Supernatural--Children of Anubis

by Tim Waggoner

  Anubis roared. Alan had finished removing the rebar spikes from Sylvia and helped her stand. The god strode toward them, eager for more destruction.

  Anubis tried to grab Alan and Sylvia. They dodged, rolled and came up on their feet. Sylvia was unsteady on hers, but she remained standing.

  Alan and Sylvia stiffened then, and their yellow werewolf eyes became a fiery crimson.

  Morgan stood next to Greg, watching her parents. She shook her head and cried, “No! Please, don’t!”

  But her parents’ minds were no longer their own. They snarled and came running toward Sam and Dean, their injuries forgotten.

  It seemed that Anubis’s ability to control others wasn’t limited to neteru. Sam knew the Crowders weren’t attacking of their own volition. But he also knew they were responsible for the deaths of Clay Fuller, Amos Boyd, Melody Diaz, and many more people whose names he would never know. So when he and Dean shot them both through the heart with silver bullets, his conscience was clear.

  The werewolves fell to the ground. They returned to human form, all light, crimson or otherwise, gone from their eyes.

  Morgan let out a sob. Greg wrapped his arms around her as she cried.

  Dean turned to Nathan. “You got any spells up your sleeve for sending Anubis back to beddy-bye?”

  “No,” the old jakkal said. “When the Rite of Awakening is performed properly, it has a time limit of six hours. After that, Anubis departs his vessel and returns to his slumber on his own. But now…” He shrugged.

  “So he might conk out in a few hours, or he might keep chugging along for years,” Dean said.

  “Or centuries,” Sam added.

  “Fantastic,” Dean said.

  “Something has gone wrong with the transference of Anubis’s spirit,” Nathan said. “Our god isn’t in his right mind. He seems confused, animalistic…”

  “You mean there’s a bad connection between the dog-mummy’s brain and your wife’s?” Dean said.

  “Yes,” Nathan confirmed. “It’s as if Anubis is only partially awake, as if he’s in a dream state and lashing out at everyone— not just the iwiw—as if they’re enemies. If the connection between Anubis and Muriel is shaky, then there’s a chance I can break it. If I can get through to her.”

  Nathan started walking toward Anubis.

  “Grandfather, don’t!” Greg shouted.

  Nathan didn’t take his gaze off Anubis as he approached the god.

  “It’s all right, Greg. I know what I’m doing.”

  Dean doubted that, but all he could do, all any of them could, was watch and hope.

  Nathan reassumed human form as he drew near Anubis, and he held his hands out to his sides, palms outward in a universal gesture that said I mean you no harm.

  “Muriel? It’s me. Nathan.”

  She looked at him without recognition and began to growl softly.

  Not a good start, Dean thought.

  Nathan stopped when he was within six feet of his wife.

  “You performed the Rite of Awakening, but something went wrong. I don’t know what, but the connection between you and Anubis is faulty. Our god is out of control, killing indiscriminately. You need to break the link between you before—”

  Anubis roared with fury and crossed the distance between them in the blink of an eye. He fastened a clawed hand around Nathan’s throat and the god’s eyes glowed brightly. Nathan shifted into jakkal form and grabbed Anubis’s arm, intending to break his grip, but before he could begin, his body withered, skin becoming parchment-dry, cheeks sinking inward as the flesh of his face drew tight to his skull. He managed to gasp a final word that might have been his wife’s name, and then his body lost all cohesion and he fell to the ground as sand.

  “No!” Marta shouted. She started to run toward Anubis, but Greg grabbed her shoulders and held her back.

  Anubis gazed upon the remains of his vessel’s husband. Was there a hint of sorrow in his expression? If so, it was quickly gone. He fixed his crimson-lit eyes on Sam, Dean, and Garth and began growling.

  “Any word from the boards yet?” Dean asked Sam.

  Sam shook his head.

  “All right,” Dean said. “Let’s go kill us a god.”

  Dean didn’t want to hurt Muriel. She was only a vessel— Anubis was the threat. But Dean knew from long experience that sometimes vessels died in the fight against the supernatural, and while they tried to save people like Muriel, sometimes there was nothing they could do, especially if the entity possessing a vessel was a danger to others.

  Dean, Sam, and Garth started walking toward Anubis, armed and ready.

  * * *

  The three hunters spread out as they drew close to Anubis. Their plan was simple—they would attack Anubis, trying different techniques to see if any had an effect on the god. If they managed to discover a weakness, then they’d exploit it.

  “Be careful,” Dean said. “We don’t want to let Anubis turn us into more of his red-eyed puppets.”

  Dean felt the god’s consciousness already beginning to probe the outer layers of his mind, but both he and Sam had been psychically and spiritually attacked numerous times over the years, and they knew a thing or two about resisting mental assaults. And Garth was experienced in resisting the animal side of his nature. After that, resisting Anubis’s influence was a piece of cake.

  Round one to us, Dean thought.

  Dean raised his Colt. They’d already tried silver bullets on Anubis, but those had been quick shots. He wanted to try more precise ones. He fired two shots—one to the head, one to the heart, but all that did was piss the god off. Anubis roared, and Dean fired one more round into his mouth to be thorough, but it had no more effect than the others.

  “He’s not even bleeding,” Garth called out.

  “I’m going to try the eyes!” Sam shouted.

  Good idea, Dean thought. When Anubis possessed someone, their eyes glowed red—could be those eyes were the source of his power.

  Sam squeezed off two rounds. Each found their target, and Anubis’s burning-coals eyes went dark. The god roared again, much louder this time, and Dean felt the asphalt beneath his feet vibrate.

  Now he’s really mad, Dean thought.

  The god clawed at Muriel’s dead eye sockets. Dean hoped Sam’s idea would work. But then Anubis lowered his hands. The light in his blazing red eyes had been rekindled.

  “Worth a try,” Dean said.

  Time for another experiment. If silver didn’t do the job, maybe gold would. The metal was deadly to jakkals, and Muriel was a jakkal. Maybe gold would work against the god possessing her body too. Dean edged around and hurled the gold dagger at Anubis’s back. It struck the god between the shoulder blades with a satisfying thunk and sank all the way to the hilt.

  Anubis cried out in pain again, but this time the sound that came out of his mouth was far beyond a simple roar. The scream was so high-pitched and intense that Dean and Sam dropped their weapons and clapped their hands to their ears. It was worse for Garth and the jakkals, with their far more powerful hearing. They moaned in pain and fell to the ground, blood trickling from their ears.

  Gotcha! Dean thought. Maybe gold couldn’t kill Muriel so long as Anubis’s spirit inhabited her body, but it sure as hell could hurt the god.

  Anubis stopped screaming. The god remained standing, but he was unsteady on his feet. One strike with a gold weapon hadn’t brought him down. Time to take things up a notch.

  “You and me, Sammy! It’s acupuncture time! Garth, try to keep him distracted! And don’t let him touch you—you saw what happened to Nathan!”

  Sam and Garth nodded.

  Dean snatched up his Colt, Sam retrieved his weapons and together they ran toward Anubis. Dean yanked his gold blade from the creature’s back, and ducked in time to avoid getting sliced when the god swiped his claws at him. The Winchester brothers avoided Anubis’s blows, ducking, dodging, and weaving as they plunged their gold daggers again and again into Muriel’s fles
h. Garth shouted taunts at Anubis as he took swipes at the god’s arms, legs, chest, and back, doing his best to draw Anubis’s attention away from the Winchesters. Anubis tried to catch hold of Garth, but the god was beginning to slow down, and he couldn’t manage to land a claw on him.

  Anubis stopped trying to kill them. He went down on one knee, slumped forward, and lowered his head. The god wasn’t dead yet, but he was weakened. Still, they needed to stop him—but how?

  Sam felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He took it out and looked at the screen.

  “I got a reply on one of the mythology boards. It’s from an Egyptology professor. She says ‘Burn Anubis’s body. That will destroy the god and free the vessel. Hopefully.’”

  “I don’t like the hopefully part,” Dean said.

  Sam turned to Garth. “Do you remember back in the room where the jakkals kept Anubis? There was a brazier there.” Garth looked at him blankly, and Sam said, “A fire.”

  Garth gave Sam a fang-filled grin.

  “I get it,” Dean said. “It’ll be just like those old-time movies. The heroes always burn the mummy in the end.”

  “You’re the fastest of us,” Sam said to Garth. “Run back to the building and—”

  Anubis raised his head. His red eyes began to glow more intensely. Dean thought the god was trying to take over their minds again, but he didn’t feel anything. Then he realized that the three of them weren’t the only people around.

  He turned. Greg, Marta, and Efren—as well as Morgan— had stiffened. Their eyes began to glow with crimson light, and as one they turned their attention to the hunters. Joshua, still lying on the ground, shrieked with anger. The child was possessed too.

  “—hurry!” Sam finished.

  Garth glanced at the possessed jakkals and took off running. They swiped at him as he passed, but they missed. The jakkals then came running toward Dean and Sam, claws out and red eyes blazing.

  Dean and Sam stood back to back as the jakkals came at them. The brothers struck out with their gold blades, slicing hands and arms. The jakkals hissed in pain and withdrew, only to attack again a few seconds later. Since Anubis was using the jakkals as weapons against their will, Sam and Dean tried to avoid dealing any serious blows. Dean didn’t know how long they could keep that up though. Eventually, the brothers would be forced to kill them. At least all Joshua did was lie on his back, scream with anger, and thrash his arms and legs. No way in hell Dean wanted to kill a baby.

  There was one servant of Anubis who did not fear gold though.

  Morgan hung back at first. But then the jakkals parted to let her through, and she raced toward the brothers.

  “Sorry about this,” Dean said. He still held his Colt and he shot Morgan twice, putting a round in each leg. She went down bleeding, but the red light faded from her eyes.

  She spoke through pain-gritted teeth, hands pressed to her wounds. “Thanks for not killing me.”

  “No problem,” Dean said.

  The possessed jakkals attacked once more. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Anubis rise to his feet. The god was recovering from his wounds, and if they didn’t do something soon, he’d be back to full strength. And if that happened, the Winchesters would either end up ripped to pieces by jakkals or turned into piles of sand by their god. Neither fate sounded appealing.

  Come on, Garth! he thought.

  * * *

  Garth entered Anubis’s chamber through the large hole in the wall. The god lay on the table, just as he had before, and Garth could hear his inhuman heart beating and his lungs working. The god was alive and awake, or at least his body was. His mind currently inhabited Muriel’s body, and Garth hoped it would stay there long enough for him to do his job.

  The room was filled with mystic energy. Garth could almost hear it crackle in the air like electricity. The hair on the back of his neck rose, and his animal instincts warned him that this was a bad place— very bad—and he should leave immediately. But he didn’t need supernatural instincts to tell him what he was doing was dangerous. He was a hunter—danger came with the territory.

  He hurried to the shelves and grabbed a large stone container. He knew by its scent that the chemical inside was plain old kerosene. He removed the lid and tossed it away, then dashed to Anubis’s side. He splashed kerosene over Anubis’s body from head to toe until the container was empty. He threw it aside and ran to the burning brazier, lifted it, and returned to Anubis.

  “Flame on,” he said and touched the brazier’s flame to Anubis’s kerosene-soaked wrappings.

  * * *

  Efren lunged at Dean, fangs bared. His teeth were only inches from Dean’s neck when Dean rammed the gold blade into his heart. Efren gasped, the crimson light faded from his eyes, and he fell to the ground, dead. Erin came close to tearing Sam’s throat out with her claws, and Sam put her down with a thrust of his gold dagger.

  Greg and Marta were the only two jakkals left, and Dean feared he and Sam would be forced to kill them too, when they suddenly froze in place. Anubis shrieked in agony, and the Winchesters watched as flames spread across Muriel’s body until she was wreathed in fire. Anubis staggered back and forth, screaming in agony as his vessel’s body burned. Anubis collapsed to the ground, and lay there, unmoving, as the flames finished their work. Greg and Marta’s eyes cleared and Marta rushed to her mother’s side. Everyone stood watching the last of the fire burn, Marta kneeling next to Muriel’s body and crying while Greg tended to Morgan. Sam picked up Joshua, who had returned to normal after Anubis’s death.

  “Garth did it,” Dean said.

  “Yeah.”

  Dean didn’t feel any sense of a triumph though, and he knew Sam didn’t either. They’d stopped Anubis, but despite what the Egyptology prof had said, they hadn’t been able to save Muriel. When you were a hunter, sometimes—too many times—you lost even when you won.

  THIRTY-TWO

  They took Alan, Sylvia, Erin, Efren and Muriel’s bodies to the woods near the park and buried them. No one spoke any words over their graves, but many tears were shed.

  Then they returned to the park, Marta carrying Joshua, Morgan leaning on Greg while her wounds healed. Dean had pried the bullets out of her legs and field dressed her injuries. He figured she’d be fully recovered before too long.

  Dean, Sam, and Garth went to the Impala, and Morgan went with them. Greg came too, as well as Marta, who still tended to Joshua. Dean drove them to the newspaper office where Garth had left his car—a Ford Ranchero Squire with a personalized plate that read WULF. Garth followed them back to Morgan’s house.

  They buried Stuart in the woods. Morgan didn’t cry, and they returned to the house without conducting a ceremony or leaving a marker of any kind.

  Afterward, they got cleaned up and changed into fresh clothes. Then they sat around the dining table, talking.

  “It won’t be long before someone realizes the sheriff is missing and comes out here to look for him,” Dean said to Morgan. “If you still want to go with Garth, you should pack up and hit the road ASAP.”

  Joshua was sleeping in her arms, and she gazed down at her little brother with a sad smile.

  “Okay.” She didn’t sound enthused to be leaving. Dean couldn’t blame her. This wasn’t exactly a happy occasion.

  “I’ve already called Bess and told her you were coming,” Garth said. “There’ll be a room prepared for you and your brother by the time we get there.”

  She gave Garth a grateful smile. Then she turned toward Greg, who was sitting next to her. She gave him a questioning look.

  He smiled and took her hand. “I want to go with you,” he said. He turned to his mother. “Come with us.”

  “Yes,” Garth said. “My pack would be glad to have you.”

  Marta looked uncomfortable at the idea, but then she smiled wearily.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  And that settled that.

  “But we should shake a leg,” Garth said. “Dean was right about us
needing to get out of here, and it’s a long drive to Wisconsin.”

  Morgan quickly packed a few bags for her and Joshua, and then everyone went outside. Morgan looked back at her house one last time, and Dean wondered what sort of memories she’d be taking with her. He hoped at least some of them would be good ones.

  The Winchesters said goodbye to Morgan, Greg, Marta, and Joshua, and watched as they climbed into Garth’s Wulfmobile.

  Dean, Sam, and Garth stood together one last time.

  “You think the kids will be okay?” Dean asked Garth.

  “Yeah,” Garth said. “Like it says in The Way of the Fang, ‘Family don’t end in blood.’”

  Dean looked at Sam, but neither of them said anything.

  Garth gave the brothers a bear hug, and then he stepped back. “It was good working with you guys again. You take care of each other now.”

  Sam smiled. “We always do. Give our love to Bess.”

  Garth nodded. He got in his car, started the engine, and backed down the driveway.

  * * *

  Before leaving the Crowders’ home, Sam reported Amos’s and Melody’s deaths to the sheriff’s department. Anonymously, of course. Then he and Dean hit the road. Before long they were cruising along Route 65 on the way back to the Bunker in Kansas.

  No, Sam thought. Back home.

  They drove without speaking for some time, classic rock playing on the radio. Eventually Sam said, “Do you remember that old werewolf movie we watched when we were kids? Night of the Blood Moon?”

  “Sure,” Dean said. “Why?”

  “I was thinking it might be fun to watch it again. Get a chance to see it from an adult perspective, you know?”

  Dean gave Sam a look. “‘Adult perspective?’” he said dubiously.

  “I’ve never really understood why you like horror movies. Don’t we get enough horror in our lives as it is? But after what we just went through, I think it would be comforting to only have to deal with pretend horrors for a change. Maybe we can find the movie online when we get home.”