The Hellhound's Mate

Chapter 59

"Dad? Daddy, where are you?!" she asked as she opened the door to her parent's house with the key.

"Upstairs!" he called, and she went running as she took them three at a time and she didn't need to ask where.

She could smell the musty air from where she stood and when she reached the top of the stairs, she saw the drywall that had been ripped apart to reveal a door. A door that had been walled over and that led to an empty room with walled-up windows.

And her mouth fell open as she stepped inside. "How - how did you find this?" she asked in shock as she felt nothing but safe inside the room that was covered in the scents of so many people she knew.

"I was working downstairs," he began as Angie spun in a circle, taking in the room, her subconscious and her memories trying to break through. "And I couldn't stop thinking about what all of you kept saying about Stiles. It's like I was drawn here. It was on the goddamn blueprints," he admitted. "Your mother thinks I'm crazy. That there's dozens of logical explanations for this, but, I can't leave it alone."

Angie squeezed her eyes shut before she reached a hand out and pressed it on the wall in the corner. "There used to be pinboards here," she muttered, the wall dusty but warm under her palm. "Crime boards," she said before blinking and the cork boards appeared under her hand as she took a step back, almost as if she was jumping away from them. "But they got too crowded so -" She cut herself off as she bumped into something behind her, a clear glass crime board. "He moved to this." The glass was cold under her hand. "And his bed-" she looked to her right where the blue-covered bed had appeared in the corner. "His bed was always blue, like mom's song. And it was always unmade," she said with a small smile as she sat on it, lifting the white pillow to her nose.

It smelled like him. She knew that scent.

"How are you doing that?" Noah asked, a concerned look on his face.

"Doing what?" Angie replied, confused as she set the pillow down.

He shrugged in disbelief. "Floating."

And her eyes widened as she realised what was happening. "You can't see it," she acknowledged as she stood. "You can't see anything that has to do with Stiles. Why?" she wondered.

"I think we have more important things to worry about like why you were just floating in thin air!" he said worriedly, and she huffed as she pulled out her phone.

"If you don't believe me, let's see if you'll believe the person who found this room," she replied as she lifted her phone to her ear and dialled a number. "Let's see if you'll believe Lydia."

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"So, wait a sec," Noah exhaled as he leaned on the closed door. "This woman 'Lenore', she conjured up her dead son?" he questioned after Lydia explained everything that happened in Canaan, the reason why Stiles wanted them to find the ghost town.

"She was the only one left," Lydia said. "She had to fill a void. And she filled it with her son."

"And you saw him? Lenore's son?" Angie asked.

"We all did," Lydia answered. "He was real. He was there. But..."

"But what?" Noah pressed.

"She was there when everyone was taken. She saw it happen. But she didn't wanna believe it. She wanted to believe in her son."

Noah fixed the young girl with a distrustful look as he tried to piece together her words. "What are you trying to say?" he inquired. "You think Claudia is not real?" he scoffed. "You think I made up a phantom wife."

"Daddy, it makes sense," Angie voiced, drawing her father's attention to her. "Whether you like it or not, Stiles was the one constant in your life. I was gone for five years, and he wasn't. He was here for you every day for 5 years, every day for his entire life. I wasn't. It makes sense you're scared to remember him."

"She's a flesh and blood woman!" he snapped. "She's real. She's your mother. And everything here is just speculation. Conjecture. A theory based on...based on a ghost town."

Lydia did say anything as she walked over to the corner near the empty bookshelf and reached for something.

It took a second. A second that she didn't see it before she saw the maroon jersey that Lydia picked up with a big white 24 on it and a memory came back.

"He wanted the number 24 because it was dad's birthday," Angie said as Lydia spun on her heels, the jersey in her hands and tears in her eyes. "His entire high school career dad never figured it out. He was going to tell him after he graduated. He wanted you to be proud of him," she explained first to Lydia and then to her father.

"You still can't see it," Lydia whispered.

"I see two deeply disturbed young women," he replied, and Angie was exhausted. She was so tired of trying to deal with ...everything. Why couldn't things be easy for once?

"You are scared to remember," Angie reiterated. "You're scared of what it means, just like you were when we told you about the supernatural."

"Why are you so concerned whether I remember it or not?!" Noah exclaimed, clearly almost as overwhelmed.

"Because you loved him," Lydia answered.

"Because he was your son. He is your son," Angie added. "And he is my brother."

And Lydia threw the jersey at him and her father caught it as he stared down at the sports uniform.

"Daddy, please," she begged. "Remember."

And Angie was forced back into the wall as pain exploded in her stomach.

"Angie!" Lydia called worriedly as Noah moved toward her.

"Sweetheart! Are you ok?" he asked.

"Those idiots!" she swore as she leaned on him. "They don't listen. It was a bad idea from the beginning and now...now Jordan's in trouble," she panted as Lydia's phone rang.

"It's Scott. The plan failed," she revealed. "We need to go."

"First my brother. Then my boyfriend. What next?" she sighed as she stood straight, testing out how the pain was, before turning to her father. "Just, try and remember, for Stiles' sake," she pleaded as she kissed his cheek before taking Lydia's hand as they rushed out of the house.