Chapter 2 - I Gotta Tell You, You Had It Coming

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***DEREK***

There’s a few things people think are true about vampires. Most of them are myths, of course, like vampires themselves are supposed to be. Yeah, I know I’m saying that as an equally (supposedly) mythological werewolf, but that’s beside the point.

One of the things that is true about them is the fact that they’re not able to enter buildings uninvited. Which means I can have the door to my building wide open, with a vampire girl standing just a few inches shy of the threshold, and not run the risk of being attacked. Even as the morning sun pours onto her from behind, which can’t be doing her any good. Even that black hoodie she’s wearing won’t be enough to filter out all the UV rays, and vampires have very, very light-sensitive skin. It’s a shame to ruin it - this vampire is actually very pretty.

Except when she’s glaring at me, her lips curled in a half-disgusted, half-angry grimace. “I really do need to talk to you, you know,” she says in her British accent. “We know about the Alpha Pack, Derek Hale. And we know you’re not any more keen to have them around than we are.”

“I dunno what you’re talkin’ about,” I say with a casual shrug. Inside, though, my pulse is starting to accelerate. Why would a vampire coven know about an Alpha Pack coming to Beacon Hills? Vampires normally avoid California anyway. Even Northern California is too sunny for them. They prefer clouds and rain, which is why there’s a lot of them up in the Northwest. And also why I’ve never actually gone to the Northwest - because why get into an unnecessary fight?

“You know, vampires can smell lies too,” she says, crossing her arms and continuing to sneer at me. “You’re not gonna bullshit me here.”

“No, but I’m also not gonna tell you what you seem to wanna hear,” I say, matching her sneer as best I can. “Since when have we gotten along, anyway?”

“That’s a presumptuous thing to say,” the vampire girl says. “We’ve never gotten along, ‘cause we’ve never met before.”

“But you know my name anyway. Am I really that famous?”

“Hah! Try ‘infamous.’ That’ll be closer to the mark in describing you Hales.”

I look over the vampire girl’s shoulder as I see Stiles’ familiar borderline-rust-bucket of a Jeep pulling into the entrance to the warehouse. Why the vampire girl was able to cross that door but not the one leading to the stairs (and, by extension, my loft), I’m not sure. But then, I have to admit that because I’ve never really dealt with one of her species before, I’m not so well-versed on their lore. Uncle Peter would be a better source of information, but I’d much rather not go to him if I can help it. I think he’s still got some hard feelings after I had to kill him and take his Alpha power away.

“So you’ve heard of my family,” I say. “Did you also hear about the fact that they all died in a fire six years ago?”

“Clearly not all,” the vampire points out. “What about you? And your uncle, as disreputable as he is.”

Stiles climbs out of his Jeep, armed with the pair of stakes I’d asked him to pick up at Deaton’s office. “Toss one to me,” I say, holding up my left hand - which I’ve covered in a leather work glove to protect myself from the harmful effects of the mountain ash.

“Good morning to you too,” Stiles says. Of course the kid has to give me lip. He hesitates before throwing the stake over the vampire girl’s shoulder. I’m forced to lean a long way forward before I can catch it. Then I point the business end at the vampire girl.

“Really?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.

“Stiles, get behind her,” I say, ignoring her angry-duck noises of protest. Stiles follows my order and points the stake at her - blunt end first. He then looks down, sees his mistake, and corrects himself with a nervous laugh. I, meanwhile, sigh heavily at his flash of ineptitude.

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