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Riddles were a tricky little thing. And when used in a malevolent way where to find the answer to a solution one must crack the code, riddles can become a person’s worst enemy.
And the one laying on the table of Derek’s loft was becoming their enemy.
Murders, which was becoming a common occurrence lately in Beacon Hills, were happening where the people were nearly drained of their blood by cutting their throats and wrists before letting them hang upside down. Stiles' father was overwhelmed with stress. Not to mention he was having to come to terms with the reality his town was a beating heart for supernatural creatures. Like how his son's best friend since childhood was a fucking werewolf.
And while it was presumed a human serial killer was responsible for the murders, the pack had an inkling it was more sinister. Investigating on their own they found more suspicious reasons to believe it was supernatural.
Only problem, they had no clue who or what it was.
They were all gathered over the table—save for Peter who was nestled on the couch. Stiles was rubbing a thumb over his lip, becoming frustrated as he was usually on top of solving riddles. Lydia was beside him, deep in thought as she read over the paper silently.
“He just left this here?” Scott glanced at Derek, who was standing with his arms crossed on the opposite side of the table.
“Right outside the door. Like he wanted us to find it.”
“And you heard nothing?” Stiles’ question earned him a glare. “Super hearing and you didn’t hear someone stabbing a piece of paper into your front door?”
“If I did you think I would’ve let him leave the damn note?” Derek spoke harshly.
“Riddle.”
“—knowing all it is, is a distraction so he can kill more people.”
“It’s not just a distraction,” Allison interrupted the two bickering, staring hard at the note. “It’s an order. He’s asking us to find someone.”
“Yeah,” Isaac scoffed, “who we have no idea is.”
“Read it again,” Scott sighed, running a hand through his hair. With a huff, Stiles took the paper in his hands, clearing his throat before reading aloud for all to hear.
Have you figured it out yet?
Were my clues not enough?
You’re thinking too hard now,
Let me show you it’s not so tough.
Our faces the same,
As they were the day we changed.
Only the eyes no longer its color,
A price for the exchange.
You’ll find it almost disheartening,
When you learn of what we do.
Our nature is uncanny,
But it’s not so far from you.
Find the one I’m looking for,
And I’ll stop the chaos and the pain.
Are you ready?
Here’s your hint.
Time is of the essence,
So you better make it quick.
Wearing the
Heart of the Ocean,
She’s closer than it seems.
For I seek the one I turned,
Who was on the
Ship of Dreams.
Silence fills the loft, everyone thinking hard of what it could mean. There were so many clues but so vague it was difficult to puzzle them together.
“Well we know it’s someone supernatural,” Isaac hummed, attempting to lighten the situation.
“Yeah we got that genius,” Peter muttered.
“And he’s looking for a woman,” Allison added, ignoring Peter’s sarcasm. “Someone he turned. And was on a ship?” It comes out more like a question, “that could mean a lot of things.”
“Could it be a werewolf?” Scott turned to Derek
The man shook his head, “I don’t think so.”
“But the thing about the eyes—.”
“Many shapeshifters' eyes are like ours. That doesn’t mean it’s a wolf. Plus he said they’re not wolves.”
“How do you know?”
Derek rolls his eyes as though it were obvious, “he wrote, ‘our nature is uncanny, but it’s not so far from you,’. If they were wolves he would’ve said so.”
“Maybe another Kanima?” Allison suggested, “the master looking for his puppet?”
Stiles cuts in, narrowing his eyes on the last verse, “Why would he bold the first and last line of the last clue—these ones,” he places the paper flat on the table. Lydia, the closest to him, leans in as his finger points to the verse. “Heart of the Ocean and the—.”
“Ship of Dreams,” she finishes, voice going low as realization hits her. All eyes turn to her, confusion in their gaze until the name leaves her lips. “Titanic.”
“What?” The question came from Scott, but all were thinking the same. There’s no way she was talking about the most famous shipwreck in history.
“Titanic,” Lydia repeated, this time more confidently. Her own finger came up to point where Stiles' finger had been. “They used to call it the Ship of Dreams.”
“Titanic?” Isaac’s tone was full of doubt. “You mean the ship that sank a century ago?” He couldn’t help but add, “And the movie Leonardo DiCaprio dies in.”
She rolls her eyes, “I don’t recall any other having the same name.”
“The anniversary is coming up,” Derek starts to say, deep in thought like it was all coming together. “It would make sense.”
“Wait—hold on,” Stiles lifts a dramatic hand. “We’re talking about THE Titanic—like Isaac said—that sank a hundred years ago. A hundred,” he repeats to show his point. “Anyone who is alive—even if they were a werewolf or shapeshifter or whatever the hell you want to call it,” he glances at each of them, “would pretty much be on their last breath of life. If this woman were a newborn baby at the time she’d be at least one hundred years old by now.”
In the debate none had noticed Peter moved from the couch to the window. The chuckle leaving his mouth caught their attention. Stiles makes a sound, “I’m sorry, do you wanna share with the class what you obviously know that we’re missing?”
“Our faces are the same,” he says the opening line of the second verse, only drawing confusion and annoyed looks from the others. “As they were the day we changed.” The man pauses, letting it sink in before continuing, “If the woman he’s looking for was on Titanic, then she likely was an adult. Considering he turned her, probably by saving her from freezing to death or drowning, and she wears the same face she did the night she was turned…” Peter steps away from the window, now facing the group.
“She’s not aging. At all. Meaning…..she’s immortal.”
The silence following his confession is eerie, eyes flicking over each other to see if they were reacting the same. Immortal. Though the term was familiar it felt almost foreign. Never had they dealt with someone immortal. Unable to die and was walking the Earth acting as though they were human. Now Beacon Hills had two in its possession. They needed to work fast and the riddle only had pieces of the puzzles.
So who—or more like what, was immortal?
"What are you getting to?” Scott narrowed his eyes, wanting a straightforward answer to what they were dealing with.
Peter clasps his hands behind his back, slowly inching forward,” It’s not shapeshifters you’re looking for.” He takes a step closer, “or a Kanima and its master.” Another step, “or a dark Druid.” Another step brings him right next to Derek, eyes flicking to the paper. “There are few creatures blessed with immortality—or cursed if you look at it another way. But most of them are born with it. Take Gods and fairies for example.”
“Oh my God—those exist?” Stiles feels his mind implode, “Are we about to fight Gods?”
“No,” annoyed at being interrupted Peter rolled his eyes. “I just said those are immortals that are born with their powers. And I don’t know if they exist, I’ve haven’t met one yet. Anyway, this one—.” His finger touches the riddle, “was turned. And likely the person who did was too.”
“So what is it then,” Scott was becoming impatient. And who could blame him really. For all they know it someone was already being drained of their blood at that very moment. “What’s the immortal that’s turned not born?”
“Come one,” he scoffs, like he couldn’t believe they hadn’t figured it out. “Ever wonder why the victims were drained of their blood?” The one question had everyone's face become colorless. “Has Stiles's father not caught on the wounds were made after they were dead? Why their throat was slashed….but had two little puncture holes on either side?” Peter glances around at every person, catching the nervousness of their gaze as though they already knew what he was about to say but wished it wasn’t.
“The creatures you’re looking for…..are vampires.”
The rest of the night the pack was gathering as much information as they could about the passengers aboard Titanic—all 2,240 of them—while also trying to figure out any other clues within the riddle. They still couldn’t believe it was a vampire responsible for the murders. And that he was hunting someone he created who, still to their shock, was a passenger aboard Titanic.
And with 2,240 people on the ship during its ill-fated maiden voyage…they were in for a long night.
“Okay so we know they’re vampires—our killer is the one who turned the woman he’s searching for into a vampire. She was on Titanic when it sank meaning—,” Stiles wrote furiously across the notepad, the riddle next right beside it. “He was on it too. Now we could narrow this down several ways. Either by searching through the passenger's class or going through who survived because as Lydia pointed out,” the hand holding the pen points to the redhead, “RMS Carpathia recorded the names of the survivors before they reached New York.”
Either method was good, but there was a problem with the latter. As Allison pointed out, “but what if they never knew she was there? I mean having a newly turned vampire on a ship filled with people is a recipe for disaster.”
Derek nods, agreeing with her, “Her eyes would’ve made it obvious.”
“How so?” Asked Isaac.
Peter is the one to explain, “Vampires in our world are different from what you see on TV. They aren’t these pale, corpse-like, individuals who look like they belong in the morgue. They’re rather human-like if they’re equipped with a special glimmer that allows them to come off as mortal.”
“Glimmer?” Lydia raised a brow, finding the word a bit comical given the creature they were dealing with.
“We’ll get to that. But any vampire who’s newly turned will have red eyes—blood red eyes.”
“How fitting,” Stiles couldn’t help but groan. “So what, are you saying she’s likely wearing contacts to hide her eyes.”
“Possibly,” Peter hums with a shrug, “wouldn’t be surprised if she is. This day in age makes it easier for vampires to conceal their nature. But considering our little vampire was turned in 1912…her creator probably hid her on the Carpathia—or as outrageous as it sounds, swam her across the remainder of the Atlantic Ocean.”
Derek closes the book in front of him, detailing the events of the RMS Carpathia rescue of Titanic’s passengers. “However he saved her can wait,” he leans his hands onto the table, “We need to figure out the last clue of this riddle.” Moving the riddle to him, Derek reads, “Wearing the Heart of the Ocean, she’s closer than it seems.”
Lydia bites her lip, typing away on her laptop. “If I didn’t know it any better…it sounds like he’s trying to reference a piece of jewelry. Probably a necklace or something.”
Peter rubs his jaw deep in thought, “That could be the source of her glimmer.”
“The necklace?” Stiles wonders aloud.
“Usually most vampires would prefer a ring or bracelet,” he waves a hand, “It’s small and concealable. Very easy for a Druid to enchant the item and allow the vampire to give off the effect to other supernatural beings they’re human. Prevents them from being obliterated by the sun. That’s their glimmer. Sealed within the jewelry to act as a camouflage. So long as they have it on,” he shrugs lightly, “you’d never know what they truly are.”
“And she’s been passing off as a human in Beacon Hills. For God knows how long,” Lydia opens a separate browser, hands hovering over the keyboard. “If her necklace has a name like Heart of the Ocean it shouldn’t be too hard to find. We find the Heart of the Ocean, we find her.” Her words have Allison come over beside her, realization crossing her face.
“Isn’t that the name of the necklace Rose wore in the movie?” Right as she finished her sentence, the image popped up on the screen of said necklace after Lydia typed the name into Google. “So it was real after all?”
“Appears to be,” Lydia was just as amazed. Stiles leans over her other side, eyes bulging at the sight of the large blue heart-shaped diamond surrounded by tiny little white ones.
“That’s gotta be worth a billion dollars.”
“350 million to be exact,” Lydia reads off. “At least today it is. Back then it was worth probably not even a quarter of that price—but still big for its time.”
“So…” Isaac taps his finger to his mouth, glaring up at the ceiling from where he was seated, legs perched on the table. “We’re looking for a vampire—probably at least 120 give or take a few years—who is passing off as human because of a magic necklace worth more than our entire lives. Wonderful.”
Scott takes a glance, letting out a whistle, “That had to have belonged to a first-class passenger. I’d say we start there.”
“On it,” Lydia begins to search records of the names aboard Titanic with First-class tickets. While she’s doing that the pack gathers to the makeshift board Stiles had created, adding notes to it as they go.
Stiles tapes the new information on the necklace to next to the verse on the copy of the riddle they made. “Heart of the Ocean a.k.a the magic necklace making the vampire appear human. To be honest, if someone were wearing a necklace that extravagant in Beacon Hills it’d be noticeable.”
Scott agreed, “She’s probably keeping it under her clothes. I mean I would. Lydia, did you find anything on who it belonged to?”
The redhead makes a huff, “from what the article says,” she clicks on a link, “it belonged to American socialite Y/n L/n as a gift from her husband Theodore Ford on their wedding day. He had it custom made overseas on a trip to France.” Lydia’s eyes widened at the next line, “She was the niece of John Rockefeller, and he was the nephew of Henry Ford.”
“Good God,” Stiles made a sound, many of the others showing a similar reaction. “What a match made in heaven…and money.”
“Great,” Peter plops onto the couch, “our vampire was a once billionaire socialite—well maybe not billionaire. That’s a far reach. Since she was only the niece of Rockefeller and her hubby was a Ford she probably only had a snippet of their family's fortune.” The man rolls his neck, hands clasped on his lap with his legs kicked up. “She shouldn’t be too hard to find then. All we need is a picture.”
Derek gives his uncle an annoyed look, “We don’t if it’s her or not. Maybe the necklace was stolen by her creator and that’s how she got it.”
“What else does it say?” Allison turns her attention back to her best friend. In her head she couldn’t help but feel there was something missing. That they were so close to the answer.
Lydia continues on, “It says here that they married in 1901–Y/n aged nineteen and Theodore aged twenty-one. They had a son, Benjamin, born 1905 and Theodore died six years later in 1911 from a car accident.” She scrolls down a bit; brows furrowing a tad and makes a sound of ‘eureka!’ “Y/n was gifted two First-Class tickets for her and her son aboard Titanic by her uncle John Rockefeller. They boarded the ship during Titanic’s first stop to Cherbough, France….survivors of Titanic recall last seeing Y/n place her son Benjamin into a lifeboat before being denied entry since it had reached maximum capacity,” a feeling of heartbreak fills the redhead, soon followed by defeat as she reads “It is believed Y/n L/n drowned as the ship submerged beneath the surface on April 15, 1912, as her body was never recovered as one to have perished from hypothermia in the freezing waters. Nor was she listed on the records of survivors on RMS Carpathia. Her son Benjamin was soon taken in by her mother where he remained in New York City until his sudden death in 1918 by influenza.”
A moment of silence passes as they take in the information. For Allison and Lydia, they couldn’t help the sadness for the woman they didn’t even know. To have to say goodbye to your child, likely promising them you’d get on the next boat and would be reunited shortly, only to never see them again.
The redhead suddenly straightens her posture.
“What is it?” Scott hears her heartbeat quicken. Worry takes his features when Lydia appears as if she saw a ghost. Everyone else looks the same when she brings a hand to her mouth. “Lydia?” There’s a slight tremor in her hand when she pulls it away.
“She’s closer than it seems.” She whispers the line from the final verse. Tone filled with near distraught.
Allison takes a hesitant step forward. From where they were all standing, they could also see the light of the screen hitting Lydia’s complexion. Whatever was on it was hidden from their view. “Lydia…”
“I-I thought it meant that by finding the Heart of the Ocean we’d be able to spot whoever was wearing it. That we’d have to maybe knock on every door in Beacon Hills until we find whoever is hiding it—as stupid as that sounds. Because who in their right mind if they knew they were being hunted would just hide in plain sight? But….” her breath picks up, slight horror and astonishment as she stares back at the screen. “He knows where she is—h-he wants us to find her, because she can lead us to him.”
“Lydia….” Stiles slowly draws closer to her. Peter moves to stand from the couch, expression unreadable as was Derek’s.
But Lydia’s eyes never move from the screen. “The riddle—it was just his game. He knows exactly where she is. He has to. Because she’s been under our nose all along—closer than we could’ve imagined.” Finally the redhead looks up to the anxious eyes of everyone, revealing the shocking truth with the slow turn of the laptop.
“She boarded Titanic as Y/n L/n,” the screen shows a sepia image causing Allison to gasp, Isaac to mutter ‘holy shit’, Stiles to drop his marker, and Scott to feel his stomach drop. Derek and Peter shared a look, Derek more anxious than his uncle. “But she’s been living as Loretta Andrews.”
There on the screen, listed as the socialite Y/n L/n and wearing the jaw-dropping necklace called the Heart of the Ocean, was a woman whose face the teenagers had seen every Monday to Friday for the last three months. Who looked no older than the age of 30 like in the picture and had arrived in Beacon Hills shortly before the spring semester.
Their English teacher, Loretta Andrews.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
*tick* *tick* *tick*
Scott’s eyes were on the clock, flickering over to Stiles who wore an expression similar to his. Filled with unease and wondering if what they were about to do was a mistake. The minutes were ticking away as the school day approached its end. Glancing to Allison and Lydia in the front of the classroom he could see in their neck and shoulders how tense they were, Allison nervously chewing on the tip of her pen. All throughout the lecture none could stay focused. Not when the person teaching had a harrowing secret they were about to confront.
How would she react? Better yet how were they going to even breach the subject.
Scott could see them fucking everything up in the blink of the eye. He couldn’t help but recall Peter’s warning from the night before. “Vampires can be hostile creatures—especially if they haven’t fed for a while. They can go maybe….weeks without drinking blood before they start to lose their control. Considering Loretta—or should I say, Y/n, has been in Beacon Hills a few months I can only assume she is getting her blood by some other means than preying on its citizens. Still, approach her with caution if you decide to confront her. If I was a 130-year-old vampire who was a wealthy socialite that survived one of the most famous shipwrecks in history and was being hunted by my creator…well let’s just say I wouldn’t let you leave still breathing.”
The more the seconds ticked by the more Scott was regretting the plan. After much debate the pack wanted to get to the bottom of everything quickly and that meant confronting Miss. Andrews at school. Which was very unnerving. Discovering she was a vampire only made her more intimidating after already establishing herself as someone who came off as unapproachable. Though they had few interactions, Scott found Miss. Andrews to possess an aura that reads, ‘better to wonder in silence rather than search for answers.’ Appearing no older than the age of thirty, sometimes she’d say words or phrases that made her seem much older.
Thankfully their English section was the last period of the day. Isaac wasn’t in the class but he had Miss. Andrews that morning and kept his eyes out for the necklace, however, he was unable to tell if the woman was wearing it.
The Heart of the Ocean.
What led them to her.
If she was wearing the necklace it had to have been beneath her high collared shirt that was paired with a black blazer and dress pants. Now knowing what they know, they realized Miss. Andrews always wore clothing that was sophisticated and concealed her neck area. Whether it be a turtleneck or a collared shirt, they wondered why they hadn’t found it odd before. California was hot even in the early months of the year—especially in April as they approached summer.
Peter’s words echoed in Scott’s mind, “Vampires are cold-blooded creatures. The warm weather has little effect on them and though the glimmer acts as a camouflage to other supernatural creatures it doesn’t change their nature. They’ll be cold to the touch. Faster than the speed of sound. Stronger the older they are. And some even have little gifts that separate them from others.”
“Gifts?”
“Abilities. Very rare among their kind but those who possess them are more enhanced in every aspect than others. I’ve heard stories about one who can read minds. An old…acquaintance, of mine said he once encountered a vampire who could compel anyone to do anything for them. Let’s hope neither your killer or his little creation have any talents. Otherwise your odds of coming out of this in one piece are going to be very low.”
The hairs stood on the back of Scott’s neck when Loretta…Y/n… passed him as she walked in between the aisle of desks. It was like his senses were trying to warn him despite his others unable to detect she was not human.
“What people fail to understand about Romeo and Juliet…” Loretta moves between Lydia and Allison, missing how both girls tense up. “Is that it is not a romance despite having a prominent theme of love thorough out the play. To be considered a romance it must have what you would call, ‘a happily ever after,’…” Turning to face the class, Loretta leans her back against the desk with her arms crossed over her chest. Scott almost perches up, straining his ears to see if he could pick up movement around her neck.
Her eyes scan across the room, lingering on Scott and Stiles when they quickly look away, “Specifically for the protagonist—or protagonists in this setting. Romeo and Juliet die at the end of the play, therefore there is no happy ending. Yes, their families end up putting past their differences due to the loss of their loved ones. But the protagonists did not get to ride off into the sunset and live out their lives in peace. So the more appropriate term for the play would be a tragedy. A genre focused on human suffering and sorrowful events that happen to the protagonist. And as we have learned these past weeks, Shakespeare was known for his tragedies. Romeo and Juliet is just one of his many—Macbeth, Othello, Julius Caesar to name a few.”
There were only two minutes remaining in the class. Scott tapped his pen against the book anxiously, eyes back on the clock as Stiles sent him another look. Isaac’s scent soon filled his nostrils, indicating he was outside the door. And glancing over her shoulder, Allison gave a slight nod of, ‘it’s gonna be okay,’ to try and ease his nerves.
“Tragedies can be inspired by an array of things,” Loretta moved her arms so her hands were clasped in front of her. Again, Scott couldn’t help but listen for the rustling of jewelry. All he got was a usually steady pacing of her heart. If that even was her heart.
“Personal lives and historical events.” Lydia and Alice glance at each other as do Scott and Stiles. “They dive into the catharsis of their audience. Bringing pleasure through pain because we as humans—,” the teens share another look, “cannot help but find a sense of enjoyment in seeing the main character fail. Witness their downfall. Does that say something about us in how we view others?” The question was rhetoric, Loretta watching the students think in silence before shrugging. “That is for you to decide.”
*ring* *ring* *ring*
In a hurry students gather their belongings and make their way out the door. For the four teenagers planning to stay they are slow in their movements.
“Don’t forget tomorrow’s quiz is on Act five,” Loretta shouted lightly, pushing off from the desk only to walk around it. “Then we will begin our unit on Poe so be sure to have your textbooks with you.” As Loretta starts to erase the chalkboard the teens draw to the back door of the class to make it look like they're leaving but really they stop once Isaac enters. Then with a nod, “let’s do this,” they make their way back into the classroom.
Reaching the front row of the desks, the sound of Stiles bumping into a chair catches the woman’s attention, turning to face the group with perplexed eyes making them freeze like deer in headlights.
“Well hello,” Loretta places the eraser down, surprised to see five of her students behind her. “Wasn’t expecting you all to stay after the period ended. Everything alright?” She connects eyes with all, sensing their distress.
Scott is the first to speak, “We’re sorry to bother you when you’re busy, Miss. Andrews,” he felt his heart pick when he nearly addressed her by her real name. “We were just wondering if you could help us with something.”
“Is it about tomorrow’s quiz?” Loretta is calm, collected, and shows no signs of nervousness. “Because unfortunately if that’s the case I can’t—.”
“It’s about our history project,” Allison cuts in, causing the boys to give her a look that read ‘what are you doing?’ She gives a smile when Loretta tilts her head.
“Are you asking me to read over your report? Check for any grammatical errors? That I can do for you if you have a rough draft.”
“No,” Lydia rubs her neck, watching Loretta take a piece of chalk in her hand while bidding a glance at her lesson plans on the desk. Lydia licks her bottom lip, “more like we would like some advice if we have the facts right on it.” Loretta makes a sound between a laugh and scoff.
“I think you’re better suited asking your history teacher,” she raises her brow at them. Her heartbeat is steady against Scott’s ears, the werewolf catching Isaac’s eyes to see he heard the same. “I’m afraid my knowledge on whatever the topic of your project is will be limited compared to your teacher.”
“Actually,” Scott swallows, “We think you’re the best person there is to help us.”
Lorretta makes another sound, smirking lightly like the teens were humoring her, “Oh really?” Chalk in hand she faces the board to begin writing Friday’s plan. “Why is that?”
“Because it’s about
Titanic.”
Instantly they watch her hand stop midair, clutching the chalk in a grip they’re afraid it was going to snap in half. In fact, it did break in half. Not even two seconds after the words leave Scott’s mouth, however, her hand remains in the air. A slight tremor replacing the chalk as it clunks to the tile floor.
Silence fills the room as all-time stops. Loretta was paralyzed where she stood. Back facing the group where they couldn’t see her face. But considering she was frozen like a statue; it wasn’t difficult to assume she had the same expression they did when they saw her picture the night before.
Scott takes a hesitant step closer, tone cautions as he mutters, “Y/n.” Her low gasp fills his ears, physically reacting to the name. Behind him the others tense, Isaac consciously moving closer to Scott as Stiles pushes the girls back. They all wait for her next move.
“Y/n—.”
Slowly her hand comes down, head dipping slightly, “How do you know?” The question sounded like Y/n knew this day would come. That in a town where supernatural beings resided, she was bound to be discovered but hoped it would be some time before she did.
The teens couldn’t hold back the shudder when Y/n faced them. Her eyes lacked any color. Pitch black like onyx and void of friendlessness. It made them wonder if she was wearing contacts or the glimmer had seeped away to show what her real eyes were. They prayed for the former, for Peter had mentioned when a vampire was hungry their eyes would darken.
Her jaw clenched and Scott instantly straightened to prepare for any sudden attack. She was stronger than him—he knew just from Peter’s warnings. While he had Isaac and Allison armed with a silver dagger, they were no match for a 130-year-old vampire who could move faster than they could blink. And if she had abilities….they were straight fucked.
Instead Y/n’s voice went low, repeating her question, “How. Do. You. Know.”
Scott gulped, finding his voice, “Stiles,” with his hand out he motioned for riddle. Stiles fumbles through the front pocket of his backpack, finding the paper and passing it over as Y/n stares the entire time. Carefully the alpha drops the riddle onto the desk, using his fingers to slide it towards her and watches as she picks it up. They are silent the entire time Y/n reads the written words, her mouth tightening as though she recognized the handwriting the moment her eyes met the first line.
Her eyes then close when she finishes the final verse. “He’s found me,” she doesn’t need their confirmation, “it’s been him all along.” Him all along referencing the murders. “I should’ve known.” Her eyes open and lock on Scott, “When did he leave you this?”
“Last night.”
“Where?”
“U-uh Derek Hale’s loft.”
“Hale,” Y/n whispers, the name familiar on her tongue. “Thalia’s son.”
“You know them?” Stiles was flabbergasted. “Y-you know what they are.”
“Of course I do,” Y/n sounded offended, causing the teen to wince. “I’ve been alive 130 years. I knew of the Hale pack when Thalia's grandparents were the leaders.” There’s a pause as her gaze moves to Scott, “And I know Scott is an Alpha. Isaac is a beta. Allison is a hunter—part of the renowned Argent family,” there was a hint of distaste behind Y/n’s tone causing Allison to stiffen. Y/n rests her eyes on the redhead before ending with Siles, “and Lydia is a banshee. But you are the only human, Mr. Stilinski. Which might I say is quite the surprise.”
Stiles scratches his neck, “R-really?”
“Yes. Usually humans don’t last long with supernaturals. Would’ve thought you’d be a beta by now—seeing that your best friend is an alpha.” Seeing his friends become uncomfortable with the assumption, Scott switches the subject.
“Next week is the anniversary of Titanic sinking,” her expression instantly changed. “You were there.”
“I was,” it came no louder than a whisper, a distant look within her eye indicating Titanic was still a painful memory for the woman. “And you know then—from this,” she holds up the riddle, “What I am? What I do?”
Each of them nod, “we do.” They still couldn’t wrap their heads around it. That their English teacher, of all people, was an immortal who was aboard Titanic.
“And you’re not running for the hills,” she hums, not sure whether to find them idiotic or courageous. “How interesting.”
“Well when you live in a town like Beacon Hills…you try to get used to it,” Stiles shrugs, a little terrified when Y/n’s expression reads that of, ‘you think you’ve seen it all? You have no idea what else is out there.’
“This is how we found you….” Lydia removes the printed article with the picture of Y/n wearing the necklace. Handing it to the woman, Lydia sees her face soften, eyes lingering on the pictures of her with Theodore and Benjamin.
“Forgot this existed honestly,” Y/n mutters, finger brushing over the image. “It’s the only picture we ever took as a family. And this one,” she points to the one of only her, “this was the first and last time I had a portrait done.” A hand comes up to her neck area, all eyes following the movement where they watch her remove the Heart of the Ocean from beneath the material. It was more exquisite in person than they imagined. A stunning blue diamond in the shape of a heart surrounded by white diamonds and all along the chain.
No wonder she kept it hidden. Anyone would’ve been drawn by the beauty of the jewelry if they were to see it. Then of course there was the tiny fact it was worth 350 million dollars and the link to her past.
Y/n lets out a pained chuckle, “I’m impressed you managed to piece it together. So quickly might I add.” Her finger runs along the surface of the diamond, “but then again, Heart of the Ocean is not something you hear every day.”
“It’s the source of your glimmer, isn’t it?”
Y/n narrows her eyes at Scott’s question, “How do you know about the glimmer?”
Stiles is the one to answer, “Derek’s uncle seems to know everything about supernatural creatures. He was the one who figured out you and your creator were vampires. Then he explained how you were able to pass as human—why they wouldn’t be able to pick up on your scent.”
“He said vampires will sometimes wear enchanted jewelry,” Allison’s gaze went back to the necklace, flicking back to Y/n who had straightened her posture, “That Druid’s can make it so you’re not affected by the sun and give off a human scent. He suspected the Heart of the Ocean was it for you.”
Once again Y/n appeared impressed, “well he was right. Which is unfortunate for me,” she mutters almost annoyed, eyes going back to reread the riddle. Scott leans more against the desk.
“We need to know who is doing this, Y/n—Loretta, if that’s what you prefer,” he corrects when her hand flexes. “And why. He gave us this riddle to find you and now that we have, we have no idea what’s gonna happen next. Do you have any clue why he’s doing this?”
Y/n let out a loud exhale—prompting Scott to remember it was for show since vampires didn’t need to breathe. Having to put up the facade of being human for so long likely had the mannerisms come naturally. The riddle drops onto the table. “His name is Sebastian Lavigne. Don’t bother trying to find him on the records of passengers aboard that night—,” Stiles’ hand pauses as he jots down the name. “Sebastian didn’t have a ticket. He was a stowaway who snuck aboard when the ship docked in France. Disguised himself as a crew member so he wouldn’t get caught.” She paused to sigh again, “Quite frankly I’m not even sure if that’s his real name—he’s likely going by another alias.”
“Kinda like you?”
Y/n made a face at Stiles’s question, but answered nonetheless. “If you haven’t noticed, Mr. Stilinski, I do not age. If we stay in a place too long people start to suspect, therefore we have to move consistently and with that comes an identity change. But I always knew him by Sebastian though to the public he went by a different name. And so did I,” she glances at photos of her. “I couldn’t go by my real name after Titanic because of who my family was and everyone thought I was dead. Then of course the fact I was now a blood-sucking creature.
“Sebastian is a deceitful man. And this riddle—,” a finger aggressively hits the paper a few times, “is just one of his many games. He knows exactly where I am and only did this to mess with you. Probably because he knows you’re onto him. He wanted you to figure out what he was. Leading you to me…it was to warn me he’s coming.”
Lydia tenses, feeling a wave of dread course through her, “why is wanting to find you?” Y/n crosses her arms over her chest, glaring at the floor.
“Because he’s angry I left him. That I broke away from him. Vampires are usually nomadic—hardly ever join up together. Kinda like how werewolves have packs to make them stronger, well….a group of vampires would decimate anything that stood in their way. Sebastian’s a man who desires power,” Y/n rubs her hand on her forearm. “And together we were powerful—especially with our gifts.”
“Gifts?” Scott’s heart skipped, thinking of Peter’s warning. “You both have gifts?”
“Yes,” Y/n didn’t sound proud of it. “Sebastian can compel you to do anything—you’ve heard of him,” Y/n’s shoulders slumped at their reaction.
Stiles flexes his hand, unease in his voice, “Peter told us about a vampire like that. Said he knew someone who encountered them. Is he the only one who can?” Y/n’s nod of confirmation only increases their anxiety.
“As far as I know, yes he is. His gift is powerful, but it only works close range. Meaning in order to be affected you have to be directly in front of him. Sebastian has to stare into one’s eyes to compel them,” Y/n glances to her feet again, “but once he does they have no choice but to do what he says. And combined with mine…..” she shudders, making them frown. “No one could stand a chance against us.”
“What can you do?” Allison asks, a little unsure if she even wanted to know.
“Make you see anything I want. Whether it be tapping into your memory or my own, I can conjure illusions. Illusions derived from your greatest fear causing you to become incapacitated,” everyone’s demeanor became that of concern. “As you can imagine it came in handy when traveling with Sebastian—especially against our enemies,” Y/n comes around the desk so she’s closer to the group, “or more like his enemies since it was always him who had to instigate conflict.”
Lydia’s eyes draw in suspicion, “Why’d you leave him?” It was the question everyone wanted the answer to. And Y/n didn’t appear happy to answer it.
“He’d been keeping things from me. During my time with Sebastian, he liked to isolate me—keep me from interacting with others of our kind. He didn’t want me to know I could feed without preying on humans. Or about glimmer which is why I spent most of my days locked in doors and only came out at night. He kept me from my son,” her lips tightened, “I understood why at the time…but then I found out his motives.”
The air thickened in the classroom.
“Things that could have made my fate turn out different than what it was,” her voice turned cold, eyes darkening even more. “Yes, he pulled me from the water that night…but he didn’t have to turn me into this to save me. There was another way, and he chose to turn me for what I was worth to him. So when I found out decades later the truth—that he had turned me for his own selfish gain. Robbing me of the life I could have had with my son and family…”
Y/n’s hand moves to the jewelry on her neck, “I found the closest Druid I could find and had them enchant this. That way he’d lose my scent and be unable to track me.” Her hand comes back down with a sigh, “But somehow he always manages to be a step ahead of things.”
“How long ago did you escape him?” Scott wonders aloud.
“Forty years ago.”
Stiles’s jaw drops, “He’s been hunting you for four decades?”
“Likely so. With me he was more powerful. With me he was more rich,” Y/n explained, tone bitter with each word. “Shortly after we returned to New York he compelled me into robbing my own home. The amount we stole still hasn’t run dry—at least not for me,” a tinge of a smirk indicated Y/n left him with nothing when she escaped. “So I wouldn’t put it past him for devoting this many years to find me. But it’s not to get me into his good graces, no, he wants to punish me. And the best way to punish me is to play games like this,” lightning fast her hand grasps the riddle and crutches it between her fingers. “To cause chaos and hurt innocent people because he knows how much I hated it when we did. The murders. Leaving you this riddle. He won’t stop even after he’s got what he wants.”
Scott’s shoulders drop slightly, “And what does he want?”
“To kill me. Scott,” Y/n’s words send a shiver along his body. “I’ve made a life of myself without him—one where I try everyday to make up for the things I did with him. Preying on humans. Torturing the minds of those Sebastian hated. He wants me to feel that shame and regret before he finishes the job. Because that’s what he does, however, now that he’s brought you all into his game there’s not going to be an end until he’s satisfied. Once he’s through with me you will become his prime source of entertainment. Or, he’ll see you as a benefit and want to corrupt you. Just like he did to me.”
Silence fills the room as the teens take in the new information. All deep in thought wondering what to do or say next. The reality of Sebastian’s cruel nature and games proves beyond their expertise. They weren’t sure exactly how to go about it. Finding Y/n was the first step, but from what she’s told them it would not be enough.
He’ll still kill. He might even target them next—especially if they refuse whatever offer he could be planning. Y/n didn’t have to go into detail that Scott’s status as a True Alpha with a pack of unlikely allies would be something Sebastian would want to control.
And with his gift of compelling….
“We need to know what he looks like,” Scott’s the first to speak. Determination fills his gaze, “He’s got the advantage right now—a-and if he’s glimmered like you then he’s probably been passing as human.” He turns to Y/n, pleading with her for help. “You said you can show illusions. Ones that can be from your memory—can you show one with him?” The sound she responds with is one of defeat.
“He compelled me, shortly after he turned me, to erase his image from my memory because he was paranoid about us running into vampires who could read minds or Druids who could make me tap into my subconscious.” Everyone deflated at the news, but then Y/n perked up causing them to do the same. “But….he when did, he only said, ‘from this moment on.’”
Scott took a step closer, eyes full of hope, “What does that mean?”
“It means I can show you,” Y/n’s voice is low and tainted with slight dread. “I can show you the night he turned me. The night Titanic sank.”
Later that evening the pack gathered at Deaton’s clinic. It was just after sunset, around 8pm and some were starting to become impatient.
“Is she coming?” Peter grunted from where he stood leaning against a wall. “Or was this all a distraction.”
“She’s gonna be here,” Scott insisted, eyes narrowed slightly. Truth be told he was starting to worry. Y/n had promised she’d be at the clinic by nightfall but had yet to show.
“Well the clock is ticking,” Stiles fiddled with his fingers nervously.
Allison looks at the man beside her, who was checking to see if his gun was loaded with the proper bullets. “You know you didn’t have to come, dad.” Chris raises a brow, putting the safety on and placing the weapon back in its holster.
“And leave you and your friends alone with a gifted vampire who’s the reasons a psychotic one is causing hell around town? Not a chance.”
“Have you ever hunted one before?” Her voice drops to a whisper, though it doesn’t do much for those with enhanced hearing. Derek, Peter, Scott, and Isaac heard the question loud and clear.
Chris shakes his head, “No. They’re rare and not many are in America—but your great-grandfather came into contact with one in the fifties. Left us with what to do if we ever dealt with one.”
Allison gives her father a look of warning, “You can’t hurt her, dad.”
“If she gives me a reason to, I will.”
“She won’t,” she presses, aware Scott and Derek had their eyes on them. The former looked anxious.
“You don’t know how unpredictable and manipulative vampires are, Allison. None of you do.”
“She’s been in Beacon Hills for months. We asked her how she gets her blood and she said she’s been taking bags from the ER—not feeding on the town’s people,” the teen pleads, surprised with herself for defending Y/n so easily. Maybe it was the fact the vampire had been robbed of her life that made Allison sympathize. Or because she could feel the anger and fury Y/n had for her creator that she believed Y/n would stop at nothing to take him down. “And she hasn’t given any reason for us to believe she’s been working with Sebastian. She hates him, dad.” Chris doesn’t appear convinced.
“She was with him for sixty years—.”
“And she’s been without him for forty,” Allison cuts him off, promptly ending the argument. Another minute passes before all freeze at the sound of Deaton’s door chime ringing. Motioning with a hand, the doctor enters the lobby where he is met with a woman wearing a tan trench coat and boots. She spun around when she heard him approach, allowing Deaton to see the stunning jewelry around her neck. Instantly he felt the magic running through it.
“You’re the Druid,” were the first words from her mouth. “Scott told me about you.” Deaton offers a small smile.
“You must be Y/n,” when she visibly reacted to the name he apologized, “I’m sorry, would you prefer to be called—.” Her hand lifts to stop him.
“No, no. It’s fine—I’m just getting used to hearing that name again. It’s been so long since anyone other than ....” She trails off, not wanting to say his name. Deaton understands with a light nod, moving to open the gate.
“You don’t have to explain. Please, come in.”
“Did Scott inform you what to prepare?” She asks as she passes, receiving a nod from the man.
“Yes. I’m quite familiar with its effects—but I made sure to not make it too strong.” Leading Y/n into the back room, she stills at the sight of those she didn’t recognize, namely the man beside Allison and the two leaning against the wall. Everyone straightens when she arrives and her eyes go straight to Scott.
“You didn’t say we’d have guests.” Her tone is weary, making Scott move closer to show her it was okay.
“That’s Derek Hale and his uncle Peter,” a finger points to the two, glaring when he notices Peter’s eyes linger on Y/n’s figure. While he couldn’t blame him given Y/n’s striking beauty there were more important matters at the moment. “He’s the one who helped us figure out what you were.” He hears the woman make a sound similar to ‘hmph’, causing Peter to smirk and give a mock wave. Scott rolls his eyes, motioning to Chris, “And that’s Allison’s father, Chris Argent.”
Y/n’s expression tightens, appearing slightly uncomfortable with the lineup. Four werewolves, two hunters, a Druid, and a banshee? Vampires were strong creatures but even they could become intimidated. “Quite the party we have going on then.”
Stiles clears his throat to appease the tension, “uh what took you so long?” The question snaps Y/n out of the intense staring contest going on between her, Peter, and Chris. She removes her gloves to place them in her pocket.
“Well considering I’ve been out of practice I needed a pick me up to ensure my power would be at its best,” lips curl up, almost menacing which has Chris inch his hand closer to the holster. She sees the gesture and raises a brow in challenge, “Don’t worry, hunter. I didn’t sink my teeth into anything other than a donation bag.” She pays no mind to his glare, instead removing the Heart of the Ocean from her neck.
When Y/n does this a new smell enters the room right as the unusual steady pacing of her heart stops beating. The aroma is overbearing with vanilla and lavender—even for those without an enhanced sense of smell. For the werewolves, they perked up as they had never smelled anything so delightful.
“You smell that?” Y/n closes her eyes as she drops the necklace into the other pocket.
“Yeah.” Scott takes another waif of the scent, turning to her only to draw back in surprise when she opens her eyes to reveal deep red eyes replacing the color they once were. The lights from above almost made them glow. “Woah.” From behind Scott the others react to the changes of Y/n’s appearance.
Stiles and Isaac had to do a double take to make sure what he was seeing was real. Lydia and Allison shared a glance, both shuddering when Y/n made eye contact with them. Chris straightens his posture again, only amusing the vampire and Peter appears rather intrigued.
“Vampires have to lure their prey somehow,” She starts to explain. “It’s stronger for you wolves, but even you who are not are drawn by it. Makes you want to get closer, huh?” Y/n steps away, moving towards Deaton who reappears after going to the back closet to retrieve an object resembling a goblet.
“I can’t hear your heart anymore,” Scott’s tone is laced with confusion at the sudden decrease of heartbeats in the room.
“You never did. It was an illusion from the glimmer—so any creature I come into contact with would think I’m human. My heart stopped the night I turned,” the smirk she wore fell to a tight frown, “it won’t ever beat again.”
An eerie silence fills the room, her words lingering in the air. No doubt causing suspicion now that they were aware Y/n could lie and they would have no way of knowing. She could’ve been lying about everything honestly. Now they were left to wonder if any of what she said before was true.
But why would she lie? She’s made it awfully clear of her resentment for Sebastian.
The attention goes to Y/n as she removes the scalpel from Deaton’s tray and raises it to her palm. “W-what—what are you doing?” Stiles nearly gags when the skin breaks and a dark liquid like blood flows from the wound. It spills into the goblet, where a smell that could only be described as death replaces the once vanilla aroma. Deaton begins stirring the substance with a spoon while Y/n explains.
“As I’ve mentioned…” The cut disappeared without a trace not a second after Y/n lifted her hand away from the goblet. “I haven't used my power in ages—and while I fed earlier it may not be enough for it to be at its full potential. So to do this I need to remove any mental barriers from your mind.”
“And we have to drink your blood for it to work,” Peter rolls his eyes at how ironic it sounds, “how fitting.”
Y/n narrows her eyes at the man, “If you’re worried about it becoming a vampire you need not to worry. There’s no venom—that only comes from a bite. Sound familiar?” The air becomes thick, and Scott moves between the two when Peter's eyes flash blue.
“What’s it going to do, Y/n?”
The vampire takes the goblet from Deaton, passing it to the teenager first, “Open your mind. To do so my blood is mixed with decade old sap from the Nematon and a rare form of wolfsbane. You’ll feel some discomfort,” she points out when all the wolves instantly become hesitant at the mention of wolfsbane, “but it won’t kill you. I need your mental state to be vulnerable. Ignore the smell—I know it’s revolting but it’ll taste like dry, bitter wine.”
Scott stares at the goblet before taking it in his hands. Inside the contents was a dark liquid with a smell that made him want to gag. He couldn’t help but ask Deaton, “You’re sure about this?”
“I’ve never worked with this before, but I know someone who has. It’s potent but short lasting and won’t affect you once it’s out of your system in a few hours.” Deaton gives a look of assurance, “You might feel a pressure in your head that’s like a headache.”
Y/n adds on to the vet, “that’s so show your mental walls are dropping. But like your emissary said it’s temporary. Allowing me enough time to show you my memories in the form of illusions. But I must warn you all,” she pauses to glance at each of them. “My illusions are like vivid dreams. Where it feels real. Your body will remain paralyzed here, but your mind will be somewhere else. Not only will you see what I have to show you,” Y/n’s entire demeanor becomes serious once more. “You’ll be able to hear everything. Feel everything. The sun's rays. The cool breeze. The freezing waters…..It will be as though you’re experiencing it in real time.”
There’s a pause, letting the reality sink in on what the vampire was implying. “My question is….are all of you wishing to see what I have to show you? Now is the time to step out if you’re having second thoughts.” When no one objects, despite all looking relatively nervous, Y/n clasps her hands in front her. “Well, Scott, start us off.”
“We all have to drink it?” Stiles cringes when he’s passed the cup, Scott letting out a gag after the taste hits his tongue. Y/n smirks as she nods.
“Unless you would like to sit this out, Stiles, then yes.” Groaning, the teen plugs his nose and takes a swig before handing it to Isaac. Even after taking several gulps of water the awful taste of iron and wood remained.
One by one each person took their turn of downing the potion, with Deaton as the last one to do so. Within seconds it took effect, the most notable sign being the headache forming. Then a light feeling started to swirl all along their body. Like they were on cloud 9.
“Is this what it’s supposed to feel like?” Derek moaned, squinting when the light suddenly started to become brighter.
“You’ll get used to it in a moment,” Y/n’s closes her eyes, taking a deep breath despite not needing one. It was mostly to calm her nerves as she allowed the memory dug deep within her mind to surface. A moment later the warmth of the sun hit her skin. The smell of fresh paint and sea salt filling her nose. And the sound of a ship's whistle and people shouting echoed in her ears.
The others gasped, making Y/n open her eyes where she found them all, mouth agape and eyes bulging as though they couldn’t believe what they were seeing, staring at whatever was behind her. And when she turned around, Y/n’s lips curled up into a sad smile.
Seeing the ship of dreams again after decades filled her with an emotion she couldn’t describe—she couldn’t imagine what the pack were thinking. Probably wondering if it was a dream and they’d wake up any second. The memory was as clear as the day it was made—everything around them was exactly like it was that bright sunny Wednesday afternoon.
It was like they traveled back in time to April 10th, 1912.