Tribulation (31 page)

It wasn’t until
he was at the entrance to the Holland tunnel that he realized where
they were. Concealed in the darkness, hidden under tons of rock and
bloody water. Lemure. In their thousands.

Sam paused and
considered. It wasn’t the only way into New York but it was
probably the one where he would be less exposed. He also needed to
investigate the tunnel thoroughly for Colonel Wheat’s benefit. They
were only Lemure after all. Stupid creatures. The lowest, weakest
demon of all. But in great numbers, they still posed a threat to
him - if he was cornered, for instance. And what better way to
corner him than in a tunnel?

He sighed,
resigned to a course of action. If it didn’t work out, he could
always backtrack. Cautiously, wrapping his concealment glamor
around himself more tightly than he’d ever done before, he entered
the tunnel. He could sense that the Lemure weren’t at the entrance
– they were further in, concealed within the darkened recesses of
the tunnel, interspersed amongst the jumble of cars.

He stuck to the
sides, moving without sound, edging his way deeper into the tunnel.
He was about a hundred feet in when he saw his first Lemure. He
froze, watching the creature carefully, waiting for any indication
that he’d been spotted. He saw no such indication. In fact, the
Lemure didn’t move at all, appearing as frozen as he was, its blood
red eyes staring at nothing. In the darkness, he gradually became
aware of how many there were, increasing in numbers further in.
He’d been right. There were potentially thousands of them in the
tunnel. They all looked like they were in the same state as the
first one, locked in some sort of upright coma.

This just might
be easier than he first suspected. He moved on, hugging the tunnel
wall, keeping his distance from the creatures. Even though they
appeared to be in some sort of stasis, it probably wouldn’t do to
disturb them. If he disturbed one, he disturbed them all. Then it
would get hairy.

He knew from
studying his map that the tunnel was over two and a half miles long
- perhaps the longest two and a half miles he would ever have to
walk. He’d got lucky though. The fact that the creatures were in
this state was definitely a bonus. If they had been fully awake, he
wasn’t sure if he would have been able to get past all of them. He
crept on and had traveled maybe a third of that distance when his
luck began to change for the worse.

The Lemures
were clustered thickly now, taking up almost every free space that
wasn’t already occupied by a wrecked car, making it almost
impossible for him to slip through without touching one. Somehow,
he still managed it, using his agility to move up the walls for a
few seconds at a time when he had to. It got him through some
tricky patches.

And then he
slipped up. It was something he didn’t do very often. His body was
so well honed, so well trained and disciplined that it rarely let
him down, always obeying and carrying out every command with
precision. Not this time, however.

He’d had to
glide up the wall to avoid a tightly packed bunch of Lemure
blocking the way. When he came down, the handle of his sword
brushed against one. Nothing happened for a moment and then the
creature’s fixed stare suddenly focused on him. Sam could sense
awareness erupting in what it considered a brain. His Wakizashi
through its eye soon stopped all that, and it disappeared in a
cloud of ash. Yet even though these events had only taken the
blinking of an eye, literally, and he’d made absolutely no sound,
other Lemure in the vicinity seemed to stir. Sam froze again, not
daring to breathe. Perhaps he’d get away with it?

Several Lemure
nearby displayed signs of rousing themselves. Forcing himself not
to voice his despair, Sam decided on a course of action. He’d go
back the way he’d come. If he went any further, he ran the risk of
awakening every single one of the Lemure in the tunnel. He didn’t
fancy those odds.

He turned back
the way he’d come and then froze once more when he saw what was
emerging out of the darkness. The Devil’s Hand. Moving with
ethereal grace, they approached in a line, avoiding the cars almost
as easily as he did. As for the Lemure – the Devil’s Hand didn’t
seem to care about their presence, shoving them out of the way,
barging past them. The Lemure gave no indication that they were
concerned with this treatment, simply waking for a moment,
identifying that these other demons posed no threat and then
retreating back into their self-imposed coma.

The nearby
Lemure were becoming aware of him now. They turned towards him,
snarling. Sam felt the gazes of the Devil’s Hand snap in his
direction. The jig was up. They knew he was in here. Tossing
caution out the window in favor of speed, he took off, both swords
out now, prepared to cut down anything that got in his way.

That turned out
to be quite a lot of demons.

He raced
through them, somersaulting and avoiding them where possible,
slashing through them and dissolving them into dust when necessary.
And it was becoming increasingly necessary.

The Devil’s
Hand must have raised the warning. Every single Lemure were now
awake and aware, luckily moving with some lethargy. With such great
numbers, it hardly mattered. Sam was boxed in, forced onto the
roofs and hoods of cars – places that he’d avoided earlier in an
attempt to avoid any noise. Noise was the least of his problems
now.

The screams of
the Lemure were deafening inside the confines of the tunnel,
amplified, reverberating and echoing around Sam, adding to the
general confusion. Lemure leapt at him, scrabbling at his legs,
tearing at his jeans and leaving bloody scratches where they
connected with bare flesh. He ignored them and raced on. Ahead of
him, some of the Lemure wised up, jumping on top of the cars in an
effort to intercept him, forming an impenetrable mass.

He dived into
them, both swords extended, plunging through and leaving a
jet-stream of ash in his wake. Somehow, he landed on his feet.
Claws struck him, this time all over his body, the sheer volume of
the attacks beyond even his capabilities to deflect. He slowed time
but it didn’t seem to help much. The Lemure were just too tightly
packed. Behind him, the Devil’s Hand, moving in slow motion, were
unimpeded, closing the distance regardless.

Despite Sam’s
training and self-control, he began to panic. There just didn’t
seem to be any way out of this. Everywhere he looked there were
Lemure, blocking his movements at every turn. For every one he
destroyed, five moved to replace it.

His ability to
focus as Hikari had trained him ran out. Time resumed its normal
pace, and the Lemure and Devil’s Hand appearing to speed up before
his eyes. Wounds appeared on his body faster than he could heal. A
clawed hand almost took off his head, leaving bloody claw tracks
across his face. Blood dripped into his eyes, partially obscuring
his vision. He was beginning to lose hope. And then he saw
something through his blood blurred vision. Far down the end of the
tunnel. A burnished glow.

At first, Sam
thought the tunnel was on fire but then he realized it was moving.
He blocked a dozen demon arms, severing them and reducing their
owners to embers before wiping the blood out of his eyes. A fire
that moved? That didn’t sound right. And then he sensed what it was
and relief washed over him.

Yeth. Unbidden,
his Hellhound was riding to his rescue.

Sam renewed his
efforts, trying to force his way through the mass of demon bodies.
Yeth got closer, the carnage he was inflicting forcing the Lemure
to turn towards the new threat. Sam sensed their panic and
confusion. Another demon attacking them? Not only that, a greater
Hellhound - a demon feared by almost all others.

The distraction
suddenly gave him openings. He struck out with both swords, using
his whirlwind attack, opening up a clear space on top of the car.
Yeth ploughed on and even Sam paused to witness the sheer majesty
of a Hellhound in full attack mode.

Yeth probably
weighed as much as a rhinoceros; perhaps as much as four thousand
pounds. Not only that, but his armored scales deflected even the
most determined attack. Yeth’s flaming hide ignited any part of a
Lemure foolish enough to get in his way. Those that didn’t were
simply trampled. As he charged, Yeth discharged an almost
continuous stream of fire, withering many more Lemure that were now
fleeing before him. Even cars were not immune to the power of a
Hellhound, burnt and blasted out of his path. It was a full rout;
the Lemure streamed past Sam, now oblivious to him in their haste.
He almost felt sorry for them.

Sam turned but
the Devil’s Hand were nowhere to be seen. He couldn’t even sense
them amongst all the confusion. They must have retreated in order
to avoid the panicked stampede.

The distance
between them now clear of obstacles, Yeth hurtled towards him. The
great demon skidded to a halt a few feet from Sam, shaking the
ground, his obsidian claws generating sparks where they dug into
the road.

Sam smiled. It
was quite an entrance. Not for the first time did he thank his good
fortune for Yeth. Reluctantly, he also silently thanked Samyaza. If
it hadn’t been for the Watcher – without his knowledge and the
statuette - he and Yeth would never have met. He did owe the
Watcher. The great demon was a gift. His Hellhound always had his
back, and without him, all would have been lost long ago.

At Sam’s
unspoken command, Yeth extinguished his fire. Sam was immune to the
Hellhound’s fire, but his clothes and backpack certainly weren’t,
and there were precious items in his backpack that he couldn’t
afford to lose. He also didn’t want to arrive in New York
naked.

The injuries
and the sudden darkness caused his head to spin, momentarily
disorientating him. Shakily, painfully, leaking blood, Sam dragged
himself onto Yeth’s back, only now becoming aware of the extent of
his injuries. There were many, some of them quite deep. He would
need several hours - if not days - to recover.

He’d just
settled himself onto Yeth when the Devil’s Hand suddenly reemerged,
impinging on his awareness. In the confusion, Sam had missed one of
them. Even Yeth had overlooked it. Concealed by the fleeing Lemure,
the Cambion had snuck up on Sam from behind. As Yeth turned towards
the city, intent on carrying his master out of the tunnel, the
Cambion darted out from behind the concealment of a car and leapt,
his blade before him like a spear.

At the very
last moment, Sam reacted. But he was still a fraction too late.

It was one of
the male demons. One of the ones he hadn’t killed before.
Thankfully. If it had been one of the demons he’d already killed,
he wouldn’t have survived. As it was, the Cambion’s Hell-wrought
blade pierced his side even as Sam’s sword darted out like a snake
and plunged through the demon’s chest, killing it. It disappeared,
but the damage had already been done. Sam clutched his side with
one hand and it came away smeared in thick arterial blood. This
wasn’t good.

Grunting, he
managed to sheathe his sword, using this free hand to hold on to
Yeth’s neck. Without it, he would’ve fallen. The rest of the
Devil’s Hand materialized out of the darkness. Yeth didn’t need to
be told, leaping away and soon out-distancing the remaining four
members of the Devil’s Hand. Sam clung on for dear life. If he
fell, the Cambions would have him.

As Yeth loped
away from danger, Sam could feel his life leaking out of him. The
Cambion’s cursed sword wound would not heal easily, perhaps not in
time to save him. Already his other cuts were reopening, the Hell
sword having reduced his body’s abilities to heal itself. He felt
weak. Dizzy. The ceiling and sides of the tunnel spun sickeningly.
Several times he almost toppled from Yeth’s back. Somehow, he
managed to stay upright, clinging onto Yeth’s neck with both arms,
heedless of the blood pouring from his wounded side.

In the
distance, an oval patch of lighter grey gradually revealed itself.
They were nearing the tunnel exit. Thankfully, Yeth had destroyed
or scared off any remaining Lemure. They were alone in the
tunnel.

As they emerged
from the tunnel, that all changed. Several armed figures stepped
out of the shadows. One of them stepped forward, wearing both a
helmet and a mask to ward off ash. Sam, defenseless as a newborn
baby, made no move to resist as the figure helped him off Yeth’s
back, easing him onto the ground. He took it as a positive sign
that this person must not be in league with demons. They would’ve
killed him outright by now if they were.

In some
confusion, barely able to focus, Sam noticed that Yeth had turned
and was reentering the tunnel. He turned his head on its side to
track his Hellhound’s progress.

“Yeth. Stop.
Don’t go. I need you.” He forced the words out, gritting his teeth
against the pain, desperately trying to remain conscious. “Take me
to Hell. I’ll heal quicker there.” There was something n his mouth,
making speech difficult. It was only then that he realized it was
blood.

Yeth turned his
great head, his eyes glowing in the darkness. No good. Devil’s Hand
will follow. I will stop. Give you time.

Sam tried to
sit upright. “No!” he managed to blurt. “They’ll kill you.”

Yeth ignored
him, loping off into the inky darkness of the tunnel.

“Come back,” he
yelled. “I command you!”

His weak voice
was suddenly drowned out by automatic gunfire. All around him, the
other figures returned fire, the noise deafening around the tunnel
entrance. Shell impacts sparked and ricocheted all around him but
Sam was beyond caring.

The effort was
too much. He sank back down to the ground. By the time his head had
hit the ground, he was already unconscious.