IF SCOTT APPRECIATED ANYTHING MORE THAN SLEEP, he'd be labeled a madman.
After all, the life he lived caused him to always be on his feet. Rarely, did he ever get a full night's rest. Especially that night, following his goodbye to Kira and the extra tests in the hospital--since he technically had been declared dead--Scott wanted nothing more to pass out the moment he saw his bed.
Unfortunately for him, the impatient knock against his window came only thirty minutes after he shut his eyes. Swears fell from his lips as forced himself to sit up. Dragging his fingers down his face to wake himself up more, Scott simply opened the window and turned back around before even seeing the visitor.
"Sierra, you know I love you," Scott started off, interrupting himself with a yawn. "But I am extremely exhausted after the day we've had."
Sierra sighed, climbing into his room with a frown on her face. "I know, and I'm sorry," she apologized. "I just...I just couldn't sleep."
Scott took a seat in his desk chair, concern in his eyes as he watched her sit on the edge of his bed. "Why, what's wrong?"
"Well, I haven't been getting much sleep for awhile now," Sierra shared, self-consciously crossing her arms over her stomach and casting her gaze to the floor. "But Stiles told me a few weeks ago you already knew that."
Scott smiled sadly at her, "I had my suspicions." Wanting to be there for her, he got up and moved to sit beside her. "What's going on, Sisi?"
"I'm not really sure," Sierra admitted as a forced laugh, fiddling with her fingers in her lap. "Today was...scary. I mean, the past few weeks were pretty terrifying, but I don't know, today I felt more fear than normal."
"Why?" Scott furrowed his eyebrows. "We're all okay."
"Seeing you in the morgue, I--" Sierra cut herself off, shaking her head. "Scott, that felt so real. You looked like you were actually dead. And it just made me think, what if...what if one day we aren't so lucky? What if one day we lose? I can't do this without you Scott, I can't--"
Noticing her distress and the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, Scott quickly wrapped his arms around Sierra. "You can't think like that," he told her gently as he rubbed her back. "You're not going to lose me, Sierra, okay? I promise."
"You can't promise me stuff like that," Sierra sniffled, holding onto him tighter.
"Hey," he called out to her, leaning his head back so he could look her in the eye. Scott brushed away a few of her tears before stating, "I'm here, alright? I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere. Look, you are one of my best friends and more than anything, I trust you. I understand that you're scared, heck, I'm scared too! But we have faced much worse than this, Sierra, and we are still sitting here."
"You do make a good point," Sierra nodded, the corners of her lips lifting.
Scott scoffed dramatically and waved his hand, "Of course I make a good point! You and I? We're a team, a damn good one might I add. These assassins...whoever the Benefactor is, it doesn't matter. They don't know who they're messing with. But I can't show them who's boss on my own. I need my best friend...I need my sister, Sierra. I need you."
Sierra's face broke out into a grin as she nodded, her spirits lifted. Scott smiled and hugged her once more, burying his head in her shoulder. "You know I love you, right?"
"I love you too, Scotty," she replied truthfully. "Thanks for keeping my hope alive."
"Well, you do it for the rest of us," he told her with a shrug, "it's time you start practicing what you've been preaching."
Sierra chuckled, "I guess so. I'm sorry I woke you up though. You're probably exhausted."
Scott brushed it off, "Oh, don't worry about me, I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" Sierra couldn't help but ask, leading him to raise an eyebrow at her. "I don't want to pry, I swear, and I'm glad we had this talk, but..."
She didn't finish.
"But what?" Scott asked her, curious to what was going on inside her mind.
Sierra sighed, knowing she might as well just say it. "Earlier, when we brought you back...you seemed, I don't know, on edge, I guess."
"Well, I did die," Scott joked but his face fell once she didn't even crack a grin. "You could tell I was on edge?"
"Of course I could tell, Scott, you're my best friend," Sierra reiterated his point from before. "And you're right, you were dead for an hour so maybe I'm just overthinking, but when Liam came in...it's like you couldn't look him in the eye. You completely froze, Scott. That's not like you, not anymore at least."
"I did freeze," Scott agreed, moving his gaze to his carpet from the guilt eating at his insides. "And I couldn't look Liam in the eye."
Sierra's face softened. "Why? He hasn't done anything wrong, Scott."
"Believe me, it's not about what he's done," Scott shook his head, before lowering his voice in shame. "It's about what I did."
"I don't understand."
Scott let out a heavy breath and he glanced back up at Sierra to see her staring back in concern. "While I was...dead," Scott started to reveal, "I kept having these dreams. Nightmares, really, the more I think about them. Noshiko warned me about them before I went under too, though I really didn't believe her at first."
Instead of looking at him with pity, Sierra offered him a smile and a hand to hold for comfort. He accepted the gesture gratefully, and continued.
"It always started with me on the table in the morgue," he finally shared despite his fear to tell her everything he saw. "Then, I ended up at the high school. Liam..." His voice got caught in his throat and Scott coughed, forcing himself to go on. "Liam...Liam was there and every time, the Mute appeared out of nowhere and...and killed him. But the last time, the Mute told me it was my turn."
A tear ran down his cheek as the memory flashed in his brain. "The tomahawk was in my hand and..." He couldn't finish the sentence. Scott bowed his head, ashamed. "As much as I hate to say it, I felt powerful," he cried, covering his face with his free hand. "All the anger, all of the pain...just came to the surface and I couldn't control myself. I killed him, Sierra, I killed Liam."
"Hey, hey, hey," Sierra soothed, pulling him into her embrace. "Do not say that. You didn't kill him, Scott."
"But I did!" he argued, his voice cracking. "It's like I forgot everything we stood for and...and just exploded."
"You did not kill Liam," Sierra enunciated each word sharply so he understood. "Right now, he is at home. Liam is alive, safe and sound. Okay? It was just a dream, Scott. It wasn't real."
"But it felt like it was real," Scott whimpered and held onto her arm just like he did at the hospital. Sierra sighed quietly, but didn't let him go. Anyone could tell Scott was extremely disturbed by what he envisioned, and the guilt was killing him. But he needed to understand he didn't do anything wrong.
Sierra waited a few moments to speak, filling the time by running a calming hand through Scott's hair. "I know what you saw scared you," Sierra whispered, "but none of that happened, Scott. The Mute can't hurt you and he can't hurt Liam. You're okay, I promise, and you cannot let a nightmare make you feel this...this guilt. You can't let it have power over you."
Scott sniffled, but didn't verbally respond at first, absorbing her words to heart. "Then why do I feel like this?" his voice quietly asked. "Why do I feel like a, like a monster?"
"Scott McCall, you are not a monster," Sierra declared wholeheartedly. "And I will repeat it a thousand times until you believe me. You are a freaking werewolf, my friend, but you aren't a monster."
Scott sat up, and turned to look her in the eye. "You really believe that?"
"Of course I do," Sierra confirmed with a nod. "I have known you practically my entire life, Scott, and I know what's in your heart. Having a dream where you commit an act, and actually committing the act in real life are two completely different things. Your fear just took advantage of you during a moment of weakness; unfortunately, that happens sometimes."
"Like it happened to you?" Scott asked, barely above a whisper.
Sierra felt herself freeze, caught off guard by his question. She kept her focus towards the ground for a minute, before she finally gained the courage to look back at him. "Yeah," Sierra nodded with her eyes glistening, a sad smile on her lips. "Like it happened to me."
"So how did you get through it?"
"I'm still getting through it," Sierra corrected him, forcing a laugh as she wiped a tear from under her eye. "Mizuki...she attacked every part of me. All my fears, all my anger...she used to control me. And even after I killed her, I still felt like she was in my head. That's why I don't sleep as much as I used to, Scott. Because I hear every negative thought and fear, and it keeps me awake."
Sierra questioned him, "But do you know how I know that I'm going to be okay?"
"How?"
"Because I have you," Sierra pointed to him, a smile stretching across her lips. "I have Jemma, and Stiles, and Malia, Lydia, and Kira....I have all these people around giving me their love and support. And just like they have my back, they have yours too. I know your nightmare scared you, but that's all it was. A nightmare. You are not a monster; you're a werewolf." Sierra teased him, "And let's be real here, even if you tried to kill Liam, I'm pretty sure he could take you."
Scott chuckled, already feeling much better from listening to her. "Yeah, you're totally right."
"When am I not?" Sierra snorted, and held up her hand for him.
Scott grinned, bumping his fist against hers before another question dawned on him. "So, speaking of Stiles..."
"Don't even go there," Sierra warned, lifting a finger. "I know you wanna help, Scotty, but this is something we have to figure out on our own."
"Have you guys talked at all since the PSAT's?" Scott asked in concern.
Sierra nodded once, letting him know it didn't go as well as he hoped. "Yeah, we might've started arguing in the hospital room."
"Are you two going to be okay?"
"I hope so, Scott. I truly hope so," Sierra replied truthfully. "But right now, I just need some space from him."
"It's my fault too," Scott reminded her before he apologized, "and I'm sorry we didn't tell you sooner. We could barely process it ourselves, but we shouldn't have kept it from you. As your best friend, I owe you a movie night and pizza."
"Apology accepted," Sierra smiled. "Unfortunately, that might have to wait until after all these people stop trying to kill us."
"Oh yeah, I forgot about them."
They both chuckled, and Scott spoke up once more once his eyes caught sight of the time. "Do you wanna spend the night here? You know the guest room is always open."
"Depends, have you changed the sheets since Isaac moved to Indiana to be with his cousins?" Sierra retorted and Scott playfully glared at her.
"Hey, that's rude!" Scott argued. "Plus, Isaac moved to France, not Indiana."
"And when is the last time you talked with him?" Sierra questioned with her eyebrows raised. "He only went to France with Argent to get some time away. Turns out, he has family on his mom's side that live in Indiana."
"His mom's side?"
"Right? That shocked me too," Sierra continued. "Especially because she died when he was only three. But they're sweet people. I met them one day when he facetimed me."
"Well, I'm happy for him," Scott responded honestly with a nod. "He deserves to be with a good family."
"Amen to that."
"But back to what we were talking about," Scott reeled her attention back in. "You spending the night?"
"I would, but I can't," Sierra turned his offer down politely. "Malia needed to talk with me before I went to bed."
"Hey, if you still can't sleep later, call me," he instructed her. "I'll talk about lacrosse; that always makes you drowsy."
Sierra chuckled as she raised to her feet, heading back towards the window. "I'll keep that in mind, thank you, Scott. Now, get some sleep. We have school tomorrow."
"Ugh, don't remind me."
"Oops, too late!"
*^*^*^*^*
By the time Sierra arrived home, Malia sat on the living room couch, her legs tucked underneath her. Her head raised at the sound of the front door opening and she paused the movie on the television just as Sierra walked in. "Hey," Sierra greeted with a smile. "I wasn't expecting you to still be up."
"I figured I'd wait for you," Malia answered, shrugging her shoulders. "Plus, I started this movie and wanted to finish it."
Sierra glanced over to the TV, and chuckled. "Another Zac Efron movie?"
"I blame you for my new-found admiration," Malia claimed as Sierra took off her jacket and set her keys on the table by the door.
"Unfortunately, you picked a sad one," Sierra said, walking over and taking a seat on the couch beside her. "Charlie St. Cloud makes me cry every time I watch it."
"I haven't cried yet, but then again I'm only twenty minutes in."
"Well, why you have your movie paused," Sierra changed the topic of conversation, "we might as well talk about where you were today. How'd it go?"
"Definitely not as I expected," Malia revealed with a deep sigh. "I was hoping to just sneak into the vault and get out. But Peter found me and wanted to talk."
"What did he say?"
"He didn't talk at first, just let me read through my adoption file that was in the safe," Malia told her and then frowned. "Unfortunately, there wasn't much in there. Just my birth certificate and some blacked out sheets of paper."
"Awe, I'm sorry, Mal," Sierra sympathized, patting Malia's knee for comfort. "I know you wanted to learn more about your mom. Did Peter at least tell you anything about her? Maybe so you can find out who she is?"
Malia thought back to the conversation and replied, "After he tried explaining his past...actions, he said the memory of my mom was taken away from him by my Aunt Talia and a woman named Genevieve."
Sierra felt herself tense at her mother's name falling from Malia's lips, but stayed quiet to let Malia continue. "All he knew was an alias she goes by," Malia finished, her brows furrowed in thought.
Intrigued, Sierra asked, "What alias?"
"Desert Wolf," Malia revealed softly. "Which means she's a coyote too."
Sierra could practically see the wheels turning in Malia's head and spoke up, "Malia, I know what you're thinking. Don't even go there."
"You don't even know what I was gonna say," Malia argued, but Sierra shook her head.
"Yes, I do, and I know you are blaming yourself for something that wasn't your fault," Sierra told her seriously. A sense of déjà vu washed over her then as she remembered having the same conversation with Scott. "Killing doesn't run in a family, Malia."
"Maybe it does in mine," Malia replied, her voice cracking at the end. "Do you remember when I told you about how I caused the car crash?"
"You mean when you were out of control on a full moon," Sierra corrected sternly but Malia just shook her head, blinking back her tears.
"There was something I didn't tell you about," Malia exhaled shakily, failing at trying to keep her composure. "Right before we got in the car, my motherâ" Malia stopped herself, a tear rolling down her cheek. "My adoptive mother, I guess....we got into a huge fight. I don't even remember what it was about, but....I remember what I said."
Sierra clutched Malia's hand tightly, whispering, "Malia, you don't have toâ"
"I said I wish you were all dead," Malia cried, briskly trying to wipe her tears away. "And before I knew it...they were. Then today, Peter...heâ"
"What did he do, Malia?" Sierra asked in immediate concern, knowing how twisted the former alpha was. "I swear to God if he laid a finger on you..."
"He just stood there," the simple action enraged Malia more than she thought possible. "He hurt so many people, murdered them. And...he's not even fazed." Malia raised her head, Sierra feeling her heart break at the sight. The girl's cheeks were flushed, her eyes red from crying while her fingertips trembled at her sides. "I'm, I'm just like him, Sierra."
"Look, I will repeat this until you believe it," Sierra grabbed Malia's attention and spoke clearly. "You. Are. Not. Your. Father. What happened that night didn't happen because of your DNA, Malia. It was an accident, a tragic one yes, but an accident. And you can't let that weigh over you and pick apart the details, because then it will completely destroy you from the inside out. I said it the other day and I'll say it again: no one blames you. And killing doesn't run in a family."
"No one is asking you to suddenly have this father-daughter relationship with Peter," Sierra continued truthfully, "and if you don't want anything to do with him, that's perfectly okay. In my opinion, he has a lot to make up for but it's completely up to you whether he gets the chance."
"What about my mother?" Malia questioned softly. "What if she's just like him?"
Sierra pursed her lips, thinking through her next words carefully. She turned in her seat, lifting up one of her legs and tucking it under her other knee. "Have you ever heard the phrase, 'You can't chose your family?'"
Malia cinched her eyebrows together before shaking her head. "No, I don't think so."
"Good, because that phrase is utter shit." Sierra went on to explain, "Just because Peter and the Desert Wolf are blood, doesn't make them your family. Families are formed when you surround yourself with people who genuinely want you in their life. It's a group of individuals who truly care about you and love you for who you are. They have your back no matter what, and they will always fight by your side. That, Malia, is a family."
"And guess what? That's our pack," Sierra concluded, offering her an encouraging smile. "Scott, Stiles, me, Lydia, Kira, Jemma and Derek...heck even Liam at this point. We care about you so much, and even when you feel like you're too broken to go on, we're gonna be there to pick up the pieces. We're not going anywhere, I promise."
"So families forgive each other," Malia read between the lines. "Even if it's hard at first."
"That's right," Sierra grinned proudly, nodding once.
"So, if Stiles is a part of our family, I need to forgive him for keeping the truth about Peter," Malia stated, making Sierra's breath hitch with discomfort. Malia looked at Sierra to make sure she understood. "Right?"
Sierra didn't answer at first, guilt twisting her insides. Unfortunately, her eyes happened to land on a photo frame propped on the side table. In it, her past self had been caught mid-laugh, her hand slightly covering her mouth. Stiles, sat next to her, held a dopey grin on his lips with brightened eyes as he stared at her.
"Yeah," Sierra whispered, her hand subconsciously reaching up to grasp the ring that rested against her heart. She cleared her throat as she looked back at Malia, restating, "Right, I mean. You're right."
"Do you think forgiveness can wait till tomorrow morning?" Malia questioned, a yawn escaping her lips. "Cause I'm pretty tired, and I wanted to finish this movie."
Sierra chuckled, "Yes, it can wait until morning. Do you mind if I stay down here too? I can grab some blankets from the closet; it'll be a proper sleepover."
"Sleepover?" Malia's ears perked in interest.
"I have so much to teach you," Sierra grinned excitedly as she raised to her feet. "And it starts with the ice cream in the freezer! Come on!"
Malia barely understood her friend's ramble about 'Nothing But the Kitchen Sink' sundaes but felt energetic as she followed Sierra into the kitchen.
"Now, remind me, you're not allergic to peanuts, are you?"
"You know I'm a werecoyote right?"
"Okay, Ms. Smarty Pants, just for that you're eating the vanilla ice cream."
*^*^*^*
"You're telling me Parrish was set on fire?"
Sierra couldn't believe what Lydia gushed to her, her phone pressed against her ear. She stood in front of her locker and cautiously glanced around to make sure no one was listening. "You're kidding, right?"
"I'm not kidding," Lydia replied, her tone thick with worry. "He just came into the police station, covered in ashes. He attacked Haigh and Stiles's dad got hurt."
Alarmed, Sierra's eyes widened. "What do you mean Stiles's dad got hurt?" Sierra demanded. "Is he okay?"
"He's on his way to the hospital right now, and he's fine," Lydia assured her. "But I need you and Scott to help me take Parrish to Derek. He should be dead, Sierra. But he's perfectly fine."
"Okay," Sierra nodded, "Okay, we'll figure it out, Lyd. Just stay calm, and keep him calm until we get there. I can sign out early, so I'll be there soon."
"What about Scott?"
"Ironically, I am looking at him right now," Sierra told her, making eye-contact with the true alpha down the hallway. He had been headed her way to talk about their plans for the annual bonfire, as both of them were required to be there as captain and assistant coach to the lacrosse team.
Scott raised his eyebrows at the alarmed look on Sierra's face, and he picked up his pace so he ended up right beside her. He didn't interrupt her conversation but tuned in to what Lydia was saying. "That's perfect," Lydia claimed. "I'll take Parrish and we'll meet you all at the loft."
Scott made a face, confused, as Sierra said her goodbyes to the banshee. "What's wrong with Parrish?" he asked Sierra once the call ended.
Sierra sighed, shutting her locker. "I'll explain on the way. Question though, did you drive your bike here?"
"Well, considering I have no other mode of transportation, Sierra, of course I did."
"Perfect!" Sierra grinned. "I call shotgun!"
"It's a motorcycle, you can't call shotgun. There are only two seats and I'm driving!"
"Eh, agree to disagree."
*^*^*^*
Standing in Derek's loft, Sierra looked at Parrish in amazement. He stood perfectly fine, frightened of course, but otherwise physically alright. Derek observed his hands, finding no trace of being burned at all.
Jemma stood beside Sierra, who stayed next to Scott with her arms crossed over her chest. "You said he covered you in gasoline?" Jemma asked Parrish, referencing the deputy who had attempted to kill him.
Parrish nodded, glancing over at Lydia and the other teenagers in confusion. He didn't say anything though, as Lydia turned to Derek. "It's the hair and nails, isn't it? The parts of the body that are essentially dead."
"Well, they should be gone," Derek commented.
"I was set on fire," Parrish interceded, his voice cracking with disbelief. "All of me should be gone!"
"Not if you're like us," Scott spoke up, motioning to himself and the others in the room.
Parrish didn't understand. "Like you?"
Derek shook his head, answering Scott, "No, I don't think he's like us."
"Then what is he?" Lydia asked him and Jemma, since they held more experience than anyone else in the room.
"I'm sorry but I have no idea," Jemma claimed, holding her hands up in defense.
Derek agreed, "I don't either."
"But you knew about Jackson and Kira," Scott pointed out to them.
"Neither of them could survive being set on fire, Scott," Jemma reasoned.
"She's right," Derek nodded. "This is a little out of our experience. There might be something in the bestiary. Did you try Argent?"
Scott exchanged a knowing look with Sierra before he sighed, "We don't know where he is."
"Okay, hold on, what is a bestiary?" Parrish tried to follow the conversation. However, all of the weird terminology threw him off. "Actually, that's not even my first question. Just...Just tell me one thing." His eyes flickered to the banshee next to him. "Are all of you like Lydia? Are you all psychic?"
"Psychic?" Sierra thought she misheard the deputy. She stifled a laugh, but then her face fell as he just stared back at her blankly. "Oh, you're being serious. Um..." She glanced at Scott, bewildered, but he just shrugged. He didn't know how to explain it either. "No, we're not psychic, Parrish. Not exactly."
"Then what are you?" Parrish questioned, just wanting a clear cut answer. Little did he know that the truth would only bring more questions.
Jemma and Derek nodded at Scott and Sierra, mentally telling them to be honest with Parrish. Scott and Sierra closed their eyes, feeling their normal colors dissolve underneath red and silver. Facing him, the pair revealed everything.
And luckily, he didn't react in the way they expected. He didn't scream or back away in fright. Parrish was simply intrigued and started to ask questions.
The group of supernatural creatures did the best they could, explaining different abilities and the true reasoning behind some of the murders in Beacon Hills. Granted, it was mind-boggling information and Parrish couldn't grasp all of it. Twenty minutes later, he sat himself on the couch, still confused. "Wait, what's a kanima?"
Exasperated, Sierra looked at Scott, who sighed. "We'll get back to that," Scott assured Parrish and took a seat on the arm rest. "Just know that everyone like us, everyone with some kind of supernatural ability is on the deadpool."
"But I don't even know what I am!"
Derek piped up, "I'm pretty sure they don't care."
"How many professional assassins are we talking about?" Parrish inquired, looking between everyone.
Lydia's lips tugged downwards as she responded, "We're starting to lose count."
Scott asked another question, more or so directed to Sierra. "But is it still just professionals?"
"I don't think so," Sierra replied thoughtfully, resting her chin on her knuckles. "I mean, think about Haigh. I mean, he was a freaking deputy; there's no way he tried something like this before. I think he was taking a chance to make some money."
"Well, that means anyone with a deadpool could take a chance," Jemma informed. "And if Haigh had it, who else does? How easy is it to get this thing now?"
"We're not exactly sure," Scott said with a heavy sigh. "But we think we're getting closer to who the Benefactor is."
"Explain," Derek ordered, wanting to be in the loop.
Scott shifted his eyes to Lydia and nodded his head, showing her it was time to speak. "No one came to claim Scott's body when we sent out that he had died," Lydia started off. "So that got us thinking: who doesn't need to actually see a body to know if they're actually dead?"
"A banshee," Jemma caught on.
"Exactly," Sierra nodded and motioned to her friend. "While we were at the hospital with Scott, Lydia discovered a code left from her grandmother--the same code that broke apart the deadpool-- at the lake house. The entire building was lined with mountain ash."
"Your grandmother was a banshee?" Derek asked Lydia.
"Apparently," Lydia let out a breath she didn't know she was keeping in and went on. "Anyways, when I showed my mom a picture of Meredith Walker, she recognized her. Meredith had been to the lake house only once before, but it was enough."
Jemma questioned, "So how did your grandmother know Meredith?"
"She didn't," Lydia answered honestly. She walked to Derek's bed and took a seat on the edge while she recalled everything her mother shared with her. "My grandmother found Meredith, because of another woman named Maddy. The woman she loved."
Lydia took out the picture she had kept in her purse, an aged image of her grandmother with Maddy when she was young. She passed it off to Scott, who held it in between himself and Sierra so she could see it as well. "I never met her," Lydia shared, "but I saw her name everywhere. She used to be part of a yacht racing team."
Sierra softly smiled at the pride in Lydia's voice and let her continue. "There were plaques and trophies in the lake house from all the regattas she won."
"How did she die?" Parrish asked quietly, not wanting to be disrespectful.
"How's not the story," Lydia replied to him. "It's what happened the night before. My grandmother, Lorraine, used to work in San Francisco for IBM." She looked lost in a trance as she turned back around, her eyes starting to water. "She was there on a weekend, catching up on her work. She started hearing this sound...like rain."
Scott and Sierra exchanged glances as Lydia paused in front of the window panel, but didn't interrupt. "But when she looked out the windows, all she saw was blue sky," Lydia explained, truly understanding what her grandmother went through.
"But she kept hearing the rain?"
Lydia barely nodded. "And it just kept getting louder. Rain and thunder...cracking like gunshots in her head. So loud....she finally just screamed."
"Like a banshee," Derek realized, his face softening in pity.
Lydia turned back to face them all, swallowing hard, before making herself finish the story. "She called Maddy, who was planning on taking one of the boats out on the lake. But Maddy said that the sun was shining there too. So Lorraine didn't say anything."
Parrish read between the lines. "There was an accident?"
Lydia could practically hear the thunder rumbling in her head as she revealed, "It took them four days to find Maddy's body. And then it took decades to figure out how Lorraine knew." Lydia told them her grandmother turned to parapsychologists, who were responsible for the soundproof study in the lake house due to every pseudo-scientific theory they could find. But nothing worked, not even the psychics or mediums.
Until Meredith; a fragile girl from Eichen House who didn't understand the things she heard. "They brought her to the study," Lydia said, fiddling with her fingers out of guilt. "And they almost killed her. She was hospitalized for over a year...and she never really recovered." She raised her head to look at Sierra, tears in her eyes. "My grandmother drove her insane. And I...I drove her to suicide. And all she ever wanted to do was help."
Lydia sniffled, but focused on taking out the code she discovered at the lake house to show everyone else. "My grandmother created the code for the deadpool," she explained. "They think she's the banshee who put the names on it in the first place. She left me this message in the same code."
"But she didn't leave a cipher key, did she?" Scott asked, and all Lydia could do was shake her head.
"That's why I'm going to ride with her to the hospital," Sierra spoke up, raising to her feet. "We're going to check on Noah and get Stiles to help us crack the code."
"I should be going to," Parrish stood up as well. "Thank you for explaining everything to me, I greatly appreciate it." He looked to Sierra and Lydia, "If you get it cracked, you can come by the station and I'll run the names."
"We'll definitely do that, thank you," Sierra smiled, grabbing her jacket that she had laid beside her. She glanced at Scott as she put it back on. "Are you staying here?"
"Yeah," he nodded once and motioned to Derek and Jemma. "I need to....I need to ask them a few things."
Sierra raised her eyebrows, but didn't question him. "Alrighty then, I'll see you later. Lyd, you ready?"
"Yep," Lydia answered, her purse in hand.
"Perfect, I call shotgun!"
"Sierra, I'm driving and you're the only person riding with me."
"Lydia, you always have to say shotgun. It's like a rule."
"Oh geez."