Scott McCall's Arc

Chapter 23 of 30

The rain had stopped by the time they piled into the jeep. Stiles took the wheel. Scott sat shotgun. Kira and Lydia climbed in back. No one spoke. The empty hallway was still in Scott's head — the place where Malik should have been. They were halfway down a dark stretch of road when Lydia sat up straight. "Stop the car." Stiles hit the brakes hard. The small blue jeep skidded on wet leaves. "Lydia—" She was already out the door, walking fast toward the tree line. Scott followed. Kira and Stiles ran behind him. Lydia didn't slow. She moved through the wet brush like something was pulling her by a string. "What is it?" Scott asked. She didn't turn around. "Death," she said. "Close." She stopped at the base of a wide tree. A rusted bicycle lay tangled in the roots, the front wheel bent in half. A few feet beyond it, a body. Scott dropped to his knees in the dirt. He pressed two fingers to the neck. A pulse. Faint, but there. "He's alive." Relief moved through him for one short second. Then Malik's eyes cracked open. They glowed gold in the dark — but wrong. Flickering. Weak. Scott went still. Whatever had touched Malik had touched something nothing was supposed to touch. "Deaton," Scott said. "Now." Stiles was already moving back toward the jeep. They lifted Malik between them and carried him through the trees. He was lighter than he should have been. Scott's jaw locked. The Acheron had found their guide. The one person with answers was now bait — and Scott knew, with a cold certainty he couldn't shake, that the clinic was the next stop on a road he didn't choose.