Tribulation (38 page)

Semiazias
nodded slowly as if acknowledging the truth of what Sam was saying.
“Of course. I knew you were coming. I’ve also got no inclination to
have a repeat performance of our last encounter.”

Semiazias
suddenly gestured around the room. What had been obscured was
suddenly made clear. “You know everyone else, I think. The Devil’s
Hand have already made your acquaintance and are very keen to get
to know you better.”

The five
Cambions emerged from the shadows, their presence now clear in
Sam’s mind. In a move that appeared almost rehearsed, they lowered
their heads towards Sam, seemingly in a gesture of respect.

Sam should have
known. Should have at least guessed that the Devil’s Hand still had
a part to play in this. They had, after all, been charged by his
father to kill him. He felt an urge to check his watch again,
knowing that at least another minute had elapsed. It was too
obvious to check the time though. His brother would suspect
something. Instead, Sam began counting down in his head.

“I think they
have something of a grudge against you now,” continued Semiazias
conversationally. “Especially after you killed two of them. Oh –
and your pet Hellhound didn’t help either. Seems he was a bit of an
inconvenience. Caused them to lose your trail for a bit there. Not
that it wasn’t sorted out in the end. I don’t think your Hellhound
will be around anymore to help you out. They made sure of
that.”

Sam felt his
rage building at that. If the jibe about their mother hadn’t hit
home, this certainly had. Yeth had been his only friend and these
creatures, had killed him. They would pay. Oh yes. They would pay
alright. He let his rage take over, enjoying the sensation as his
eyes turned red. He had something like less than three minutes
until the airstrike. Three minutes to hurt these demons as much as
he could. In three minutes, the smirk on his brother’s face would
be wiped off forever.

“Come on then,”
he snarled, drawing his swords.

The Devil’s
Hand didn’t need a second invitation. They advanced, their faces
grim, both male and female with swords already in their hands. His
brother and the two Succubi looked on, appearing to enjoy the
spectacle, much like sports fans at a game. Sam thought he
recognized two of the Cambions, marking them for the ones he had
already killed. They would be the stronger ones – the two he would
have to watch.

Their tactics
were simple but also incredibly effective. The moved to surround
him, to attack him from all angles, making it all but impossible
for him to defend. They hadn’t counted on his whirlwind attack
though – an attack specifically designed for this scenario. They
weren’t aware of it – how could they be having never encountered it
before? And they were supremely confident in their abilities. Why
wouldn’t they be? Even if they failed this time, they could come
back at him again and again. Death was no hindrance for them. It
would, on the other hand, be a severe setback for Sam.

Unbidden, the
words of Miyamoto Musashi came to him, words that applied to
situations just like this:
There are many enemies applies when
you are fighting one against many. Draw both sword and companion
sword and assume a wide-stretched left and right attitude. The
spirit is to chase the enemies around from side to side, even
though they come from all four directions.

He moved faster
than he ever had in his life. Desperation lent him more strength
and speed than he’d thought possible. And what had the Watcher told
him? That he had more power than he knew. Perhaps it was time to
show it – to truly embrace his heritage and the power that it
entailed. It was time to even the odds.

The move was
devastating. To the human eye, Sam was a whirling dervish, both
swords almost invisible, seemingly everywhere at once. Sam felt
both blades bite deep – his Katana straight through the torso of
one of the Cambions, while his Wakizashi almost decapitated a
second. Both demons disappeared. Neither one of them were the ones
he’d killed before. Worse luck.

He
straightened, feeling drained and sluggish. The great exertion had
cost him. Sensing his weakness, the three remaining Cambions
attacked together – two from either side and one from the rear. The
one to his left – a female - seemed just that much slower than the
others. He blocked her attack with one of his shorter blade,
sweeping it to the side and plunged his Katana through her eye. She
had time to emit one shriek before she disappeared.

The move didn’t
come without a price. He danced away, spinning, sensing the
attacks, but his arms felt heavy. A blade slashed through his upper
arm, all the way through to the bone. Immediately, he felt the
deadly draining effect from the hell-blade. That was from the male
Cambion. The sword carried on down on an angle, leaving a bloody
trail across his body, ripping open his hoodie all the way to his
waist. He felt and then heard something drop from his pocket and
onto the floor. His last remaining frag. Sam’s attention was
distracted for the briefest of moments. It was all the time the
other Cambion needed. The female suddenly spun on her heel. As she
did so, she crouched down. In Sam’s weakened state, it was an
attack that was impossible to resist.

Her blade bit
through both of his shins. He cried out in pain and staggered,
barely deflecting another blow that would’ve taken off his head
otherwise, casting around desperately for his lost grenade. Out of
the corner of his eye, he saw it, rolling towards his brother’s
desk, just as one of the Succubi (was it Lilith? – he couldn’t be
sure) bent down to pick it up.

Sam knew he
only had seconds remaining. Seconds before the airstrike. Seconds
before the last two remaining members of the Devil’s Hand finished
him off. Either way, he’d be dead. Sam leapt backwards, mustering
as much energy as he could, giving himself as much space as he
could between them.

Over the
shoulders of the two advancing Cambions, he saw the Succubi lift up
his grenade and smile at him, gloating. She mouthed the words
‘Looking for this?’ at him.

He could hardly
lift his swords now; his life blood was leaving him, draining onto
the expensive rug. He felt nauseous. The two Cambions were raising
their swords, smiling in anticipation of the kill. Somewhere
outside, he heard a roar and he knew what it was - knew that it
spelled death.

Despite his
weakness, he reached out with his mind, feeling for the object,
willing it to move with all his might. At the last second, his
brother realized what he was doing. His eyes went wide with
terror.

“No!” Semiazias
bellowed, lunging for the Succubi and the object she held in her
hand. The she-demon turned towards the noise of her master, missing
the fact that the pin on the grenade she was holding had somehow …
fallen out.

Both Cambions
also turned at the noise. Sam realized an opportunity when he saw
one. Lunging as fast as he was able, he hurled himself through the
wall-length window, just as the frag detonated. As he flew out the
window, surrounded by a rapidly expanding cloud of glass shards, a
much larger detonation suddenly erupted, the shockwave kicking with
the force of what felt like an elephant landing on him.

The ground was
lurching up towards him at terrifying velocity. Even in his losing
battle with consciousness, he knew there was iron beneath him. The
impact would kill him. There was no doubt in his mind. As he
tumbled and fell, Sam started to smile. It had been worth it
though. Some good had come of this. At least he’d killed his
brother.

The thought
comforted him as he plummeted to his death. Other faces appeared in
his head: Aimi, his mother, Hikari, Yeth, Grace, his father and
brother. All the people he’d saved. Those he considered friends.
Where he was going, he wasn’t going to see any of them ever again.
He doubted whether the eternal sea of fire encouraged visitors.

As he lost
consciousness, he realized his mind must have been playing tricks
on him because he felt hands on him. Hands that were soft but
incredibly strong. Hands that lifted him up, carrying him gently
towards the clouds that raged and boiled above.

Heaven

“
To open their eyes
and turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan
to God, so that they may receive forgiveness of sins and a place
among those who are sanctified by faith in me.”
Acts
26:18

A
ttack.”

Aimi did just
that, her movements lithe, balanced, light as a dancer’s, doing as
Hikari bid.

Sam waited
calmly, trying not to grin, knowing that Aimi had really taken the
previous night’s lesson to heart. Hikari had read from his favorite
textbook on swordplay - Miyamoto Musashi’s, Book of Five Rings. The
passage had been about the environment and how to use it to your
advantage. Aimi, with her usual academic brilliance, had memorized
every last word.

She stood with
the descending sun behind her, knowing full well the effect it had
on Sam. A normal opponent would’ve been at a disadvantage, their
vision impaired by the light in their eyes. With Sam, it was
compounded, his eyes much more sensitive to daylight. He squinted,
keeping his eyes downcast, using his peripherals to track her
movements.

Behind and to
Sam’s right was the training rack. Aimi came in from his left,
trying to force him that way. Sam almost laughed. It was a textbook
maneuver, straight out of Musashi. When the fight comes, always
endeavor to chase the enemy around to your left side. Chase him
towards awkward places, and try to keep him with his back to
awkward places.

She knew that
Sam would have to watch his footing as he backed away, conscious of
the obstacle behind him. He thought of a few tactics to counter
her. Musashi’s tactics. Foremost amongst them was to dash in
quickly, attacking before she could, taking her by surprise. Ken no
Sen. But he knew she would anticipate this, having committed every
scrap of Musashi wisdom to memory.

Instead, he did
what Hikari had been drilling into him recently. To think
laterally. To do the unexpected.

He took this to
heart, doing a backwards somersault over the rack, landing lightly,
poised for her attack. She didn’t disappoint, jumping over the
rack, her spear stretched outwards to stab at his heart, committed
to Ken no Sen herself.

It was a rash
move and, in Sam’s mind, the wrong one. Aimi took all the wisdom
from her books too literally. For all her intelligence, she
sometimes lacked flexibility and the ability to think outside the
box, obeying the lessons to the letter like it was carved in stone.
He supposed that Hikari hadn’t worked with her like he had with
him, knowing that she wouldn’t need to adapt as much as he.

With a lesser
opponent, her attack probably would have succeeded. With Sam,
despite her obvious skill and speed, it was almost too easy. Moving
so swiftly he doubted she saw the danger, he brought his left
shinai across the shaft of her spear, sliding the weapon down to
his right side. His right shinai came in over the top, lightly
tapping her on the top of the head.

The fight, in
his opinion was over. Aimi had lost. He stepped backwards and
lowered his weapons. Unfortunately for him, Aimi had other ideas.
Unexpectedly, she darted forwards, straight into his arms. Before
he could react with anything other than astonishment, she planted a
long, wet kiss on his lips.

He didn’t know
what to do. All thoughts of tactics or strategy went out of his
head along with any other coherent thought. The kiss was, after
all, pretty good. He suspected that both he and Aimi were both
getting better. At kissing that is. They’d certainly been
practicing a lot lately.

It wasn’t until
he started returning the kiss that he felt it pressing up against
his ribs. Reluctantly, with something that felt like despair, he
broke off the kiss and looked down. Clutched in Aimi’s tiny hand
was a knife.

He raised his
chin, catching Aimi’s stare. She looked serious for a moment,
intense, and then she suddenly broke into a huge grin and started
laughing, hugging him and giving him another kiss.

“I hope you’ve
learnt something from this, Sam,” said Hikari. Sam glanced over at
his master. He could tell that Hikari was using every ounce of his
self-control to remain outwardly calm and not break into
laughter.

“And what’s
that?” he demanded, failing in his efforts to control his
blush.

“Never
underestimate your opponent,” replied Hikari.

“And never
trust a woman,” grinned Aimi.

This time Sam
couldn’t resist her, his heart brimming with happiness. He gathered
Aimi into his arms and pressed his lips against hers, forestalling
the smile that was in danger of breaking out on his face.

“Stop it,
Samael.” The familiar voice suddenly intruded into his thoughts. He
broke off his kiss, snapping his neck around, trying to identify
the source. When it wasn’t immediately repeated, he shrugged,
trying to connect with Aimi’s mouth again. But this time, something
was wrong. He felt it. The edges around Aimi were becoming blurred,
but he wouldn’t allow this to stop him kissing his beloved.

Just as their
lips met again, the voice came back. Annoyingly persistent.

“This isn’t
helping, Samael. We need to get out of here. Now. Snap out of
it.”

Sam broke off
his kiss again. He shook his head, trying to shake the irritating
voice out. It didn’t work.

“This isn’t
real, Samael. This is your projection of a happier time. Long ago.
You need to come back to the present.”

He looked at
Aimi again. Now, she appeared far less substantial, almost
ghost-like. He tried to touch her but his hand passed through her
harmlessly. Around him, the rocky terrain and the red
brush-smattered soil of Utah was fading out fast. Hikari had
disappeared, as had the weapons rack. Desperately, he tried to
cling to it, cling to the happy memory – because that’s what it
was. A memory. He knew it wasn’t real, wasn’t happening now, but a
part of him didn’t care. He wanted it to continue, didn’t want it
to end ever. It was a beautiful memory, one of the happiest of his
life.