Tag: logan guthrie

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May 9th excerpt:

No answer came, and Logan’s voice fell on dead, uncaring air. The car engine cut out, and in the silence he could make out the sound of footsteps making their way towards the door.

A door creaked open, and “Honey! I’m home!” echoed through the air.

Rumsfeld jumped to his feet and barreled out of the kitchen, vanishing from sight. Dean’s laugh, clearly recognizable after Logan’s short time with the hunter, followed the dog’s entrance. “Whoa! Sam can’t say ‘hi’ if you go knockin’ him off my shoulder. Gimme a sec.”

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May 7th excerpt:

“A certain someone got himself snatched up,” Dean said smugly, grabbing a pile of boxers to stuff in. “Took him less time than I expected.”

“You know how Rumsfeld is,” Sam said. “He was probably following Logan around the entire time he was there.”

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May 6th excerpt:

“Yeah, he’s swearing up a storm,” Bobby kept going. “Got him in a jar to keep Rumsfeld off him. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Rums was lookin’ at him like he was a doggie toy. Whatever Sam said to him, he got his point across good.”

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May 5th excerpt:

“I never pulled the wings off a dragonfly, but a sprite? I’d do it in a heartbeat, and if you knew what they can do you’d be the same.”

Bobby shook his head as he stabbed SEND with his thumb. “You are one twisted son of a bitch,” he said to Logan before turning away as the phone rang.

TTOL: The Trials of Logan

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A+ guess on the name! You got it on the first try.

No one needs trials like this more than our favorite little punching bag, Logan Guthrie, antagonist of Bowman of Wellwood. An all-around unpleasant man.

Bobby looked away from Dean and Logan, turning a blind eye to whatever they did. “Want some help getting that blood out?” he offered Sam, sizing up the splotch and the dark spot around it from Rumsfeld’s saliva.

Sam glanced at it. “Sure. I’m kind of running low on jackets, anyway. We don’t exactly have a supply of them…”

“I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve,” Bobby assured the kid as he held out his hand. Once Sam was with him, they left the kitchen with Rumsfeld close behind, leaving the other pair to their own devices.

Dean stared at the jar in his hand with an assessing gaze, looking over the man inside. From their last encounter, time had not been kind on Logan. His clothing was showing wear and his hair was a mess. A trip to the barber wouldn’t be out of the question, either.

By contrast, even directly after a hunt, Dean’s hair was spiked and his jacket in pristine condition. His jeans were ripped by his thigh, and his boots had some dirt caked to the bottom. Despite a few frays, it was a far cry from Logan’s tattered appearance.

“I think we can do better than that,” Dean said dryly, flipping the jar upside down.

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April 8th excerpt:

After the thick glass clunked against the table beneath Logan, it didn’t take long to catch up. He pushed himself to his feet in spite of the adrenaline twitching through him, and planted his hands against the wall of glass around him.

There were some spots on it here and there from water droplets left the last time it was washed, but it was clean. It warped the view of the room.

“Hey! Fucking let me out of here!” he demanded, scowling through the dismay. His voice echoed so strangely in that tiny, clear chamber.

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March 16th excerpt:

Logan turned to bolt, and then stopped himself. He stooped to snatch up at least one small fragment of a chip. He’d already been seen, so there was no point in leaving empty handed.

Then he was off towards the oppressive, dark safety of the walls.

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March 15th excerpt:

He lurched over to the enormous plate. Without even pausing to assess things, he greedily grabbed one of the potato chips in both hands. Dragging it towards himself, it caused a rustle as all of the others shifted around it.

Logan froze and looked up towards the doorway to the hall.

Sneak Peek

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A few story titles were guessed before we started posting the sneak peeks to go along with them, so with no further ado I present Clash of the Hunters!

The second Jacob’s hands were on the cage, Dean was on the move.

As dangerous as it was to attack with Sam still in the line of fire, there would be no better chance. The hunter had lost his gun. Jacob was free and had his hands on the cage containing the sprite, reducing the chances of collateral damage of a fight between the older hunters.

Sam knew the risks as well as Dean.

So while Jacob was backing off from the hunter with Bowman safe, Dean was already sprinting through the field. Long legs covered the ground that had taken Sam a half hour to cross in seconds. His boots dug fissures in the ground with the force of striking the ground, all to propel him towards his enemy. It was enough that if any of the sprites were in his way, there would be nothing left of them.

But they knew when to keep clear and when to attack. Scar was a good leader, and would see his opening just as Dean had found his.

The hunter hadn’t fully turned in Dean’s direction when there was suddenly a fist slamming into his jaw. Dean didn’t waste a second in his attack. The man was thrown backwards from the force, and his pocket slammed away with him. Only a passing guilt hit at the fact that Sam was about to be in the center of two dueling humans. He would do what he could to keep Sam safe, even during the deadly fight.

It was for this reason that he didn’t use his knife right off the bat. Instead of a vicious follow-up, Dean’s hands sealed around the other hunter’s wrist, preventing him from falling at the same time as he prevented a counterattack. Either could be disastrous for Sam.

“You think you can come in here and terrify a bunch of peaceful sprites?” Dean snarled. “Threaten to cut their wings off and trap them in cages? This forest is under my protection.”

A flurry of leaves blew up around them as the wind kicked up.

“Mine. And theirs.”

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You are knocking it out of the park! Two for two! And another sneak peek!

Ahead of Dean, the footsteps continued and it didn’t take long for another man to come into view. He wore clothes that looked more suited for roughing it out in the woods, and carried his own duffel bag on a shoulder. His boots and the cuffs of his own jeans were worn and spotted with mud, signs that they’d been on many hikes before.

He spotted Dean quickly, too, and there was a silent tension in the air as the newcomer sized him up. They were about the same height, though the new guy had a slightly blockier build than Dean did. He wore a gun holster at his side, though it remained ignored as the man stopped his approach warily.

“You’re no ranger,” he called out, keeping plenty of distance between them while they still figured out what was going on. “What brings you this far into the woods?”

Dean planted his boots in place, crossing his arms over his chest. His colt was tucked into his pants, hidden out of sight unlike the other man’s gun.

“Last I checked, rangers don’t come back here,” Dean said. “Private property and all that.” He shifted position, pulling an ID out of his jacket. “Name’s Dean Ford,” he said confidently, holding it out for the other man to take. “I’m here to investigate the strange rumors floating around.”

The man’s mouth twitched, almost in a smirk before he controlled his expression. “Rumors,” he echoed, taking the chance to inch forward. He squinted at the ID and found nothing out of place on it, but he was still clearly keyed up. He obviously hadn’t expected to meet Dean out there any more than Dean had expected to see him.

“Logan Guthrie,” he introduced himself, though he didn’t offer to shake Dean’s hand just yet. Instead, he shrugged. “I’m just a friend of a friend of the landowner. Did he hire you to come out here?”

Dean shook his head as he stowed his fake identification in his jacket, a smirk of his own hiding in his eyes. “Sorry, but my clients have asked to remain confidential,” he said in a business tone of voice.

With the ID card out of his hands, Dean let his shoulders slouch so it seemed like his guard was down and he offered Logan a wry smile. “Can’t say it’s my normal line of work, though. Any chance you’ve heard more about these ‘forest fairies?’ ” He screwed his face up while he talked, enunciating the words like they were the strangest he’d ever said.

Logan’s eyes narrowed and he tilted his head pensively. He appraised Dean once more and mulled over his own information. It was too late to say he was just out there for a walk. They both had gone past the fence.

“A bit,” he hedged. Logan hadn’t found the article until recently, but once he dug up more information on the place, he’d had to come out. He knew what kinds of danger could lurk behind the simple, innocuous concept. ‘Forest fairies’ indeed. It made them sound so innocent. “Enough to have heard what they call themselves, if they’re really out here.”

“Then maybe you can help me out,” Dean offered magnanimously.