He wondered where she was right now and when he’d see her next. Unbidden, he thought about what his father had said about her. How those in Heaven were using her to manipulate him. He didn’t believe it for a second but then again, Gabriel had always been a bit loose with the truth. Perhaps there was something the Archangel wasn’t telling him?
The words of his father came back to him: he’d find out soon enough.
Chapter Seventeen
Pennsylvania
“ Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die.”
Romans 5:7
Sometime during the next night, he passed into Pennsylvania. He’d spent most of the time on the Interstate which seemed to be the easiest way to get around these days. In the first year after the Rapture, it had almost been a death trap. Bandits had preyed upon anyone travelling down them and Sam avoided them at all costs. Now, most survivors had either retreated to the mountains or the wilderness. The lucky ones were at the few operational armed forces bases. The interstates also seemed to resist the worst that the nature could throw at them. The increase in the amount of earthquakes and firestorms had done little to affect their structural integrity. Other, smaller roads hadn’t fared as well. Sam had entered small towns in the recent past that were impassable — almost completely destroyed.
As for the Cambions — well, he’d got lucky there. He hadn’t seen one sign of them which was just as well given that he’d only just started to feel his normal self after the injuries he’d sustained in the last encounter. The moon was helping though. As soon as it had emerged, he’d immediately started feeling better. It also gave him something to look at as he walked. Something about the crimson sphere drew his attention and gave him comfort like nothing else. And there wasn’t much else to see. The sky was otherwise featureless. No stars, just a few dark ominous looking clouds that hinted of rain but never delivered.
He thought about Aimi almost continuously, wondering how long it would be until he saw her again. He also considered the problem of Gabriel. He desperately wanted to talk to her, to get reassurance, to have some of his questions answered. At one point, he was even so brazen as to call her name out loud, but wasn’t terribly surprised when she didn’t immediately materialize.
He’d kept his glamor and his concealment ability wrapped closely about him like a cloak. It was clear that the Cambions could track him physically, even if they couldn’t sense him, so he took care to conceal his tracks. He passed various other demons as he jogged along — some no more than twenty feet away — but they failed to notice his presence. An hour earlier, an Astaroth had even flown over his head, so close he could’ve stabbed it with his sword but it hadn’t even looked down, oblivious to the dangerous temptation below. Sometimes, to amuse himself, he thought of himself in those terms — a dangerous temptation. Like chocolate to an obese person. They wanted him but were likely to get killed in the process.
Fifteen minutes earlier, he’d moved through Wheeling and across the West Virginia River — not that there was much left to see of the once mighty flow of water. It had all but dried up; the remnants an ugly, sluggish, ash-filled goop. No living thing could possibly survive drinking that.
Shortly thereafter, he was in Pennsylvania. Jogging down the car-strewn interstate about twenty miles later, he found himself passing through another town. He located a road sign and cleaned it off enough to read what it said. Washington. He was in Washington, Pennsylvania. First town he’d been through in Pennsylvania. First time in Pennsylvania, actually. During his travels, Sam had visited roughly half the states but none now were terribly different from each other. All mostly deserted, covered in ash, vegetation dead or dying, ravished by earthquake and fire. It became depressingly monotonous after a while. What he’d give for a bit of color for a change.
Now, Sam guessed it must be around 5am. Just outside Washington, still on the interstate. Sam liked this time of the morning. It was often a lull time when everything was quiet. There were fewer demons on the streets and in the air, and even the light swirl of ash ceased for a while.
Into this quiet, something intruded — a light in the sky. Sam’s heart began to beat faster in his chest with the thought that it could be Aimi but as it got closer, Sam felt his excitement ebb away. It was an angel alright, but it wasn’t her. Couldn’t be her. Far too big.
The angel hurtled down towards him. At almost the last moment, it unfurled its folded wings like a sail and landed with graceful precision just in front of Sam. He recognized her immediately.
“Hello, Gabriel.” Perhaps she’d heard him call her name after all but had deliberately waited. It would be a bad look if an Archangel dropped everything to answer a summons from a demon. Probably frowned upon in her angelic circles.
She nodded ever so slightly at him, smiled and folded her wings neatly behind her back. Her glow began to fade almost as soon as she landed. Sam figured it was probably done in a conscious effort not to draw any more attention to herself. Not that it mattered. Demons for miles around would’ve seen it, but given it was almost dawn, they might not investigate. Besides, demons were probably pretty wary of glowing lights in the sky by now. They could only mean one thing.
“Good morning, Samael.”
“You’re being very formal with me, aren’t you?” he asked, keeping his tone light. “Normally you call me Sam. Something to do with my popularity at the moment?”
“Popularity?” she asked, sounding puzzled.
“I had a few visitors yesterday. First Aimi, which was a welcome surprise. Then my father. Finally a group of Cambions out on a hunting expedition. It would’ve been fun except for the fact that they were hunting me. Know anything about all this?”
The only indication Gabriel gave of being surprised was raising her eyebrows slightly. “First, Aimi. Yes, of course I knew about her. We gave her permission to visit you. Secondly, no. It concerns me that the Great Betrayer would contact you now, of all times. He’s up to something as usual. And thirdly, that’s just the subject I came to warn you about.”
It was Sam’s turn to be surprised. “What? The Cambions?”
Gabriel nodded. “How did you fare against them?” she asked.
“Ok, I guess,” he replied. There were times to talk things up — not that it was in Sam’s nature to do so. This, however, wasn’t one of them. “I got one of them but not before he wounded me. He had one of those cursed blades. Like my brothers.”
“Like your brother’s, but not as powerful. Like his, they have the ability to drain energy though. They also slow your healing powers.”
“I know all this,” said Sam impatiently. “I found out the hard way. I had to smash my way out of the motel I was in. Broke my foot and dislocated my shoulder in the process. They almost had me, then dawn came and they disappeared. Just as well. There’s no way I could’ve beaten them all.”
“They are known as the Devil’s Hand, in case you didn’t know.”
This was news to him. “Devil’s what?”
“Hand. Lucifer has used them for thousands of years to conduct special missions — missions of grave importance to him. He does not employ them lightly. That’s what I came to warn you about, not just to have a casual conversation. These are not just normal Cambions you are dealing with.”
“I know,” he said. “They’re of royal blood, like mine but weaker.”
“No,” said Gabriel. She looked grim. “That’s not it at all. Yes, they are of royal blood, but the Devil’s Hand is special.”
“Special, how?” he asked. “They still died like every other demon, didn’t they?” And then the memory struck him again. The knowing smile of the demon as he killed it and the odd way it just disappeared. He clicked his fingers. “It’s not dead, is it?”
She smiled at him without humor. “Very perceptive, Samael. The Devil’s Hand is the most deadly foe you are ever likely to face because they cannot be killed here on Earth. In fact, every time yo
u kill them here, they will return stronger.”
“Let me get this straight,” said Sam, something like panic awakening in his chest. “Each time I kill one, it comes back stronger than it was before? You mean the one I destroyed yesterday will come back and be faster and more deadly?”
“Exactly.”
Sam threw his arms up into the air in exasperation. “Great. Wonderful. How am I supposed to compete with that? I barely managed to defeat one of them yesterday. Why has my father sent them against me? And why now?”
“I don’t know,” confessed Gabriel. “This is a crucial time for him. For all of us. Your brother will be sailing for these shores at the head of an invasion fleet very shortly. Perhaps your father wants you out of the way, to ensure that your brother succeeds where he failed last time. And of course, you must know where you will end up if you do die…”
Sam froze. Despite everything, he hadn’t really thought of this. Hadn’t thought it through. Maybe he was avoiding it as something too terrible to contemplate. But as soon as Gabriel said it, he knew. When he died he would go to Hell. Not Heaven. Hell. It was where he belonged.
Gabriel saw the realization dawn in his face. She reached out and touched his arm in what he knew was intended as a sympathetic gesture. Angrily, he shook it off.
“Yes, Hell. Then you will be at his mercy and his command. That must be his intention. Where he failed to convince you with coercion and lies, he will succeed with brute force.”
Sam knew that was exactly his father’s intention. He wouldn’t waste such a valuable resource as the Devil’s Hand on him otherwise. But he wouldn’t go down without a fight. Surely, there must be a way to defeat them?
“How can I win?” he asked, pleased that his voice did not betray him.
Gabriel looked away. If Sam knew her at all, she appeared conflicted. “I shouldn’t be telling you this. There will be a price to pay for this knowledge but I think you deserve to know. To end them, to end the Devil’s Hand once and for all, you must face them and destroy each one in Hell.”
Sam was surprised. “Is that all? Doesn’t sound too difficult.”
“Your arrogance is unbecoming,” she said, scowling at him. Sam didn’t care. Gabriel’s approval was the last thing on his mind. “The Devil’s Hand is notoriously difficult to find, their location a closely guarded secret. And even if you did find them, you will be fighting them on their own turf. As a unit. In Hell, they never fight alone.”
Sam nodded but said nothing. A thought had just occurred to him but he wasn’t about to share it with Gabriel.
“And what of your father?” she asked. “What did he tell you?”
Something told Sam it was best not to mention Aimi in the conversation. He had a feeling that in the manipulation stakes, both Heaven and Hell were guilty. “Nothing really. Just his usual mocking. Told me to expect a surprise.” The Devil’s Hand and their unusual powers presumably. Well, Sam hoped so in any case. He didn’t need any more surprises at this stage.
Gabriel appeared satisfied with this response. “I see.”
“What am I supposed to do now? Any particular instructions or advice?”
“Just keep doing what you are doing. In New York, you will find many desperate souls. Help them when you can. Destroy those who deserve it. Prepare the way for Him, for your Savior.”
“And what about Aimi?”
Gabriel smiled her knowing smile. “You will see her again.”
“When?” he demanded.
Gabriel’s smile evaporated. “Do not demand things of me, demon spawn. You will see her in good time. Now, I must be off. I will see you again soon, Samael.”
Once again, Sam said nothing, just watched her as she took off, disappearing through the cloud cover that was even now brightening with the advance of daylight. He hadn’t appreciated her tone. Demon spawn indeed. Something had nettled her. And he suspected that he knew what. Gabriel was unaccustomed to demands being made from her. Especially from a half-human, half-demon hybrid. Aimi seemed to be a sore point as well. He wondered what was really going on behind the scenes. It certainly appeared that he was being toyed with a little. Heaven was using Aimi to keep him on side, while his father was trying to kill him to ensure that he was trapped in Hell at his side.
Life used to be quite simple, really, but had gotten rather complex of late. All he used to have to think about was survival but now, now things were altogether different. What’s more, he was sick of being manipulated.
He jogged on. Dawn was coming and he needed some place to rest. At least that was straightforward.
It turned out that finding a place to rest for the day wasn’t all that simple after all. At the next town — the map told him he was probably in Bedford — he picked the first reasonably intact house he came to, figuring one house was no different than any other to rest for the day. He was wrong. He should have grasped the waves from their minds, but their thoughts were so weak they hardly registered.
Kicking open the door, he was standing amongst them before he even knew they were there, cowering amongst the shadows. Humans. Just starting to stir having survived the night. Probably about to go out scavenging for the day.
He heard some stifled screams and his hands went to his swords without thinking. In a backroom somewhere, someone was sobbing. He was in a darkened room. Windows bordered up and covered with curtains. Huddled in corners on filthy mattresses were several Humans. Sam could smell rotting flesh and he knew without a doubt, that some, if not all of them had the plague.
It was a surprise they were still alive. Not only had they survived the plague and starvation, but the demons had not taken them. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously but nothing immediately pointed to demon worship. Striding over to one of the cowering figures, he pulled her to her feet. It was a young woman, no more than fifteen but so skinny and malnourished that she weighed probably half what Aimi did — and she was tiny.
The girl tried to push his hands away from her but she was as weak as a baby. He turned her wrist over. Nothing. No mark. No tattoo. She wasn’t a demon worshipper. More roughly than he intended, he checked two more. No mark. They were clean.
“What… what do you want?” asked a man, standing shakily. He was probably Sam’s age but looked ten years older.
Sam held his hands up, palms facing outwards. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just looking for a place to rest.”
“Perhaps, you would like to look elsewhere,” said the man. He flinched every time Sam looked at him. “I’m not being rude but we don’t have enough for ourselves, let alone someone else. Besides, many of us are sick.”
Sam smiled, trying to reassure the obviously terrified youth. “It’s ok. I don’t want any of your food but I do have a question for you.”
“What is it?” asked the man, sinking to the floor. Even standing seemed to be too much of an effort for him.
“How have you survived? Why haven’t the demons taken you?”
The man on the floor signed wearily. He looked at the others before replying. Sam could see that he was considering lying but then decided against it. “We have a generator. Underneath the house. There’s a deep well under there as well. We grow a bit of food using hydroponics. Some food. It’s never enough.”
“And what about the demons?” asked Sam.
The man shrugged. “They don’t bother us. We haven’t seen one in months.”
Sam thought this was strange and yet he wanted to trust these people. They didn’t seem to have done anything wrong, their only crime being left behind to endure the Tribulation. And he liked the fact that they were survivors. That they had managed to start the process of civilization again in this small town. It gave him hope — hope for the rest of humanity that remained.
On a whim, he unstrapped his backpack and began to rummage around, aware that the people in the room were cringing back in terror, expecting the worse. He pulled out two small vials and some disposable needles. He tossed them to the man
who caught them with a nervous flutter.
“What’s this?” the youth stammered.
“Antibiotics,” said Sam. “It’ll get rid of the plague. Should be enough to treat everyone if you use it sparingly. Try not to eat too many rats.” Before he’d left, the Colonel had made him stock up on as much antibiotics as he could carry. If rumors were to be believed, New York was rife with the disease.
The man stood again, tears streaming out of his eyes. “I don’t know who you are, stranger, or why you are helping us, but I thank you,” he said. “I thank you on behalf of all of us here. What can we do for you in return?”
“Survive,” said Sam. “That will be thanks enough for me.”
Around him, the other plague victims were standing up. Sam wasn’t sure of their intentions. He was ready for anything though but surely they wouldn’t attack him? They simply weren’t strong enough. Were they that desperate to get at his supplies? He shifted his feet, readying his hands to draw both swords. The circle of shuffling figures got closer and closer. Soon they were close enough to halt but they didn’t stop there.
Sam didn’t like his personal space being invaded. He wasn’t used to being touched but he made an exception in this case as fifteen half dead, plague ridden survivors enfolded Sam in their arms and hugged him like they’re never hugged anyone before. Feelings stirred. Ones that at first he couldn’t identify because he hadn’t felt them before. Then he knew.
This was what it felt like to feel good about yourself.
Chapter Eighteen
Betrayals
“ Don't let anyone deceive you in any way, for that day will not come until the rebellion occurs and the man of lawlessness is revealed, the man doomed to destruction.”
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