Supernatural: Reincarnated into the Hunt

Chapter 36: 36. Welcome to Derry



As the storytelling carried on, the bar door creaked open, and Ellen Harvelle stepped in. Her presence was like a whip crack in the quiet room, turning heads and silencing conversations. Jo, busy wiping down the counter, froze. She barely glanced at her mother before setting the cloth down and walking out the back, muttering something under her breath.

Ellen sighed, watching her go, but didn't call out. Instead, she squared her shoulders and made her way toward James and Ash, who were seated near the bar. The hunters nearby shifted uncomfortably, instinctively moving to the far corners of the room. Everyone in the Roadhouse knew better than to stick their nose in Ellen's business when she looked like that.

Ellen stopped at the counter, her sharp gaze bouncing between James and Ash. She leaned forward, resting her arms on the worn wood.

"So," she began, her voice calm but with an edge, "how'd your first hunt go? Nobody got dead, I hope."

James glanced at Ash, then back to Ellen. The hunt had been rough—messy, really. It was a basic salt-and-burn case, but they'd tripped over more than a few hurdles. Still, they'd gotten it done.

"It's finished," James said, keeping his tone steady. "Ghost is toast. No one else'll get hurt there. At least not because of that manor."

Ash grinned, leaning back on his stool. "Yeah, and only a couple of close calls. I mean, no big deal, right? James here's got quick reflexes—like a cat, if the cat had two left feet."

James shot him a dry look. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Ellen's lips twitched, but she didn't smile. "Alright, glad you didn't screw it up too bad. But we've got bigger fish to fry." She reached into her jacket and slapped a folded map onto the counter. "Take a look."

James unfolded the map, smoothing it out on the counter. A single red circle marked a town up in Maine.

"Derry," he read aloud. "What's in Derry?"

Ellen's face darkened, and the humor drained out of the room like someone had turned off a faucet. She leaned in, lowering her voice. "Six kids have gone missing there over the past month. No struggle, no signs—just poof. Gone."

Ash whistled low. "Six? That's a helluva lot of kids. Cops got anything?"

Ellen shook her head. "Nada. My friend on the force called me about it. He knows what we do and thinks this might be our kind of weird."

James furrowed his brow. "You think it's supernatural?"

Ellen gave a tight nod. "Yeah, and here's the kicker: Derry's got a reputation. Weird stuff happens there. Always has. I did some digging, and this ain't the first time something like this has gone down."

"What kind of weird?" Ash asked, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

"Disappearances, violent deaths, tragedies," Ellen said, her tone heavy. "And the disappearance usually happen like clockwork—every 27 years. Sometimes it's kids, sometimes it's adults, but it's always bad. People vanish. People die."

James frowned, leaning over the map. "You're saying it's some kind of cycle?"

"Bingo," Ellen said. "There's more. In 1906, the Kitchener Ironworks exploded during a damn Easter egg hunt. Killed dozens of kids and a few adults. In 1929, the Bradley Gang got lit up in broad daylight by the townsfolk, and people swore they saw someone—or something—watching the whole thing. Then there's the Black Spot fire in the '30s. Whole place burned to the ground with people trapped inside. Those are just the big ones. The smaller stuff? It's constant."

Ash shook his head, his grin long gone. "Well, that's cheerful. Derry sounds like Disneyland's creepy cousin."

Ellen let out a humorless chuckle. "It gets worse. Some folks who've been there claim to see things—a figure, usually a clown, lurking in the shadows. I know it sounds batshit, but there's something in that town. Something old and hungry."

James stared at the map, tracing the route with his finger. "How far is it?"

"About 3,000 miles," Ellen said. "Closer to 3,500 if you're avoiding toll roads. It's a haul. And when you get there, you're on your own. My friend can't help you without risking his job, so it's all on you two to figure this out."

Ash gave a low whistle. "Well, hot damn. Looks like we're doing a cross-country road trip. Guess I'll pack the Twinkies."

James smirked faintly, tucking the map into his jacket. "You better pack more than Twinkies. We'll need coffee. Lots of it."

Ellen finally allowed herself a small smile, but her eyes stayed serious. "Listen, boys, don't treat this like just another job. Derry's got a way of crawling under your skin. People who go there… they don't always come back the same."

James' smile faded as he nodded. "We'll keep our heads on straight. Anything else we should know?"

"Yeah," Ellen said, pausing for a moment. "Stay sharp, trust your gut, and for God's sake, watch each other's backs."

Ash leaned back, crossing his arms. "You got it, boss. Though if James starts freaking out, I'm not sharing my snacks."

Ellen snorted, shaking her head. "Just don't get yourselves killed. Good luck, boys. You're gonna need it....Oh and if it goes above your pay grade just run from there. We will leave the matter to more experienced hunters."

Ellen's stern gaze swept over James and Ash as they exchanged quick, incredulous looks.

"Run?" Ash leaned forward, arms crossed on the bar, his tone laced with mock indignation. "Ellen, come on. We're not amateurs. Running's bad for morale—and my ego."

James nodded, backing Ash up. "We handled the last hunt just fine. We're not about to tuck tail if things get hairy."

Ellen narrowed her eyes, her voice dropping to a hard edge. "This ain't a debate, boys. If it's bigger than you, you get the hell out. Pride's not gonna save your skin. Dead hunters don't help anyone." She paused, letting her words sink in before adding, "I've buried enough friends. Don't make me add your names to the list."

Ash opened his mouth to argue, but a sharp look from Ellen silenced him. "Fine, fine. We'll be good little hunters," he muttered, hands raised in surrender.

"Good," Ellen said, standing up straight. "Now get outta here. You've got a long drive ahead."

James gave a small nod, his expression unreadable.

As they left the bar, Ellen called after them. "Stay safe, boys."

---

At the gas station, Ash leaned against the car as the pump clicked into place, a Twinkie already half-unwrapped in his hand. "You know," he said, glancing at James, "after this gig in Derry, we need a break. Like, serious R&R. Maybe hit Vegas. Have you seen the slot machines there? They look like alien tech."

James tightened the cap on the gas tank, his expression grim. "We don't have time for breaks."

Ash raised an eyebrow. "Don't have time? James, we've been running on fumes since the last hunt. And you're telling me you don't want, like, five minutes to breathe?"

James leaned on the trunk, arms crossed. "I need to get stronger. Faster. Hunts are the only way to do that. The longer we sit around, the more time we waste."

Ash chuckled, shaking his head. "Man, you're like a bad action movie montage. Look, I get it. You're fired up. But a break is just as important as the work. You go too hard, and you'll burn out. Then what?"

James didn't respond, but his jaw tightened. His silence spoke louder than words—he didn't agree. Not one bit. He wasn't hunting just to hunt; he was hunting to get closer to finding his mother. Every hunt, every lead, felt like another step toward her.

They got back in the car, Ash immediately fiddling with the radio as James took the wheel. The trip to Derry, Maine, was a solid 40-hour drive with appropriate breaks in between. They swapped shifts behind the wheel, caught a few hours of sleep at a roadside motel, and fueled up on coffee and greasy diner food along the way.

By the time they rolled into Derry, the sun was dipping low, casting long shadows across the town. The place felt... off. Quiet in a way that wasn't comforting. The kind of quiet that made your skin crawl.

Ash whistled low, leaning forward in his seat to get a better look. "Well, doesn't this place just scream 'Welcome to Creepyville'?"

James' grip tightened on the wheel as he pulled into a parking lot near the town center. "Let's find a place to crash for the night. We'll start digging tomorrow."

Ash nodded, but his usual humor was absent. For once, even he felt the weight of the place. Whatever was in Derry, it was watching them already.

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