Read Online Supernatural: Carved in Flesh by Tim Waggoner - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Tim Waggoner
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shock to see the large, cruel-looking knife clutched in the man’s hand. Was the blade black? It sure looked that way to Joe.
“Good evening, gentleman,” the man said. “My apologies, but you both have something I need, and I’m afraid I’m going to have to take it from you. I assure you, this is nothing personal, and if it’s any consolation, know that your sacrifice will not only help further the cause of science, it will also help bring about a most glorious change unlike any the world has ever seen.”
Joe turned to Billy. “Do you have any idea what the hell he’s—”
That was as far as he got before the man with the knife sprang at them.
* * *
Dispatching the men was accomplished easily enough. A pair of quick, deep slices to the throat, and all Conrad had to do was step back as the men fell to the ground and wait for them to bleed out. He had no aversion to cutting into still-living bodies, but he preferred not to get any more blood on him than necessary. It didn’t take long for their blood flow to diminish, and then Conrad went to work. He selected the clean-shaven man first, judging him to be younger than his bearded companion and likely in better condition. He raised his obsidian blade over his head, and the runes engraved upon it glowed with silver-blue light.
“In your name, my lady.”
Then he crouched next to the body and went to work.
FIVE
Blood was everywhere—on the walls, the floor, the furniture, even the ceiling. It looked as if someone had carried in large buckets of the red stuff and splashed it all over the living room, taking pains to make sure that no surface was left untouched. There was so much blood that at first Sam couldn’t see anything but crimson. Then a second later, his eyes registered the two forms on the floor in front of the couch, one lying prone, the other straddling it. Both were covered with so much gore that he didn’t recognize them right away. The one on the floor was larger, taller, and beefier than the other. Sam thought it might be a man, but given the state of the figure’s face—or rather what little was left of it—he couldn’t tell for sure. The flannel shirt and jeans didn’t help much, but the large boots were a giveaway. They were Earl’s, which made sense, considering the cabin was his as well. His left hand was clenched around a small black object which Sam immediately recognized as a statuette of Anubis, the Egyptian god of the dead.
The figure straddling Earl’s chest was thinner, shorter, and dressed in a blood-soaked T-shirt and a pair of cut-off shorts. The long hair was so matted with blood, it was impossible to determine its true color by sight, but Sam knew it was a light chestnut brown. He also knew that the hair normally smelled of strawberry kiwi shampoo. He didn’t want to think about how it smelled right now.
Trish.
He hadn’t spoken her name aloud—at least, he didn’t think he had—but her gaze snapped in his direction. Her blue eyes were as empty and cold as the bottom of an arctic sea, and there was nothing remotely human in them. She had something wet and ragged clamped between her blood-slick teeth, and Sam’s stomach did a flip when he realized it was part of her father’s tongue. She tossed her head back and swallowed the grisly morsel in a single gulp, and then locked gazes with him once again. Her lips drew back from her teeth in a gesture that was more rictus than smile. She rose to her feet and stepped away from her father’s body. She moved toward Sam with the feral grace of a jungle cat, and a low keening sound came from deep in her throat. It was the sound of need, of desire, of hunger.
This isn’t right, Sam thought. It didn’t happen like this!
It was the last thought he had before Trish sank her teeth into his throat.
* * *
“Sam? Sam!”
He sat up and opened his eyes, surprised by how much effort it took. Dean’s hands were on his shoulders, and Sam realized his brother had been
“Good evening, gentleman,” the man said. “My apologies, but you both have something I need, and I’m afraid I’m going to have to take it from you. I assure you, this is nothing personal, and if it’s any consolation, know that your sacrifice will not only help further the cause of science, it will also help bring about a most glorious change unlike any the world has ever seen.”
Joe turned to Billy. “Do you have any idea what the hell he’s—”
That was as far as he got before the man with the knife sprang at them.
* * *
Dispatching the men was accomplished easily enough. A pair of quick, deep slices to the throat, and all Conrad had to do was step back as the men fell to the ground and wait for them to bleed out. He had no aversion to cutting into still-living bodies, but he preferred not to get any more blood on him than necessary. It didn’t take long for their blood flow to diminish, and then Conrad went to work. He selected the clean-shaven man first, judging him to be younger than his bearded companion and likely in better condition. He raised his obsidian blade over his head, and the runes engraved upon it glowed with silver-blue light.
“In your name, my lady.”
Then he crouched next to the body and went to work.
FIVE
Blood was everywhere—on the walls, the floor, the furniture, even the ceiling. It looked as if someone had carried in large buckets of the red stuff and splashed it all over the living room, taking pains to make sure that no surface was left untouched. There was so much blood that at first Sam couldn’t see anything but crimson. Then a second later, his eyes registered the two forms on the floor in front of the couch, one lying prone, the other straddling it. Both were covered with so much gore that he didn’t recognize them right away. The one on the floor was larger, taller, and beefier than the other. Sam thought it might be a man, but given the state of the figure’s face—or rather what little was left of it—he couldn’t tell for sure. The flannel shirt and jeans didn’t help much, but the large boots were a giveaway. They were Earl’s, which made sense, considering the cabin was his as well. His left hand was clenched around a small black object which Sam immediately recognized as a statuette of Anubis, the Egyptian god of the dead.
The figure straddling Earl’s chest was thinner, shorter, and dressed in a blood-soaked T-shirt and a pair of cut-off shorts. The long hair was so matted with blood, it was impossible to determine its true color by sight, but Sam knew it was a light chestnut brown. He also knew that the hair normally smelled of strawberry kiwi shampoo. He didn’t want to think about how it smelled right now.
Trish.
He hadn’t spoken her name aloud—at least, he didn’t think he had—but her gaze snapped in his direction. Her blue eyes were as empty and cold as the bottom of an arctic sea, and there was nothing remotely human in them. She had something wet and ragged clamped between her blood-slick teeth, and Sam’s stomach did a flip when he realized it was part of her father’s tongue. She tossed her head back and swallowed the grisly morsel in a single gulp, and then locked gazes with him once again. Her lips drew back from her teeth in a gesture that was more rictus than smile. She rose to her feet and stepped away from her father’s body. She moved toward Sam with the feral grace of a jungle cat, and a low keening sound came from deep in her throat. It was the sound of need, of desire, of hunger.
This isn’t right, Sam thought. It didn’t happen like this!
It was the last thought he had before Trish sank her teeth into his throat.
* * *
“Sam? Sam!”
He sat up and opened his eyes, surprised by how much effort it took. Dean’s hands were on his shoulders, and Sam realized his brother had been
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