us while you’re gone,” Boyd argued.

Derek opened his mouth to argue, but his words died in his throat. Boyd was right.

“Alright,” Derek begrudgingly agreed. “But I want you all to hang back until I know for sure if it’s a trap or not.”

“Okay,” the pack agreed in unison.

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 The building stood tall among the abandoned buildings on the far side of town, the streets left eerily quiet. The marble pillars either side of the front door were carved with elegant shields and filigree. The glass doors were still intact; the gold printing of the bank’s logo and the bold lettering of ‘BEACON HILLS FIRST NATIONAL BANK’ still clung to the dust glass, chipping away slightly. The glass doors had been walled up with cardboard and old brown paper that had withered with time; torn and falling away from the door.

Derek stepped up to the door, glancing into the dark building.

Allison stepped over to his side, notching an arrow as she glanced through the torn brown paper of the other door.

“Looks clear,” she whispered.

He motioned for the rest of the pack to hang back before gently pushing open the door.

Allison slid into the building and Derek followed, letting the door shut silently behind him

The rest of the building was in ruin; the tables were overturned and sheets of paper were scattered across the floors. One of the large chandelier-like lights had fallen to the floor, the chain rusted and the light bulbs shattered, scattering glass across the floor. There was a layer of dust over everything, disturbed by a few footprints.

The mezzanines that ran along the sides of the large building seemed to be intact, leading up to two large vaults—the one on the left hung open but the one on the right was locked shut. A third vault was behind what used to be the teller’s desks.

The building was silent.

Derek motioned for the pack to join them.

He looked at Scott and Allison. “Check the second floor.”

They nodded, making their way over to the staircase to their left that led up to the mezzanine.

The pack searched the old storage rooms, the file cabinets coated in dust and the smell of mould and musk hanging heavy in the air.

Scott made his way to the vault on the far right side of the bank.  Loud screech rang out through the old building, echoing in the shadows, as Scott pulled the heavy vaults back. He hauled the door open.

A moment later, he let out a startled cry as he was thrown back against the railing.

A figure darted out of the vault, sprinting across the mezzanine and down the stairs.

Derek ran to her side, catching her before she could reach the door.

“Let me go!” she yelled, thrashing about.

“Cora, it’s okay,” Derek said, gently shushing her as he bundled her up in his arms. “We’re not going to hurt you. You’re safe.”

The girl stilled, slowly turning to look at him.

“Derek?” she whispered breathlessly, his name falling past her lips.

Derek reached out, gently brushing a strand of her dark hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. He offered her a soft smile.

Cora let out a sigh of relief, wrapping her arms around her brother and holding on tight.

Derek let out a breathless sigh, resting his face atop her head as he hugged his sister back.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Derek whispered, fighting back his tears.

Cora pulled back slightly. “Where is he?”

“Who?” Derek asked, craning his neck slightly to look his sister in the eye.

“The other one,” Cora replied, her voice quiet as she looked around the dark building.

There was a loud screech as Boyd hauled open the heavy vault door downstairs.

“Oh my god,” the beta muttered under his voice, frozen in place. He turned his head slightly, keeping his eyes forward as he called over his shoulder. “Derek.”

Derek turned. He glanced at Erica who nodded, stepping over to Cora’s side.

He made his way through the rubble and over to Boyd’s side. His heart began to beat faster when he saw the look on his beta’s face.

He looked into the vault, his heart dropping into his gut. His breath caught in his throat, his heartbeat hammering in his ears as he stared in horror.

He leapt over the threshold and rushed over to the body that lay curled up on the cold stone floor.

He carefully rolled him over, watching as his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths.

He let out a sigh of relief, carefully manoeuvring the unconscious teen and lifting him.

“What is it?” Allison asked as she and Scott made their way downstairs and over to the vault door.

Derek stepped out of the vault, the frail unconscious body bundled up in his arms.

His face was turned in to Derek’s chest, but they knew who it is. They saw the moles that were scattered across his pale skin. His dark hair was a tousled, unkempt mess and his face was gaunt, but it was him.

“It’s Stiles,” Derek said.

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 Derek stood in the hallway, leaning back against the thin piece of wall between the doors to Cora’s room and Stiles’. Cora sat up in her bed, talking to a young police officer – Parrish – who was taking her statement. She shifted nervously, glancing at Derek for reassurance or screwing up her face at the discomfort of the IV in her arm.

Derek turned his head the other way.

Stiles still hadn’t woken up, his frail body laying still. The crisp white hospital sheets made his already fair skin look deathly pale. He too had an IV in his arm as well as a heart monitor that beeped wit the steady rhythm of his heart.

The Sheriff had rushed to the hospital, sitting by his son’s side for as long as he could before he was called away, his face torn and pained as he pulled himself away. Derek had promised to stay with him and to call the Sheriff if anything changed.

“Do you think one of them is the wendigo?” Scott asked, keeping his voice low enough that only Derek would hear him.

Derek nodded.

“How do you even become a wendigo?”

“A wendigo is believed to be an evil spirit. A human becomes a wendigo after their spirit is corrupted by greed or weakened by extreme conditions, such as hunger and cold. In some versions of the legends, humans become wendigos when possessed by a wandering spirit during a moment of weakness.”

“And you think that happened to Stiles?”

“Stiles is stubborn and resilient,” Derek said. “He’s a fighter. But there’s only so much a human can take.”

“But when the wendigo spoke, you said it sounded like Cora,” Scott argued.

“Yes, but wendigos don’t speak; they mimic,” Derek explained.

“You think it’s Stiles?” Scott asked, his voice still edged with disbelief.

Derek nodded.

The idea didn’t sit easy with Scott, but there was no point in arguing it.

Parrish came out of Cora’s room.

Derek pushed himself off the wall, straightening up.

“I have to head back to the station for a little while to write up this report,” Parrish said. “Please call me as soon as Stiles wakes up or if your sister remembers anything else that she’d like to add to her statement.”

Derek nodded.

“Can I sit with him?” Cora asked, standing a few steps back from the doorway.

Parrish offered her a friendly smile. “I don’t see why not.”

He turned to Derek, gently patting his arm before heading down the hallway to the elevator.

Cora shuffled towards the door, wheeling her IV stand forward.

“Come on,” Derek said, stepping back from the door and nodding towards Stiles’ room.

She shuffled into the room and sat down in the seat next to the bed.

“Erica and Boyd are still downstairs,” Scott told Derek. “Alpha wounds take longer to heal and my mum wanted to make sure they’re okay. Isaac’s gone with Allison to see if Chris knows anything more about wendigos or the Alpha pack.”

Derek nodded.

“I’m going to check in on Boyd and Erica.”

“Alright,” Derek said quietly, not taking his eyes off Stiles. “Keep me updated.”

Scott nodded, glancing at Stiles one last time before heading down the hallway to the elevators.

Derek stepped into the room, pulling the other chair over to the side of the bed and sitting with his sister.

Derek let his mind wander, time drifting away as he looked at Stiles’ pale face.

Stiles’ eyes flew open, wide and alert as he bolted upright in the bed.

“It’s okay,” Derek said softly, rising from his chair and gently holding Stiles by his shoulders as he tried to reassure him. “You’re safe.”

Stiles stared across the room, not looking at Derek as he said, “They’re here.”

Derek’s heart dropped, his body tensing. He stepped back from Stiles, looking towards the door.

“Stay here,” he said, glancing over his shoulder as he edged towards the hallway.

“I want to help,” Cora insisted. “I can fight.”

“You want to help? Stay here and protect him,” Derek ordered.

He stepped out into the hallway, the LED lights flickering overhead. The hallway was eerily quiet; the staff had disappeared into rooms to care for patients, leaving only Derek.

The elevator let out a quiet ding and the doors opened.

Deucalion stood proud in the elevator. A smug smirk turned up the corner of his lips as he stepped into the hallway.

“It’s good to see you again, Derek,” he greeted, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he made his way down the hallway.

Derek glared at him, his eyes flickering with a crimson glow as he faced off against the alpha. He balled his hands into fists by his side, flexing his fingers and exposing his jagged claws.

“It’s over, Deucalion.”

“Is that what you think?” Deucalion said, turning his head slightly and looking past Derek.

Derek turned.

Stiles stood behind him, his face void of any emotion. His dark eyes faded to a marbled white. His jaw twisted, revealing rows of jagged teeth as he half-shifted.

“You see, Derek,” Deucalion started slowly. “I’m his alpha. I control him.”

Stiles stalked forward, his gaze locked on Deucalion. His body began to morph, growing tall and gaunt. The shadows crept forward around his face, melding together in the shape of a deer skull before receding into the cracks and leaving the ivory bone over Stiles’ face. His body arched forward, resting his weight against their front arms, his talon like nails scratching at the linoleum floors.

Derek tensed, ready to fight.

The wendigo walked past him, dragging themself towards Deucalion. They paused for a moment, bracing themself before lunching forward, sprinting – full speed – down the hallway at the alpha. Their claws tore at the linoleum and the plastered walls, leaving gashes like open wounds as they moved too fast for either alpha to react.

The wendigo threw Deucalion back against the wall, towering over him. Their bloodied mouth hung wide open as they leant in close to Deucalion’s face and let out a deafening screech.

Derek and Cora covered their ears, dropping to the floor as they winced in pain.

The wendigo drew back, slowly morphing back into Stiles’ slender form. His eyes were still white, but his body was tense and his face was livid with rage.

“You are not my alpha,” Stiles said with finality, his voice low and firm. “You do not control me.”

Deucalion’s composure fractured slightly, glimpses of fear showing through.

“This is not your territory,” Stiles said. “Leave now, and don’t ever come back.”

Deucalion opened his mouth for a second to argue, but Stiles cut him off.

“I have your scent—and if you threaten my friends again, I will hunt you down and tear you limb from limb,” he warned. “Now, I suggest you leave, before I change my mind and kill you now.”

Stiles stepped back, holding his head defiantly as he watched Deucalion stumble backwards into the elevator, his hands shaking as he pressed the button.

He waited until the doors closed before letting the white fade from his eyes, his dark irises returning to their natural hue as he turned to look at Derek.

Derek looked back at him, equally stunned and relieved.

“Are you okay?” Derek asked somewhat hesitantly.

“I’m fine,” Stiles said nonchalantly. “A little tired, to be honest. But other than that, I’m fine.”

“You can control it?”

“Mostly,” Stiles replied. “It gets a little hard sometimes, but for the most part I’m in control.”

“What about the blood lust?” Derek asked.

“I’ve been friends with Scott since I was four years old, I learnt many years ago how to resist the urge to kill someone,” Stiles answered, making his way over to their side.

Derek let out a low chuckle.

“As for the craving flesh part, I’ll eat a raw steak every once in a while—probably on a night when my dad’s not home, otherwise I might freak him out,” Stiles mused. “And if the wendigo doesn’t like that, it’s more than welcome to leave.”