competition, allison argent

027. fireflies

Stiles' Jeep screeches into the parking lot, coming to a halt beside Lydia's car. He jumps out with Cody, both of them running toward Lydia, who stands hugging herself in the chilly night air.

"Lydia? Lydia!" Stiles calls, looking around anxiously.

Lydia points past the fence, shivering. "I'm okay. That over there. Not okay."

Stiles spots a dark figure slumped in the lifeguard chair and quickly reaches for his phone. "I'm calling my dad."

"I already called 9-1-1," Lydia replies, trying to sound calm.

"You called the police before you called me?" Stiles asks in disbelief.

"I'm supposed to call you first when I find a dead body?" Lydia retorts.

"YES!" Stiles yells, but before he can say more, his phone vibrates with an incoming call from Scott.

Cody looks at Lydia with concern. "Are you alright?"

Lydia nods, though she's still visibly shaken.

Stiles examines the young man's body in the lifeguard chair. "It's like The frickin' Shining over here. If two little girls walked out and asked me to come play with them forever and ever, I seriously would not be surprised."

Scott's voice crackles over the phone. "Can you look a little closer? Make sure it was them."

"Make sure? Scott, who else is ripping out throats around here?" Stiles asks, stepping closer to the body. He notices a ring on the young man's finger. Leaning in, he reads the inscription: "PURITY."

Meanwhile, in the woods with Derek and Isaac, Scott finishes the call and gives them a reluctant nod, confirming the worst.

Derek shakes his head, frustrated. "This doesn't make sense. The public pool is on the other side of the woods. We haven't tracked them anywhere near there."

"Derek... they killed someone," Scott says firmly.

"But how are they moving so fast?" Derek questions.

Scott persists, "They killed someone. Someone totally innocent kid is dead, and it's our fault."

Derek's expression hardens. "It's my fault."

Scott insists, "We need help."

Derek looks skeptical. "We have Isaac now."

"I mean real help," Scott says, glancing at Isaac apologetically. "No offense."

Isaac raises an eyebrow, trying not to take it personally. "Not exactly sure how I could take that any other way."

"They're too strong for us. They're too fast, too rabid—" Scott begins.

Derek interrupts, determined. "We'll catch them."

Isaac voices what they're all thinking. "But what happens if we do? Are we just going to hold them down until the sun comes up?"

"No, we tie them up. Find somewhere to keep them..." Derek trails off, the futility of the situation weighing heavily on him. "Maybe it would be easier to just kill them."

"Killing them isn't the right thing to do," Scott insists.

Isaac asks the tough question. "What if it's the only thing? If we don't know how to catch them, what else do we do?"

"We find someone who knows what they're doing," Scott says, determined.

"Who?" Derek asks.

"Someone who knows how to hunt werewolves."