St. Clair || Stilinski [2]

Forty-Six || You Can't Be Here

|| You Can't Be Here

The bodies were almost too many to count.

Beacon Hills Memorial was amassed with panic and unsettling sensations as gurney after gurney was carted through the doors and down to the morgue, every one of them stuffed in black body bags to show that their souls were no longer there.

Although it had been Chris Argent who had discovered the heap of bodies buried underneath the town, Sheriff Stilinski filed the phone call under an anonymous tip.

Stuck with a cane to help him walk, Stilinski slowly joined Parrish by the elevator's, the young cop's eyes watching the bodies pass by.

Haunting and horrifying thoughts ran through Jordan's head, sending his stomach rolling.

"Parrish," Stilinski softly said. "Parrish look at me."

Jordan turned his head, his face riddled with anxiety.

"I know what you're thinking. The dream's coming true." The Sheriff shook his head. "It's not."

"Sheriff, there's twenty-three bodies," Jordan replied, voice low. "Twenty-three of them. And..."

Stilinski held up a finger. "Don't say it."

"She..."

"Jordan." Noah squeezed his shoulder, forcing him to look away from the bodies still running by. "She doesn't know what she's doing."

Jordan forced away tears lingering in his eyes, the dark image of the future that he had predicted for Beacon Hills burning behind his eyes.

"I want you to go back to the station and go through every missing person's report for the past two weeks," Stilinski told him. "That's what we do. You got it, Parrish?"

Jordan nodded softly, taking a step back from his boss.

Stilinski reached out before Jordan could get too far, his voice quiet. "We'll get her back."

"You can't promise that."

Sheriff Stilinski's eyes closed as Parrish parted, his dismay only lasting a moment before the elevator doors split open to reveal his son, Scott and Isaac.

All of their jaws slacked as the teens watched the continuous flow of body bags, knowledge of the perpetrator hanging overhead like slew of knives.

"Who found them?" Stiles asked, voice nearly taken from him as he looked to his father.

Stilinski sighed, turning to face them as he bared his weight down on his cane. "Argent. And he said the Doctors were down there. Allison spoke to one of them, asking about Jacy and where she was."

Isaac's brows furrowed. "Did they tell her?"

"They called her perfection," Stilinski said with a shrug. "That's all they would give her."

Scott let out a sharp breath. "That's terrifying."

"The ME said that the victims were killed somewhere else and then dumped in those tunnels."

"Hey, what if the Dread Doctors are hiding the bodies?" Scott asked.

Isaac's eyes narrowed. "Why would they do that? Couldn't it be her doing it when she falls out of the shift?"

"Maybe they're covering for...her." The words left Stiles' lips with distaste and difficultly, forcing himself forward. "Protecting it like a parent would. They spent so much time on her." He glanced to his father. "Perfecting her."