Broken Kiss (a Teen Wolf story)

Part 22

            Peter’s arms tightened around Lydia as spirits pulled at her body. It wasn’t the two she’d commanded earlier, or it wasn’t only them. They were strong, plucking at her hair and clothes, tugging at her arms and legs. The force of caging her would bruise her, but he wasn’t about to let her go.

            “Fix her,” he shouted.

            Hades stood over him, hands clasped behind him, as smoke filled the small space. Real smoke from the fire that was suddenly a searing orange and red.

            “There is nothing to fix,” the god said, his eyes tracking movement all around Lydia. “It is the natural progression of things. The living come to the land of the dead, and they…adapt. Banshees are already attuned, and the one is particularly sensitive. It makes sense that she would change over quickly.”

             No stars or planets rotated overhead in the underworld, but power ran through Peter’s body as though the full moon was cresting the horizon. Lydia’s bag with the portal apples lay on the other side of the cabin. They weren’t an exact science. Even if Hades allowed Peter to get to them, he couldn’t beam her back to Earth and safety. But a god…a god could do anything.

            “Take it away from her,” Peter said. “Her banshee powers. Take them so that I have time to get her back.”

            “For what reason?”

            “So that she can live!”

            “That makes her no more valuable.”

            Not to him. But to Peter, her life meant so much. She was so gorgeous it made him nervous to look at her. She was intelligent, passionate, and so, so strong. Lydia had survived him at his worst, and she was damn well going to survive everything that came after. She wouldn’t have it any other way, and he wouldn’t allow anything less. Except he was alone, in a hostile place. He was alone in Beacon Hills as well, but at least there were people there who cared about Lydia, who would help her even if they didn’t like him.

            He was the worst kind of poison, but he wasn’t selfless enough to walk away.

            His hands were all claws and rage, but he couldn’t let go of her. Not when the spirits were pulling at her, not when the color was leaching out of her hair before his eyes. He shook her, a new kind of anger rising and clearing the red from his field of vision.

            “No.” The plea tore from his throat. “No, you can’t leave me, Lydia. I want you to stay, so you will stay, damn it!”

            “And I’ve been told I’m bad at courtship,” Hades murmured dryly.

            Peter shook her again, growling as gray began to creep across her temples toward her eyes.

            “You turned me inside out and made me feel again. You make me hurt, so you can’t leave. You have to stay. Stay and suffer with me, Lydia.” He brushed her hair back, his growl fading into a whine as black bled across her eyelids.

            “I’ll make you happy, too. I’ll give it to you, all that happiness you missed. All the happiness you deserve.”

            He should have taken her straight to a portal, Cerberus be damned. She was fading. She was leaving him. It wasn’t fair. He’d gotten better. What would he be without her? A creature of regret and anger. He would go mad again, fall back on old habits and lose himself in the oblivion of destruction until a hunter got a lucky shot in.

            “Your hunter is causing more trouble,” Hades said, the words surreally overlapping Peter’s thoughts.

            “She’s not mine,” Peter muttered.

            “I wasn’t speaking to you.”

            The god was gone before the last word faded, and Peter’s head snapped up as the door cracked against the frame. The insistent pulling stopped, and the lack of resistance rocked him forward. He clutched Lydia against him, cradling her head and leaning it gently against his shoulder as he stood.

            “Sorry about all the blood, sweetheart.”

            But she didn’t answer, even though she hated when he called her that. He reached into the bag, rolling the apples against each other, trying to discern the sounds.

            “I’m going to take us home, Lydia. I’m going to take us home and you’re going to get better.”

            Damn it, they all sounded the same, all high-pitched with a timbre that made him want to wince. But he didn’t want to jostle her, didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. But she was so still.

            Peter stopped, bowing his head against hers and listening to the dim sound of her heartbeat.

            “Please. Sweetheart, please. Just stay with me a little longer.”

            The fire roared, and he spun, wrapping himself around her as flames engulfed the building. Oddly, the heat didn't hurt.