The Sicilian Defence [Derek Hale]

Chapter Fifty-One

We hadn't even completely made it to Eichen house before Noah had text us saying that Stiles was in his bedroom and that we all needed to get to the Stilinski residence as soon as possible. That was why we were all stood around in Stiles' bedroom looking at his chessboard.

"What is all this? What are these sticky notes for?" Argent asked as he gestured down to the collection of pieces that they'd been looking at for the past three minutes.

"This is what Stiles used to try and explain to me about... all of you," Noah admitted, I don't remember much of that day since I'd been busy passing out and dying.

"Well, maybe it's a message from Stiles-- the real Stiles," Allison reminded, and Derek nodded.

"Do you think there's any reason my name's on the king?" Derek asked, and I followed his gaze to see the piece.

"Well, you're heavily guarded..." Stilinski began.

"You're one move from being in checkmate," I cut in, "well...no...just check... and I suppose you could get out of it but Stiles doesn't know that move. So you're in checkmate," I finalised moving the pieces to show them and Noah looked at me with a sigh. I couldn't help it though, this was pretty much my only talent at this point.

"It's not a message from Stiles-- it's a threat from the Nogitsune," Argent reminded.

"So he's at the loft?" I asked, and Allison nodded.

"He's at the loft. That's what he's trying to tell us. And he wants us to come there," she confirmed. I don't like her. Stealing my spotlight.

"Night's falling..." Derek pointed out as he forced his eyes up into the window to look at the light that was slowly forming. That meant we were running out of time.

"This couldn't sound any more like a trap."

"I don't think it is..."

"I think your opinion might be slightly biased, Sheriff..."

"Hear me out! What we're dealing with here is basically someone who lacks motive-- no rhyme or reason, right?" Stilinski asked, and I looked back down at the chessboard beginning to move the pieces. We weren't playing against Stiles but instead against an evil prankster.

"Meaning what?"

"Our enemy is not a killer... It's a trickster. The killing is just a by-product," Noah reminded.

"He's right," I added on, "it's all a game of running around and clearing up his messes. That's what you've been doing all day," I reminded. Technically we knew about the Sheriff station and had we been quicker at figuring it out we could have saved everyone. But we hadn't.

"If you're trying to say it won't kill us, I'm not feeling too confident about that..." Derek pointed out.

"It won't. It wants irony. It wants to play a trick-- it wants a joke. All we need to do is come up with a new punchline."

"The sun is setting, Sheriff... What do you have in mind?"

"Well, you're the tactician. What do you think we do?" Stilinski asked, and I frowned looking up to try and find who he was talking about only to see all of their eyes on me. Oh no. None of them should be looking at me, It was such a surprise that the piece on the chessboard I had been moving fell from my hands hitting against the board. The sound of the wood smacking against the wood echoed throughout the room. Why on earth are they just looking at me?

"Sorry what?"

"Well we're definitely not going to do that," Derek said, and I looked down to see the king that had been labelled 'Derek' was the one who had fallen. He was right; we weren't going to surrender.