Chapter Text
“Why do you keep looking at the door?” Stiles questions him.
“I asked Hope to join us.”
“Why would you do that?” Stiles shakes his head.
“You just need to get to know her, Stiles. And have you ever considered that the reason why she isn't telling you everything is because you’ve treated her like an outsider since the day she got here? Can you blame her for not trusting her when you’ve given her no reason to?”
“He has a point.” Lydia says.
“Alright, fine. I’ll try to be nice to her.” Stiles raises his hands. “Starting now, I guess.”
Scott turns his head to see Hope standing by the door. She slowly walks over to their table, taking a seat next to him. “I was starting to think you weren't going to come.”
“I almost didn't. But I figured it was more fun than spending the hours before school looking into Laurel and her victims. Only slightly though.”
“Really? I thought you would want to go brood somewhere.” Stiles says, earning him a glare from Scott. “I mean… What do you like to do for fun?”
“Cooking, mostly.”
“Didn't your mom also say that you were an artist?” Hope turns to look at him like he shouldn't have said anything. “I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“Yes. I'm also an artist.”
“Well, do you give off tortured artist vibes.”
“And you give off the vibes of a wannabe detective that thinks that staring at someone like they're a serial killer is a good way to get them to open up to you.”
“Hope, I told you that I would tell them to be nice. And that was under the assumption that you were also going to make an effort.”
Hope sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Fine. I'm sorry.”
“I'm sorry, too. I realize now that my approach wasn't the best. Let's move on, and focus on trying to stop Laurel.”
“Very sorry for the wait.” A waitress comes running over to their table, breathing heavily. He thinks he picks up on the smell of blood. “Uh, what would you all like to drink?”
Hope is the last to answer the question, shaking her head. “Uh, I'll have a peanut butter milkshake with whipped cream on the bottom.”
The waitress hurries away. Scott turns to Hope. “Are you okay?”
“I'm fine. I just need to use the bathroom.” She gets up from the table, walking towards the bathroom. At the same time, a man that had been sitting alone gets up from their own table, going in the same direction. He should leave it alone. It's probably nothing. And Hope is more than capable of handling herself. But he finds himself going after her, following her scent outside.
Just as he opens the door, he's pushed up against the wall. He's met with the face of someone with blood red sclera, black veins beneath their eyes, and fangs in their mouth. Hope suddenly grabs them, throwing the person across the alleyway. The man speeds away in a flash.
“Who was that?”
“What are you doing? I told you I was going to the bathroom.”
“I saw that guy follow you. I had a bad feeling. And then I followed your scent out here.”
“And I was fine. He wasn't going to hurt me. He knows that hurting me will only end with my father eviscerating him. He's one of my father's vampire minions. My father probably sent him to keep an eye on him. And he decided to snack on our poor waitress before listening in on our breakfast. I was just going to send him back to New Orleans with a message for my father. Until you decided that I am an apparent damsel in distress in need of saving.”
“I don't want to see you get hurt again. How was I supposed to know that he wasn't going to hurt you? Hope, you're my friend. I care about you. I hated it when you got hurt fighting Laurel the last time. I'm not going to let anything happen to you.”
Her heart is beating faster than before, and he can feel her anger fading. “You don't have to do that, Scott.”
“I know.”
Hope clears her throat, looking away from him. “We should get back inside.”
She opens the door, going inside the restaurant. He follows after her, getting back to the table.
“Is everything okay?” Lydia says.
“It's fine.” Scott says, retaking his seat. He looks over at Hope.
She'd said that the vampire outside was one of her father's minions. How many more of her father's minions could be prowling around potentially?
“You know a lot about fae, right?” Stiles asks.
Hope looks at him, slowly taking the straw of her milkshake out of her mouth. “Yeah. What do you want to know?”
“Turns out there's a lot of inconsistencies when it comes to fae folklore. You know everything else about Laurel, I figured you'd know about her powers.”
“Well, fairies get their powers one of two ways: others belief in them or by taking it from someone else. In the case of the latter, a fairy could get their powers through sacrificing lives or by draining the powers of some other powerful supernatural being. A strong alpha, a witch from a powerful bloodline, or a very old vampire. The current killings could be sacrifices to get herself more power. Of course then the question is, why would she need to get more powerful? And so quickly?”
“But what are her powers?” Malia says.
“Different fairies can do different things. The stronger the fae, the more they can do. Some can manipulate light, which we already know that Laurel can do. Some can create illusions. Some can manipulate people's minds. Some can manipulate the elements. Some can cause disease. Some have wings, some don't. The only thing that all fairies have in common when it comes to the powers is that they all have magic. Though, stronger fae can obviously do more with their magic. Like I said, fae are powered by people's belief. People don't really believe in fairies these days. There's only one back at my old school. Nice kid.”
“So, in other words, you have no idea what we're up against?” Stiles says.
“Well, that's one way of putting it. Fairies are notoriously hard to kill. But iron seems to weaken them. So,” Hope reaches into her purse, pulling out three iron bracelets, “iron bracelets to go around.”
Lydia, Stiles and Malia each take a bracelet.
“And these actually work?” Stiles asks.
“Well, they protect you against her magic. Everything else is still a work in progress. It's better than no protection at all.”
“Ugly bracelets, it is then.” Lydia says.
“You should see the iron rings my Aunt Freya made for everyone back in New Orleans. They're hideous. Fortunately, they turned out to be not so effective in such a small form. So we’ve moved on to bracelets.”
Scott looks down at his own wrist holding the bracelet Hope gave him the first time they went against Laurel in the woods. He’d almost forgotten that she had given it to him until now. And suddenly, it feels like it stings his skin a little.
“What about you?” Scott looks over at Hope.
“I’ve been wearing a bracelet since before I came to this town.” Hope pulls her jacket sleeve back far enough to reveal her own bracelet.