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( XXIV. BLINK OF AN EYE )
AMELIE HAD DEALT WITH GRIEF BEFORE, and she could assure anyone confidently that it royally sucks— but nothing compares the grief when it pairs with a shredding pile of guilt. Amelie would've liked to convince herself that it wasn't her fault, that there was nothing she could've done to warn them or to save Allison— and that was the worst feeling of all: hopelessness.
"Can you remember anything else?" Parrish's voice seemed so distant despite him sitting right in front her. Her eyes were trained on the floor, on her shoes, anything but his eyes. "Anything else?"
The sound of the metal arrowhead clattering against the concrete floor echoed in her mind, almost like an alarm to wake up.
"Amelie?" Stilinski put his hand on her shoulder softly, making her look up to them with tears flowing down her cheeks— mascara running down with them.
"I'm sorry," She sniffled. "Um, it just— it just happened so fast."
🥰
Despite every cell in her body to go home and stay there, another voice in her head reminded her that this wasn't over, that they had to gather all their issues and bury them deep for now. Amelie feared that they'd lose someone else, and she'd also be too late.
"Stiles and Kira said it was the Nemeton that kept it trapped," Scott told Deaton, as they, along with Lydia, entered the clinic.
"The problem is, this isn't even a person you're fighting— it just looks like one," Deaton sighed. "It's a spirit that's taken the shape of a human."
"The shape of my best friend."
"Someone caught it once," Lydia said. "Someone can do it again, right?"
"I don't know..." Deaton trailed off. "This thing was trapped a long time ago, before the Nemeton was cut down. It doesn't have the same power anymore."
"Is there anything that does?" Amelie whispered, as she sat on the table and wrapped Scott's denim jacket— that he offered when they left— around her.
"Possibly..." Deaton looked away in thought. "When the tree was whole, its wood was sometimes used to contain powerful objects. But those objects are very rare."
"Wait a second—" Amelie looked up to them. "Powerful objects? Like an Alpha's claws?"
"Which Alpha?" Deaton asked, almost afraid.
"Talia Hale," Lydia realized and Amelie nodded. "Peter had them in this wooden box with a triskele carved on the lid. What if it was made from the Nemeton?"
