Supernatural Fresh Meat (12 page)

“Yikes,” Sam said.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want this thing to visit me at night.”

“It’s got wings?” Dean asked.

Bobby nodded. “Yep. And even worse, it can take human form.”

“So you could be living next door to Mr. Organ Sucker and not even know it,” Dean added.

“Would make for a memorable block party,” Bobby said. “What did you find?”

“Victims filled with other people’s organs have been turning up for more than a century,” Sam told him.

“That still sound right?” Dean asked Bobby.

“Yeah. When its nest gets full, it likes to select a victim it’s already sucked empty, and put all the inedible parts in it. Then it reanimates the corpse and sends it out to be reunited with its family.”

“Happy days,” Dean said.

“Yeah, that makes for a cheery reunion,” Bobby said.

“So how do we kill this thing?” Dean asked.

“That’s the tricky part. Couldn’t find anything about how to kill one.”

“Well, we can tell you it’s not iron or salt or bullets or fire,” Sam told him.

“That narrows it down,” Bobby said. “I couldn’t find any accounts of someone who’d actually fought the thing.”

“Great,” Sam said.

“Just stuff about villagers living in terror of them at night. Sometimes they suck babies out of pregnant women.”

Dean frowned. “So a real family-friendly, warm and fuzzy monster.”

“But I did find accounts of what people did to ward them away,” Bobby said.

“So what do we have to do?”

“Make a concoction of vinegar, salt, garlic, ginger, and pandan spices. Not sure how it’ll work. Try sprinkling it like holy water.”

“So what’s the plan?” Dean asked.

They all exchanged looks, then Bobby said, “I need to do more research. Find out what’ll kill this thing.”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “Bobby, people are dying out there.”

“That’s why I think you and Dean should go back, at least try to keep people from stumbling into this thing’s territory. You’ll probably have more luck once you have the mixture. At least it’ll leave you alone.” He met their eyes. “And be careful.”

“You don’t have to tell us that,” Sam said. “That thing almost ripped through my chest.”

“I’ll call you as soon as I learn how to finish it off.”

Dean remembered trying to reach Bobby when Sam got hurt. “Cell reception’s a bitch out there.”

“It’ll have to do.” Bobby messed with the brim of his ball cap. “There’s one other heart-warming detail I haven’t mentioned.”

Sam raised his eyebrows.

“This thing’s hermaphroditic; it reproduces with itself. So be on the lookout for eggs.”

Dean couldn’t believe this. “Are you serious, Bobby?”

“Yeah. Grey and leathery.”

Sam leaned forward. “Where would it lay them?”

Bobby shrugged. “Not sure. None of the accounts said. But this thing isn’t so much into deep and dark like the wendigo.”

Dean thought of all the accounts going so far back. “Why haven’t any hunters fought it before?”

“Near as I can figure it, it doesn’t have to kill very often.”

“The accounts were spread apart,” Sam added. “But now it’s killing more often.”

“So let’s make this spice mixture and get out there again,” Dean said.

The aswang was stepping up its game for some reason. Sam was right. All the other reports had been chronologically and geographically far apart, but now too many people had gone missing in too short a time. Either it was killing more people now, or it was getting sloppy. Either way, they had to stop it before more people died.

SEVENTEEN

Sam and Dean had been walking through lunchtime and into the afternoon, coming up empty. They searched the area where they had found the organ victim, then started moving in greater circles. The weather looked iffy, a new layer of clouds moving in low and grey on the horizon. A chill came with it.

As they crested a rise, suddenly Dean felt eyes on him. A branch snapped and he whirled around. Grace stepped out, her huge backpack towering behind her. “Hey,” she said as they lowered their guns. “That was some messed up crap the other day. Guy was full of other people’s body parts.” She met Dean’s gaze, her eyes haunted. This was a subdued Grace Dean hadn’t seen before. As if reading his thoughts, she added, “You don’t shrug something like that off.” She sized them up. “I’m surprised they don’t have more agents out here.”

Sam shrugged, then winced at the pain in his shoulders. “We’re pretty busy at the bureau.”

Dean noticed that she had double the ammo in her belt now, and a shotgun was strapped onto her pack. He looked at Sam.

“It’s strange that everywhere I go, here you are,” she said.

Sam looked at his watch. “We should check in with Bobby.”

“Sounds good.” Dean pulled out his cell and checked the bars. The icon on his screen displayed a satellite dish spinning uselessly. No signal.

“I’ll be right back,” he told them. He walked toward the nearby ridge, then began the steep ascent up the smooth granite. He could feel the sun radiating off the rock. Yellow and orange lichen grew in colorful patches as he climbed higher. From the top of the ridge, he could see trees and other patches of open granite outcroppings. In the distance, the Tahoe Summit ski resort ran its ski lifts, and in the far, far distance, he could make out the treeless slopes of the Boreal and Sugar Bowl ski resorts. The whole area up here was dotted with them, with miles and miles of undeveloped forest between. It was a perfect place for a man-eater like a wendigo to make its nest. Lots of tourists coming and going, as Bobby had said.

Dean pulled out his cell again, lifting it up as it powered on. One bar. He called Bobby.

When he answered, Dean asked, “You find anything yet?”

“I think I may be on to something. I contacted a hunter on the west coast at Point Reyes who found an account of a villager using a stingray barb on the end of a whip. But both the whip and the barb have to be treated with a variety of spices and an incantation was performed on top of that. It’s not something I could whip up here. The ingredients make quite an exotic shopping list.”

“So what should we do?” Below him, Dean watched as Sam and Grace milled about the clearing, talking awkwardly. The wind sighed through the trees, and a gust buffeted his back.

“This hunter has some of what we need. I can go out there and get her to make it, but it would save time if you helped gather the ingredients. We could be there and back in a day.”

“Sounds good.”

“Find anything exciting out there?”

“Not yet. Grace found us again.”

“Well, you two should come back. I don’t like the idea of leaving one of you alone out there. Faster we get this weapon made, faster we can take care of this thing.”

“Okay. I’ll tell Sam.” Dean hesitated. “Should we call Jason? He was good backup before.”

“Slow backup.”

“But he helped.”

“Okay,” Bobby relented. “I guess that way one of you could stay out there, warn people off, and the other could come to Point Reyes.”

“Sounds good.”

“I’ll come pick one of you up at the trailhead now,” Bobby told him, and hung up.

Dean noticed he had a voicemail message on his phone and checked it. It was Jason, telling them to look him up if they were ever back that way. “Nice hunting with you,” he’d said, and hung up.

Dean debated, worried that at best Jason might slow them down, and at worst, get himself killed. But finally he decided the extra help would be welcome, especially if they all had to split up. He called him, catching Jason at the Aces and Eights.

“Yo, Dean,” Jason said.

“Hey Jason. How’s it going?”

“Can’t complain. Ribs better. You guys must be halfway across Utah by now. To what do I owe the honor?”

“We’re actually back in the Tahoe National Forest.”

“What?”

“There have been more killings.”

“Another wendigo? I thought they were solitary.”

“So did we. But it’s not a wendigo. It’s something worse.”

Jason sounded incredulous. “Something worse?”

“Yeah. An aswang.”

“An ass what?”

“Something we don’t want to mess with lightly. Bobby knows a hunter in Point Reyes who can make a weapon for us.”

“Where are you now?”

“Near the Finder Mountain Trailhead.”

“I’m coming to meet you.”

“Okay.” He looked at his watch. “When can you get here?”

“Give me two hours, maybe a little more. Got to gear up and then I’ll leave.”

“Thanks, man.” They agreed to meet at the trailhead and Dean hung up.

He rejoined Sam and Grace in the clearing. “Agent Cash has a lead,” he told Sam.

“Great. Does he want us back there?”

“Yeah. A.s.a.p.”

Grace smiled ruefully. “So I’m back to being on my own?”

“Sorry, ranger. Looks like it,” Sam told her.

“I’m used to it. Wouldn’t survive long in this gig if I didn’t like being alone.”

“Call us if you run into any trouble,” Dean said. He handed her one of their fake F.B.I. business cards, though the number on it was accurate.

“And you’ll come running?” she asked dubiously.

Dean smiled. “Something like that.”

“Well, good luck,” she told them, and set off again in the direction she’d been heading.

“I don’t like the thought of her out here alone,” Sam said as they watched her go.

“Me, either,” Dean agreed. “But she’s tough. Besides, we can’t force her back to town.”

“Maybe we should level with her.”

“Are you kidding me, Sam? Level with her? She’d laugh us out of the forest. And then probably lock us up.”

“So what did Bobby say?”

“He thinks he has a line on a weapon that might kill it. He wants one of us to go with him to the bay area. I called Jason for backup. He’s meeting us at the trailhead.”

They started walking back, keeping an eye out for hikers. The trees grew thick in this area, broken only by large expanses of grey granite. They ducked and bent, moving through a particularly dense section of pines, and Dean heard something moving ahead of them. “Sam!” he whispered.

They squatted behind a boulder. Footsteps drew nearer, something big and bipedal moving through the underbrush.

They waited tensely and it grew closer. Dean stood up suddenly, bringing his .45 to bear.

From around a bend in the trail, a hiker with a huge backcountry pack appeared, face lit up and grinning beneath a shock of blond hair.

Dean stepped out, flashing his F.B.I. badge. “This area’s been closed off.”

The hiker’s face fell. “What? I’ve been planning this trip for ages. Finally got the time off.”

Sam emerged, showing his F.B.I. I.D. as well. “Sorry, sir. There’s a manhunt in progress.”

The hiker’s eyes went wide, and he glanced around nervously. “Manhunt? Like, serial killer manhunt?”

Sam took the man’s elbow and turned him around on the path. “The sooner you return to your vehicle and leave the area, the better.”

Looking thoroughly spooked, the hiker did as he was told, moving at a quick pace back the way he’d come. Sam and Dean followed at a distance, making sure he got back to the trailhead safely. Soon they reached the parking area, and watched while the man loaded his pack into his car and drove off.

While they waited, they turned away two couples and a guy with a dog.

Soon they heard the rumble of Jason’s truck. He pulled in next to the Impala and got out, lifting a hand in greeting. Hefting a pack out of the passenger side, he slung it on his back.

He strode over to them. “So, what kind of fight are we looking at?”

“Big,” Dean said.

“Mean,” Sam added. “Seriously bad news.”

“So how do we fight it?”

“Bobby’s figuring that out now,” Dean told him.

Jason looked around the forest. “We can’t just wait around. People are hiking into these woods all the time. I made two people turn back on the road just now. Told them some crazy story about a pack of rabid dogs. I think they were more scared of me than my story.”

“One of us has to go to the coast with Bobby to get what we need for a weapon.”

“It’ll work?”

“We’re not sure yet. But it’s the best lead we’ve got.”

Jason sized up Dean. “You up for staying out here with me, fending that thing off?”

Dean felt a slight pang of something within him. It felt good to be needed. “Sounds good. Sam, you go with Bobby. We’ll stay here and patrol, try to discourage people from spending the night out here until you two get back.”

Sam shifted his weight. “You sure, Dean?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“All right. Sounds like a plan.”

Some tiny part of himself that Dean was ashamed to admit was there felt a little hurt at Sam’s nonchalant answer. So Dean would stay out here, fighting this thing, while Sam headed off to the bay with Bobby. He could remember a time when Sam wouldn’t have left his side. Now it seemed like Dean was merely an afterthought, and sometimes not even that.

“Okay,” Dean said. “That’s the plan.”

A few minutes later, Bobby’s van pulled up in the trailhead lot, its tires crunching on the gravel. He stepped out. “Jason,” he said in greeting.