Storm- Stiles Stilinski

Chapter Twelve

The Summer flew by in a whirldwind of witchy tricks, bonding with my Dad, learning latin, exploring Beacon Hills and Stiles Stilinski. Stiles was like an overly excited puppy when it came to magic and whenever I would try something new, he would be right there with me. I think that we were both using magic as a way to distract ourselves from the people we lost.

I still feel Alison everywhere.

Sometimes it's just a tickle in the back of my mind but other times it crashes into me, overwhelmingly strong and it makes me wonder how far my magic could stretch. I figured out what the voices were, three chapters into the grimoire. When I come across a place where there was a mass burial of witches, they can contact me. When I was at the graveyard, in the tomb, it was my ancestors voices that I could hear and when I was in Eichan, who knew how many witch's deaths they had covered up.

I hadn't seen much of the pack over the Summer. I knew they were still mourning Alison and Aiden and they needed space and I was still the outsider, still the new girl. That was until I got a call from Scott to say that he was rallying the pack and that he needed me to come along.

Now we are in Mexico.

Stiles and I are walking through this small town, looking for the hunters that have captured Derek. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach about the plan we had concocted. Stiles tried to offer me his consolation.

"It doesn't seem so bad!" He insisted, scanning the small mexican town.

"It's not the town, it's the plan!" I corrected him.

"What's wrong with the plan?" Stiles asked and I turned to him with my nose scrunched.

"Stiles, this could be the stupidest plan we've ever come up with." I told him matter of factly.

"You're aware of that right?" I asked him.

"Yes, I am aware that it is not one of our best plans." Stiles admitted.

"We're going to die out here," I announced rather panicy.

"Wait, is that a witchy thing? Or are you just being pessimistic?" Stiles asked

"I'm saying it as a person who doesn't want to die." I stressed.

"Okay then would you mind restricting any talk of death to actual witchy stuff?" Stiles sassed.

"This plan is stupid and we're going to die." I sassed back.

"Oh thankyou!" Stiles cried sarcastically.

We kept moving through the streets, an uneasy silence settling over us as the danger of the situation dawned on us. We came to a stop infront of a large building, two burly men blocking our way. Stiles reached into his pocket and pulled out a playing card with a unique design on the front. He held it out to the men and they exchanged a look. One of the men nodded his head to the camera so Stiles moved forward and held the card up to it. The door clicked open and a wave of relief surged through me.

Maybe everything was going to work out. We moved forward carefully through a warren of dimly-lit corridors before coming to a door. Stiles looked back at me, his eyes held a look that I couldn't place. He pushed the door open and we were met by a party? Crowds of people swayed their hips to loud, pumping music. In my blue high waisted shorts with a plain white t-shirt tucked in, I was not appropriately dressed at all, but neither was Stiles.

We moved through the throngs of people over to the bar where it was less crowded. Suddenly the bar tender slapped down two tequila shots infront of us. Stiles reached for his wallet with a frown but a man came up behind us and gripped our shoulders.