siriusstuff

The emissary’s visit had been negotiated, the only reason Stiles tolerated her presence in the grove.

“Your Nemeton,” she gushed. “It’s so… powerful.”

Yeah, whatever, Stiles thought. She called herself Julia, or Jennifer. Stiles was only certain she’d cast a glamour, a shitty thin one. He kept calling her Janet, sure he’d confuse her into exposing her trickery.

Meanwhile his glamour on Derek disguised him as just a large coal-black dog, observing everything.

Overhead crows cawed like laughter. Bombardier squirrels rained down pinecones and acorns.

“I think your pet’s disturbing the wildlife,” JJ claimed.

“Oh, of that I’m sure, Jan.”