TWELVE
The hands of the skinwalker
wrapped themselves around the boy’s throat. The strength in those hands was
incredible. The boy tried to get some air in through his nose, hammering at the
creature with the handle of the revolver. The skinwalker wasn’t deterred by this
though. This might be the end. The boy felt sorry for that, he didn’t want to
die without having ever known fear or with his virginity intact. He decided to keep
hammering. One of the blows he dealt hit the creature in the ear, that seemed
to hurt it somewhat, the grip on the boy weakening. Making use of this he hit
the creature once again against the ear, then right in the eye. The skinwalker
howled and let go of the boy, taking a step back.
“Kid, catch!” Blackstone
yelled and threw a small object at the boy.
The boy jumped, grabbing
the object in the air, clutching it in his fist. When he opened it, he saw it
was a bullet. Without thinking twice he put it in the revolver.
The skinwalker was on
all fours, snarling at the boy. “I’m going to kill you.”
The boy aimed the gun at
the creature. “Not if I kill you first, you monster.”
“By now you should know
bullets won’t hurt me. I’m going to enjoy ripping your intestines out,” the
skinwalker said. It leaped at the boy.
A loud bang heralded the
bullet that caught the skinwalker right in the chest. With big eyes the
creature registered a kind of pain he had not expected. It dropped on the
floor. Blood kept coming from his chest. “No… No…”
Blackcrow had just
managed to get back on his feet. “That’s for killing my father, evil demon! You
just got shot by a bullet filled with white ash. I’ve been carrying it along
ever since my dad died. He actually made it to kill you once he suspected your
existence. He did his research, he knew that was the way to kill a skinwalker.”
“Damn you,” the
skinwalker breathed and started to become more and more human. What was left
was a Native American, old and thin man. He clenched a fist, then his body went
slack.
The boy kneeled down
next to the body. “Did we do it? Did we kill it?”
“Best to be careful, but
yes, I think we did. I finally avenged my father’s death.”
“What about my dad?
Where is he?” Glory wondered. She was still on the floor, rubbing a painful
head.
The boy helped her on
her feet. “I’m not sure, but I think it would be best to prepare for the worst.”
Glory ran out of the kitchen,
through the house, followed by the boy. She walked into her dad’s bedroom. She
found Caleb lying on the bed. His ribcage had been opened, his heart lying between
his legs. She screamed as the boy held her as tight as he could. In a way, Glory’s
nightmare had just started.