Combustible || Teen Wolf [2]

7. Monster

I couldn't take my eyes off it, the bloodied and mutilated body seeming to in trance me. I had been witness to many atrocities and scenes for scary movies but even I had never seen something so sinister.

The worst part was knowing that I knew the guy, the guy who did not look much older then Derek had been there that night I was abducted by the Argents. Albeit he had been one of them to watch as I was tied down but he was still a human being. No one deserves to die in such a horrific manner.

The smell of decaying flesh just circulating around my sinuses, making every part of me nauseous. I suddenly felt the lunch I ate begin to revolt inside my stomach.

"Imelda," Scott called out to me, shaking my thigh with his hand.

I looked over, hopping down from the table I was. Suddenly having the urge to run as fast as possible away from here.

"What?" I mumbled, careful to be wary of my balance. Swallowing away my urges to run.

Deaton began rushing over towards the many cabinets and pulling out a bottle of rubbing alcohol along with gauze.

"They are coming back so we don't have much time to talk," Deaton began hurriedly saying, dipping a cotton ball in the disinfectant.

"What is that?" Scott asked.

"Rubbing alcohol, lift your shirt," Deaton said. Scott lifted his shirt and let Deaton apply the liquid to the scratch marks," you don't want it to get infected do you? It will heal the same, just not as quickly because of Derek. We would have Imelda fix it for you but I can't have her passing out right now, it'll be strange for them to see her."

"Okay, how do you know all this?" I asked," how do you know anything for that matter?"

He looks at me, wrapping Scotts wounds," it's a long story... what I can tell you is that I know about Scotts kind. And yours Imelda. Your kinds I can help."

"And that?" Scott points towards the body that I refused to look at once more.

"That, that is something different," Deaton answered with dread in his voice.

"Do you know what did it?" Scott questions.

"No," he shakes his head at us," but the Argents will. And this is the crucial part, they will have some kind of record or book, it'll have descriptions, histories, and notations of all the things they've discovered."

"All the things?" Scott says louder," how many different things are there?"

"A lot," Deaton says.

"Hold fuck," I comment," what else is next? Will tinker bell show up and fairy dust my ass human?"

The screeching of tires is heard outside the clinic, Scott not hesitating to grab my hand and lead me towards one of the doors. I assume we are leaving but instead it's a storage closet. The door shuts just as Deaton pretends to busy himself with looking at the body. Footsteps approach the back, both Scott and I tensing as they near.

Scott paces a hand over my mouth, my eyebrows raise in confusion until I realize that this may be a smart move. I tended to talk without thinking and well you could never be too sure.

"I'm starting to think I need to buy a more prominent closed sign," Deaton says causally, as if he wasn't just healing a werewolf and Dea.

"Hello Alan, it's been awhile. The last I heard you had retired," Gerard Argents voice says, the feeling of tense shooting straight to fear at the older more dangerous Argents mention.

"Last I heard you followed a code of conduct," Deaton answers without missing a beat.

"If you hadn't noticed, this body is one of ours," Chris Argent murmurs.