Stiles and Scott stood in the abandoned warehouse where they had fought Gerard and the Zimas. Jackson lay on the floor, slowly regaining consciousness after being shocked by Malia's electricity.
Jackson pushed himself up, blinking groggily. He looked around, confusion twisting his features. "What's going on? Why am I here?"
Stiles crossed his arms. "Well, long story short? You're a Kanima—a lizard-like shapeshifter that needs a master to control it. Bad news? You killed Isaac's father and some other guy in the woods. You also tried to kill two more people. Good news? You didn't know what you were doing because Matt Daehler was controlling you."
Jackson shot to his feet. "You're lying! I didn't kill anyone!"
Stiles shrugged. "Yeah, you did. And if it weren't for me, you would've killed three people instead of two." He smirked. "I cut off your tail that night, by the way. Sold it for four thousand dollars." His smirk widened. "I wonder if you've grown another one I can cut and sell again."
Jackson stared at him. "A tail?"
Scott nodded. "Yeah. You turn into a lizard—dark green scales, claws, and a tail."
Jackson's voice rose with indignation. "Is this some kind of prank? Are you two making fun of me because I didn't turn after Peter gave me the bite?"
Scott shook his head. "No. We're trying to save you."
Jackson scoffed. "I don't need saving. You two idiots are the ones who'll need saving after I prosecute your asses all the way to jail." He turned and started walking toward the exit. "I'm out of here. You'd better hire a good lawyer."
Stiles's voice stopped him. "I wouldn't leave if I were you, princess. Unless you want to die, that is."
Jackson froze. He turned back slowly. "What do you mean?"
"Derek wants to kill you," Stiles said flatly. "The only reason you're still alive is because of us."
Jackson's jaw tightened. "I can take care of myself."
"Are you sure?" Stiles tilted his head. "Because Derek isn't the only one who wants you dead."
Jackson's bravado flickered. "Who else?"
Scott stepped forward. "Allison's father and his hunters. You killed one of theirs. And Jacob was going to kill you too—he only agreed not to because I asked him to let me save you." He paused. "But you hit on Allison at school today while Matt was controlling you, and you called Jacob's girlfriends bitches to their faces. I'm not so sure if he is going to spare you this time."
Stiles added, "I'm actually surprised you're still alive after calling Malia a bitch. That girl is crazy. She scares the shit out of me."
Jackson's confidence crumbled. "So… what? You're saying I'm stuck with you?"
Scott nodded. "Pretty much. If you walk out that door, I can't protect you anymore. And as for suing us? Go ahead. It's your word against ours. And if it comes to hiring a good lawyer?" He smiled. "My mom is way richer than your parents. I'm not worried."
Jackson stared at them for a long moment. Then he exhaled heavily. "Alright. Let's assume everything you said is true. How are you going to help me?"
"By turning you into a werewolf," Scott said.
Jackson frowned. "You just said I'm some kind of lizard. How do you turn a lizard into a werewolf?"
Scott explained patiently—about Jackson's lack of identity as an orphan and adopted child, how that made him feel like he had no true sense of self, causing him to reject the Alpha's bite and become a Kanima instead of a werewolf. He explained how the Kanima was a creature that lacked its own identity and needed a master to give it purpose.
Jackson listened without interrupting. When Scott finished, he said flatly, "You still haven't told me how you're going to turn me into a werewolf."
"We need someone who loves you," Scott said. "Your mother, probably. She'll have to call out your name while you're dying. Don't worry—we'll erase her memories afterward. She won't remember anything."
Jackson thought for a moment. Then he nodded. "Fine. But how are you going to get her here? And how are you going to erase her memories?"
Stiles grinned. "We'll kidnap her, of course. Make her watch as we fatally wound you. Then, if she loves you enough, she'll call your name and..."
Jackson's eyes went wide. His body stiffened. Then he began to shift.
Scott turned to Stiles. "Seriously, man?! Did you have to say 'kidnap his mother' you made him lose control!"
Stiles shrugged. "Relax. We can just beat him until he shifts back. If you don't want to do it, I'll gladly handle it."
Jackson completed his transformation into the Kanima—scales, claws, glowing eyes. But instead of attacking or fleeing, he simply stared at Stiles. Then he approached slowly and raised a clawed hand.
Scott tensed. "What's happening?"
Stiles's eyes widened. "I read about this in the bestiary. I think he wants me to be his master." He paused, realization dawning. "That means Matt is probably dead."
He reached out and touched his palm to the Kanima's.
Instantly, a connection formed. Stiles could feel Jackson's presence in his mind—docile, waiting, ready to obey. With a thought, he made the Kanima do a backflip.
Stiles grinned. He pulled out his phone and started filming. "Dance," he commanded. The Kanima began dancing awkwardly.
Scott stared. "What are you doing?"
"Having fun." Stiles didn't look up from his phone. "And now that he's under my control, this is way easier. We'll just make him call his mother to pick him up. When she arrives, I'll make him stop resisting, let Derek wound him fatally, and—hopefully—she loves him enough to turn him back."
Scott nodded slowly. "Alright. We'll wait until evening, when she gets off work."
Stiles nodded and, with a thought, made Jackson shift back to human form. Then, still controlling him, he made the naked Jackson dance around the warehouse, hug a support beam, and kiss it passionately—all while Stiles filmed every second.
Scott watched in disgust. "What are you doing now?"
Stiles grinned. "He said he was going to prosecute us and send us to jail. I'm just collecting blackmail material."
Scott shook his head. "Okay, you've got your video. Make him stop humping the beam and put his clothes on."
Stiles sighed dramatically. "Fine." He mentally commanded Jackson to stop and dress in his torn, shredded clothes. Then he released control.
Jackson blinked, coming back to himself. He looked down at his ruined clothing, then up at Stiles and Scott. "What happened? What did you two do to me?"
Stiles shrugged innocently. "Nothing. You just shifted into your Kanima form, danced around for a bit, shifted back, and then really got friendly with that support beam. Then you put your clothes back on. That's why they're torn."
Jackson's face twisted with disbelief. "You're lying."
Stiles held up his phone and played the video.
Jackson watched in horror as a green scaly creature danced, then shifted into him, then hugged and kissed a metal beam with disturbing enthusiasm. He lunged for the phone, but Stiles pocketed it smoothly.
"Delete that!" Jackson demanded.
Stiles shook his head. "Not happening. But don't worry—as long as you don't sue us for trying to help you, this video will never see the light of day."
Jackson opened his mouth to argue, but Stiles raised a hand. Jackson's eyes went vacant. Stiles guided him to a corner. "Sit there. Don't move until I say so."
Jackson obeyed, slumping into a daze.
Scott pulled out his phone and dialed Derek. "Come to the warehouse where we fought Gerard. We're going to try to turn Jackson into a werewolf tonight."
---
As the sky over Beacon Hills darkened, Stiles made Jackson call his mother. Using a lie—that he'd driven to the abandoned warehouse with a girl who'd then left him stranded—Jackson convinced her to come pick him up.
When Mrs. Whittemore's car pulled up outside, Scott called Jacob.
Jacob, who had been shopping with the girls, excused himself. He left Allison and Malia at the mall and teleported with Lydia to the warehouse, where they settled into the shadows to watch.
Lydia studied the scene. Jackson stood in a daze in the middle of the empty warehouse, illuminated by the harsh lights left behind after Gerard's death. She turned to Jacob, confused. "Why did you bring me here?"
Jacob nodded toward Jackson. "They're going to try to turn him into a werewolf. I brought you because..."
Lydia's expression shifted. Hurt flickered in her eyes. "The only way to save him is for someone who loves him to call his name when he's near death." Her voice tightened. "Do you think I still have feelings for Jackson? Is that why you brought me here?"
Jacob raised an eyebrow, then flicked her forehead gently.
"Ow!" Lydia rubbed the spot.
"What are you thinking, you idiot?" Jacob's voice was soft but firm. "Of course I know you don't have feelings for Jackson. I know the only man you love is me."
Lydia pouted. "Then why bring me here? I don't really care if Jackson lives or dies."
Jacob pulled her into a hug. "I brought you here just in case his mother's voice doesn't reach him when he is dying. I want you to amplify it with your sound control ability. That's all." He tilted her chin up, meeting her eyes. "With how possessive I am, do you really think Jackson would still be alive if I felt you had even the slightest romantic feeling for him?"
Lydia looked away, guilt flickering across her face. "Sorry. I was just… overthinking."
Jacob smirked. "Yes, you were. I'm going to punish you all night tonight. And you'd better not lose consciousness."
Lydia's lips curved into a smile. She kissed him. "I'm looking forward to it."
Just then, a woman's voice echoed through the warehouse—Jackson's mother, Mrs. Whittemore.
"Jackson!"
She spotted him standing motionless under the lights, his clothes torn and disheveled. Worry creased her face as she hurried toward him.
Before she could reach him, a low growl rumbled from the shadows. She froze.
Derek stepped out from behind a support beam, his eyes glowing red, fur spreading along his jaw.
Mrs. Whittemore stumbled back, terror flashing across her face. She turned to Jackson, her voice shrill with panic. "Jackson! Run! Get away from that thing!"
But Jackson didn't move.
Instead, under Stiles's mental command, he began to shift.
Mrs. Whittemore watched in horror as her son's body transformed—scales erupting across his skin, claws extending, his face twisting into something reptilian and monstrous. Her legs gave out. She crumpled to the floor, trembling.
"What's happening?" Her voice was barely a whisper. "Jackson… what happened to you?" She looked at Derek, accusation and fear mingling in her eyes. "What are you? What did you do to my son?"
Stiles released his control.
Jackson's eyes cleared. He looked down at his scaled hands, then at his mother—terrified, weeping, but still there. Still looking at him.
He shifted partially back, his face still half-covered in scales, his eyes glowing with slit pupils, his mouth still filled with jagged teeth. But his voice, when he spoke, was human.
"Do you still think I can be your son?" He paused, the words heavy. "Even if I'm a monster?"
His mother's tears flowed freely, but her voice didn't waver. "Of course, honey. Even though I'm not your biological mother, I'll always be your mom. Don't worry. I don't know what that thing behind you did to you, but we'll find a cure. We have money. We'll fix this."
Jackson's expression softened. He turned to Derek and nodded. "Do it."
Derek stepped forward without a word. His claws pierced Jackson's chest—through flesh, through bone, through heart.
Then he withdrew and stepped back into the shadows.
Jackson collapsed.
Mrs. Whittemore screamed.
She ran to him, collapsing beside him, pulling him into her arms. She cradled him on her lap, her hands pressing desperately against the bleeding wound in his chest. Tears streamed down her face.
"Hold on!" she sobbed. "I'll call for help!" She patted her pockets frantically, then realized her phone was still in the car. "Wait here—I'll get my phone. I'll be right back!"
Jackson's hand shot up and caught her wrist. His grip was weak, but firm enough to stop her.
"Don't…" He coughed, blood spilling from his lips. "Stay… with me."
His eyes fluttered. His breathing grew shallow—each inhale smaller than the last. His mother clutched him tighter, her voice breaking.
"Let me go get help! Please!"
But he wouldn't let go. Even as his strength faded, even as the light dimmed in his eyes, he held on to her.
From the shadows, Scott watched with growing urgency. "Jackson's dying. I should go—make her call his name."
Jacob appeared beside him. "Don't. She needs to believe he's dying. She needs to call his name on her own."
Mrs. Whittemore let out a piercing wail as her son shifted fully to human form. His hand went limp. His eyes closed.
She shook him. Screamed his name. Begged him to come back.
Nothing.
Believing her son was dead, she threw herself over him, sobbing, calling his name over and over in desperate, agonized repetition.
Then she felt it.
A twitch. A breath. Movement beneath her hands.
She pulled back, staring in disbelief as Jackson's eyes opened. His hand moved. His chest rose and fell.
Just then, a translucent screen materialized before Jacob's eyes.
[You have witnessed Jackson transform from Kanima to werewolf. You may now sign in, Host.]
Jacob dismissed the window, saving the sign-in for later. He watched as Jackson stood, his eyes glowing blue, fur spreading along his jaw. The new werewolf raised his head and roared—a sound of power, of release, of rebirth.
Jacob teleported instantly, appearing between Jackson and his mother.
Jackson's protective instincts flared, but Jacob raised a calm hand. "Relax. I don't like you, but I'm not going to hurt your mother." He pulled clothes from his pocket dimension and tossed them over. "Put these on."
Jackson caught them and dressed quickly. "Why are you helping me?"
Jacob glanced at Mrs. Whittemore, still kneeling on the ground, tears on her face, shock in her eyes. "Because of her. She's a good mother."
He handed Jackson a bottle of water. "Help her clean up."
Jackson knelt beside his mother, gently wiping the tears and blood from her face. She touched his cheek, wonder and relief mingling in her expression.
"Are you… really okay?"
Jackson nodded. "I'm okay now. Come on—let's get you cleaned up. I'll explain everything."
He helped her wash her face and hands and dry them. When she was calm, Jacob stepped forward, Memory Neuralyzer in hand.
A flash of light.
Mrs. Whittemore's eyes went distant, vacant.
Jacob spoke calmly, clearly. "You will forget everything you saw after entering this warehouse. You came here to pick up your son. You found him hanging out with his classmates. Nothing more."
He pocketed the device.
Stiles and Scott emerged from the shadows. Scott approached Jackson. "You still need to learn control. Otherwise, you'll hurt more people." He glanced at Mrs. Whittemore, still dazed. "You might hurt her."
Jackson nodded solemnly.
His mother blinked, coming back to herself. She looked around at Scott, Stiles, and Jacob, then focused on Jackson with a gentle smile. "Ready to go home?"
Jackson hesitated. "Do you… remember what happened?"
She laughed softly. "Of course I do. Some girl drove you out here, then dumped you and left."
Jackson forced an awkward smile.
She patted his arm. "Don't worry, honey. It's her loss. Now let's go home." She glanced around the warehouse with a shiver. "And stay away from places like this. It's not safe."
Jackson nodded, then looked back at Jacob and the others. "Thanks."
He followed his mother out.
Once their car pulled away, Lydia and Derek emerged from the shadows.
Derek looked at Jacob. "The guy controlling Jackson—he's really dead?"
Jacob nodded. "Yes."
"Good." Derek turned to Scott. "Are you going to ask Jackson to join your pack?"
Scott shook his head. "No. He's all yours. Just make sure you teach him control."
Jacob hugged Lydia and nodded to the others. "Alright. See you guys later." Then he teleported them back to Allison and Malia.
To be continued… 😊