Lydia and Stiles are spirits, enslaved and used for their powers by the enchanter, Peter Hale. Peter has grown too strong and can no longer be ignored. The Legion of Wolves and Hunters (which sounds a lot more eloquent in French), sends out their three best operatives to find Peter and either kill him or find the source of his power — And, if need be, to get rid of that as well.
“So, what? You think the LDL can just send in a few pups and a girl with a bow and arrow and fix this?” The form in front of them wavers, solidifying to the point where if Scott reached out, he might be able to touch it.
“Be kind, Stiles,” a voice says from next to the group. Allison pulls a dagger from her boot and holds it in front of her. The fear on her face is palpable as the knife flies from her hand and embeds itself in a nearby tree. “They obviously don’t know who they’re dealing with.” A fiery red head materializes from beside the tree, eyes calming from a bright glowing white. The smirk on her face is predatory.
“Think they could benefit from us showing them?” The other spirit — Stiles — muses, walking over. Scott thinks it looks like he’s walking on a moving sidewalk, the steps taking him further than they would take a human — like he’s floating. There’s no crunch of leaves under foot, just silence as the three of them keep their eyes trained on the two spirits.
“We’re not here for you.” It’s Derek who speaks up, which makes the hair on Scott’s neck jump. To all of their surprise, he stands up straight and holsters his sidearm, which he never really needs to begin with. It’s for show, just like the electric rod that Scott is holding. Allison glares at Derek, lowering her hand and reaching for her other boot. “Please,” he bites. “Like our weapons could do shit to them.”
A laughs splits the air and the three hunters turn to look at the spirits. Stiles, who has solidified so much so that the only way to tell him apart from a human being is the fact that he’s greyed out, like looking at somebody through foggy glass, has his head tipped back and his mouth open. “You,” he says, lowering his head and leveling Derek with an unnerving grin. “I like you.” The hair on the back of Scott’s neck is still raised, prickling to where it’s almost painful. He glances over to Allison, whose jaw is clenched and whose eyes are bordering on dangerous. He hears the leather of her glove creak when she flexes her grip. He follows her line of sight to the red headed spirit, whose form is almost completely opaque.
“We should take them to Peter,” the spirit says, looking directly at Allison. Stiles frowns and looks over at her.
“Of course,” he agrees, though everything about his body language suggests that he thinks otherwise. Scott catches a spike of alcohol taint the air, and he guesses that even spirits have scents and emotions. And right now, there’s only fear.
coming soon !