xxiii. CREATURES OF HABIT

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Oh, stupid, stupid, Carter thought, forging through the trees to the other side of Woodbine Lane. She'd missed her chance to ask Stiles how much he knew about her death and about Theo.

But melancholy was pulling at her, tugging her thoughts away. Her mind kept returning to the bright house she'd just left, going over the things she'd never see again. All the clothes and jewelry she had "accidentally" left in Stiles' room—what would he do with them? I don't own anything anymore, she thought. I'm a pauper.

Caterina?

With relief, Carter recognized the mental voice and the distinctive shadow at the end of the street. She hurried toward Malakai, who took his hands out of his jacket pockets and held hers to warm them.

"I had to see him," Carter said. That was all she could say, but as she leaned against him for comfort, she knew that he understood.

"Let's find someplace we can sit down," he said, and stopped in frustration. All the places they could go were either too dangerous or closed. And neither of them had a car—Carter's was still at the bottom of the quarry.

Eventually they just went to the high school where they could sit under the overhang of a roof and watch the leaves drift down. Carter told him what had happened in Stiles' room.

"I think we should ought to be watching Theo," she concluded.

"We'll tail him," Malakai said, and she couldn't help smiling.

"It's funny how much more normal you've gotten," she said. "I hadn't thought about it in a long time, but when we first started communicating you were a lot more...I don't know, foreign? Now nobody would know you hadn't lived here all your life."

"I've learned how to adapt. I had to," Malakai said. "There are always new countries, new situations. You'll adapt, too."

"It scares me. Everything about this scares me, and sometimes I think I just want to go to sleep and never wake up again..."

In the shelter of his arms she felt safer, and she found her new senses were just as amazing close up as they were at a distance. She could hear each separate pulse of Malakai's heart, and the rush of blood through his veins. And she could smell his own distinctive scent mingled with the scent of his jackets, and the wind, and the wool of his clothes.

"Please trust me," she whispered. "I know you're angry, but try to give all of them a chance. I think you'll find that there's more to them than there seems to be. And I want their help in finding The Doctors, and that's all I want from them."

At that moment it was completely true. Carter wanted nothing to do with the hunter's life tonight; the darkness held no appeal for her. She wished she could be at home sitting in front of a fire—the beast inside her chest held no warmth for her tonight. She was utterly cold for the first time in almost three years. But it was sweet just to be held like this, even if she and Malakai had to sit in the chilled air to do it. Malakai's breath was a warm as he kissed her temple, and she sensed no further withdrawal in Malakai's body.

In death, she understood Malakai in a way she never had before when she was alive. Understood him better than she did anyone else. And her understanding brought them closer, until their minds were touching, almost meshing with each other's. It wasn't noisy chatter of mental voices clashing; it was deep and wordless communion.

"I love you, you know that, right?" Malakai said against her temple, and she held on tighter. She understood now why she'd been afraid to say those very words for so long. When the thought of tomorrow scared you sick, it was hard to make a commitment. Because you didn't want to drag someone else down with you. Particularly someone you loved.

"Yeah, I know that. And I love you, too, Mal," she made herself say and sat back, her peaceful mood broke. "And will you try to give Scott and them a chance, for my sake? Try to work with them?"

"Work with them? What do you mean, Car?"

"I think it's time for all of them to know that I'm alive."

Malakai's head fell back; his eyes shut. Carter could feel his mind mulling over her words, wiring together different scenarios, but voiced none of them. When she first began to see him in her dreams, she hadn't understood that he was communicating with her...helping her. She'd just thought that after everything she'd gone through, she was finally losing her mind. Later, after she died, he told her that communicating through dreams and visions were the first step to creating an actual mental bond with two minds. Now, they can talk freely with just their thoughts.

After a few moments of silence, Malakai sighed and nodded. "Okay, you're right," he said. "I don't foresee any other way we can stop The Doctors without their help and I alone can't force them to do anything. In the end, they'll need you to guide them to the right answer. I'll work with them, but I won't trust them. I can't."

Disquiet uncoiled in Carter's middle. "So, what now?"

"Well," Malakai said leaning back. "We need to find a way to tell your friends that you're alive without alerting everyone else in town. The last thing we need is for someone to go running to the Sheriff crying zombie."

Carter's eyes left the wind-blown landscape to seek Malakai's waiting face. "It doesn't matter," she said quietly. "I know them, and I trust them. They would never do anything to hurt me or betray me—just take Lydia and Logan, they could've told the cops or told the others about me but they didn't. I'll trust them to the end."

"I hope they're worthy of it, Carter," he said. "I really do."

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So after a week of work, what have they accomplished?

    Well, between them they've managed to follow their two suspects just about continuously for the last six or seven days. Results: reports on Theo's movements for the last week, which he spent acting like any normal teenagers. Reports on Raeven, who hasn't been doing anything unusual for an undead girl—except there was a body found drained of blood just outside of Beacon County.

    At least she's feeding outside of Beacon Hills, Carter thought. But, when did she start drinking fresh blood again? Malakai said that Theo met with the principal a couple times, but he couldn't get close enough to hear what they were talking about. He also said that Stiles had cornered Theo in the locker room and tried to force answers out of him. Stiles didn't get anything from the boy, but Carter wonders.

    And it's been raining all the time. Not storming but not stopping, either. She's never seen so much rain.

    Malakai's worried about telling her friends about her being alive.

    Which brings them back to: what have they learned so far? What do they know? None of their suspects were anywhere near Dead Man's Bridge when the attack on Carter happened. They're no closer to finding The Doctors than they were when they started. And according to Malakai, a girl named Tracy Stewart was experiencing some bizarre dreams and was throwing up black blood and feathers. It made Carter think back to the night when Gerard Argent had been practically leaking black blood because of the Mountain Ash.

    "How the fuck did she get feathers in her system?" Carter asked, turning to face Malakai. "Has she been eating her pillows?"

    Malakai stretched out his long legs and spoke lazily, looking around the abandoned house. "I have no idea. But according to Lydia' mom, Tracy's been having night terrors."

    "Like, actual night terrors? Parasomnia?"

    "Apparently."

    "Do you think what I'm about to do is dangerous?"

    "No, I don't think it's dangerous, particularly." He said, watching as she applied bronzer to her new pale complexion. Using the generator he had bought, she was able to curl her hair; clipping in the fake pink extensions he'd gotten her. "But I don't see what you expect to accomplish."

    "Neither do I, exactly," Carter admitted. "But I don't have any better ideas. Do you?"

    "What, you mean about other ways to spend the time? Yes, I do. Do you want me to tell you about them?" Carter waved him to silence and he subsided.

    "We're just sitting here and I don't have a better idea."

    Malakai sat up as she swept the makeup brush over her cheeks once more. "If you're worried about it being dangerous for you, why don't I come? I don't mean that I have to show myself. I could come and hide in the bushes or something. Then if anything happened, you could scream for help and I would hear you."

    "I don't see why anybody's going to be screaming," Carter said. "Nothing's going to happen."

    "Well, maybe not, but it doesn't hurt to be safe," Malakai said. "What do you think?"

    Carter nodded slowly, closing the bronzer compact. "It does make sense."

    "All right, then, it's decided. Call him and let's go."

    Carter felt a strange and unusual wave of warmth. She could tell that Malakai was trying to trust her and her friends. She smiled at him in approval.   

    A phone call and an awkward conversation later, Carter and Jordan were at Tracy Stewart's house. Jordan's cheeks were unusually flushed, and there was an odd look about his eyes, as if he were holding something tightly under control. And when they stepped into Tracy's room, she knew what had him so worked up. It was her. Well, her disguise. She was pretending to be her doppelgänger for the time being—using her ancestor's looks to her advantage.

    And it seemed to be upsetting the deputy. She felt a weird pang in her stomach; flash of pain burning her side from a wound she no longer remembered. As Jordan began his investigation in Tracy's room, Carter felt sick in the strangest way—it had nothing to do with her stomach, only her mind. Why was she doing this again?

    Because it was your idea, Caterina. And we don't have any other choice.

    She scowled at Malakai's mental voice as she discreetly tried to keep her back to Jordan. She knew that from behind it was practically impossible to distinguish her from Raeven; it would be easier to tell them apart now if she were looking straight ahead at the person. Her skin was one of the biggest give aways—it was so pale now, like a corpse where Raeven's skin was still blissfully tan like Carter's once had been. The eyes were another thing, they were surrounded by faint shadows and were so much deeper than before and they were heavy-lidded yet unnaturally awake; she'd spent ten minutes just trying to cover the shadows with concealer. And her dark hair now had a wintry sheen over it...there were so many things physically different about her now.

    Carter was trying so hard to conceal her identity but she could feel the pulling in her chest—trying to pull her toward Jordan—there was something familiar about the sensation. He got close enough that she could feel the heat of his body in the air between them. Her throat burned in response. She didn't want to breathe.

    She felt his shoulder brush against her hair as he moved to the window. She locked her muscles in place, hoping she could keep them frozen. In death, her senses were so much stronger than they were before and—for some reason—she was afraid of what she would smell with Jordan being so near. Nervously, she took a tiny breath in through her nose, braced for anything.

    It hurt a little. Jordan didn't smell that much more human than the animals outside. There was an animal edge to his blood that instantly repelled. Though the loud, wet sound of his heart was oddly appealing, the scent that went with it made her nose wrinkle.

    Just relax, Caterina. You're doing fine. And remember, I'm right outside if you need me.

    She nodded at his words, took another breath and relaxed.

    Jordan opened one of Tracy's windows and examined it. "I don't see any signs of an attempted forced entry." Carter pursed her lips, scanning the walls of the bedroom. There were all sorts of sketches hung up all over—intricate and beautiful. "The latch seems okay," he said, testing it before he shut the window and turned to face the silent Tracy. "You said something about birds, Tracy?"

    Tracy looked up at the skylight; the sunlight shining down. Carter immediately thought it strange, since it had been constantly raining the past week. She attempted a glance at the skylight, but winced when her eyes met the light and turned back to the shadowed corner in the room. The shadows were where she felt most comfortable now. "The bird was at the skylight," Tracy said. "The one that woke me up."

    Black blood...black feathers, Carter thought.

    Jordan looked up at it as well. "Can I take a look?"

    Tracy nodded. Jordan turned, grabbing a hold of the chair at Tracy's desk and moved it directly beneath the skylight. He stepped up onto it, inspecting the latches.

    "Tracy, you said the skylight was sealed for weatherproofing?"

    "Yeah, why?"

    Jordan simply pressed his palms against the glass and pushed. Without resistance, the skylight swung up. It hadn't even been latched. It was unlocked and unsealed the entire time. He pushed himself up on the toes, looking out atop of the roof to see if anything could be found. He was silent for a long moment. Carter found herself biting her lip in anticipation. What the hell was out there?

    "Well, is there anything out there?" Carter asked, impatient, and he looked down at her. His bright green eyes were locked on her own, and she could see in his eyes that something was indeed out there, but was hesitant on saying anything to Tracy. Not wanting to alarm her. A feeling of dread swirled in her stomach.

    Jordan looked back at Tracy. "No. Nothing."

A couple days later, Carter found herself moving toward a place she thought she'd never see again. Lydia had come up with a plan to try and get as much information they could out of Jordan.

    The attic, where she had awoken from the dead in, was as she remembered it, dark and dusty and full of mysterious oilcloth-covered shapes. Malakai, who had come in more conventionally through the front door, had to take the shutters off to let her in through the window. After that they sat side by side on the old mattress and listened to the voices that came up through the ducts.

    "I could think of more romantic settings," Malakai murmured, fastidiously pulling a cobweb off his sleeve. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather—"

    "Yes, Mal," said Carter. "Now hush."

    It was like a game, listening to bits and pieces of conversations and trying to put them together, trying to match each voice to a face.

    "And then I said, I don't care how long you've had the cat; get rid of it or I'm going to tell your parents what you really do on that laptop. And he said—"

    "—rumor going around that Carter's grave was dug up last night—"

    "—you hear that everybody but Amanda has dropped out of the homecoming queen competition? Don't you think—"

    "—dead, but I'm telling you I saw her. And no, I wasn't dreaming; she was wearing a sort of silvery dress and her hair was all dark and blowing—"

    Carter raised her eyebrows at Malakai, then looked meaningfully down at her sensible black attire. He grinned.

    "Romanticism," he said. "Myself, I like you in black."

    "Well, you would, wouldn't you?" she murmured. She sat quietly, letting the conversations drift around her, almost losing track of time. Then she caught a familiar voice, cross, and closer than the rest.

    "Okay, okay, I'm going. Okay."

    Carter and Malakai exchanged a glance and rose to their feet as the handle on the attic door turned. Logan peered around the edge. "Lydia told me to come up here. I don't know why. She's hogging Jordan and it's a rotten party. Achoo!"

    He sat down on the mattress, and after a few minutes Carter sat back down beside him. She was beginning to wish that Lydia would hurry up. By the time the door opened again and Lydia came in, she was sure of it.

    "Lydia, what's going on?"

    "Nothing, or at least nothing to worry about. Where's Stiles?" Lydia's cheeks were flushed, and there was a strange look about her eyes, as if she were hiding something.

    "Never mind where he is. Who's coming up the stairs?"

    "What do you mean, 'who's coming up the stairs?'" said Logan, rising and honing his supernatural hearing on the footsteps outside the door. "Lydia, what's going on?"

    "Everybody just stay calm," Lydia said, taking up a position in front of the window as if guarding it. She didn't look overly calm herself, Carter thought. "All right," she called, and the door opened and Jordan Parrish came in.

    Malakai's motion was so smooth that even Carter's eyes couldn't follow it; in one movement he caught Carter's wrist and pulled her behind him, at the same time moving to face Jordan directly. All of Malakai's muscles were taut and ready for the attack.

    "Oh, don't," cried Logan wildly. He flung himself at Jordan, who had already begun to recoil a step from Malakai. Jordan nearly lost his balance and groped behind himself for the door. His other hand was groping at his belt.

    "Stop it! Stop it!" Lydia said. Carter saw the shape beneath Jordan's jacket and realized it was a gun.

    Again, she couldn't quite follow what happened next. Malakai let go of her wrist and took hold of Jordan's. And then Jordan was sitting on the floor, wearing a dazed expression, and Malakai was emptying the gun of cartridges, one by one.           

    "I told you that was stupid and you wouldn't need it," Lydia said. Carter realized she was holding the strawberry-blonde girl by the arms. She must have done it to keep Lydia from interfering with Malakai, but she didn't remember.

    "These bullets are nasty things; they might hurt somebody," Malakai said, mildly chiding. He replaced one of the cartridges and snapped the clip back in, aiming thoughtfully at Jordan. "Have you ever been shot before, Deputy? I have, and it's not an entirely pleasant experience."

    "Stop it," said Lydia intensely. She turned to Carter. "Make him stop, Carter; he's only doing more harm. Jordan would never hurt you; you know that. I've spent all week convincing him that you won't hurt him."

    "And now I think my wrist is broken," Jordan said, rather calmly. His sandy hair was falling into his eyes in front.

    "You'll heal," Logan assured.

    "You've got no one but yourself to blame." Lydia returned bitterly. Logan, who had been clutching solicitously at Jordan's shoulders, looked up at the familiarity of Lydia's tone, and then backed away a few paces and sat down.

    "I can't wait to hear the explanation for this," Logan said, crossing his arms over his chest.

    "Please trust me," Lydia said to Carter.

    Carter looked into the light eyes. She did trust Lydia; she'd said so. And the words stirred another memory, her own voice asking for Malakai's trust. She nodded. "Malakai?" she said. He flipped the gun away casually and then smiled around at all of them, making it abundantly clear that he didn't need any such artificial weapon to do anyone harm.

    "Oh, I'm sure," Logan said.

    Carter walked toward Jordan Parrish. She wasn't afraid of him like she'd been earlier, but by the way he looked only at her, slowly, starting from the feet and then continuing up, he was afraid of her. She stopped when she was a yard from where he sat on the ground and knelt there, looking into his face.

    "Hey, Jordan," she said.

    He was still holding his wrist, feeling it heal. "Hello," he said, and gulped.

    Carter glanced back at Lydia and then looked at Jordan again. Yes, he was scared. And with his hair in his eyes that way, he looked even younger. Maybe four years older than Carter, maybe five. No more than that. "It's really me, Jordan, and I'm not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you."

    "That's what I've been telling him," Lydia said quietly. "I explained that whatever he's seen before, whatever stories he's heard about what Raeven became after she died and came back, you're different. I told him what you've been telling me, how you're not like Raeven. I told him about what you've been going through, Carter, and how you never asked for this."

    But why did you tell him so much? Carter thought.

    "From what I know—" Jordan broke off, looking around the dark room as if suddenly realizing something. "Where's Stiles?"

    "He's coming. In fact, he should be here by now. He was going to stop by the school and try to find Tracy," Carter said. She was unprepared for Jordan's reaction.

    "Tracy Stewart?" he said sharply, sitting up. His voice sounded the way it had when she'd overheard him talking with Sheriff Stilinski, hard-edged and decisive.

    "Yes. He said he would help us try and figure out what was happening with her."

    "When was the last time you talk to him?" Jordan asked, scrambling to his feet.

    "Um, yesterday afternoon. Why?"

    "You haven't heard? He can't go. You've got to stop him." Jordan repeated urgently. "You've got to stop him."

    "He's probably gone already. Why? Why shouldn't he?" Carter demanded.

    "Because Tracy is wanted for the murder of her father and for the murder of her psychiatrist. She killed them last night; after you talked to Stiles. Don't you understand? You're not just dealing with a girl who has parasomnia anymore," Jordan said. "It's gone too far."

    "Did the two of you know about this?" Carter asked Lydia and Logan. The looks on their faces told her that they did. "Then why in the hell didn't either of you say anything? And I'm pretty sure if I had talked to Stiles today he would've told me, because apparently the last time I talked to him Tracy hadn't murdered anyone, yet!"

    "Okay, just wait a second," Logan said, feeling a sense of urgency to please his Alpha. "Her dad was just trying to help her, right?"

    "So was her psychiatrist."

    "And Scott said that she was at the school earlier, maybe that's why." Logan attempted.

    "She was looking for someone who was just trying to help?" Malakai said, slightly confused.

    "Yeah, and...oh, maybe it was you?" Logan said, turning to Lydia. She gave him a look. "Or not. Since that would mean she wants to kill you."

    Lydia stiffened. "No, you're right. I was trying to help. But so was someone else. My mother. What if Tracy went to the school looking for her?"

    "Where is she now?"

    "On a date."

    "Hush! Be quiet!" Carter was casting about with her senses, trying to pick up some hint of Lydia's mother. The part of her that was icy calm amid the whirling fear and panic. At last she sensed something, just a trace, but she thought it was Ms. Martin. And it was in distress.

    "Something's wrong," Malakai confirmed, and she realized he must have been searching, too, with a mind and with senses much more powerful than hers. "Let's go."

    "Wait, let's talk. We need a plan. Don't just go jumping into this." But Jordan might as well have been talking to the wind, trying to rein in its destructive power with words. Malakai was already at the window, and the next moment Carter let herself drop out, landing neatly by Malakai in the grass. She then felt Logan land behind her. Jordan's voice followed them from above.

    "We're coming, too."    

    "And I'm calling Kira so she can meet us!"  

    Carter scarcely heard them. Deep down she knew that The Doctors were behind this. And her mind was burning with one purpose, one thought. To hurt the things that wanted to hurt her friends. It's gone too far, all right, she thought. And now I'm going to go as far as it takes. If another innocent person dies...images flashed through her mind, too quickly to count, of what she would do to them. At another time, she might have been shocked at the rush of adrenaline, of excitement, that coursed up at the thoughts.

    Malakai and Carter and Logan raced into the station's parking lot just moments before the sound of tires squealing broke through the air. Jordan Parrish's car nearly spun out as it turned into the parking lot and screeched to a halt, and Lydia leaped from the car almost before it stopped moving. Kira was right behind her, feet slamming against the concrete.

    "Mom, she's coming!" Lydia shouted the moment they burst into the Sheriff's station.

    As soon as they rushed inside, Carter immediately surveyed the scene. Her newfound instincts were running wild—making her eyes move frantically over each dark space for any hidden threats. Lydia's mother and Stiles' father were standing in the middle of the station with confused looks on their faces. Clark Romero was paralyzed at her desk with Kanima venom dripping from the lamp.

    She tilted her head at that. Why was there Kanima venom?

    "Tracy's coming for you."

    "What? What do you mean for me?"

    It was then when she heard that faint sound of claws scraping against plaster from above. The five—Jordan had gone to go find Scott and Stiles—supernaturals craned their necks, glancing up. Above them was Tracy crawling across the ceiling, reptilian scales appearing across the side of her neck and face. A long tail—the replica of Jackson's—swished back and forth, cutting through the air like a blade. Her eyes were slitted and sickening green-yellow.

    Tracy Stewart was in fact, a Kanima.

    Tracy snarled and fell from the ceiling, landing on all fours neatly. She was in a predator's crouch. Sheriff Stilinski was the first to move at Tracy's advance. She was already swiping at him with her claws. Moments later, he collapsed to the ground. Paralyzed. And while Kira, Malakai and Logan fought against Tracy, Carter opted on protecting Lydia and her mother.

    Kira reached for her belt. Tearing it from out of her belt loops. With a sudden gesture, Kira flicked her wrist sharply. The small metal pieces locked together to form a solid katana. "Kira, look out!" Stilinski called out as Tracy turned to face the Kitsune. Tracy lunged. Kira blocked her blow with the edge of her katana. The three of them slowly backed away together; each of them deflecting every blow that Tracy threw at them. From their spot in the corner, Carter felt Lydia's hand clutch onto her cold wrist. The two of them cried out when Tracy's tail slashed Logan—affectively paralyzing him.

    "Mom, run!" Lydia shouted, seeing that Tracy was too distracted by Kira to go after her mother. "Mom, run!"

    With reluctance, Lydia's mother turned to run down the hallway. She didn't know the exact layout of the station, but she knew anywhere was better than here. Noticing that Lydia's mother had disappeared, Tracy instantly rushed toward the two girls pressed against the wall. "Carter!" Malakai cried out with mind and voice as the Kanima advanced toward her.

    She stepped forward, placing herself in front of Lydia—protecting her. She knew that Tracy would have to get her out of the way before she could get to Lydia, and Carter was fine with that. She was ready. Or she thought she was when Tracy whirled, her tail stabbing right through Carter—cutting all the way through her abdomen until it slashed through the other side and stabbed Lydia.

    "Carter!"

    "Lydia!"

    Their screams landed on deaf ears; a spasm rocked through Carter's body, and a scream, blistered with pain, ripped from her lungs. Her back ached and she fell to her knees the moment Tracy ripped her tail out of her abdomen. Her face furrowed in pain. She wailed out once more when a wave of Lydia's agony washed over her. It was the first time in six months that Carter felt someone else pain—and she didn't want it. She wanted all of the pain to disappear. She had burned through all of her adrenaline. Her body had nothing left. Too much. Too much pain.

"It scares me. Everything about this scares me, and sometimes I think I just want to go to sleep and never wake up again..." Her words from earlier rang loudly in her head; a chorus of groans escaped her lips as she rolled onto her side.

    Carter tried to lift herself—to get to Lydia—but she didn't have the strength. Malakai was the first one by her side, knees connecting harshly with the tile as he wrapped his arms around her. She saw his face, saw the stricken horror and grief. She tried to push him away, knowing that she had the supernatural ability to heal. Lydia needed help, but Malakai was not leaving her side.

    There was another pull at her waist and she tried to push his hands away. "Get—Get...you've got to get..." she coughed, blood spluttering out of her mouth. "Get Lydia...she needs..."

    "Caterina, I'm not leaving you." Malakai said, his voice was hard. She tried to protest again, trying to tell him that once Lydia was taken care of she would be fine.

    He moved so that she was lying between his legs, resting her back against his chest. He would squeeze his eyes shut every time her back would arch in pain. Tears streamed down both of their faces; Malakai desperately listened to Carter's undead organs, listening to their abnormal movements. He knew that it had been a long time since she had experience any pain, let alone anyone else's pain, he could also tell that she wasn't healing like she was supposed to.

    She sobbed, looking over at Lydia writhing on the floor. Both of their blood mingling together on the tile. Carter squeezed her eyes shut. She just couldn't sit there and watch her friend bleed out. She couldn't. Not this time. But, now, as another flash of agony surged, she realized that her own wound healing. In fact, as much as it killed her, she couldn't do anything but sit and watch.

    And before she knew it, Kira was rushing over. She had momentarily defeated Tracy—chopping the bitch's tail off. She had taken off running, but Kira was unable to follow. Carter opened her eyes to see that the fiery silhouette of a fox had morphed around Kira. Carter could feel the power radiating off the Kitsune, so much that it made her stomach churn.

    And just like that, it faded away.

    Kira arched forward, breathing heavily, spent from the energy that she had created around her. She appeared to be on the verge of collapsing herself, but fought to keep upright. She had to. She needed to remain strong for both Carter and Lydia. She had been too absorbed in all of the chaos to even realize that Carter was alive. She knew that she would have time to deal with that later. Kira glanced between her two friends; her heart torn.

    Carter saw that the Kitsune was debating on what to do and understood Kira's decision when she dropped her katana and moved to kneel beside Lydia. The strawberry-blonde needed to be tended to first.

    And from what Kira could tell, Carter was in good hands with the raven-haired man holding her.

    It was then that Malia Tate came bursting into the station. "Careful," Stilinski whispered.

    The Werecoyote's gaze swept across the scene, noticing the two pools of blood on the floor.

    "Malia?" Lydia croaked.

    The girl ran over, and was instantly sickened at the sight in front of her. Kira was pressed her palms down on Lydia's abdomen; the scent of the blood making her suddenly sick. Malia's skin went noticeably pale. Lydia's skin was glistening with sweat and blood; and Malia wanted nothing more than to run over and take Lydia's pain. Anything to help.

    "Lydia?"

    "O-Okay. It's f-fine," Lydia managed to choke out. "It's not as bad as it looks. Malia. Listen, Tracy...she thinks...she thinks she's asleep. She thinks she's dreaming. It's a night terr-or."

    Malia shook her head wildly. "I-I-I don't know what that—"

    "She's not dreaming," Carter said, catching Malia's attention. "She's not asleep. Get her to understand." she said, coughing up more blood, feeling Malakai's hands press harder on her wound.

    Malia's eyes narrowed, trying to make sure that she was actually seeing Carter and not envisioning her. "C-Carter? Is that you?"

    Before she could answer, from across the room, Stilinski spoke again. "Malia! Basement. They're in the basement."

    "They?"

    "Oh, my God! Malia, just go!" Logan shouted from his spot on the floor, growing frustrated with the girl.

    "Tracy," Lydia gasped, "and my mother."

    Malia nodded, glancing at everyone once more before she took off.

    Hoping that she wasn't too late.

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and finally, we are back on track with the show. im sorry it's taken me so long to get this story to progress. it's just that recently, ive felt sort of disconnect from carter. the past few chapters are proof of that and im not quite sure why im feeling this way. and i still don't know why. a lot of you probably don't know this, but so much of my own identity is put into carter. on my part, as the author, it's not a very "smart" thing to do because it leaves me very vulnerable and it's very easy for things to go wrong when putting too much of yourself into a character. and in the second book, i didn't have a problem writing carter, but the first and third books were/are proving to be more difficult.

in the first book, carter struggled with her family and finding out where her loyalties lied. and ive had the same struggles in my life; being caught between friends and family. not completely trusting the members in my immediate family.

in the second book, ive put my rocky relationship with my mother in carter's hatred for her father; and i tried to make her relationship with derek very tight and strong because i don't share any love for my own sibling.

and in the third book, i battled writing carter's (subplot) love story. i found this most difficult because out of everything, ive struggled the most with love in my life. and writing carter in love was impossible, and what i realized was that i could no longer write her because i did not know me if i were the one in love, so in a sense, i did not know carter. and i found (out of the entire third book) writing carter's death was the easiest part. not only had i been planning her death since part two of dangerous liaisons, but it was easy to her death while being disconnected from her. it was practically putting in words how it felt to be separated by my first original character.

i hope you all enjoyed this chapter! i know that it may not be the best, and i know that my writing has shifted several times in this book because my perspective of carter shifted, but it was the best i could put together. anyway, let me know what you thought of this chapter and what you are excited to see come in the future chapters (since im finally merging carter back into the main show storyline) love to you all!! xx