Clairsentience ➳ Derek Hale/Teen Wolf [2]

22. the master plan

Disclaimer: I do NOT own any parts of Teen Wolf or its plot or characters. I do not own Derek Hale. However I do own Skylar McCall and some of the things that come along with her plot (Like Harv & Kelly's, etc.).

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     "I gotta meet with the medical examiner to try and figure out what happened," Mr. Stilinski says, about a half hour later to Scott, Isaac and I in the locker room. Mom went with Jackson's body in the ambulance to the hospital, to keep an eye on it for us. Nothing happened that Gerard didn't plan for, and he wouldn't just kill his most important game piece—something deeper is happening, something we don't know about. "I've got an APB out on Stiles. His Jeep is still in the parking lot, so that means . . . Well, I don't know what that means. Um, look, if he answers his phone or his emails, if any of you see him—"

"We'll call you," I say, lightly resting a hand on the man's arm. His eyes are full of tears—he's so worried. After everything we've put him through in the last few months, he feels that he's at the end of his rope. Mr. Stilinski nods.

"He's probably just freaked out from all the attention or something," Scott suggests hopefully, although we both know that's not the case. Stiles wouldn't disappear, not without letting someone know. Not with everything that's going on. Someone or something took him. I've already texted Derek and asked if he knew anything about it, and he said no, and Jackson's dead, so that leaves us with one suspect: Gerard. "We'll find him."

"Yeah," Mr. Stilinski agrees, shoving his notepad into the pocket of his jacket. "I'll see you."

As he walks away, Scott faces Stiles' locker, shoving his fingers into the crack and ripping the metal door right off. It clangs loudly at Isaac and I's feet. Our friend's locker is nearly as messy as his room—a random assortment of different jars and bottles on the top shelf, of lotions and sunscreens and various snacks. A bottle with a few pills at the bottom, his backups in case he forgets to take his medicine before school. His backpack is hung on one of the hooks, and below it, a stinky mess of the dirty clothes he changed out of before the game. Scott pulls a few random things from the pile, handing Isaac a dirty tennis shoe and keeping a shirt for himself.

"We're gonna find him by scent?" he asks, cringing at the stench coming from the shoe. "How come you get his shirt and I get his shoe?"

I sense a change in the energy of the room, knowing exactly what two individuals walk in before they even show their faces. One I can pick out from the warm and homey feeling of love—Derek. The other. . . Pure chaos.

"We need to talk," Derek announces as he enters.

Always one to make an entrance, Peter appears behind him. He offers me a sinister smile. "All of us."