Chapter Text
Allison nocked her arrow and lined the target up in her sights, pulling the bow taut and forcing herself still, though the strain on her forearms was evolving into pain. The rabbit looked right at her, and she let her arrow fly.
“Damn, Allison, nice job!” Caleb congratulated her, and went to retrieve the kill.
“Head shot, too,” Caleb’s sister Hazel added, impressed, clapping Allison on the shoulder. “Couldn’t ask for better.”
Allison couldn’t help but blush at the compliments. “I don’t work with a traditional bow much.” She held her bow in one hand to stretch out the muscles in the other arm. “I’m beginning to wish I’d brought my composite…”
Caleb turned to her, critter in hand, and smiled winningly. “Old fashioned archery’s an important skill - most hunters are pretty big on tradition. Besides which, you did great. Don’t knock yourself.”
“Thanks,” Allison said. It was nice, to have someone to appreciate her passion. Scott had tried, but had always looked vaguely alarmed when he saw her with a bow in her hands. In retrospect, that was kind of understandable.
Caleb, on the other hand, was a hunter born and raised; as comfortable with a weapon in his hand as he would be an eating utensil, and as such, he knew what he was talking about. His compliments sent a little thrill down her spine every time, even if she felt ashamed of herself for it.
It didn’t help that he was handsome, in his own rough around the edges, charming way. Sandy haired and soft featured, Caleb might have been considered cute, in the way men hated to be seen, if not for the ever-present scruff and the way he carried himself. There was always a hint of violence underneath the misleading veneer of civility; something that had set Allison on edge since the first time she’d met him.
His twin sister Hazel was, physically, Caleb in female form; fair haired and baby faced, with a smile so sweet it melted hearts. She was twice as dangerous as her brother. Smart, ruthless and cold as a rattlesnake beneath her butter-wouldn’t-melt smile, she would open her mouth and say things so vile and so evil that Allison would have to fight off a shudder as she struggled for a response. She could only thank God they were all staying on the other side of town from her, in a rented apartment complex.
“Do you want it for the pot, Ali?”
‘Allison, you moron. My name is Allison.’ Allison cringed inwardly, but smiled brightly for Hazel. “Um, no. I don’t think my mom likes it much when I bring these little critters home.” She imagined the tasteful little scrunch of her mother’s nose the last time Allison had brought something small and fluffy home for dinner - like Allison was a cat laying a dead mouse at her feet.
“Your loss,” Caleb said, shrugging. “I’ll drop the day’s kill at Michael’s on the way to the meeting tonight. I’m sure he can make good use of it.”
Allison’s heart skipped a beat. She knew they’d been having these secretive meetings somewhere in town, but she’d never been invited. She needed to know what was going on in there, and if she had to paste a smile on her face and pretend to be a fucking psycho to get in, then that’s what she would do. “Can I come?”
Caleb and Hazel shared a long, significant look, and Allison had no way of knowing what was passing between them. Finally, Hazel turned to her and grinned her creepy grin, bright and soulless as a glass-eyed doll. “Well, sure pumpkin. You’re a clever girl; I think you’re about ready to see how things really are.”
Allison swallowed, but held her smile. “I’ll look forward to it.”
They dropped her at school in Caleb’s old pickup truck, and Allison lifted her head high and walked past everyone, ignoring all the whispers and the stares. As if the headlines in the local papers about Kate hadn’t done enough for her reputation, her new habit of hanging out with older men - her father’s “arms dealer” friends to boot - had half the kids at school painting her as some kind of harlot.
She’d spent half her life wishing she didn’t have to move around so much, but right now a part of her just wanted to pack up, move on and start fresh, somewhere she’d never have to worry about any of this ever again. Away from the family that had lied to her, and the friends that still were.
She watched the four of them as they lazed about under an old sycamore; saw the way Lydia and Stiles leaned into each other comfortably, and how Scott and Jackson started out a foot apart and crept closer and closer together, inch by inch. How they’d spring apart when they realised, only to repeat the process two minutes later. It looked like there’d been plenty of changes in their little group - not that anyone had bothered to tell her.
She couldn’t understand how she’d managed to drift apart from them so much. She hadn’t meant to push Scott away after what happened after the formal; she’d just needed some time. Now he didn’t look at her the way he used to, and it hurt more than she’d thought it could have.
As for Lydia and Jackson…well, she’d just been so distracted, what with all the disruption at home, and getting to know the family business, that she hadn’t even noticed they’d gained ‘distractions’ of their own. She missed them. All of them.
Allison shook herself out of her reverie, hoping she hadn’t been caught staring.
Lydia looked up, noticed her, and waved. “Hey, Allison. We didn’t see you there,” she called. Had she sounded hesitant? The others were giving her wary looks. Jackson was outright glaring.
Allison paused, taken aback. What had she done to deserve that?
Lydia rolled her eyes at Jackson, and leaned over to thump him on the arm. “Don’t mind him, Allison, he’s just had a rough night.” She hissed something too low to hear at Jackson. He sighed in response, and muttered a barely audible, “Sorry.”
“…it’s okay.”
Lydia shot her an apologetic look. “Meet me at lunch? We’ll catch up.”
Allison managed a smile; hoped it wasn’t bitter. “Sure. We haven’t talked in a while.” She didn’t hold out much hope of them telling her much of anything of their own volition. It had been on the tip of her tongue to tell them she knew everything, but something stupidly hopeful in her wanted to hear it from them. Wanted to know they still trusted her.
She looked back at Scott as she walked away, more than a little wistful, and sighed softly. She wondered, not for the first time, how things would have turned out if she hadn’t shied away from him the night Kate and Peter Hale had been killed. If she’d gone with her gut and kissed the living hell out of him instead.
She shook her head, clearing it. It was too late for what ifs. If she still felt a little bit guilty and heartsick over it, well, she’d channel it into something useful. Like trying to keep him safe from the deranged hunters who seemed to have an unsettling fixation on him and his pack.
She’d warned him months ago, in a vague kind of way, but she hadn’t quite understood just how serious things were at that point. If she was right about the Duvals…
She would go to their little club house meeting tonight, and find out what they weren’t telling her. Then she could pass the information along to the pack - they deserved to know what was going on. So did she, even if her family thought she still needed protecting. Her father was going to kill her if he ever found out.
***
Later that night, she stood outside an old community hall the locals had stopped using years ago. It was in a state of disrepair; the walls were crumbling and the windows boarded up, but warm light shone from inside the open door, and the scent of fresh coffee wafted towards her invitingly.
“You must be Allison,” a middle-aged, perfectly coiffed blonde said from the foyer, and moved to take Allison by both hands, smiling at her warmly. “Lord, you look just like your aunt. Doesn’t she, Hazel?”
“Oh, yes. Uncanny.”
Allison didn’t look like Kate at all, but she smiled back politely just the same. “That’s very kind of you to say so, Ms..?”
“Oh, heavens! Forgive me, dear - I’m Diana Duval, and I am so very pleased to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“I wish I could say the same, Ms. Duval, but I’m afraid my father -”
“Sheltered the living hell out of you, or so I hear. Say no more, my dear. And please, call me Diana!” she exclaimed in a refined, Southern Belle voice, smooth as honey over silk.
Allison kept smiling, suddenly feeling out of her depth. If this was the way Ms. Duval operated - keeping the unsuspecting off balance through persistent gentility and utmost politeness - it was certainly working.
The Duvals ushered her inside, and every eye in the hall turned to her. There were maybe two dozen people there, seated on reappropriated church pews; there was even an old wooden pulpit in the front. Great. Now she felt like she was a kid again, entering a church for the first time. She could feel their silent judgement weighing down on her. Diana blustered on past them all, regal and fearless, and tugged Allison along to a seat in the front row. Hazel sat down beside her, and Diana smiled encouragingly, then made her way to the pulpit.
So she was in charge, Allison thought. She shouldn’t be surprised - from what little she’d seen so far, Diana Duval certainly had the charisma and that faint unhinged quality that marked most cult leaders. She’s have to watch herself around that one.
Diana cleared her throat discreetly and gave them all a charming smile, waiting until she had everyone’s attention. “Now that everyone’s here, I’d like to introduce Allison Argent. Kate’s niece.”
Allison could feel all those eyes on her, and she fought not to squirm in her seat. She gave a little wave.
“Now, since young Allison is new to all this, I’d like to take a moment to say a few words, if y’all would care to indulge me just a bit?”
A murmur of agreement, and Diana smiled the same soulless, glass-eyed smile as her daughter. “I’m sure we’d all agree that Kate was a well respected, vital member of the hunting community, despite certain…proclivities we may not have approved of. I assure you, Allison, that we will not let her name continue to be slandered. We will not let her death go unavenged.”
‘Peter Hale’s already dead,’ she thought to herself, wondering what in the hell else they could do. Cremate what was left of his already toasted corpse? Dance on his grave?
Diana continued, a new, fanatical force in her voice. “The lupine threat in this town continues to grow, unchecked. There are four of them now; three of them children, and unblooded, as far as we can tell, but pups grow. Sooner or later their unnatural, murderous instincts will kick in, and human life will be the price of this lax attitude!”
The hall exploded in raucous noise, with everyone shouting their agreement all at once, and a chill ran down Allison’s spine.
“They must be driven away from civilization, where they cannot harm our kind, or they must be exterminated, like any dangerous animal. Oh, it’s natural to feel some compassion for them,” she said, looking right at Allison, “they were, after all, just like us at one time. Even now, they’re so like us it’s startling. Keep in mind, though, that the beast in them has no soul; no moral compass. They cannot be trusted.”
Several people murmured in concurrence. Diana nodded approvingly. “I think we all know what we must do.”
Abruptly, Diana’s expression went from stern and unforgiving to pleasant in an about-face so sudden it just about gave Allison whiplash. “Now! There’s coffee and pastries right over there. Dig in! And y’all make sure to make Miss. Argent feel welcome!”
Allison sat, unmoving, while everyone around her made their way to the refreshments. Her legs felt like jello. She felt like she’d survived a church service with the Manson family.
“Allison?” Caleb leaned down to speak to her. “Are you alright? I know the whole ‘us against them’ speech can be a bit much for a beginner…”
Allison took a moment to gather her composure, then made herself smile shyly for him, injecting just a hint of apprehensiveness. Too bold, and he’d know for sure she was faking. “No, a lot of that made sense to me, it’s just…They’re - were - my friends. How do you -?”
“Compartmentalize it?” Caleb laughed, softly, shaking his head, something sad and almost regretful in his eyes. “It’s not easy sometimes, but it’s something you have to learn. My father was bitten on a hunt when I was a kid.”
“Oh! Did you have to..?” Did you murder him?
“Nathaniel, God rest his soul, had the good grace to put a bullet in his brain and save us all the heartache,” Diana interjected, and pushed a cup of coffee and a Danish into Allison’s hand. “It had to be done. You have to understand, dear; once they’re bit, they’re not the people we knew anymore. They’re a danger to themselves and everyone around them, and they must be dealt with.”
Allison bobbed her head up and down and hoped to hell her eyes didn’t give away her shock. “…I’m starting to see,” she said, and didn’t mention what it was, precisely, that she saw. She didn’t think they’d appreciate being told they were all stark raving mad.
She smiled pleasantly for them, and complimented Mrs. Boucher on her baking, and did her best to fit in. Every ounce of sense in her body was telling her to get the hell away from these people, to run and not look back, but her head told her she needed to make nice with them. That this was worse than she’d thought, and she had to protect her friends. For now, that meant gaining the confidence of a cult full of cold blooded murderers.
She stayed another hour, and with every passing minute she felt more and more dirty and wrong; like their evil could somehow rub off on her. Finally, Caleb dropped her off home, and she let the Stepford wife expression fall from her face. All the emotions she’d suppressed came back full force, and she shuddered, feeling ill.
“Allison, is that you? Where have you been?”
“I was -” she choked, swallowed a couple of times, and continued, voice light and happy, “I was at Lydia’s, dad.” She rummaged in her purse, loudly, and made an exasperated noise. “Crap. I’m sorry, dad, I think I forgot something at Lydia’s house. I’ll be right back!” she called, and didn’t wait for an answer.
Her father would need to know about this; it was too big and too serious to keep from him, but right now she couldn’t deal with the third degree. Right now, all she wanted was to see Scott. To know that he was safe, and unharmed.
She got in her car and just sat behind the wheel for a minute, breath coming in huge, gulping sobs that she couldn’t seem to stop. In a minute, she’d get hold of herself, go to the Hale house, and let everyone know what she’d found out. Right now, all she could do was sit there, quietly horrified, and wonder at the all the evil in the world. Sleep would be a long time coming tonight.