Click - clack
Click - clack
Click - clack
Charlie squeezes her pillow tightly over her ear in an effort to dull the sounds in her head but it only made the noises louder. She's awoke three hours ago to the sound of heels clicking against linoleum and soft, bone chilling chant-- a chant that she's sure she's heard before. It won't stop and it grows louder by the second. So loud that she fears she might scream.
Just as she's about to give in to the temptation, everything becomes silent. The only noise meeting her ears is the ticking of the clock on the wall. With the absence of clicking heels and chants, she is left with a familiar dull ache just at the base of her skull. An ache that she didn't notice until that moment. A cold, sickening dread forms in the pit of her stomach as she realizes what's happened.
Somewhere in Beacon Hills is a freshly murdered body and she is too late to help them.
...
It's barely three hours later when Charlie finds herself standing outside the Argent home. Her first instinct had been to go to Derek but after he dismissed hers and Stiles' theory about the murders being sacrifices, she fears he won't take her seriously when she says there's been another. So, without another thought she turned her car around and drove in the opposite direction.
Three short raps against the door and she's forced to impatiently wait for someone to answer. She can only hope that it's Papa Argent and not Allison. The youngest Argent's rebellion against her father to continue helping is admirable but even Charlie has her limits when it comes to the father-daughter duo. She refuses to include the pretty teen in this. Not when someone is going around sacrificing people.
Finally after what seemed like an eternity, the off-white door swings open to reveal the salt and peppered haired Argent. Charlie bites back her sigh of relief and tries to ignore the confusion on the man's face.
"Charlie?"
"We have a problem."
Blue eyes meet blue eyes as Argent observes her. He presses his lips together into a thin line before moving aside to let her come inside. Charlie follows him into his office where he stands behind his desk. When he stares at her, she realizes he's waiting for her to explain the problem.
"In all your years as a hunter, did you ever come across sacrifices?"
Argent sighs as he leans against the mahogany desk. "Not until now."
Charlie wasn't sure what she was expecting. She did know that as a hunter Chris Argent was trained to consider every option but she didn't think he would believe her so suddenly and without any proof other than a theory. Still, she breathes out gratefully.
"I guess I don't need to ask if you believe me, then," she says. "When did you realize what we're dealing with?"
"The threefold death. It's a method commonly used in sacrifices. There's no way the victim can survive the wounds which is why it's the favored method," Argent replies.
"And poison often ruins the host," Charlie muses aloud. At Argent's raised eyebrows, she chuckles half-heartedly. "I read it somewhere."
"The first three sacrifices were virgins but according to my sources the boy who was found this morning wasn't."
"Wait-- there was another body found this morning?"
Argent nods solemnly. "The boy was found on the cross-country trail."
The cross-country trail that she was supposed to be running that morning before she called ahead to report her absence. The guilt settling on her shoulders only grows in mass. Once again someone died because she ignored what her body was trying to tell her.
"So, does he have a connection to the others? Besides being killed in the same way." Charlie doesn't miss the bitter tone in her voice and judging by the soft understanding in Argent's eyes, he heard it too.
"Not that I can find but I have a theory," he says and pulls out a map and a black light. Before he shows her anything, he regards her curiously. "Why come to me with this? Shouldn't you be going to Derek?"
Charlie shrugs her shoulders. "Derek doesn't believe the murders are sacrifices. If I'm going to be able to stop another one from happening, I need to work with someone who believes me."
"Fair enough," Argent says as he clicks on the black light. He shines the light on his desk and Charlie moves closer. Written into the loops of a delicately engraved Celtics knot are the words virgins, healers, guardians, philosophers, and warriors. All five of which are common people used in sacrifices. To pull sacrifices from all five categories means only one thing; someone is preparing for battle and they need to be as invincible as possible.
Something stirs in her brain and she remembers back to those many leather-bound books. Emissaries, the watchers over werewolves, are said to be decedent's of druids. They are beings of light. They are meant to offer guidance and protection to their charges. But if one were to go dark, they are said to become a darach and a darach not only has the knowledge but also the ability to perform such sacrifices.
"I think I know what we're dealing with," Charlie says just as a phone rings. She pulls hers out to see Stiles name lighting up her screen. "Hey, Stiles, I'm in the middle--"
"Charlie, wait, someone else has been taken," Stiles rushes.
"I already know about the boy from this morning," Charlie tells him.
"No, I mean there's another person missing. Two actually. Look, I think there's more going on here. The boy from this morning was part of ROTC and Harris and Williams both were in the military."
Charlie glances down at the table and runs her fingers over a word. "Warriors..."
"What?"
"I'll get into it later. Listen, I think I know what we're dealing with."
"Yeah, a darach," Stiles says much to her surprise.
"How did you know that?" She asks.
"I just left Deaton. He told me about druids and darachs," Stiles says. "How did you know?"
"I read about them," Charlie replies. Argent sighs from beside her. "Stiles, I'll call you back."
Before he can respond, Charlie ends the call and returns her attention to the table. Three virgins and three warriors. Unfortunately for them, there's no way to know who on the lost is next.
"What are we facing?" Argent asks.
"Do you know the Celtic word for dark oak?"
What little bit of color in Argent's face drains. He follows her gaze back down to the table, sharing a similarly lost look to her own. Between alphas and a darach, there is no safe place to turn to in Beacon Hills and Charlie would bet her life that the two enemies are connected somehow.
"Do you still have that gun?" Charlie asks.
"Yeah, why?"
Charlie takes one last look at the desk before turning to face him. "I'm going to help you stop them."
And by them, she means both dangers threatening her town. She will stop at nothing. Even if it means going down with them.
