She could feel it—how could she not, when that call echoed endlessly in her head?
Her eyes closed, she heard that whisper reverberating...
She opened her two emerald orbs and looked at the massive stone building, a place where the damned outcasts lived, the unstable ones rejected, a fortress that kept many things from escaping...
A barbed-wire fence with a simple sign written beneath it.
Eichen House
"I'm not going to ask you how, but are you sure Lydia?" a voice, tinged with hope.
She gave one last glance to that strange place.
"Yes, he's here Sheriff, I'm sure of it..."
Stilinsky didn't waste a second and passed through the thick barred gates of the property with his men.
Lydia, accompanied by Scott and Aiden, followed the group of four agents.
They climbed the steps and soon arrived in front of the building.
The doors slammed shut behind them, echoing through the entrance hall—a dull and final sound that seemed to seal their entry into somewhere else.
The inside of Eichen House was far from abandoned. The stone walls, lit by dim lighting, gave off a certain warmth. The floor was clean, the hallways impeccably maintained. Here and there, padded chairs and softly shaded lamps gave the place a welcoming atmosphere.
The few patients who were there, sitting in the common room, were calm. Some stared into space, some stared at them, but all were mechanically still, their eyes perfectly empty.
A nurse with a fixed smile walked past them, adjusting the blanket on the shoulders of an old man in a wheelchair, who also stared at the group—the only exception being his two empty eye sockets surrounded by two old symmetrical scars. Instead of irises, you could see the wrinkled brown skin layer normally hidden behind them...
A smell of medicinal plants and disinfectant filled the space, with a sharper note typical of hospital disinfectant lingering beneath...
And Scott couldn't find his friend's scent among the multitude of bodily smells.
Stilinski approached the reception desk, where a middle-aged woman in a blue uniform looked up from her ledger.
"We need access to the basement," he ordered.
The smiling nurse blinked, then reopened her gaze that stayed fixed.
"The basement?" She tapped her pen against the desk, gently, but the sound echoed in the place—everything echoed here...
"The basement?" She tapped her pen again, softly, but it resounded again, everything echoed here. "I'm sorry, but that floor is closed to the public."
Lydia placed her hands on the counter, her emerald gaze locking with the nurse's.
"Listen... I know he's here."
The nurse's head turned slowly, taking several seconds to face the young redhead, remaining silent, her lips still curled in a practiced smile. But her pen kept repeating that same hollow sound in a mechanical rhythm.
"HAHAHAHAYYYYY!!!!"
A patient, sitting nearby, suddenly burst into laughter. A harsh, uncontrolled sound that faded down the corridors—
A patient, sitting near them, suddenly burst out laughing. A harsh, uncontrollable sound that got lost down the hallways. Then abruptly stopped, silence taking over once more.
Lydia closed her eyes. The call in her head was stronger than ever.
Someone was down there, waiting for them, and it was Stiles...
The Sheriff didn't pay attention to the nurse or the patient. He didn't even acknowledge her words, just as he hadn't greeted her.
The Sheriff showed his badge to the nurse, who called over one of the guards.
Stilinsky headed toward the hallway, accompanied by his men and the guard.
The rest of the group followed, the nurse still silently smiling behind them.
They passed through the hallways where more patients and silent stares awaited them. They finally reached the door to the building's only basement.
The Sheriff didn't waste a second and stepped back before firmly ordering:
"Open this door. Now."
The guard stepped forward, pulled out a keyring, and tackled the first lock.
One.
Two.
Three.
The mechanisms clicked in a sinister sound.
Then, as the last lock gave way, the door revealed a staircase—a small staircase.
They all descended into this place, where the only light came from the corridor illuminating the room.
"Stiles, Stiles, STILES!!!" The Sheriff immediately began searching every corner, calling his son's name. No answer. The agents soon spread out across the room, searching for the missing teen.
Scott entered the space, immediately using his supernatural nose. He sniffed once, then more deeply, but only smelled the acrid scent of dust.
He looked at Aiden, who nodded—same result. Stiles' scent wasn't there. There was no human scent at all.
The place was cold, dark, and dusty, with numerous old pipes and machines that probably dated back to the last war—they were that ancient. The room was about 60 square meters, and they quickly covered every inch.
"STILES!!!" The Sheriff's scream echoed off the walls like his final call.
He looked at the redhead, who was glancing around strangely. The call she had heard—screaming in her head—vanished the moment she stepped inside...
"Where is he?" Stilinsky asked, his voice sharp, without even realizing it.
"I don't understand..." The girl looked lost as she murmured those words.
"He should be here..." she repeated, not understanding, not grasping any of it...
"Then where is he??" asked the Sheriff coldly.
"He's not here." Her eyes seemed to want to burn the place down, searching behind the walls.
He stepped closer to the girl, who was still repeating to herself—
"No no, he should..."
The Sheriff grabbed her shoulders.
"Lydia, HE'S NOT HERE!!!!" His scream tore through the place, a cry of injustice toward the world.
The Banshee stumbled back a few steps, her eyes filling with tears...
The Sheriff regained his senses, let go of her shoulders, his eyes looking at this girl—lost, confused, scared, and worried for his son.
"I'm sorry, I..." the Sheriff said softly, looking at this teenager, this child.
"It's just... he's not here..." Like a whisper, he clenched his fists, turned, and climbed the stairs, leaving the place with his head down.
His agents exchanged a strange look and followed him...
"Lydia, he..." Scott began, but was cut off—
"No, don't say anything..." the redhead simply said.
The Alpha's lips trembled, but he said nothing.
"I want to be alone..."
Scott looked at her one last time and climbed the stairs.
Leaving the room with Lydia and Aiden, the blond who was still looking at her.
"Listen Lydia..." he began, but—
"Alone... Aiden."
And after one last look, his blue eyes heavy with emotion, he too left the room, leaving the young redhead alone...
Motionless. Lost.
'(My powers... I thought they...)' The feeling of balance, of control she thought she had found vanished like smoke in a second.
'(And Stiles...)'
She stayed there, standing still, a thin crystalline stream falling from her cheeks...
And a few meters from her, in a corner near the floor, an old inscription carved long ago: 己
**
He walked out of that madhouse, the one that had given him hope. How could he have believed, how could he have hoped.
'(Stiles...)' The Sheriff's knuckles were white, his veins turning blue from how tightly his fist was clenched.
How could he have believed that a teenage girl who spoke to the dead would be the solution—like some strange miracle...
But on that cold night and in that moment of despair, the miracle did happen.
"Cric, all officers, the suspect has been found, he was taken to the hospital by a civilian, over." His radio crackled to life—along with two blue eyes that lit up once again.
*******************************************************************************
[ Author Notes: since now i will make shorter chapter, i am also working in another story, you will see soon ]