Return of the Hale || Stiles Stilinski

27.

At the animal clinic, Neriah leaned back against a bench with Stiles as Deaton shone a small eyelight in Tracy's eyes. The girl was still unconscious, barely breathing and it had everyone on edge—even Malia who was standing close to a worried Scott.

"Pupils dilate under normal conditions," Deaton said, moving the light away and pressing his fingers to Tracy's neck. "Heart rate is two fifty." He pulled the collar of her sweater down, revealing a red and purple bruise on her shoulder. "Evidence of an allogeneic skin graft on the right shoulder. Now, this silvery substance on her lips is not something I've seen. It almost looks like mercury." Tracy's body jolted, making him take a step back.

"Can't you just give her a shot of something?" Malia asked, shrugging her shoulders.

Deaton looked away from Tracy to her. "She doesn't look to be in any pain."

"I meant a shot to kill her," Malia stated as Stiles thinned his lips and Neriah snorted.

"I generally prescribe to a code of ethics that frowns on such measures," Deaton flatly said with an unimpressed look.

"Which is why we normally suggest those things when he's not around," Neriah whispered to her sister who slowly nodded.

Scott looked between the two of them with raised brows. "You know we're not going to do that."

"How many times have I been shot because I tried to kill someone?" Neriah deadpanned. "Keyword: tried." She waved a hand at Tracy. "She hasn't tried...because she did, in fact, kill her father and psychiatrists."

"I have a great argument for this, but I enjoy living," Stiles commented, crossing his arms over his chest as Neriah clicked her tongue.

Malia sighed, cocking her head toward Tracy. "How do you know she's not going to kill us?"

"She makes a decent point," Stiles muttered. "Either way, eventually I'm going to have to let my dad know she's here."

"Agreed." Deaton nodded. "And while I may argue against euthanasia, I'm not opposed to a little"—he picked up a jar full of Mountain Ash—"extra security." He took the lid off the jar and then threw the ash toward the door where it fell, sealing the supernatural in.

"This feels like a bad idea," Stiles admitted, staring at the ash on the ground.

"Don't worry, Stiles," Deaton gently said. "Tracy won't be able to cross a line of Mountain Ash. She's not going anywhere."

Stiles looked over at Neriah as she sat up on the bench before he looked back at Deaton. "Yeah, that's kind of what I'm afraid of."

"Well, you and I will be able to get out of here no problem." Deaton then looked at the others. "You three. Not so much."

Malia furrowed her brows and then pressed a hand to the doorway, only for the invisible barrier to push her hand back. "Weird."

"Just what I wanted," Neriah started with sarcasm clear in her tone. "To be stuck in a room with a serial killer wolf."

"This should be your specialty then," Stiles snickered, earning a dry laugh in response.

"Scott and Riah, would you two mind holding her down," Deaton said, picking up a scalpel. "I'm going to be trying a few more invasive tests."

Neriah jumped off the bench, giving Scott a nod as they both held Tracy down by her arms. Deaton pressed the scalpel against Tracy's arm, but to everyone's surprise, the skin didn't even cut. In fact, the blade snapped.

"Now how the hell is that possible?" Neriah mumbled, her brows raising.

"I think you're gonna need a bigger blade," Stiles muttered, shaking his head.