Stiles's Arc

Chapter 12 of 20

The loft was cold brick and bare steel. Stiles climbed the stairs behind Scott, with Lydia and Kira close behind. Derek waited by the window, arms crossed. Malik stood in the middle of the room, healed but pale, a small staff resting in his hand. The board they'd built was nothing compared to what was about to be said out loud. "It isn't a killer," Malik said. He tapped the floor with the staff. Dark water bloomed there, shaped itself into a sluggish, dripping figure that didn't quite hold a face. "This is what's been doing it. An Acheron. My kind track things that cross over. This one refuses to let anything cross at all." The water-shape turned slowly, like it could feel them looking. "It sticks to anchors," Malik said. "To people who can't move forward. It's drawn to great burdens. To anyone who won't forgive themselves and change." His gold eyes moved across the room. They paused on Stiles — the nogitsune, the months of silence, the board built alone. They moved to Scott, still carrying Allison. To Kira, who didn't know what she was yet. To Lydia, who blamed herself for every name she couldn't scream in time. Nobody spoke. The shape on the floor pulsed once, like it had been fed. "So how do we beat it?" Derek asked. His voice was flat, ready. "You let go," Malik said. "All of you. It only has weight because you give it weight. Cut the anchor, and the thing starves." The water collapsed back into the floor and was gone. Stiles felt his hands shaking. The killer finally had a name — and the price for killing it was the one thing he'd been holding onto hardest. He looked at Scott. For the first time, he didn't look away.