Broken Kiss (a Teen Wolf story)

Part 21

            The air rippled around Hades, dark currents that make Lydia want to squint but didn’t feel particularly menacing. Whatever was happening outside was a different story. As Hades had appeared, a massive group of souls had descended on the shack. They weren’t screaming – they didn’t quite feel like human souls – but the sound of so many voices inside of her head was chaotic and distracting.

            “You’ve agitated the denizens of this place,” Hades said. Those odd flames leapt in the fireplace when he spoke.

            “I was dragged here,” Peter ground out. “I’m not disruptive when I’m left where I want to be.”

            That wasn’t exactly true, but Lydia wasn’t about to let Hades see her roll her eyes. They needed to show a united front, she and Peter. To be a team, a partnership, especially since something was happening outside that was hammering at her banshee senses. She flinched when the sensation increased, and Peter reached back. His hand wrapped around her hip, hot, the tips of his claws just digging in.

            “I am not talking about you,” Hades said. He didn’t roll his eyes either, but then he might not know about things like that. “Banshee, do you know how many wraiths have gathered outside these meager walls?”

            Ah, that’s what they were. The half-formed scavengers.

            “Hundreds,” Lydia muttered, shrugging one slim shoulder when Peter shot her a narrow glance. “They like my hair.”

            “And then there is the small matter of you driving spirits to attack my guardians. For such a small thing, you inspire a lot of trouble.”

            “I’m not looking for it, I promise.”

            “But it finds you all the same.” Hades smiled, but there was nothing reassuring in the expression. “Over and over again. No matter what line you choose to walk, you will never escape trouble.”

            Lydia’s breath froze in her lungs. That’s how it had felt, these last few months, as everyone changed around her and new, elusive truths established themselves at Beacon Hills. As people left, and as they were killed.

            “I have access to the memories of the dead,” he said, surprising her by explaining how he was able to name this force affecting her. “When I want them. Your friend, the hunter. You were close.”

            “We were.” Past tense. Allison would only ever be past tense now. A fresh wave of grief rolled over Lydia. Those few hours with her had felt so natural, so normal, even if nothing about the situation was normal.

            “You shared many experiences. Recent experiences.”

            “Yes.” Her voice withered beneath the strain of feelings. They had shared a lot of experiences. But she hadn’t been there when Allison died. She’d been the cause, the reason that Allison went out that night. But she hadn’t been there when her best friend died.

            The steel of Peter’s shoulder tensed further beneath her hands, and Lydia wanted to bend her head to let it rest against him. She was tired of all this trouble, tired of always running but never arriving in time. If she closed her eyes for long enough, maybe things would be normal again when she woke.

            “Whatever you’re doing to her, stop it,” Peter growled, the sound reverberating through his body and into hers.

            “This is my domain,” Hades said. “The living do not belong.”