Tattoos • Teen Wolf [complete]

002

Jordan Parrish's POV

My head turned to look at Sheriff Stilinski, and I gave him a slight shrug. I wasn't going to just kick my boss out of his own office, so I stood there, unsure of what to do.
"Okay, I'll leave." The older man said, heading for the door. I sighed in relief. Nothing would've been more awkward than telling him he would have to go.
My eyes followed Stilinski as he exited the room, before looking back at the girl sitting in front of me. She wrapped herself in the blanket that the sheriff had just brought her, and as she did so, I couldn't help but look at what seemed to be tattoos on her neck.
"Why do you only want to talk to me?" I asked her, taking my attention away from her tattoos. She looked up at me again, her big blue eyes could make a man melt. She looked around the age of 18, and had very beautiful features. But I couldn't let that distract me from my job.
"You're a hellhound, are you not?" She asked, and I stood in shock. I walked closer to the chair she was sitting in, and kneeled down in front of her. She looked down at me, not showing much expression.
"How do you know what I am?" I whispered, careful for no one else to hear.
"Because I am part hellhound." She answered in a low whisper as well, and I felt my jaw drop. I closed my mouth, before speaking again.
"Part?" I asked, looking out the window to make sure no one was coming.
She nodded. "I'm a hybrid."
I looked around, not quite believing her. I've heard of many things, but never a hybrid.
"A hybrid of what exactly?" I asked. It was clear to her that I wasn't exactly believing her story. Perhaps she overheard Scott one day and decided to pull a prank. I'm sure there are no actual hybrids.
"Everything." She whispered. "I'm not just two things or three. I have a part of every supernatural creature within me." She explained, obviously trusting me with this kind of information. Or maybe she's just really into this prank. "I can shape shift into whatever creature I want." She finished, and I shook my head. I couldn't help but laugh a bit under my breath.
"You gotta stop watching movies little girl." I teased. She was only about four years younger than me, but with the gibberish she was telling me, she sounded like a delusional little girl. I did not believe a thing she said. If there were such things as hybrids, why did one only show up now?
The girl grabbed my wrist, but not hard enough to hurt me. Before I can pull away, all the blinds in the room shut and we were in total darkness. And suddenly...I was in Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. The hall was empty, but not for long. The doors bursted open, and nurses wheeled in a gurney with a body on it. The body that seemed to belong to someone I know and deeply care for.
"Lydia..." I whispered, running for the gurney. I tried to see her, but too many nurses were around her. They were all shouting things at each other, but I was too focused on Lydia. I tried to tell them to move but they seemed to not have heard me. I ran after them, trying to catch as much information as possible.
"Heart beat slowing!" One shouted.
"I need another bandage! She's losing blood." Another shouted. They turned into a room and shut the door all in about two seconds.
I looked through the glass of the observation window. One of the nurses saw me, and closed the blinds. I felt a tear run down my cheek before shutting my eyes tightly.
"This isn't real..." I whispered.
I opened my eyes again to see myself back in sheriffs office, the girl's hand still around my wrist. I pulled myself out of her grip, before stumbling back.
"H-how did you do that?" I asked, my voice shaky. "You got into my mind..." I muttered, walking behind the desk and taking a seat in the desk chair.
"Lydia Martin, the banshee." She said, ignoring my question. "What I just showed you, will come true if you don't start listening to me." She spoke a bit more sternly, as if she wanted to be taken serious. Well...it was working.
"My name is Serena Elah Michelson. Adopted by the Michelson's at birth from a family here in Beacon Hills." I fumbled for a notebook and began writing down everything she said. "This is my birth town. From what family, you ask? Not sure for myself. But I plan on figuring that out soon. For now, I am here because I was sent here." She explained.
I looked up at her from my notebook, my hand ready to write at any second. "Sent by who?"
She didn't answer, she just pointed at the two markings on her neck. "Hybrids like me receive a gift...or should I say, curse...on their eighteenth birthday. They start to get these peculiar marks on their necks. The marks lead them to other supernatural creatures that need their protection. Once your task is complete, and you've helped them, the marks disappear until new ones appear again. And the cycle continues." She explained. I looked at her, clearly puzzled.
"You're like me?" I asked, shaken by the whole situation. "Except, I don't get cool tattoos..." I mumbled.
"Well yes. I am part hellhound. A Hellhounds duty is to protect the supernatural. But that's not all." She pauses, reaching into the back pocket of her jeans. "I'm part Banshee too." She pulls out a folded, wrinkled paper before continuing. "Banshees sense death, they find dead bodies, or can predict when ones about to die." She unfolded the paper she pulled out, and looked at it. "Well my banshee part is saying that everyone in Beacon Hills will die, because of him." She turned the paper around, showing me the drawing she was looking at. It seemed to be a drawing of a teenage boy, with face paint that looks like a skull. I took the picture in my hand and analyzed it.
"That vision I gave you of Ms. Martin, will come true. Because of him." She pointed at the picture.
"Does he have a name?" I asked.
She nodded, leaning closer to the desk before whispering. "The Phantom Killer."