Supernatural: One Year Gone by Rebecca Dessertine Read Free Book Online

grandson’s and in moments Samuel was unconscious.
    Sam released the pillow and checked Samuel’s pulse—it was weakened, but still there. He was fine. Sam then got down on his hands and knees and shimmied underneath the bed.
    A few seconds later, the lamp on the nightstand started to flicker and the air filled with a heavy weight. From his position, Sam could only see a foot of space between the floor and the underbelly of the bed.
    Slowly, the dripping grey matter of the shtriga appeared, fluttering a couple of inches above the floor. It was singularly focused on the unconscious old man lying on the mattress above.
    Sam heard the shtriga’s large mouth open, followed by a hollow sucking. Samuel gurgled. The life was slowly being drained from him. Sam silently pushed his way to the opposite side of the bed, and pulled himself into a crouch. With his finger poised on the trigger, he sprang up from the floor and fired.
    The shtriga emitted a high-pitched, inhuman scream as the iron bullet exploded through the top of its head. Dusty rag-like pieces stuck to the wall behind it. The body fell on top of Samuel.
    “Ahhhhh!” Samuel coughed as he sat up. “What the hell did you do?”
    “Used you as bait. Had to,” Sam replied.
    He stood up and threw the monster’s body off Samuel’s legs.
    “You what?”
    “I used you as bait. Had to slow down your heart rate to make you weaker, so it would be attracted to you.” Sam put the shotgun away.
    “Not only did you kill the damn thing, but you almost killed me in the process!” Samuel spluttered, glaring at his grandson.
    “I just wanted to kill it. I knew it would go after you. You weren’t in any danger.”
    “Fathers?” Beverly stood in curlers and a bathrobe at the doorway to the room.
    Sam shoved past her.
    “All set here. The souls of your residents are all saved.”
    “But what is that?” Beverly asked, pointing at the splattered body of the shtriga.
    “Dead cat,” Samuel said, flashing her a cursory smile. “Sorry about that. The church will cover the clean-up costs. Thanks for letting us stay.”
    Samuel moved past her and followed Sam out the door.
    Sam thought about how many miles he had traveled with Dean. Thousands, millions. He didn’t know. He didn’t care. All Sam wanted was to get to Salem and take out as many witches as Samuel told him to.
    It made perfect sense to him that witches would be creating monsters. It seemed like there were a lot more of them around these days. Old Sam would have wanted to know why there were more monsters. New Sam just liked hunting them. Old Sam wouldn’t have almost killed his grandfather to gank a monster. New Sam, it didn’t faze him much. According to his grandfather, he had messed up. He moved on. He didn’t feel guilty about it like old Sam would have.
    Sam did remember having that feeling, guilt. A sick aching in his stomach, a flutter in his heart that would make him tremble and go weak. Guilt was an awful feeling, and being with Dean those past couple of years he had felt it constantly. Now, Sam didn’t have that feeling any longer. He was free. Free to run after something, kill it and then move on. He was no longer tied to the push and pull of his mind and heart, weighing whether what he was doing was right or wrong. Instinct was the only feeling that was driving him.
    THRUMP. THRUMP. THRUMP. Sam drove the van as his grandfather slept in the back. The road stretched out before him. Truth be told, he liked being without his brother. Hunting. Sam only wanted to hunt.

EIGHT

    As Sam drove, he thought back to three months before.
    He lay on the cold grassy ground looking up at the gray sky above him. A cold sensation was shooting from his back around his spine, and invading him through his blood. He was dizzy, as if someone was pushing him on one of those spinning carousels in a playground. His entire body hummed like a thousand tuning forks were being held to his bones. He tried to move his fingers, but