Supernatural Fresh Meat by Alice Henderson

asked.
    They all exchanged looks, then Bobby said, “I need to do more research. Find out what’ll kill this thing.”
    Sam’s brow furrowed. “Bobby, people are dying out there.”
    “That’s why I think you and Dean should go back, at least try to keep people from stumbling into this thing’s territory. You’ll probably have more luck once you have the mixture. At least it’ll leave you alone.” He met their eyes. “And be careful.”
    “You don’t have to tell us that,” Sam said. “That thing almost ripped through my chest.”
    “I’ll call you as soon as I learn how to finish it off.”
    Dean remembered trying to reach Bobby when Sam got hurt. “Cell reception’s a bitch out there.”
    “It’ll have to do.” Bobby messed with the brim of his ball cap. “There’s one other heart-warming detail I haven’t mentioned.”
    Sam raised his eyebrows.
    “This thing’s hermaphroditic; it reproduces with itself. So be on the lookout for eggs.”
    Dean couldn’t believe this. “Are you serious, Bobby?”
    “Yeah. Grey and leathery.”
    Sam leaned forward. “Where would it lay them?”
    Bobby shrugged. “Not sure. None of the accounts said. But this thing isn’t so much into deep and dark like the wendigo.”
    Dean thought of all the accounts going so far back. “Why haven’t any hunters fought it before?”
    “Near as I can figure it, it doesn’t have to kill very often.”
    “The accounts were spread apart,” Sam added. “But now it’s killing more often.”
    “So let’s make this spice mixture and get out there again,” Dean said.
    The aswang was stepping up its game for some reason. Sam was right. All the other reports had been chronologically and geographically far apart, but now too many people had gone missing in too short a time. Either it was killing more people now, or it was getting sloppy. Either way, they had to stop it before more people died.

SEVENTEEN

    Sam and Dean had been walking through lunchtime and into the afternoon, coming up empty. They searched the area where they had found the organ victim, then started moving in greater circles. The weather looked iffy, a new layer of clouds moving in low and grey on the horizon. A chill came with it.
    As they crested a rise, suddenly Dean felt eyes on him. A branch snapped and he whirled around. Grace stepped out, her huge backpack towering behind her. “Hey,” she said as they lowered their guns. “That was some messed up crap the other day. Guy was full of other people’s body parts.” She met Dean’s gaze, her eyes haunted. This was a subdued Grace Dean hadn’t seen before. As if reading his thoughts, she added, “You don’t shrug something like that off.” She sized them up. “I’m surprised they don’t have more agents out here.”
    Sam shrugged, then winced at the pain in his shoulders. “We’re pretty busy at the bureau.”
    Dean noticed that she had double the ammo in her belt now, and a shotgun was strapped onto her pack. He looked at Sam.
    “It’s strange that everywhere I go, here you are,” she said.
    Sam looked at his watch. “We should check in with Bobby.”
    “Sounds good.” Dean pulled out his cell and checked the bars. The icon on his screen displayed a satellite dish spinning uselessly. No signal.
    “I’ll be right back,” he told them. He walked toward the nearby ridge, then began the steep ascent up the smooth granite. He could feel the sun radiating off the rock. Yellow and orange lichen grew in colorful patches as he climbed higher. From the top of the ridge, he could see trees and other patches of open granite outcroppings. In the distance, the Tahoe Summit ski resort ran its ski lifts, and in the far, far distance, he could make out the treeless slopes of the Boreal and Sugar Bowl ski resorts. The whole area up here was dotted with them, with miles and miles of undeveloped forest between. It was a perfect place for a man-eater like a wendigo to make its nest. Lots of tourists