Nefarious ➛ Theo Raeken [2]

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ITS HAPPENING. THAT IS ALL
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"This was my mother's lemonade recipe." Clarissa looked up at the sound of her voice, her eyes locked on the forced smile on her face. Something about the woman wasn't sitting right inside of her head and she could tell that the others were feeling it as well. "At least as much as I can remember. We always served this when we had friends to visit."

She watched the others pick up the glasses of lemonade to be polite but her hands remained firmly in her lap instead of reaching to pick up the drink. She could see the little specks of dust and remnants of dirt floating in the drinks and she knew that something was off with the liquid. She could see the others shooting her annoyed looks as they picked up the glasses to fake an air of pleasantness but she refused to play into whatever game this woman was playing.

Clarissa eyed the way that Malia was gulping down the drink and shuddered as she watched a particularly large chunk slide into the other woman's mouth. She looked away and her eyes wandered around the room, noting how everything there was caked with thick layers of dust. She knew that not everyone kept their homes spotless but this seemed like it was thirty years of dust that had been forgotten just like Canaan was.

"We didn't come to visit." Malia declared lowly as she set the glass down on the table, drawing Clarissa's curious gaze back towards her. Malia looked determined to find the answers that they were seeking but Clarissa also knew that Malia was as subtle as a bull in a shop full of breakable things. Somehow the girl would say something that didn't need to be said and from the fragile mental state Lenore was exhibiting, Clarissa didn't think that Malia needed to be the person interrogating the woman. "We're looking for someone."

"A friend of ours. Maybe you've seen him." Scott divulged the information like a prayer, his hopeful eyes shining at the possibility of finding out answers to where Stiles had gone. He wanted answers as badly as the rest of them, maybe even more if Clarissa was seeing the guilt in his eyes correctly. Something had happened between the two, something that was itching at the back of her mind and begging to be remembered. She could vaguely hear the words in her head, almost like an echo and something told her that Scott needed answers just as badly as her and Lydia. "His name is Stiles?"

Clarissa looked down at the table at the mention of the name, the face from earlier perfectly clear in her mind. It was a sign that the other teenager had existed more than a figment of their imagination, even more than the voice in her head that had been driving her insane for weeks. That picture of his face was a sign of hope to her, a blaring beacon that drove her to want to find Stiles more than anything. Hope however was a dangerous thing to have because it could be twisted and warped with desperation. Having hope in something, she learned was dangerous because it would shatter you into a million pieces when the result didn't work out. She had learned that after months of failed plans to bring Theo back and she didn't know if she could face the same sinking sensation if their plans to bring back Stiles failed.

"It's been a while since anyone came through Canaan." The older woman declared slowly and Clarissa's eyes narrowed on the woman as she noticed that the answer seemed practiced well enough in case someone ever asked questions. They all knew that Canaan had become a ghost town and Clarissa had a feeling that the woman knew far more than she let on. Lenore seemed lost in her own home, almost as if her and her son had been by themselves for far longer than they should have been.

"How long?" Lydia questioned the older woman bluntly in hope of searching for answers. Answers that would probably not help them at all as Canaan had become a ghost town and was saturated in the same electric current that she felt growing stronger every day in Beacon Hills. Clarissa glanced around her slowly and wondered if they were standing in the middle of their future and Beacon Hills would one day look as desolate as Canaan.