Black Webs

Shadow Preachers

It's a really old city
split between the dead and the living
so I thought to myself
sitting on a graveyard shelf
as the echo of heartbeats,
from the ground below my feet,
filled a cemetery in the center of Queens.

xxxxx

t h i r t y - t w o

S t i l e s

"I'm worried," he mumbled. "Me too," Allison agreed.

"They'll be fine," Scott said, sounding even more unsure than the two of them combined.

"Maybe... Maybe we should go after them,"

"No, absolutely not. We have to stick to the plan," Allison said, crisply. "We have to believe they can do it. As crazy as our plan is, it's the one least likely to end in all of our untimely deaths."

"You're right." Stiles sighed. "Of course I'm right," she said, rather casually.

"Now we've simply got to wait for Malia to give us the green signal and then we ambush."

ONE WEEK AGO

"I shooed her away," Scott said, marching back in. "But dude, I've gotta tell you, she looked pissed. Like... the wrath of hell fire pissed. Also utterly crushed... roach underfoot crushed. You're the dumbest guy I've ever met leaving a girl like that to hang in the air,"

Stiles' stomach lurched unpleasantly. "You know I had to,"

"No, you didn't have to. You had a bad dream and it's screwing up your reality."

"It wasn't just a dream, Scott. It was... I can't explain it, but you've gotta trust me."

"All I see is a broken girl and an idiot who thinks he knows what's best for everyone but himself," Scott grumbled, rolling his eyes and leaping onto the bed. Stiles took another swig of the beer he'd been chugging down like it was medicine. Scott stared, alarmed.

"Is that your sixth can of beer?" he asked, glancing at the empty six pack lying next to him.

"Probably," Stiles agreed.

"What the hell, man. Does the superhuman powers extend to superhuman tolerance?"

"Probably," he repeated.

"I'm surprised you haven't pissed the bed already, or puked up your dinner,"

"Maybe I have, maybe we're sitting in it."

Scott scrunched up his nose in disgust. "Come on. Stop this brooding white guy bullshit. We've got bigger concerns, like the whole city's power being out, like evil corporate douche-weasels plotting the destruction of the Big Apple,"

"Lydia could die at any moment, and I'd never forgive myself."

"We could all die at any moment, and that's exactly why you should be keeping her as close to you as humanly possible instead of pushing her away," Scott reasoned.

"No," Stiles muttered, his stomach squirming again. His mouth tasted less like beer and more like misery. "No, the further she is from me, the safer she'll be. I'm like radioactive or something. People get too close and I desecrate them."

"You haven't desecrated me yet," Scott said, with a small smile. Stiles looked up at his best friend as he gently took the last can of beer out of his hands and put it down on the night stand.

"And you know, you are, technically; radioactive. Just not like that."

Stiles didn't respond.

Scott sighed. "Look, you're smarter than this, Stiles. It still isn't too late. I can call Lydia back right now. You don't have to ruin your relationship over a stupid and unreliable notion. Let's call her back before the damage you cause is beyond repair."