Stiles's Arc

Chapter 17 of 20

The flame guttered low in the rising water. Stiles cupped his hands around the beaker, but every drip from the ceiling threatened to kill it. "It needs time," he said. "We don't have a floor anymore." The Acheron rose from the puddles at the far wall, a churning shape of dark water and sediment. "Bleachers," Lydia said. One word, clean. She grabbed the burner. Stiles grabbed the beaker. They ran. They scrambled up the metal tiers, water already lapping the bottom row. Stiles set the flame on the top bench with shaking hands. The silver arrowhead glowed inside the beaker, half-burned. Not enough. Not yet. "Get the arrow to burn," Isaac said. "I'll hold him off." He didn't wait. His eyes flared yellow. His ears sharpened. Claws slid from his fingers. He dropped down the bleachers in three jumps and hit the water snarling. Isaac tore into the creature again and again. Water sprayed. He landed two clean strikes. Then the Acheron coiled and swept a massive arm. Isaac flew sideways, slammed the wall, and slid under. He didn't get up. The Acheron turned. It started toward the bleachers, slow, certain. Stiles pulled Lydia behind him. The flame still wasn't done. The gym doors banged open. Scott stood in the doorway, eyes red. Malik was beside him, gold flaring. Derek shoved past them, already shifting. "Burn it, Stiles," Scott shouted. "We've got this part." Stiles turned back to the flame. The silver caught full at last. He had a chance now. He just had to keep it lit.