body of the monster dog in silence for a time.
After a while, Sam asked, “Which end do you want?”
Dean considered for a moment. “Man, there’s no good choice here, is there?” He took another look at the creature’s distorted face and sighed. “I never thought I’d be saying this about an animal, but I’ll take the ass. Try not to get too much blood on you.”
They each took an end, lifted, and began carrying Frankenmutt out of the woods. Halfway back to the car, Sam stopped and turned his head sharply to the left.
Dean tensed, senses on high alert, ready for another attack. He looked in the same direction as Sam, but couldn’t see anything but trees and underbrush.
“What is it?” he asked.
Sam didn’t answer right away. He squinted, as if he were having a hard time focusing his eyes on whatever he was looking at. Finally, he shook his head as if attempting to clear it.
“For a minute, I thought... Never mind. It’s nothing. Let’s go. Frankenmutt’s not getting any lighter.”
The brothers continued lugging the dead dog, Dean unable to decide what bothered him more: that Sam’s arms were trembling with the effort of carrying his half of the creature—Frankenmutt was a big boy, but he wasn’t that heavy, not with the two of them sharing the load—or that it looked like his hallucinations were getting worse.
Just once, it would be nice if a hunt went down easy, he thought. We stroll into town, find the Nasty Whatzit, walk up to it, gank it, and stroll on out. No muss, no fuss.
Yeah, right. And maybe vampires would quit sucking blood and start chugging energy drinks instead.
* * *
He saw me.
Daniel wasn’t sure how that was possible. The living couldn’t see his kind, not even if he wanted them to. But the younger brother had stared right at him. Daniel had felt the youth’s gaze bore into him. For the first time in all his long existence as a Reaper, he’d felt exposed, and he’d slipped behind an ash tree to conceal himself. He’d felt absurd, hiding like that, as if he were... well, mortal.
But once the shaggy-haired youth went back to helping his brother cart the corpse of the dead dog-thing away, Daniel caught the whiff of death coming off him, and realized what must have happened. He waited until they were out of sight, and then followed after them, careful not to make too much noise. Again, he felt ridiculous taking such precautions, but he had no idea how sharp the youth’s death-perception had become, and he wasn’t going to take any chances.
He found what he was looking for almost right away. The dog-thing’s bullet-ravaged corpse had left a trail of blood drops in the brothers’ wake, but he wasn’t interested in those. It was the other trail that caught his attention. A thin wavering black line hovered an inch above the ground, thready and faint, like ink released in water. Daniel knelt to get a closer look at it. It was fading quickly, and he touched his index finger to a section of the shadow-line before it dissipated. He brought his fingertip, now smeared with a soot-like smudge, up to his nose. He sniffed a couple times before inserting his finger into his mouth. When he withdrew his finger a moment later, the tip was clean.
He was now certain what had happened to the younger brother, and it wasn’t good. At least, not for the boy. But as for Daniel... he might be able to make this work in his favor.
He stood and continued following the brothers, amending his plans to take this unforeseen, but not entirely unwelcome, development into account.
* * *
Peter Martinez sat in front of his office computer monitor staring at rows of data displayed on the screen. He wasn’t reviewing the information, at least not in the usual way. He’d purposely unfocused his gaze to the point where the numbers were blurry, and then he tried to relax and allow his mind to wander. He knew this data forward and backward, and he’d tried analyzing it using every logical method
After a while, Sam asked, “Which end do you want?”
Dean considered for a moment. “Man, there’s no good choice here, is there?” He took another look at the creature’s distorted face and sighed. “I never thought I’d be saying this about an animal, but I’ll take the ass. Try not to get too much blood on you.”
They each took an end, lifted, and began carrying Frankenmutt out of the woods. Halfway back to the car, Sam stopped and turned his head sharply to the left.
Dean tensed, senses on high alert, ready for another attack. He looked in the same direction as Sam, but couldn’t see anything but trees and underbrush.
“What is it?” he asked.
Sam didn’t answer right away. He squinted, as if he were having a hard time focusing his eyes on whatever he was looking at. Finally, he shook his head as if attempting to clear it.
“For a minute, I thought... Never mind. It’s nothing. Let’s go. Frankenmutt’s not getting any lighter.”
The brothers continued lugging the dead dog, Dean unable to decide what bothered him more: that Sam’s arms were trembling with the effort of carrying his half of the creature—Frankenmutt was a big boy, but he wasn’t that heavy, not with the two of them sharing the load—or that it looked like his hallucinations were getting worse.
Just once, it would be nice if a hunt went down easy, he thought. We stroll into town, find the Nasty Whatzit, walk up to it, gank it, and stroll on out. No muss, no fuss.
Yeah, right. And maybe vampires would quit sucking blood and start chugging energy drinks instead.
* * *
He saw me.
Daniel wasn’t sure how that was possible. The living couldn’t see his kind, not even if he wanted them to. But the younger brother had stared right at him. Daniel had felt the youth’s gaze bore into him. For the first time in all his long existence as a Reaper, he’d felt exposed, and he’d slipped behind an ash tree to conceal himself. He’d felt absurd, hiding like that, as if he were... well, mortal.
But once the shaggy-haired youth went back to helping his brother cart the corpse of the dead dog-thing away, Daniel caught the whiff of death coming off him, and realized what must have happened. He waited until they were out of sight, and then followed after them, careful not to make too much noise. Again, he felt ridiculous taking such precautions, but he had no idea how sharp the youth’s death-perception had become, and he wasn’t going to take any chances.
He found what he was looking for almost right away. The dog-thing’s bullet-ravaged corpse had left a trail of blood drops in the brothers’ wake, but he wasn’t interested in those. It was the other trail that caught his attention. A thin wavering black line hovered an inch above the ground, thready and faint, like ink released in water. Daniel knelt to get a closer look at it. It was fading quickly, and he touched his index finger to a section of the shadow-line before it dissipated. He brought his fingertip, now smeared with a soot-like smudge, up to his nose. He sniffed a couple times before inserting his finger into his mouth. When he withdrew his finger a moment later, the tip was clean.
He was now certain what had happened to the younger brother, and it wasn’t good. At least, not for the boy. But as for Daniel... he might be able to make this work in his favor.
He stood and continued following the brothers, amending his plans to take this unforeseen, but not entirely unwelcome, development into account.
* * *
Peter Martinez sat in front of his office computer monitor staring at rows of data displayed on the screen. He wasn’t reviewing the information, at least not in the usual way. He’d purposely unfocused his gaze to the point where the numbers were blurry, and then he tried to relax and allow his mind to wander. He knew this data forward and backward, and he’d tried analyzing it using every logical method
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