Learning the Spark
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He called it his God-Rod. Three-and-a-half feet of wrought iron fence post ending in a wicked arrow tip, coated in numerous alternating layers of wolfsbane oil and silver. Thick leather wrapped around the bottom segment worked as a handhold, with a loop to keep it on his wrist, always close. He had yet to find a supernatural creature or spirit that didn’t crumple beneath it.
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- Part 1 of Learning the Spark
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It was mid-November of his junior year when he realized things needed to change. He’d been released from the hospital three days earlier, and he still walked with a slight limp.
“You aren’t coming.” Derek said, no-nonsense.
“Yes I am,” Stiles responded with a disbelieving grin.
“Not if you want to live to see Thanksgiving,” Derek said.Series
- Part 2 of Learning the Spark
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December had been cold and blustery. He had spent most of it in the three coffee shops that existed in Beacon Hills, rotating his selection at random to keep his trail changing. Werewolf senses were sharp, though, and the longer he stayed at his selected coffee shop, clicking through internet sites in a sorry attempt at research and drinking decaf lattes, the more likely that he’d be joined by a sheepish looking Scott, or a quirk-smiled Isaac, or an aggressively sweet Erica.
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- Part 3 of Learning the Spark