Inked Emissary

Chapter 5: Borden

  That night, Stiles struggled to sleep. The Nogitsune was standing resolutely in the middle of the room and Stiles had to fight off the overwhelming surge of... the only word to use would be magic. The Void was obviously the trigger. 

  Somewhere around midnight, he heard breathing at his door and assumed it was the Nogitsune. Then Thomas opened the door. Stiles lay very still, unsure of what to do, so he made his breathing even so as to appear asleep. He kept his eyes opened a crack and so he saw the moment when his room mate's eyes changed from a dull blue to bright gold. Werewolf gold.

  Stiles froze for a moment but he didn't think that Thomas noticed because the werewolf had also tensed up. Thomas had seen Stiles' spirit and knew that he wasn't human. So much for an escape into a semi-normal life. The cackle of the dark fox rattled around in his head and he couldn't help but put his hands over his ears. 

  It was then that Thomas moved. The werewolf practically lept across the room and grabbed Stiles, pinning him against the wall. 

"What are you?" Thomas' voice was low and dangerous, distorted by his wolf side.

"I-I don't know," Stiles stammered and his thoughts kept flashing back to Isaac pinning him against the tree after the funeral except there was rage in those eyes, Thomas' were full of fear and confusion." Honestly, I came here in the hope that the pack here, the emissary, would be able to help."

  After a few moments of staring at each other, Thomas  deemed it safe to let Stiles go. He crawled back off of the bed and straightened out his nightshirt. Stiles could see the tension still evident in the set of his shoulders and he wondered if it was a good thing that Thomas knew about him. Maybe Thomas could get his emissary to help. Yes it was a good thing.

***

  The next morning Stiles woke with a pit of fear in his stomach but for the life of him he couldn't think why. He lay staring at the ceiling as his mind slowly kicked into gear, then he remembered the encounter with Thomas the previous night.

  Slowly, very, very slowly, he got up and dressed. The t-shirt was loose but he still felt his chest constrict. Stiles knew that one of two things could happen; Thomas could be part of a pack and that pack could rip him apart, two that pack could not rip him apart. 

  Then his mind started to wonder. Two possibilities! That was absurd, there were so, so many things that could happen that it was quite frightening to think about. Stiles knew from experience that you could prepare for all possible outcomes in anything. Well, he was okay at chess... 

  He mentally scolded himself as his mind wondered down further and further paths into random and absurd places. Get your butt into the kitchen and get some breakfast Stilinski, he told himself.

 ***

  As Stiles entered the kitchen Thomas looked up. For a moment their eyes met, whiskey brown and sky blue. A conflict of fear and curiosity. Stiles dropped his gaze a moment later but was painfully aware of the inquisitive stare that  his werewolf room mate held.

"What are you?" Thomas asked after and age.

  Stiles' head jerked up and his gaze was briefly caught by the Nogitsune standing next to the wolf before he forced it to Thomas. He licked his lips and took a moment before simply answering," I don't know."

  Thomas looked him up and down, the curiosity burning so bright in the blue that it made Stiles uncomfortable.

"But you must know something because you didn't just look at me like I'm crazy," Thomas pointed out and Stiles felt that he had to say something, just not the whole something.

"I saw you come into my room last night. I know you are a werewolf," he said.

"But you're not afraid?" Thomas leaned forward in his seat slightly, the cup of coffee in his hands forgotten.

"Slightly, but your eyes were yellow, you haven't killed an innocent before so I have some hope that you won't start now," Stiles chuckled, more from nerves than anything. He stopped though when the Nogitsune started up his rasping laugh.

  Thomas' eyes narrowed as he said," You must know about my kind to know that information."

"Yeah I guess," Stiles swallowed," I've had... experience. Werewolf friends, werewolf enemies. You know, you get to know. Kind of did a lot of research myself after... After my friend became one. So yeah, I guess." Stiles was painfully aware that he was blundering over his words.

"Are you an emissary?" Thomas asked.

"A glorified human messenger pigeon for wolf packs? No," Stiles replied.

"And you left your friends because?" 

"Answers," Stiles was getting more and more uneasy with every question that his room mate asked.

"To what?"

"To what I am okay!" Stiles snapped having reached the end of his tether.

  Thomas sat back and nodded in contemplation. He looked Stiles over again before saying," I may be able to help", with that he got up and left the room, leaving Stiles with his toast and the Nogitsune.

***

  The house was big, the big pack members lived there. An old family Thomas had said. One of the most powerful wolf families in America aside from the big big families like the Hales had been. The house. Big, yes. Creepy, yeah it was pretty creepy. The front sported a big wooden porch and big windows, a big old door. The place was tidy, obviously cared for, but the age gave it a sinister feel, an air of mystery.

  Thomas waved an impatient had at him as he paused on the steps to the porch. He was very relaxed in comparison to Stiles. Well, that was only to be expected, after all it was his pack that they were going to visit. The Beacon Hills teen took a deep breath of the very clean air. So clean that it bit at his nasal passage.

***

  The man came striding through the halls with an easy confidence and an encouraging smile. He was dressed in a black leather jacket that would have made Derek very jealous. The guy had a scar running from just beneath a graying hair line on the left side of his skull, across his face, over his nose and brushing the corner of his mouth until it came to a rest on the right side of his chin. Such a brutal disfigurement should have made him intimidating but the crows-feet radiating from blue eyes and the easy warmth that surrounded him made the complete opposite true.

"You must be Stiles," the man's grip was firm as he shook Stiles' hand with friendly vigor. 

"Yes I am," Stiles said stupidly.

"Well I am John Borden. I am the alpha of this pack, hopefully we can help you," the man said as Stiles nodded." Well then, welcome to the Borden Pack home."