Supernatural Fresh Meat - By Alice Henderson Page 0,83

that had taken Bobby. His arms windmilled, trying to regain his balance, and she shoved at his back again, sending him over the edge.

He clung to the ice axe, flipping in mid-air and striking out with it.

It caught on the top edge. Without pausing, he scrambled his feet up and heaved himself over the top again. There was no way he was going back down that rock face again.

The vampire moved forward, kicking at his axe’s hold on the rock. Sam grabbed a ledge with his left hand and gripped tightly while he lifted the axe lightning fast and slammed it down again, this time through the toe of her boot. She cried out, trying to rip her foot backward, but Sam held it firmly. He used this new perch to swing his body back up, then lay belly flat on the top.

She stomped on his hands and landed another kick to his head with her free boot. He felt a surge of nausea and knew he’d suffered too many blows to the head. He wrenched the axe out of her foot and swung it upward, feeling it sink into soft flesh. Blood leaked down his arm. Head spinning, he flipped over onto his back. The axe was embedded in her stomach.

Kicking out with his boot, he knocked her on to her back. His vision started to tunnel, blood rushing to his head. He struggled to his feet, wrenched the axe free, then took aim for her neck and drove it down hard. The dizziness threw him off balance and he missed. He took a backswing and connected. Blood sprayed the granite as he went in for a second and third blow. It was a messy decapitation instrument, but Sam swung down again, thinking of Bobby falling. A final blow finished her. Her detached head rolled onto its cheek.

Sam breathed deeply, leaning over, hands on his knees. Gore dripped from the axe, staining the snow and rock beneath. His vision grew darker and darker. The adrenaline leeched from his system, the pain of his battered head and hands sweeping over him. He fell to his knees, then collapsed onto the granite, still gripping the axe. His cheek rested against the cool stone.

As unconsciousness swept over him, he relived the painfully clear memory of the weight vanishing off that rope as Bobby plummeted from the cliff.

FIFTY-TWO

Dean’s head bobbed down, jerking him awake. He tried to open his eyes, but they were crusty, as if he’d been asleep for days. He meant to bring a hand up to wipe the sleep away, but it wouldn’t move. He forced his lids apart. Dim light filtered into his world. A red exit sign glowed above him. He was sitting against a wall. His gaze traveled down his body, expecting to find his hands bound, but they hung limply at his sides. His feet weren’t tied, but he couldn’t move them, either.

He looked around for Grace, but couldn’t see her. In one corner, the man still lay under the hole of the air duct. Now two other people lay next to him, Bill and Steven, heaped together in a pile.

“Hey,” he tried to say, but his mouth wouldn’t work.

He couldn’t see Jason. His ears heard nothing but the roaring of blood through his veins. He didn’t know if he had gone temporarily deaf, or if it was just that quiet down there. No one whimpered for help now. The naked wires that had sparked before now hung dead and black below the exit sign.

Realization dawned. Something in Jason’s saliva had paralyzed him. Dean willed his little finger on his right hand to move, just a little bit. He stared down at the pinkie intently, begging it to move.

It didn’t.

The sound of shuffling in the narrow hallway outside brought Dean’s attention to the ragged doorway. Relief flooded through him that he could still hear.

Ragged, labored breathing rose and fell above the shuffling sound. Jason appeared in the doorway, pulling something through after him. Dean closed his eyes, not wanting to tip Jason off that he was awake.

He watched through barely opened eyelids as Jason backed into the room. The aswang had abandoned his human form completely. Dean saw the familiar clawed feet, the leathery skin.

Jason dragged a body into the room. He hefted the body up as if it were a pillow and threw it down with the others. It was Don, the mountain manager. His open eyes stared at Dean, his mouth parted. Tears leaked