CHAPTER 144

With Tristan's unresponsive state, the four of them stood there unsure of what to do when nothing was working. Even Malia forcefully feeding him her blood did nothing.

Lydia was also confused because what she had said about Tristan hearing the voices of the dead was something that she had unknowingly blurted out without even realizing it.

'Could it be that he can really hear them?' The reason that fueled this thought of hers was the fact that the voices in this particular room were more loud and clear that the other voices she heard.

"Allison, you and Stiles go check if you can find Isaac and Boyd. Malia and I will watch over Tristan… and whatever this is."

They had hardly left when another footstep arrived at the door. Boyd looked super confused at seeing them here instead of the girls' room.

"What are you guys doing here? I went to your room and it was emp…ty." Now Boyd was sure that something was going on when he saw the troubled faces of Stiles and Allison. Not that the splatters of blood on and around Tristan were subtle. "What the fuck is happening here, and why is Tristan looking like a mannequin?"

The situation was already delicate with them having no idea on how to snap Tristan out of his daze, and also the four werewolves that were still unaccounted for. The urgency of the current inexplicable scenario they found themselves in didn't give them the luxury to care about shattering Boyd's worldview.

"Where's Isaac?" Stiles asked impatiently.

"He went to get Erica and Cora from their rooms." Boyd replied despite his surging confusion, and told them all he knew. "Also Isaac was acting somewhat weird, like he was in pain or something. He didn't say what, only telling me he'd catch up with us later."

Hearing him, Stiles and Allison both rushed out of the room and made their way towards the girls' room.

Boyd looked confused for a brief moment before making up his mind and followed them. He was worried about what was happening to Tristan but Malia and Lydia were there with him.

After they left, Malia turned to Lydia and asked if she had any idea on what was wrong with him, given her rather obscure nature as a banshee.

"I'm sorry, but I'm just as lost as you are." She said.

"What are the voices saying?"

"Huh?"

"The voices you hear," Malia repeated. "What are they saying?"

Lydia looked at Malia, disbelieving what Malia just asked her. Here she was trying to ignore the voices and hopefully block them out, and Malia turned around and asked her to listen to it.

"You really are my living bane." She grumbled but acquiesced the earnest request.

It didn't take long before she fell into a trance of her own as the events of the past that occurred in this motel were slowly unraveled to her.

A couple of seconds later and she left her trance with a gasp, shock travelling through her body as she witnessed the suicides that had taken place in this.

"Suicides." She mumbled. "They all killed themselves."

Malia frowned, almost wanting to say something but it was at that point that Tristan stirred.

It was a little fluttering of his eyelids that she almost missed. Hope welling up in her heart, she instinctively wanted to call out to him but then she froze.

The coldness in her joints she felt when she first entered the room washed over her, overwhelmingly that it ceased all her movements for a brief moment.

A brief moment where thin needle-like strands of solidified blood all found their sharp points centimeters away from her and Lydia's neck.

While the two girls stood rooted to one spot, fearing the dozens of blood needles will pierce them should they move, Tristan who currently looked like a human porcupine finally started waking up.

The endless cacophony of screams and pleading finally started receding and his basic senses started coming back; his sight, hearing, smell, taste and sensation came back and he found himself blinking when his sight came back.

The once empty room where the ghostly voices tried assaulting his mind to make him kill himself was no longer empty as it now had Malia and Lydia at a literal gunpoint, his version of it at the very least.

He could taste Malia's blood in his mouth and the injuries on his body, also inflicted by her, were all covered up in an instant. 'She tried waking me up.'

The needles of blood lost their strength and wobbled back into his body, much to the relief of the two girls. "I don't like this place."

He meant it before and doubly so now. If it were someone else, human or supernatural, without a very solid mental fortitude then they would have been driven mad by the endless voices and would have looked for a way to kill themselves.

He had been terribly anxious when he had lost himself but after only hearing the screaming, begging and endless curses being hurled inside his head, he figured he had no need to worry and instead focused on trying to get back control of his body.

A dark dream of baleful curses was not something that would terrify him to death. There were things that could, he had already experienced one, and this wasn't anywhere near the terror he felt from a dream of nothing but flowing blood.

"What happened to you?" Lydia asked.

Tristan briefly explained how he got to his current situation and listened to what the two girls had to say.

"So this is actually a haunted house with 199 suicidal spirits? This is the most impressive haunted house backstory I've ever heard." Only his morbid sentiment and misconstrued appreciation of the horror building wasn't shared by the two girls.

"You said the others are trying to kill themselves?" He asked and they nodded, almost letting out a groan knowing what was coming next. "I wonder whose idea it was to have me attend this meeting." He grumbled to himself.

"Allison, Stiles and Boyd?... Anyway they are going to be mauled to death by angry suicidal werewolves."

"Eh?"

"Wait!"

Before they could fully let out those words, Tristan had already flung himself off the balcony straight towards the room at the end of building.

The first person he saw was Isaac who looked pale and was struggling to hold back a fully shifted Erica. It turns out that Isaac had slashed his own wrists and was stopping himself from healing due to mental torture he was suffering during the time as he slowly bled to his death. Which was what would have happened if Allison and Stiles arrived any late.

The easiest thing would be to force them into submission with a roar but that would wake up the whole student body in the motel.

With no need for any inane exchange of words, he back-stepped at the lousy grab Erica had attempted and grabbed her by the neck as she stumbled forward.

Holding Erica by her neck, his first thought was to injure her with his claws or fangs and snap her out of whatever suicidal reverie she was in but an instinctual feeling came over him and he went along with it.

Staring at Erica who was flailing and gasping in his grasp, his instincts took over and he commanded her.

"STOP."

At his words, the red iris of his eyes widened even more that his black pupil shrunk to the size of a black dot, with his red eyes shining even brighter for a moment before it returned to its original intensity.

Erica, the recipient of Tristan's stare, stiffened in his grasp and immediately stopped her flailing and gasping, even going far as to hold her breath, all the while shivering in fear.

Seeing that she was back to her senses, Tristan nodded at the pleasant discovery, and released her.

As for Cora, Allison used her last smoke pebble to destabilize her senses for Stiles and Boyd to hold her down for her trusty dagger to do its work.

Tristan raised his hand at Boyd who was about to say something and turned back to the direction he smelt leaking gasoline.

There Scott was in the middle of the road, bathed in gasoline and standing on a leaking puddle of one, an unlit flare in his hands.

"What the hell does McCall think he's doing?" Were the mental tortures he experienced so great that he wanted to end it with a blazing exit? The answer to that question is something Tristan would never know as he hardly knew what ran inside the heads of high school teens other than sex and party.

Scott slowly turned to face their direction, fear, guilt and resignation wafting off him to Tristan's nose.

Tristan was already fed up with the entire experience from the journey to this haunted house of a motel that he paid no attention to the gasp of horror and shock from the others behind him as they started noticing Scott.

In an instant he was gone and in another Scott slumped down unceremoniously as Tristan knocked him out and threw the flare a good distance away from them.

Looking back at Allison and co, he pointed at the gasoline puddle and the truck Scott vandalized, "Clean this up."

No one said anything as they watched him go back to his room to get some sleep.

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