Sorry for the delay in posting. Real life is a bit hectic right now, but I will try to post again soon.
Chapter 9
Dean sensed a presence near him, but he struggled to open his eyes; his exhaustion so complete that his eyes refused to stay open. He was cold, in spite of the cocoon of heavy blankets surrounding him. He smiled slightly at a brief memory of Sam tucking the blankets around him, and he wondered if Sam was nearby. His throat felt dry, and his attempt to speak came out in a weak rasp.
"Sam? Is that you?"
Your brother is not here.
Fear lanced through Dean as the voice resonated in his head. It was the same voice he had heard earlier, before Judith's screams pierced the silence of the castle. He forced his eyes open, expecting to see an angry spirit, but he was seemingly alone in the room.
You are the one who will rid us of the evil here. You have taken the muti. You now have the ability to fight the tagati. But you must hurry, before more spirits join him.
If Dean hadn't been so accustomed to strange, paranormal activity, he would have thought he was going insane. He was hearing voices, apparently disembodied voices; ordering him to fight some evil thing. Yep, the men in the white coats should be coming for me anytime now. Why isn't Sammy here? Dean sat up slowly, propping himself up on his elbows; he looked around the room, attempting to locate the source of the voices. He found nothing, but decided to try to communicate, just in case.
"Hey Casper, where's my brother?" He called out, feeling slightly foolish when his own voice hung in the air and he received no reply. He gingerly sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He shivered against the cool air as it grazed his bare chest; and realized that he was clad only in a pair of well-worn sweatpants. Swaying slightly, he brought his hand up to his temple and squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to stop the slight dizziness he felt with each movement of his head.
Do not be concerned with your brother. He is fine. He is downstairs with the innkeeper. We don't have much time now. The angry spirit has grown stronger. You must stop it or everyone here is in mortal danger, including your brother.
"What the fuck? Who are you? Why don't you show yourself?" Dean's voice had grown stronger and it was laced with anger and frustration at the implied threat against his brother. There was no reply to his questions.
"Look, I'd love to help you out, really I would, but if you hadn't noticed, I can barely sit up or focus. So, whatever was in that magic potion I took, doesn't seem to be working for me. Besides that, I don't have a clue what you're talking about. Even if I was physically able to waste this so called evil, I don't see any how-to guide lying around here."
More silence.
"Come on, you're being all cryptic now. I need you to spell this out. What do you want me to do?"
…….
Sam helped Kendall to stand, the older man's shoulders shaking as his wife's blood dripped from his hands and down his legs. Kendall was clearly in shock, and Sam led him over and eased him into a nearby armchair. Looking around the large room, the young hunter located a linen closet on the side of the staircase. He opened it and pulled out a blanket to cover the trembling innkeeper. Sam took a deep breath and grimaced at the large puddle of blood and remains on the floor. Directing his attention back to the older man, he kneeled in front of Kendall, who was staring into the distance, wearing a tortured expression. Sam hated to pressure the grief-stricken man, but he urgently needed answers. He grabbed Kendall by the shoulders and looked directly into the man's eyes.
"Mr. Conroy? Kendall? Can you hear me?"
He received no response.
"Kendall, I need your help. What's happening here? Do you know what's causing these deaths?" Sam was getting frustrated. He had to find out how that tainted alcohol was affecting Dean, and why the deaths were happening, and how to stop it. Bobby was on his way. But it would be a few hours before he arrived. Sam wasn't sure they had a few hours. He could feel the presence of dark energy hanging in the air. There was definitely a spirit, possibly more than one in the castle. He could sense it even without the EMF meter.
Kendal blinked and softly uttered a single word. "Book."
"What?"
"Th-there's a journal; I found it downstairs. It will explain everything."
"Is it still downstairs?"
Kendall shook his head. "N-no it's . . ." The man frowned. "I had it with me."
Sam stood quickly and looked around the area. He didn't see a book, just a lot of blood covering most of the floor.
"I don't see a book, Kendall. You sure you had it with you?"
"I'm sure. I must have dropped it when – oh, god, Judith." The innkeeper buried his head in his hands and began weeping. Sam grimaced.
As badly as he felt for the man, Sam didn't have time for this. He was about to begin a search for the book when a loud noise erupted from upstairs. His first thought was of Dean and he bolted up the stairs and opened the door to his brother's room.
"Dean!"
The room was empty.