The day after Eve died.
On the map at the Demon Hunter Guild's temporary command center, Grants Pass was marked with a huge black "X," annotated: Purified. Lockdown Level A.
Yet over a hundred red dots were scattered within a fifty-kilometer radius around the city. Each bore a brief note, most of them suspected hybrid nests.
Bobby Singer stared at those red dots, his fingers rapidly tapping across the console as he uploaded the latest batch of data to the database. The bloodshot veins in his eyes had become more pronounced. He felt exhausted, but his hands remained precise.
"Seventh team reporting: Cleanup of Zone B7 complete. One hundred and twelve intact hybrid corpses recovered, packaged and sent to the post-analysis department."
"Twelfth squad encountered resistance. Two hybrids fled into the mine. Requesting reinforcements."
"Preliminary report analysis: After Eve's death, all hybrids lost their ability to actively infect others. Humans bitten or scratched no longer mutate. However, those already mutated retain their original traits, though they can no longer reproduce."
Reports overlapped across the communications channel.
Bobby grabbed his coffee cup and took a huge gulp. It was cold, but he did not care. They had to clear out these monsters as quickly as possible.
"Tell the Twelfth Squad not to pursue them into the mine. Confirm their location with thermal scans, then blast the entrance shut," he said into the microphone. "Those things are just moving lumps of meat now. They aren't worth the risk."
"Understood."
The command center door opened, and Dean and Sam entered, carrying the chill of the outdoors with them.
The wound on Dean's left shoulder had already healed, leaving only a faint ring of bite marks on his skin—the last trace Eve had left behind.
"How's it outside?" Bobby asked without looking up.
"Three