Tribulation (8 page)

No time, was
the response. Go now. The voice was insistent and urgent.

We can’t go,
said Sam impatiently. I have to find my mother.

Another time,
said the Hellhound. We go now.

Sam was about
to ask what the rush was all about but then he knew. Something was
stirring in the massive adjacent chamber to this one. The giant
demon in the pool was awakening.

He resigned
himself to leaving but not before making Yeth promise one thing.
We’ll return for my mother … yes?

Yeth’s head
swayed ominously, then, Yes, came the answer.

It would have
to do for now. It was terribly disappointing but at least he’d
accomplished one goal. At least he had Grace.

Time to go. In
order to create a portal back to Earth, he’d need to make another
pentacle. Sam searched frantically for chalk in one of his many
pockets as he visualized the church from whence he had come - but
then he stopped when he realized what Yeth was doing. Of course,
demons like Yeth had no need for pentacles. Full-blooded, powerful
demons like Hellhounds could open a portal just by willing it.

At once Sam
could sense the gate opening, the connection being made to Earth.
Yeth snatched the image of the church from his mind, and the
connection was becoming stronger when a sharp jolt like an
earthquake momentarily distracted the Hellhound. Cracks appeared in
the wall next to Sam; before the archway into the giant chamber,
Sam could see the massive legs and knees of the demon. There was
another massive impact, this one shaking the rock beneath them.
Larger, jagged cracks appeared, and rock fragments rained down from
the roof.

“I’d hurry up,
if I were you,” said Sam. He sensed Yeth concentrating but then
there was another titanic shudder as the giant demon tried to force
its way through the wall. Yeth’s concentration broke once
again.

Sam left
Grace’s side and moved to the archway, resigned to one course of
action. He’d have to buy Yeth some time.

No, said the
Hellhound in his mind, but it was too late, he was already outside,
face to face – actually knee to face – with the huge demon.

Action was
required here, and action was something Sam excelled at. He darted
in, both swords out and swinging. The demon above him, intent on
the rock that blocked it from its prey, didn’t notice the insect
below it. Sam went for the weak spot – or what he hoped was a weak
spot - behind the knee, intending to hamstring the beast. He
rolled, coming up behind it and struck out with both blades,
slicing with all his might at the vulnerable joint. The blades bit
home. Satisfied, Sam felt the creature flinch but then he looked at
his own handiwork a bit more closely. Both blades had inflicted
wounds alright but they were just scratches. He had a moment to
feel slightly dismayed and then something struck him with all the
force of a freight train. He was suddenly in flight. In his dazed
and stunned mind, it was kind of relaxing as he flew through the
air and then it was over. He struck the ground with incredible
force, knocking the wind out of him and leaving him stunned and
prone.

He managed to
raise his head slightly, groaning. With great strides, the demon
was approaching. Sam tried to rise but it was clear that his leg
was broken. This would need time to heal. And time was a luxury he
didn’t possess. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he rolled and
stumbled to his feet, limping away from the deadly creature as fast
as he was able.

The demon took
one mighty step and then it was upon him, poised above, a massive
fist raised, ready to pound him into the rock. Sam turned to face
his doom. His leg gave out and he toppled to the ground. He knew he
wouldn’t survive such a blow but at least he could face it like a
man, as best as he was able. The fist descended.

Sam raised one
arm in a feeble attempt to ward off the blow and lost sight of the
fist for a moment, expecting nothing but death. For a second,
nothing happened. Then another second. Still nothing. Sam peered
over his raised up. Above him, the demon stood frozen, much as it
had been when Sam had first seen it.

Cautiously, he
staggered to his feet again. He could feel his bones knitting but
he would still need a few minutes. With any luck, the demon would
remain like this for some time. He didn’t know why it was frozen
but at times like this, you didn’t question your luck.

“Hello,
Sam.”

He flinched at
the unexpected voice, his eyes darting towards the sound. A few
feet away stood a figure in a dark, hooded robe. The hood obscured
the features but Sam knew who it was anyway. The last time he’d
seen this person, had been here, in Hell.

“Hello,
Joshua,” he said.

Joshua. His
one-time friend. His betrayer who had sold him out to his brother
and father. The last image of Joshua had been him falling into an
ocean of fire during the battle with his brother.

“I suppose
you’re surprised to see me,” said Joshua, moving a cautious few
steps towards him.

“I suppose I
am,” admitted Sam. “I thought you were dead.”

Joshua smiled.
“Clearly not. It seems that Hell had a few surprises for me.”

Sam nodded.
This didn’t surprise him one iota. “I’d like to say this is a nice
surprise, but it’s not really. I kind of hoped you were dead for
real given what you did to me. And Aimi.” Under his jeans, Sam
could feel his leg knitting. In a few more minutes it would be
fully healed. His fingers twitched towards his swords. If Josh was
still alive - and it seemed as though he was - then they had
unfinished business. He sheathed both swords in an attempt to give
Joshua a false sense of security. They would come out again soon
enough.

“You’re
probably wondering why I’m here now, right at this very moment,”
said Josh, sounding more confident and assured than Sam had ever
heard. “Before you ask, yes it was me that froze the Immolator
here,” he said, gesturing upwards to the massive demon. “In a
sense, I saved your life. You owe me one already.”

Sam gritted his
teeth but let Josh talk, knowing that the longer he rambled on, the
longer he’d have to heal his leg.

“I want you to
do me a favor, Sam, buddy,” he said, smiling faintly. “I’m not
going to tell you what that favor is right now, except to say that
you will know when the time comes. In return, I’ll give you back
something of great value to you.”

Despite his
growing anger, Sam was intrigued. What favor? And what did he lose
of great value that needed to be returned to him?

“What are you
talking about, Joshua?” he demanded. His leg was almost fully
healed now. Only a few more moments.

“I know where
your mother is, or rather, where she was taken. I now have the
power to find her and return her to you – to end her suffering. I
will do this in exchange for the small favor I ask of you. Have we
got a deal?”

Sam’s mind was
all awhirl. His mother? Alive? Joshua could reunite them? Sam
nodded mutely.

“Not good
enough, Sam. Repeat after me: “I, Samael, Prince of Hell, do hereby
swear to fulfill the obligation I am now under.”

Eagerly, Sam
repeated the words, heedless of the implications. All that mattered
right now was his mother.

Joshua’s smile
broadened. “Excellent. Thank you, Sam. We’ll see each other again,
of course. Very soon.” He waved an imperious hand at the massive
demon above him.

Vaguely, Sam
was aware of something descending down upon him again. He felt a
hammer blow and shocking pain, followed very soon after by
oblivion.

Colorado

“
He springs up like
a flower and withers away; like a fleeting shadow, he does not
endure.”
Job 14:2

S
am had been set up. He knew this, even as he regained
his senses. Joshua had set him up and he had fallen for it like
some boy eager for his first dance at the prom.

He sat up. Too
quickly it seemed, because a wave of nausea passed over him,
forcing him to lie down again as he opened his eyes. He was back in
the church where he’d started out. This was good and bad at the
same time: good that he was no longer in Hell, bad that he was in a
desecrated church, at the mercy of any demon who decided to come
through the portal.

He took a
breath, waited for the dizziness to pass and then sat up again.
This time it wasn’t so bad. Belatedly he realized two things. The
first was Grace lying next to him. The second was Yeth. The great
Hellhound appeared to be standing guard nearby. It must have been
Yeth that had brought Sam and Grace back to Earth. There was no
other explanation.

The Hellhound
was immediately aware that Sam was awake.

Healed now,
yes? asked Yeth.

Sam nodded, not
even considering for a second that the demon might not be able to
interpret the gesture. Apparently it could because Sam’s response
seemed to satisfy it. Go now.

Sam nodded
again. Yeth began to open a portal to Hell. Before it could
disappear completely, Sam called its name.

“Yeth?”Almost
translucent, the beast turned towards him. “Thank you,” he
said.

He wasn’t sure,
but he thought Yeth had nodded towards him, mirroring his earlier
gestures. Moments later, the Hellhound was gone.

Sam turned his
attention to Grace. The wounds on her face and body were still
dribbling blood - ugly, red and inflamed. Thankfully, she was still
breathing. Satisfied for the moment, he stood shakily and began his
usual physical inventory. His body seemed ok. Weak but ok. Bones
and any other injuries had healed. He didn’t know how long Yeth had
watched over them, but it must have been some time.

He found an old
priest’s robe that seemed to be relatively clean and not abused or
desecrated and wrapped her in it. Lifting her up in his arms, he
carried her outside. It was daytime and he squinted against the
slightly painful light. After being in Hell, light like this always
came as a shock.

He found an
abandoned house nearby. It was too close to the church but he
didn’t have any other choice. This town had long been deserted.
Hopefully, whatever demons had visited in the past, had long since
given up on finding any victims here. Hopefully.

Inside, he
located a bedroom and deposited her gently on the floor. The bed
was covered in a filthy, ashen bedspread. He stripped it off;
underneath, the sheets looked passable. He picked Grace up again
and laid her on the bed. Her clothes were nothing but burnt strips
of cloth, barely concealing her modesty. He removed them,
embarrassed, knowing that both Grace and Aimi would understand in
the circumstances. Preserving her modesty was the least of Grace’s
problems. Her wounds needed to be checked and dressed.

Swiftly he did
just this. He tore strips of clean sheet off the bed, then using
some of the precious water from his drink bottle in his pack, he
soaked the strips and cleaned the wounds as best he could. The
small but effective medical kit came out next. Some of her wounds
were deep. With quick, precise movements, he sewed them up,
thankful for the times when Hikari had made him practice on
pig-skin. Next, he sterilized the wounds with alcohol and dressed
them with an antiseptic ointment, before finally wrapping the worst
of them in makeshift sheet bandages.

Only then did
he cover her with the top sheet, making sure she looked
comfortable. If and when she woke - he hoped it would be the latter
– she would be hungry. Even if she wasn’t, he’d have to force her.
The beef jerky and other small supplies wouldn’t do. She’d need
something a little more substantial.

He realized
with a start that he’d have to go hunting, and it wasn’t just for
himself. His food needs were rather basic. He only needed to hunt
occasionally and usually it was more for something to do than from
any pressing hunger. Unfortunately, there was only one thing on the
menu.

With one last
look to ensure she was resting comfortably, he moved out into the
sitting room, closed his eyes and concentrated. He could sense
them. They were around. They were always around. He focused on
their tiny little minds, stroking their desires and their needs. He
pictured a piece of cooked flesh in this very room, imagined what
it smelt like, what it tasted like. In their minds, it suddenly
existed.

There was a
flurry of movement and his eyes flew open. Several furry little
bodies were scurrying around his, desperately seeking what his mind
had told them existed. He had no idea where they’d come from, but
then, rats had an ability to sneak through the tiniest of holes.
Both swords came out and moved with precise strokes. Five movements
of his wrists and arms. Five bodies dead and dying at his feet.
Kicking away the others that still swirled around him, he picked up
the small bodies and took them outside. They’d have to be
thoroughly cleaned, gutted and roasted before they were even close
to being edible, and there was still the constant threat of disease
but he’d just have to risk it. He may be immune to human diseases,
but Grace certainly wasn’t.

And he hoped
she liked rat, because that’s all there was.