Supernatural Fresh Meat - By Alice Henderson Page 0,36
He had to get rid of them before Speedy came back.
Jason stayed hidden while Dean moved through the trees, intercepting the hikers on the path. Flashing his F.B.I. badge, he approached them. “Special Agent Plant.”
The two hikers stopped. Both were in their late twenties, a man and a woman, holding hands and laughing. Instantly their smiles vanished. “What’s the problem?” the man asked.
“We’re cordoning off this area for a manhunt,” Dean told them.
They looked alarmed. “Are we in danger?”
“Not if you return immediately to your car. Where are you parked?”
“At the Finder Mountain Trailhead. We just got started.”
“Good. Please return to your vehicle and leave the area.”
The woman grabbed the man’s arm and turned back.
“Who are you hunting?” the man asked.
“Let’s just say that you shouldn’t stop along the way for any reason.”
That was enough for him. He took his companion’s hand and hurried back the way they’d come.
When the couple were some distance away, Jason appeared. “Smooth.”
“Thanks.”
“Should we tail them back to their car?”
“Yep.”
They followed at a distance. Dean noticed Jason’s limp had improved.
“Feeling better?”
Jason nodded. “Yeah. It’s slowly getting back to normal. Ribs still hurt a bit, though.”
Dean didn’t have the heart to tell him how much worse fighting the aswang had been than fighting the wendigo. They were going to get worked over if Sam and Bobby didn’t get back soon with the weapon.
Dean watched the couple get into their Subaru Outback at the trailhead parking lot and then slipped back into the trees. He hadn’t caught a glimpse of any other movement.
Clouds started moving in, and with them a cold wind that bit through Dean’s jacket.
Jason glanced around at the sky. “Looks like a storm might be on its way.”
Above them the clouds moved and spiraled, layers building up in dark gray.
“It’s going to be dark soon,” Dean said. “We should find a good place to make camp.”
The wind sighed in the branches above and Dean decided going without a fire might be the best course of action. It was a good defense against a wendigo, but a bright warm fire might attract the aswang. He didn’t like the thought of fighting something like this; they knew so little that he felt like he was making it up as he went along. Hell, he was.
“First I should climb to higher ground and check in with Bobby.”
“I’ll go with you to the bottom of the hill.”
Two hundred feet away rose a steep incline of granite. Dean bounded up it, keeping alert for any sign of the thin man. At the top, he turned on his cell and got a signal. He dialed Sam’s number.
His brother picked up on the third ring. “Dean.”
“Sam.”
“How’s it going out there?”
“Turned away a couple hikers. Being stalked by something skinny and fast moving. Can’t make out much more about it.”
“You okay?”
“So far. You?”
“We’ve met the hunter, and she’s already started preparing ingredients for the weapon. I’m heading out for a spice shop on the coast tonight.”
“Bobby doing okay?”
“Yeah. I think this hunter’s got a thing for him.”
“I bet that’s making him blush.”
“I’ll say.”
“Well, hurry it up. I’ll call you back in six hours.”
“Okay, Dean. Be safe.”
“Bye.”
Dean pressed ‘end’ and headed back down the steep granite to where Jason waited below.
“Everything good?” Jason asked.
Dean nodded. “Yep. Let’s find a place to hole up before it gets dark.”
Jason looked nervous. “Yeah, okay.”
Snow flurries cascaded down on the wind. Dean looked up at the darkening sky. Layer upon layer of clouds had gathered, and he smelled more snow in the air. A storm was on the way, and Dean hoped they were prepared for it.
TWENTY
As the western sky turned gold from the sunset, Sam drove out toward the coast and the little-known shop that sold spices and historical fishing equipment, Odysseus’s Spice and Curio Shop.
He entered the Point Reyes National Seashore and drove past the Bear Valley Visitor Center with its huge barn-looking building. Deer meandered in open fields, and quail scooted around in the underbrush as he drove past. The twisting road took him through forest and then past a handful of historic ranches. Cows grazed in the fields, gazing out at the wide spaces. He passed over a cattle guard into the Tule Elk Reserve. He watched them milling about, huge antlers shining white in the sunshine.
Then at last he saw the ocean. Steep cliffs descended to a wild and crashing surf. A bank of fog hovered out at sea, and the wind created white caps, flashing white on the blue. The gold