*Edit: Rated 16+ for cussing*
At a glance, it seemed as if the walls that separated nightmares from reality had finally collapsed. The hiking trails were no longer just trails; they had turned into hunting grounds. While the city slept, the dance between the hunter and the prey continued under an inky sky.
As he stared into the darkness before him, Ace Abraham couldn’t help but think about how much he needed a drink. Hunting had always left him craving alcohol; none of that pansy champagne that his wife kept around the house, but a hard liquor. Something to really take the edge off.
“Think we’ll catch ‘em tonight, boss?” Benton, his companion for the night, asked. He reeked of smoke, but that was always a constant with him. With Benton in tow, Ace could count on two things: chain smoking and a Jersey accent.
“Yeah,” he answered, “I think we got them good this time.”
There had been many nights like this one. Nights of sitting on the hard ground, hunting rifle at the ready, surrounded by the smell of secondhand smoke. But this time was different; Ace was sure of it. The moon was a small sliver above them, a half-opened eye that watched the world below it with feigned interest. It was dark enough that a few stars could be seen scattered across the vast expanse of the sky. The canyon seemed to stretch on endlessly around them, disappearing into blackness. They had positioned themselves off a weather-beaten path that was almost impossible to find at nighttime. But, Ace knew exactly where they were. He had picked a location that would keep him and his partner hidden, but made sure that the view of the trail was unobstructed. As they sat there, Ace let his mind wander back home.
His little girl wasn’t so little anymore. She was growing up fast and had a baby girl to prove it. The baby’s first birthday was tomorrow and Ace hoped that he would be able to stay awake through the party. Samantha would be devastated if he couldn’t keep his eyes open during his granddaughter’s first birthday party. Clenching his jaw, Ace focused once more on the shrouded trail in front of him.
“Damn Skinwalkers are hard to catch, huh?” Benton had been saying the same thing for the past few nights.
“Yeah.”
Ace had never used to believe in ghost stories. The police station had called him in for his marksmanship skills and asked him to do them a favor. A favor that might cost him his life. Expecting serial killers or terrorists, Ace had reluctantly agreed to help, thinking that he was protecting his community. Once upon a time, he too had been a cop, and saw no harm in coming out of retirement for a night or two. But, what waited for him out in the canyons of Sedona was far more dangerous than any human could ever be.
What was supposed to be a quick cleanup job, turned into an obsession.
The soft crunch of dirt pulled Ace from his thoughts. Gripping his rifle, he leaned forward, waiting for the shadow to appear. Benton let out his breath in a long hiss as a small creature appeared on the path in front of them.
“Squirrel,” Benton spat, settling back down into a sitting position. Ace chewed the inside of his cheek as he watched the animal scamper down the trail and out of sight. The night vision goggles that the police station had let him borrow were cutting uncomfortably into the skin around his eyes. He pulled them off and flung them to the ground.
“Think we should call it a night, boss?” Benton asked.
“No,” Ace hissed, “They’ll be here.”
The sound of feet against dirt proved him right. Ace surged forward once again, straining to see through the darkness. The outline of a woman appeared. Tall and leonine, she could have been human, but her hands were curled into claws and in place of her feet, were cat-like paws. The only thing missing was a tail. Ace snapped his teeth together and the woman’s head jerked in their direction.
He aimed the rifle at the woman’s torso, giddy at the fact that he had finally caught one. The woman was still turned towards him, but he couldn’t tell if she could see him or not. She took an uncertain step towards their hiding place.
“Papa?” Ace froze.
“Jesus Christ.” Benton fumbled for a flashlight.
“Samantha?” Ace’s voice cracked as he regarded the shadowy figure. Benton shined the light in her direction and as the beam lit up her features, she recoiled slightly. Dark hair framed a feline face, but despite the obvious changes, Ace could recognize his own daughter. More dark shapes appeared behind her; they were definitely Skinwalkers based on the grotesque forms that their shadows twisted into.
“Get away from them, Samantha,” Ace said, “Come over here, next to me.”
A guttural sound came from one of the figures behind her and Samantha hissed in response.
“They think that you’re going to shoot me,” she told Ace.
“Tell them not to worry, I’ve got plenty of bullets for all of them. Now get your ass over here,” he said, clenching his jaw even tighter.
“I can’t, Papa.”
“Why the hell not?”
“It’s too dangerous for me here, now that the curse is really starting to settle in,” Samantha said.
“What curse are you talking about?” Ace asked, holding his daughter’s gaze.
“Skinwalkers aren’t born, they’re made. Please, Papa, you have to find the cure for us,” she pleaded.
“There’s no such thing as a Skinwalker curse,” Ace snapped, “They’re messing with your head, Sam. Get over here. This is the last time I’m going to ask before I start shooting.”
“Boss…” Benton said reproachfully, “Maybe you should listen to your daughter.”
“Shut up,” Ace said sharply, “I’ve waited too long for this.”
More growls erupted from the group behind Samantha, and one of the shrouded figures moved forward into a crouch.
“They’ll kill you, Papa,” Samantha whispered. Disregarding his daughter’s warning, Ace started firing blindly into the dark.
