Among Us: A Supernatural Novel written by Carver Edlund

The Void

It wasn't pretty at all.

None of it. Not the bodies on the road that rose up and attacked the brothers. Not the brawl that followed, punctuated by holy water, rock salt, and chanting.

Not the way the demons inside the bodies hurled half-truths and profanities and inhuman growls. Not how they writhed, contorted, and slid uncannily around like weights on a sandy table at every push of a word in Latin. Not the way they puked up black sludge that pooled on the ground, sparking with small golden threads before vanishing. Not how they collapsed face-first to the asphalt afterward.

Not the blood that started as a trickle from one of Sam's nostrils but increased worryingly into a double stream, smeared on his sleeve. Not the way he winced and clutched his temples like someone fighting off a migraine, holding out one hand as though he could restrain the demons with an application of the Force. Not how Dean barked at him to keep going, to finish the exorcisms, and then turned his back on him, letting his control slip and naked anxiety bleed through.

And not the thing up at the Rocks.

Felicia could see it now, muzzy-edged and transparent like an image shot from an overhead projector. Could recognize the carnival funhouse screeching as coming from it. According to Sam, her absolute certainty in a mundane world had protected her. Kept her ignorant.

Saints willing, the same would protect the emergency responders coming up the winding road, lights flashing and sirens wailing.

That, and her.

She struck the end of another road flare against its cap. Then, she fitted the cap on the unlit end. When she knelt, she made sure she put the flat side of the cap on the ground to prevent the whole thing from rolling into the ditch. Each of her hissing, smoking red flares marked a body in the road.

Sam had argued that the demons wouldn't have stuck around the park once they woke, now that the ringleader was dead, but Dean had insisted they had to check. Standing so close she could have counted the freckles across his slightly crooked nose, he had pleaded with her to stall her people, keep them from getting any closer to the amphitheater, until he and his brother returned.

But for how long? Dear saints above, what did they think they were going to do against that thing?

He hadn't had an answer. She hadn't really expected one.

Felicia jogged toward the vehicles cresting the curve, waving both arms to direct them to the sides of the road. There was work to be done here, which would delay them. Then, she just needed to delay them a little more.

The monster shrieked, sounding angry. And hungry. A split second later, a blast of snowy wind nearly knocked the trees flat.

Felicia tugged loose curls out of her mouth as a pair of EMTs hopped out of an ambulance and beelined for her flares, a stretcher and numerous bags bouncing between them, and a firefighter, his helmet unbuckled, headed her way. She would keep them safe.

She had to try.

..::~*~::..

"This is just a hunt," Dean was saying. "Just another hunt. Come on, Sam, what do we do on a hunt when we know what we're facing and where it is?"

Sam stumbled along behind him, squeezing his skull with the heels of his hands to relieve the pressure inside of it. Which made no sense, but sometimes, pain transformed sense into a bird ricocheting off a car windshield at eighty miles an hour. "Rrrghh," he said.

Dean was there, his familiar solid strength propping him up. "Easy there, Jean Grey."

Hold up. Was Dean seriously comparing him to the Hyper-Powered Inept Woman? What a dick!