The Weretiger {Isaac Lahey} #2

S2: Abomination

Winter POV

The first thing I feel when I wake up is cold steel beneath me.

I sit up, ignoring the pounding in my head, looking around.

Scott's standing nearby, getting scratches cleaned by none other then Deaton the vet.

"Uh, what is that?" Scott asks.

"Rubbing alcohol. You don't want it to get infected, do you?" Deaton deadpans.

Scott shakes his head.

I start sliding off the table in the corner, growling lowly.

"You'll heal the same. Just not as quickly because of Derek," Deaton explains.

"Ok, how do you know all this?" Scott asks. "Actually, how do you know anything?"

"It's a long story. What I can tell you is that I know about your kind. Your kind," He finished bandaging Scott's side. "I can help. This," He turns to the table in the middle of the room where a slashed up body is.
"This is something different."

"Well, do you know what did it?"

"No. But the Argents will. And this is the crucial part. They'll have some sort of record, or book. It'll have descriptions, histories, notations of all the things they've discovered."

"Wha- All the things? How many different things are there?"

Tires crunch on the gravel outside, alerting all of us.

I launch forward, grabbing Scott by his jacket and pulling him behind me into the supply closet before shoving him away.

It's big enough so we're about five feet apart.

"So, um, I'm guessing I'm in trou-" Scott starts.

I cut him off, slamming my forearm into his throat and shoving him up against the wall.

I glow my eyes, growling. "The only thing keeping you alive right now, is Stiles. So you'd better be damn grateful for him, otherwise you would be in pieces."

"I just knocked you out-" He chokes.

"'Just knocked you out'? I wasn't going to fight, Scott. Derek's my brother. And yes, he's a dumbass sometimes, but I'm not going to fight against him. Just like I won't fight against you. Alright?"

He nods and I drop him, walking over to the door as Chris walks in with another hunter.

"I'm starting to think I need to buy a more prominent 'Closed' sign," Deaton observes.

Chris scoffs and I recoil as Gerard walks in.

"Hello, Alan. It's been awhile. The last I heard, you had retired."

"Last I heard, you were following a code of conduct," Deaton fires back.

I grin a little.

"If you hadn't noticed, this body is one of ours," Chris says.

"I did. I also noticed the gunpowder residue on his fingertips. So don't assume I'll be swayed by your philosophy just 'cause I'll answer a few questions." Deaton replies.

"He was only twenty-four."

"Killers come in all ages." He looks pointedly at Gerard.

"All ages, sizes, shapes. It's the last one that concerns us," Gerard answers.

"How about you tell us what you found?" Chris asks.

Deaton walks over to the man's head, tilting it to the side.