Supernatural Fresh Meat - By Alice Henderson Page 0,25

pain erupted in his chest muscles as the claws tore through him. The thing wrenched violently to one side, and Sam struggled to keep his balance. As he thrashed, he felt his feet leave the ground. He kicked, feeling pebbles cast away from his boots, then suddenly his feet swung free. He grabbed his knife out of his jeans pocket. Stabbing upward, he felt the blade sink into the tough flesh of an ankle. Warm liquid rained down over Sam’s hand and dribbled thickly onto his head. He dared a look down, seeing twenty feet of yawning space between him and the ground.

“Sam!” Dean yelled, rushing forward. He slung his flamethrower around to his back and pulled out his rifle.

Sam tried to look up, to make out what had him, but he couldn’t see anything more than a black silhouette against the stars.

He heard the crack of a rifle, then another shot, and suddenly the thing banked and weaved. The pain in Sam’s shoulders erupted and he bit back a cry. It felt like any second his collarbones would snap and the claws would tear through his muscle, sending him crashing to the earth.

As the creature banked rapidly to the left, another rifle shot rang out. It pitched forward. Sam watched as the ground sped toward him, alarmingly fast, too fast, and a huge, jagged rock loomed up in the foreground. He was going to hit it. Face first. He clenched his teeth against the pain as he careened toward the granite. Air streamed over him, causing his eyes to tear up. Sam put his legs out, hoping to buffer the crash, and suddenly the thing turned. For a moment it hovered, rising and lowering in the air with each powerful flap of its wings. Every time they sank and rose again, Sam could feel his flesh tearing.

Then the talons slid out and he plummeted downward. The last thing he saw before he hit was Dean whirling around to fire the rifle again, while the dark shape closed in on him.

THIRTEEN

Dean fired the rifle, unable to make out the creature’s dimensions in the dark. He thought he managed to hit it at least once, but it sure as hell wasn’t slowing the thing down.

Sam landed hard next to a fallen log, and Dean started backing away, hoping to lure the creature in his direction. “C’mon, you son of a bitch!” he shouted.

He felt a blast of air from its wings before he heard it. Clawed feet knocked him flat on a bed of pine needles and branches. He clutched his rifle to his chest, rolled, and got up on one knee. He didn’t see his attacker. If the thing would just get low enough, maybe he’d be able to spot it against the trees. Fighting something jet black against the night sky was not getting the job done.

Another whoosh of air blasted him from behind and a sharp pain bloomed in his arm as the creature grabbed him and threw him like a sack of wet noodles.

Dean’s left arm windmilled as he flew through the air, but he managed to keep hold of the rifle. His back hit a tree trunk and he slid down the rough bark. He landed hard on his side, brought up the gun, and fired it point-blank into the dark shape above him.

Nothing. Not even a whimper.

A blinding wave of fire erupted to Dean’s left. Sam stood with his flamethrower, the entire arc of fire enveloping the creature.

“Right on!” Dean shouted, jumping to his feet and punching a fist into the air. “Nice going, Sam!”

The dark shape shook, wings flapping as it rose into the sky. It darted to the left so fast Dean didn’t actually see it move. Then it darted back to the right. The flames went out.

Dean pulled out his .45 and fired the entire clip into the creature while Sam hit it with another blast of fire.

It rose higher, wings beating in the darkness. Running back to his pack, Dean found his shotgun loaded with rock salt, then ran back. With a deafening blast, he fired two rounds into the creature as it tried to fan out the flames. Plummeting backward, it fell to the ground, its feet kicking. Dean saw a glimpse of leathery flesh, narrowed, coppery eyes and a hulking torso of muscle. Then it took to the air again, wings outspread.

Dean grabbed more shells out of his jacket pocket and opened the breech of the gun. When he