"Should we summon an angel?"

"Not now, and not without thought. Further summons may not even work, this is unprecedented."

"Why do fairies work for people, anyway? Like, does summoning give the person control over you, should we be worried your summoner will show up and make you start killing people?"

"No. Constraints on a summonee's behavior are strictly negative and must be designated in the original circle before it is completed. I am, so far as I can tell, entirely unbound."

"Oh. Can you resist being summoned? Do you get anything out of it?" 

"Responding to a summons is a voluntary choice. Typically, the summoner will negotiate a deal with the daeva, a certain task to be performed in exchange for payment of one sort or another. Usually physical goods, Earth money is of little use in Fairyland."

"So should we pay you something? Since you can't find your summoner?"

"That will not be necessary."

Stiles has plenty of questions, but he sits on those, and they arrive soon enough. 

The others are already waiting, at the edge of the woods. 

"Can you lead us to where you appeared?"

"Yes. It will be fastest if I move us as a group."

After a moment's pause, they agree that should work fine. 

They're faced with a familiar stump. 

"How recently was he here? Do you have seconds, minutes? Do you speak English or is this some fairy thing?" 

"It has been perhaps an hour. I speak English."

Scott sniffs the air, apparently searching for something in particular. 

He approaches the bodies, too, smelling them. 

Lydia seems distracted. 

"That's...a few more dead bodies than I remember you mentioning."

"I did say piles."

"Oh god...Tracy..."

Hey look at that, he's kneeling by the corpse pile. 

He's probably going to be useless for a few minutes. 

"Found his scent. Do you want to come along?"

"Yes. Which way?"

He points. 

"Are you going to fly? How fast can you go?"

"Faster than you can run." She lifts off a short way into the air. "Go. I will follow."

He goes. 

They run, the forest fading fast as they head into town. 

They pass many nearly identical houses, until they come to their destination: a group of townhomes, also nearly identical. 

"He's inside. He might not even know what he did."