Hunter of the Shadows Book 2:
Hunter Rising.
Chapter 19
Now...
Sam is sitting back by the river, but this time Dean is perched next to him, and they engage in a brief water fight with their feet, kicking up and splashing each other. The camera is at a safe distance but angled so the watcher can still see the sparkling water.
Both boys are in their birthday suits, gloriously firm skin, kissed a deep nut brown by the sun. Glowing and healthy, muscles ripple like silk with each movement.
Wrinkled clothes lie draped across a nearby bramble bush, dried out and long forgotten.
They've clearly been living wild for some time now, because their jaw lines carry stubble and even Dean's hair curls round his ears and rests on his shoulders. It's a pleasant sight, and softens his handsome features. Sam's falls over his face and despite the boy's persistent efforts to push it back, long chestnut locks cascade down to just above his well formed pectorals.
The boys suddenly cease all movement when Sam cocks his head to the side, eyes hidden by the sunshades. A hand is raised in a 'stay still' gesture, and he appears to be listening intently.
After a few minutes, with an air of confidence that suggests he's been practicing this for some time, Sam reaches out a hand with lightning speed and snatches a large wriggling fish from the river.
"Allow me to present… dinner!" Sam's smile is genuine, if a little sad, and Dean applauds with enthusiasm.
"Still gets me how you do that, Sammy," Dean exclaims proudly, and ruffles the boy's hair. "I can't even see the damn things unless I'm up close in the water."
Sam just shrugs and kicks up his feet again, sending a wave of water into his fatherbrother's face.
"Pure skill, dude," he replies with mock cockiness. "Just pure skill."
Although Dean is laughing, the camera catches the gleam of concern in his eyes as he watches Sam like a hawk.
But just then… his eyes widen.
"Sammy, your legs," he whispers in awe.
Sam stops kicking and holds his breath. One hand extends downwards and feels tentatively along a muscular thigh.
"Dean, I can feel it..." Sam's voice is shaking with excitement and, maybe, just a little fear.
And then, suddenly, burnished red-gold fur is growing from Sam's legs, thick, lush and soft. His feet, still submerged in the water, change slowly into huge red paws the size of sandwich plates. But it doesn't end there...
"Oh God, Dean, I can feel my hands..."
Dean gets to his feet and drags Sam away from the water.
"Sire! Might need a little help here!"
"Dean?" Sam sounds as scared now as he did the very first time he changed, and Dean is quick to reassure him.
"It's ok, Sammy, I think you're gonna do it this time," Dean replies, assisting Sam's half changed form back to the camp fire. "Just need to get you away from the water in case anything goes wrong."
Sam nods his head quickly, and gasps as the fur spreads up to his stomach and keeps on going, covering a thin, fading scar on his chest.
Tobius is there in a flash, holding Sam up on the other side. The youngster's hips are attempting to break and re-knit, and this combined with trying to walk upright like a human has to hurt like hell.
"Are you in any pain, young pup?"
"A l-little," Sam gasps louder and almost doubles over.
Talk about an understatement.
Tobius pauses and gently grasps Sam's chin, tilting it up.
"I… can give you something for it..." his grandfather seems at odds with the offer, but Sam is already shaking his head.
"N-no, I need to do this without help... please, let me do this!"
Tobius and Dean glance at each other, both smiling with pride and sadness. The alpha nods and pats Sam's shoulder, now also growing the silky red fur.
"Good boy."
They move away from the river, the camera forgotten during this time of miracles. The digital watcher can no longer see the little pack, but the cries of its youngest wolf in terrible pain are unmistakable.
It goes on for a while and, in the meantime, the river has fallen silent. There are no birds singing, or squirrels foraging for food, even the trees are motionless, as though nature herself has bowed her head in respect.
Eventually the screaming stops.
Soft footsteps are heard approaching from nearby, and then the world goes upwards, the evening sky flashing passed just before Dean's tired but happy face appears in front of the lens.
"Sorry about that," he shrugs. "Didn't mean to leave you out here all alone. It's been a while since our last journal entry, about two months or so I guess, but I watched the last one when everyone was napping this afternoon, and maybe now it's time..."
Dean turns the camera around as he begins moving.
"Sam's finally done it," his voice is soft but easily heard over his footfalls in the lush green grass. "He's made a full change."
Up ahead, the fire is crackling away. Tobius is still in human form, crouched down, whispering and stroking the ears of a beautiful big red wolf with blank silver eyes.
"The good news is, Sammy can see a little in wolf form, though it's pretty dim and blurred, hence the eye colouring," Dean carries on talking in that soft voice as he nears the fire. "It's progress, though Sire doesn't know if he's well enough for a full on hunt just yet, but we're sure his hearing and sense of smell will definitely compensate. We can only hope…"
Sam's squinting, head down and snout sniffing furiously.
When Dean's close enough, he reaches out a hand and runs it lightly over the wolf's head and smoothes the soft fur down his back. The youngster whines and shivers with delight, and pushes into Dean's hand as if to say missed that sooo much.
"Me too kiddo," Dean answers him immediately, a big happy smile on his face.
The camera is placed back in its usual spot by the fire, and Dean snuggles up to Sam whilst Tobius prepares the evening's catch.
Dean suddenly chuckles and Tobius grins.
"Sammy just said that he'd like to stay like this for a while, so don't expect too much input on the journal intros," Dean tells the camera.
Tobius stops what he's doing for a moment, and gazes at Sam.
"Actually, that's probably wise, given what happens next, hmm? It might prove a little too much for you at this stage."
"Ohhh yeah," Dean nods and blows gently into Sam's ears. The wolf sneezes and buries his huge wet snout in Dean's neck. Laughing, Dean grabs the long nose and gently pushes him away. Then he sobers and stares into Sam's silver eyes. "Maybe we should wait until you're asleep, huh Sam? We still haven't really talked about what happened…"
He breaks off as the red wolf sits up straight and lets out a small growl.
"Yeah, I know, Sam, but…"
Another growl, louder this time.
"Alright!" Dean raises his hands in resignation, but sighs. "Just don't say I didn't warn you."
Then…
I was fuming. Can't even tell you how angry I felt, but even that was eclipsed by the utter fear almost paralyzing me. I'd tried Sam's cell phone a few times when thought projection failed, but all I got was his voice mail.
Tears threatened, my eyes burned, but I sniffed them back furiously and joined in the coffee vigil. We watched over the humans, observing their mental and physical state, whilst we sipped our own caffeine free brew.
Bobby and Pastor Jim had been heavily affected by the herbal drug, more so than the rest of our group, and soon abandoned drinking the stuff for shovelling great spoonfuls of dried, instant caffeinated coffee into their mouths. I grimaced and Andy was nearly sick from just watching, but Tobius merely kept on filling up their bowls.
We could've let them just sleep it off. Except, amongst Bobby Singer's drugged ramblings a few minutes after he was shaken awake, and the situation explained to him, was a muttering about relocation spells, and that if he had one right then he'd relocate Sammy's backside over his knee.
Kinda understood how he felt, but that spell proved useful in other ways...
Sam was out there somewhere, alone and in danger. If that bastard Jake caught up with him…
Bobby blinked and put down his bowl, belched and rubbed his gut.
"That's gonna hurt come mornin'," he declared in a hoarse voice. "Anyone for a stomach ulcer?"
Pastor Jim, poor guy, said nothing. Just sat there looking green and chewing methodically on his coffee granules.
I tried to remain patient and keep from drumming my fingers on the kitchen table.
"Maybe I should change and head out after him, you guys can pick me up when you're ready."
It wasn't the first time I'd said it. But instead of the shaking heads and scornful protests, this time they all just ignored me.
They were right, of course. There was little point in splitting up when we could all relocate together, as one fighting force. But try telling that to an anxious father whose only thoughts are of his missing son, and how he was gonna hug the daylights out of him as soon as we caught up.
And then... beat the living crap outta him!
But... Sam's last words kept haunting me, making my heart ache and gut churn.
Love you Dean.
The room felt hot and oppressive all of a sudden, and I just couldn't take it any longer.
"Sammy…" I actually whimpered in distress, slammed my fist down on the table, pushed my seat back and fled the cabin.
It was nice and cool outside, and the sweat began to cool on my brow. I rested both hands on the veranda railings and took a deep breath, head bent 'til I was staring at the wooden decking.
Dean, Sire was there, gently squeezing my neck. Hadn't even realized he'd followed me. We'll find him. Bobby's already figuring out the incantation. Says it won't be long before we're under way.
Not knowing how to answer, I just shook my head in despair.
With a bit of luck, we'll beat Sam to the graveyard. He's travelling by truck, but we'll be going first class on Transethereal Airlines.
I managed a small smile at that. You've been hanging with me too long, Sire.
After a pause he said quietly. "Thank goodness for that."
Turning to look directly at him, I was shocked by the deep fear and sadness in his eyes. I guess I sometimes forget that Tobius loves Sam as much as I do.
Supposing he runs into trouble along the way… before he even gets there?
Tobius pursed his mouth and stared out into the forest.
We have to trust that he can look after himself, my son. He's not stupid. Impetuous yes, but not stupid. He knows how much is riding on this.
Following his gaze, I watched the sun begin its slow journey down the sky.
Yeah. He does. That's what worries me.
Must have stood there for a long while, because by the time Bobby emerged grim-faced from the cabin with Pastor Jim in tow, it was twilight, the sky a deep indigo lit up by a full moon.
"Well... hope you boys are ready for this," Bobby growled. But I knew he wasn't finished by the way he lifted his ball cap, had a good scratch in that nervous way of his, and replaced the cap. His eyes narrowed as they fixed on me. "This ain't no ordinary spell, you understand. This is sorcery."
A shiver went down my spine at his low words. Guy had clearly spent some time grappling with his conscience over this, so I was grateful he'd come down on our side.
Sam's side.
"Ain't nothin' to take lightly, and I must warn you now," Bobby carried on staring at me. "I can get us there, but getting us out again might not be so easy. It's hard going and eats energy like coal in a steam engine." He nodded, and I felt the blood drain from my face when the implication sank in. "This could be a one shot deal: once we're deep in the shit, that's where we'll stay, at least until I can recharge."
In other words, just beaming in and beaming out again, taking Sammy right along, wasn't an option. If there was a fight awaiting us, we would have no choice but to take up arms.
That sealed it then. It was time to get our crap together.
Minutes later, Tobius was loading a shot gun with salt cartridges, and another with iron. He closed the chambers simultaneously with a loud clunk that echoed round the kitchen and made Andy jump, spilling a little of his holy water. That worried me, until I realized the little guy was just hopped up on adrenaline, like the rest of us.
Josey and Gerald, having been talked out of coming along, had been sent away a few hours ago by Tobius and Bobby, clutching their sleeping baby bear. Gut instinct told me they'd been given a special destination of their own, one with a much safer path.
Andy had decided to tackle this in bear form, and given his stature as a human, I couldn't blame him. He did, however, rig up a belt he could wear across his enormous chest that held holy water and salt sellers just large enough to fit in his paws. That nearly made me chuckle. I had the perfect image in my head of a huge black bear going postal with condiments.
The humans armed themselves with holy water, consecrated iron rounds, and silver. They also knew the Ritual Romanum off by heart, which would be useful if Tobius and I were forced to change at any time.
As werewolves, we also carried carefully wrapped silver blades, just for good measure. After all, who knew what the hell we would be up against in that damn graveyard?
One last glance around the cabin, making sure we had everything we might need, and we all filed back outside.
With a loud grunt and a roar, Andy stood up on his hind legs, changed into bear form and stretched out. Pastor Jim reached up and wrapped the heavy belt over Andy's shoulder and across his chest, bandolier style, buckling it tightly.
"There ya go. That comfortable?" Jim asked, as though helping a bear dress for battle was an everyday occurrence for him. Andy waved his big snout up and down in an affirmative. "You sure? Not too tight?"
Andy wiggled his hips experimentally, and pounced into attack mode, claws out and swiping round in a circle of menace. Then he stopped, relaxed, and nodded again.
You ok there, dude? I had to ask.
Oh yeah! The bear replied with a growl, and bared his teeth. I ain't gonna make it so damn easy for Jake this time. I got my own scores to settle.
Again, I had to stifle my laughter. It was surreal as hell, watching a battle bear gearing up for war and, for a moment there, I began wondering if I was ever getting out of Narnia.
"Ok, let's roll…" Bobby stepped out into the forest and we followed on silently in a single file.
In all, we were just four short of the full fellowship, but at least our version of Gandalf weren't wearing no dorky robes, even if his ball cap had seen better days. And let's face it, the idea of Bobby Singer in a dress is a pretty scary one.
Our very own master wizard stopped in a large clearing a few miles from the cabin, then spent a few precious minutes checking the area and muttering to himself.
"Bobby? Problem?" I barked out, anxious to get on with it. The film analogies were only keeping my fear at bay so much, but all the while I could feel the clock ticking away. I could feel the danger Sam was in, calling to me all the time, begging me to find him, and fast.
"Just makin' sure there's plenty of space," Bobby grumbled, and we soon found out why it was so important. "Stand in a wide circle around me, keep your eyes shut until I tell ya, and keep your thoughts on Sam and that graveyard."
We all stood in silence. I pictured Sam's sad eyes, and once again heard his whispered words from last time I saw him.
Love you, Dean…
The first wave of power from Bobby didn't touch us, but it certainly hit the trees at the edge of the clearing, judging from the cracking and screeching of falling timber all around.
I made the mistake of opening my eyes for just a second, and that was all I needed. I slammed them shut again and vowed that I would never repeat what I saw... yeah right!
To say it was shocking, even out right terrifying didn't even come close. I'm not sure what it was I'd actually seen, glowing, dancing and swirling around the outside of our circle, like something from Raiders of the Lost Ark, but with more teeth than a T-Rex, about five times the size, ten times as grumpy, and it certainly wasn't something I ever wanted to see again.
"Dean, ya idgit! You just called to it!" Bobby screamed out. "Now hold still and keep your damned fool eyes shut!"
I wasn't going to disobey the man a second time.
A loud whoomph, followed by what felt like all the air being sucked out of the world, had me reeling.
You know that feeling when you take a hump-back bridge too fast? And your gut takes a header up your gullet and tries to eject your last meal? Multiply that by a thousand, add a few more g-force, and you come pretty close to describing it.
Quite the rush, actually.
I remember it gave me the sense of being displaced. Like I'd been cut out of space and time by a huge pair of scissors, - or perhaps garden shears would be more likely – and then glued right back in somewhere else.
"Keep your mind on Sam!" I heard Pastor Jim yell this time.
Gale force winds whipped around us, howling furiously like a wounded animal, and then with a suddenness that was easily as breathtaking as the gale itself, we were plunged into complete silence.
A cloying, suffocating silence that bugged and disturbed me.
It went on for so long, galaxies could have formed and died.
The black behind my eyes was getting boring as I waited and waited for Bobby to tell us the spell was finished.
"Bobby?"
"Hush! S'not over yet."
That sure told me. So I waited...
...and waited...
... and waited…
Didn't realize I was almost falling asleep until another whoomph and another hump-back bridge ride later had me once again nearly losing my dinner. The winds roared around in protest, trying to knock me over, and then it was gone.
"Ok," I heard Bobby say. "You can open your eyes… again."
I just knew that last comment was directed my way, and I opened one peeper to find a very angry sorcerer/junk yard owner glaring right at me.
"Uh," I grinned disarmingly, in hopes that he wouldn't turn me into a Chihuahua or something. "Sorry dude. It was a reflex, ya know? Kinda like, 'don't touch the fire', but you touch the fire anyway…"
"Yeah," he growled, reached out and clipped me upside the head. "That kinda works for a three year old, maybe! But you just fell short of having ya balls ripped off!"
Someone cleared their throat, and Sire spoke up, sounding amused. "Mentally, that age estimate is sometimes not far wrong."
I was about to indignantly refute Sire's claim when Pastor Jim stepped in between us and pushed Bobby back a few paces.
"Let's argue about it later, yes?" The priest raised an eyebrow and swivelled his head from Bobby to me. "Now that we're here, I think we should hide up and wait for Sam."
Reality caught up at last, and I spun around, my eyes widening with disbelief.
So this was Black Mountain.
It wasn't what I expected. I'd imagined just lumps of rock here and there marking a few forlorn graves, but nothing quite like this.
For a start, the lumps of rock were, in a few cases, as big as some of the markers at Stonehenge. There were trees, and bushes, unlike the stark, bare landscape of my imagination. And it seemed to go on for miles. Large black rocks stretched away into the night, and wherever Sammy decided to show up, finding him wasn't gonna be easy.
But I figured we had some time... after all, we'd beaten him here, right?
Or so I thought until, suddenly, I caught wind of him.
Sammy? Sammy, where are you?
I began to panic when there was no answer.
SAM!
It was one of my worst nightmares come to life. Trapped in a dark maze, separated from Sammy and unable to find him, not knowing if he was safe, or dea...
And then finally, thankfully, I heard him.
Dean… leave… now…
My heart thudded loudly in my chest. He sounded hurt, in pain, his thoughts weak and torn.
Forget it, kid, now where the hell are ya?
No! Listen to me! Get out, now!
Damn, stubborn little…
No. You listen to me! I'm not leaving, couldn't if we wanted to. We're gonna fight this thing together.
Silence.
Sam?
Nothing, not even a mild breeze made a sound throughout the graveyard.
"Dammit!" I swore and spun round again, trying to catch a glimpse of Sam amongst the rocks. When that didn't work, I took a long hard sniff through my nose.
Sam's blood was faint, telling me that whilst he was injured, so far it wasn't serious. But I'd picked up his scent.
He hadn't even attempted to hide himself from us, probably because he never expected us to get here before anything happened. In the past, when he wanted to hide up, the kid was a master at back tracking, leaving false trails and messing up our sense of smell to buy time. But, not so tonight.
I started wondering how he got here so damn fast in the first place, and was determined to make sure he explained it all. It should've been a two day ride away at least, so with Bobby's relocation spell, we should have been here first.
So what the hell happened?
The two humans, with Sire and Andy in tow, followed me through the grave markers, weapons at the ready. We didn't know what to expect, so by silent, mutual agreement, decided to expect anything.
But we still weren't prepared for it...
The first piece of trouble came in the form of a wart ridden young woman, with a hooked nose, dressed in a black robe and a tall black pointed hat. Yeah, the cliché was complete 'cos there was even a black cat curled round her damn broomstick.
I raised my eyes to the heavens for a moment, silently begging for strength.
"Let me guess," I drawled, voice loaded with my usual sarcasm. "Witch, by any chance?"
She smiled, teeth stained brown by something nasty, mouth lined with black lipstick.
A Goth witch?
Great. She must've been some damn wannabe, who'd taken fairy tales a little too seriously.
(and black lipstick? Really? Who still finds that a turn on these days?)
"Possessed Witch," she cackled and her eyes rolled black – huh, figured.
A black nail-polished hand shot out. I felt myself lifted up, my back slammed into something hard and unyielding.
Hmm. Hard and unyielding? In a graveyard? Wonder what that could be...
Bitch didn't get another chance to attack, because Tobius blasted her with rock salt and Pastor Jim reeled off the exorcism before she could regain her footing.
Body jerking and mouth cracked wide open, black vapour soon streamed up into the dark skies above. The unfortunate Wiccan slumped to the ground, probably already too far beyond our help.
Hmm. Sire mused. I have the distinct feeling we just smoked the head of the welcoming committee. He gently nudged her with a toe. It's a rare sight these days, finding a wiccan dressed in such a manner. Someone must be laughing at us...
Before we could even draw breath, out from the stones rushed a barraged of wiccans on the attack, but the iron rounds put them down. Judging by the grey shadows streaming out, ruined faces and wide staring, sightless eyes, these poor bastards were now free, in every way possible. These were the frontline scouts, wiccans possessed by ghosts sent to size us up, with a demon possessed witch as their leader.
Like lambs to the slaughter.
We were all a little shocked that it happened so quickly, but there was no point in looking a gift horse in the mouth.
"There's gonna be more of these the closer we get," Jim whispered. "But the ghosts are done... probably just demon wicca suits now, more powerful, so it's gonna get worse. Be on your guard."
"Closer we get to what?" I whispered back.
"Wherever they want us," came the less than comforting reply from Bobby Singer.
Andy shifted and grunted. His position as tail-end Charlie was an ideal one for a large and ferocious bear, and he certainly proved his worth when a black-eyed bastard leapt out from behind another gravestone and tried its evil mojo on Sire. Before it could do any damage, Andy picked the struggling demon up in one large meaty paw and glared at it. The other paw reached down to the bandolier, pulled loose a salt seller, and jammed the end of it in the demon's mouth.
Muffled screaming, and some incensed and violent hard-assed bear later, the demon lay face up in its meat suit panting and trying to resist the exorcism. It soon succumbed, however, and we all watched this time as a black cloud disappeared upwards.
Again, we all pondered at the speed this was progressing.
"Maybe these are so low level that…" I began, but was interrupted.
"It's not you doing that… it's me," a shaky, familiar voice sounded from behind, and when I turned, Sam stood there panting, leaning against a rock, holding his bloodied left arm protectively to his side. "The salt, yeah, but the ritual? Only works if you can pin them down in one place. And that can't happen… not here."
Sammy… I strode over and hauled the kid into my arms, closed my eyes and breathed in his scent for a minute, then pulled back and gripped his shoulders. You're hurt!
Not serious. Sam shook his head, wearily. Already healing.
His body was held up by sheer adrenaline and shaking like a leaf. Felt like he was gonna collapse any second. What the hell were you thinking? Coulda got yaself killed!
Sam lifted his head and glared at me. I was thinking about saving my family! You shouldn't be here. Only I can do this, and I will. He stepped back and away. Now leave.
No fucking way! I snarled and closed the gap.
Dean…
"Show us what you can do, Sam," Sire suddenly spoke up, eyes glowing with suspicion.
Sam looked a little shifty. "Uh…"
"You learned a few new skills out here, didn't you?" Tobius tilted his head to the side, voice just a little accusing, but also somewhat proud.
That sure sounded like…
"Sam, tell me you didn't…" I breathed out.
He shook his head, to my relief. "No. He keeps appearing, tempting me, but I won't take his blood, Dean. I swear I won't."
"This," Tobius swept a hand around, in a grand gesture encompassing the graveyard, "is a playground, yes?"
Sam bit his lip and nodded. "Yes. Viewed from above, it's in the shape of the eye of Solomon, a Devil's trap. But demons can come and go…"
"…because it's broken," I finished and hung my head in understanding. "All these gravestones mark the devils trap but it's incomplete. Someone vandalized it?"
Sam nodded, eyes weary but determined. "Azazel lied to us... and the Wiccans. Disguised himself as one of their gods. It wasn't their fault. They were drawn here just to break it under false pretences. Then, once the demons got what they wanted, they took them over. The spirit possessions were just his idea of fun."
"Figures!" It was all I could do not roar with frustration. The yellow eyed bastard probably got off on using violent spirits to terrorize and torture the wiccans to the very brink of insanity.
Pastor Jim remained silent, though I could see him silently offering up a prayer for the lost Wiccans. He ain't the fire and brimstone type, in spite of his beliefs, and no doubt he begged for their very souls.
When Bobby spoke he sounded vexed to say the least. "So, you can play in this place like a lab rat in a maze, but the demons can also come after you without being trapped here?"
"Yeah," Sam answered on a tired sigh. "That's about it."
Tobius stepped closer, eyes narrowed. "What were you saying about those exorcisms? About it not working, that it was you…?"
Sam closed his eyes for a long, long moment. When he opened them again, he finally answered Sire's question. "It's one of my new skills. I can exorcise demon's… with my mind. That's why they're staying away right now, 'cos they're scared of me."
Now, I ain't exactly a scholar, as you guys know, but I ain't short in the ol'grey matter department either. Something like that must have taken a while to perfect.
"Sammy, how long you been here… in this playground?"
Another nervous pause and Sam stared at me with wide pleading eyes.
"Sam!" I was about ready to shake the answer out if him.
His Adam's apple bobbed, and he licked his lips. "Ever since I found a way to transport myself here, around…" he glanced at his Rolex, "… six hours ago. That was a few hours after I hit the road."
Holy shit!
Author's notes:
Holy shit, indeed.
Be prepared for a major battle coming up next chapter!
Now, let's see those reviews...
Cheers everyone.
Kind regards,
ST xxx
