Winter’s Rage (The Supernatural Activities Division Book 5) by William Stacey

Author:William Stacey [Stacey, William]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bastard Sword Press
Published: 2025-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

Caleb stood over the mutilated body, his brow furrowed in a mix of confusion and horror. Jim Darrow, the shopkeeper, lay sprawled before him—his face somehow still recognizable despite the damage, his skull caved in and slick with blood. His torso had been torn open, ribs jutting out like jagged white teeth, and what little remained of his organs spilled onto the snow in steaming clumps. The air was thick with the stench of fresh blood, ruptured guts, and human feces—a nauseating combination that made Caleb’s stomach churn.

A dozen armed men surrounded him, their flashlights cutting sharp beams through the darkness. They wore a mismatched array of winter coats, hunting gear, and combat fatigues, their weapons ranging from Israeli bullpup rifles to bolt-action hunting guns. The rumble of four idling snowmobiles mixed with the low murmur of the men’s voices, their nervous energy palpable as they cast uneasy glances toward the darkened woods. About a hundred meters away, several others struggled to control a half-dozen horses, the animals stamping and whinnying in terror, their wide eyes rolling.

The snow beneath the corpse was stained red—black in places where the blood had pooled and frozen. Caleb’s breath plumed in front of him, but each inhale dragged the sickly, metallic tang of death deeper into his lungs.

He had seen death before, but this... this was something else. It wasn’t just the violence—it was the sheer savagery. The body hadn’t just been killed; it had been torn apart, devoured.

Caleb’s gaze shifted to the claw marks raked across Darrow’s exposed chest, deep furrows that could only have been made by something massive. His eyes lingered on the gnawed edges of the bones, the ragged shreds of muscle still clinging to them. His mind raced, latching onto the only explanation that made sense. A rogue bear, he told himself. It had to be the same bear that killed Luc Reeves and the American hunters. But even as he thought it, doubt crept in at the edges of his mind. Why isn’t it hibernating this time of year?

Behind him, his men whispered among themselves, their voices shaky and low, heavy with fear and disbelief. The sight had silenced even the most hardened among them.

Caleb’s gut twisted—not just from the horror of the scene but from the creeping realization that his missing brothers could have met the same gruesome fate.

Turning away from the mangled corpse, Caleb’s eyes fell on the high-end cameras set up nearby, their lenses trained on his home. The implication was clear—Darrow had been spying on them.

There had been bootprints in the snow—a single man, Darrow obviously—and alongside them, the tracks of an animal unlike anything Caleb had ever seen. They resembled a bear’s, if the bear had walked upright, but the shape was wrong. The claws were too long, the impressions too deep, the size far too large.

And then, without warning, the animal tracks vanished into the trees, leaving no trail to follow. The abrupt disappearance made Caleb’s stomach tighten. What the hell had

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