A LIFETIME AGO, EVA FANTASIZED OF HAVING CHILDREN. She dreamt of a family with a devoted husband and toddlers with natural hair who represented their love.

With Vincent Griffith, she almost achieved her dream.

But like its founders, the city of New Orleans is damned and all those who inhabit it are bound to suffer. Eva hadn't reached the three-month mark of her pregnancy before losing the child of her dreams. Losing Vincent felt inevitable, then.

The time that followed those incidences is... Obscure at best. She can't quite remember what truly happened, but nightmares plagued her. Whispers of old memories taunted her. It felt like the name Eva Sinclair didn't belong to her.

But those are thoughts for another time. Even if it is not the life she dreamed of, Eva attained part of it—her daughter may not be her blood, she may be the opposite of Eva's in every thinkable way, from skin color to the movement of her soul, but Remington is hers.

The agony of her past is worth enduring if she has her daughter to balm the ache each day.

She focuses on thoughts like that on days like this—When Eva came to a stop outside Remington's bedroom, her eyebrow raised in question at the sight in front of her.

Stiles Stilinski and Isaac Lahey laid on the floor of her home, the two leaning against each other as they act as guards in front of Remington's shut door. The two were still dressed in street clothes, the younger of the two—Isaac—curled like a child as Stilinski, ever the raucous child, snored loudly on top of him, limps spread out and moving with each breath, determined as ever to take up space and be noticed.

Irritation gurgled its way to Eva's throat, but the words died in her mouth as something even worse aroused in her: Affection.

She remembers Isaac, overgrown even as an infant, cowering in the face of Remington's innate passion for the world. He used to be a sweet child, polite as one can be while trying to imitate a brother as wild as Camden Lahey. A honeyed boy who used to bring her flowers from his father's funeral home, unstained by his father's temper and unaware of Camden's desperation.

To those two boys, Eva will always be indebted to for failing to protect them.

Stilinski is a different matter, however.

No one of Earth has caused her daughter to shed as many tears as she has.

Recalling the day Remington arrived home from elementary school, dressed ruined and her cheeks scraped, eyes filled with tears as she stuttered out, "I found my Prince Charming, but he pushed me off the swing-set!" Eva felt no remorse as she snapped her fingers next to Stiles's ears

Immediately, the boys scrambled awake, nearly tumbling over Isaac's still-sleeping form. He looked dazed, blinking repeated as he mumbled lowly.

"Eva?" He had the audacity to look taken back by her presence, annoyance in his tired voice.

The witch rolled her eyes, lifting her finger to point to the staircase. Stiles followed her obediently, grumbling the entire time; once they entered the kitchen, he sat on the barstool, leaning on the counter drowsily.

"If you drool on my counter," Eva warned. "I will set your clothes on fire."

Stiles groaned, giving her a thumbs-up. Eva sighed, "Why are you in my home, Mieczyslaw?"

"That's low, even for you, Eva!" Stiles sat up, glaring at her through puffy eyes. "And to let you know, my car broke down. Lahey and I rolled it up the driveway; I'll call a tow truck later."

Eva turned to the fridge, gathering the ingredients for breakfast—after considering, she picked enough for four. "And how, please tell, did that end with you two in front of my underage daughter's bedroom?"

Stiles raised his hands defensively. "It was Isaac's idea!"

"Because the ideas of a wanted fugitive tend to be remarkable," Eva exclaimed, rolling her eyes. She knew the boys didn't risk any harm to Remington, but she is a parent; Eva has to worry and nag and threaten.

The teenager huffed, covering an eye with his palm as he willed himself awake. "I don't think he wants to go back to Derek's hideout," he admitted unsurely, referring to Isaac.

Eva considered his words. "Does Remington still believe he's staying with a group home?" She asked mildly. At Stiles's nod, she continued. "Knowing my daughter, she likely offered him a place to stay regardless. I won't get involved—the decision is left to Isaac,"

Stiles shrugged, an uncomfortable emotion hunching his shoulders. "So, just like when we, uh, we all decided to wait for him to react out first when his dad started beating the shit out of him?"

"I learned it's best to stay uninvolved unless asked," Eva said frostily.

"He was scared," Stiles rationalized. "He didn't—He didn't want to be alone, even if it meant getting abused by his dad. Of course, he wasn't going to call the cops on Mr. Lahey! We should've done something; it was our responsibility to help him."

Eva turned to face the sixteen-year old, and with a pained breath, admitting her failures to him. "I know! Trust me, I am painfully aware of it, Mieczyslaw."

"Why are you getting mad at me?" Stiles argued. "I'm just telling you so we can avoid the self-pity and actually do something right for him."

"When did you start caring about Isaac Lahey?" Eva deflected, continuing to prepare breakfast. The two of them, last time she bothered to check, despised each other; Isaac hated battling for Remington's attention and Stiles seemed to discard it unless it benefitted him.

"I don't." Stiles stated bluntly. "But he lost his entire family. I think at least he deserves is a house where he doesn't have to worry about hunters bursting in to kill him, don't you, Eva? Proper plumbing, too."

Biting back the need to argue with that snark-mouthed child, Eva swallowed back the words like an adult and relented. "Fine, I'll speak with him."

Stiles looked at Eva as if she's an untrustworthy person, apprehension stark in his features; he didn't argue, but shook his head and mumbled an excuse as he left to go back upstairs. 

He is right to judge her as dishonest; New Orleans stole and stole from her, giving back just enough that Eva doesn't quite trust herself either.

She has calls to make. Tired, Eva closed her eyes. New Orleans, New Orleans, New Orleans...

All roads lead home. How fitting.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ! ! !

I'm finally done with the semester LOL I hate college but i'm keeping Eva's chapter short compared to the others since she is so secretive and unreliable