Tribulation

by Philip W Simpson

  He fell back into her embrace and hugged her fiercely to him as their lips met again, this time with more passion. He let go of his inner turmoil, self-doubts and just went with the feel of Aimi’s mouth on his. Maybe his kisses were clumsy but he no longer cared. He just wanted to be with her again. He sensed her becoming lost in the passionate moment too, and he moved his arms from her waist, further up her back. And then his roving hand found something unexpected. He stopped suddenly, frozen in shock for the second time in minutes.

  He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed earlier but his attention had been captivated by her face and all the features he knew and remembered. His conscious mind had simply ignored the fact that she was slightly illuminated in the darkness. He’d failed to notice the silver armor and the sword belted at her waist. And, of course, he hadn’t been able to see the wings arching over her back - feathery wings, whiter than anything he’d ever seen before.

  He staggered back from her, uncertain and confused, and crouched on the carpet, panting like he’d just run several miles. “What …” he managed to croak.

  She stood before him, radiant and beautiful, so beautiful it made his heart ache. He’d never seen her look so stunning before. She’d been sixteen when the Rapture had taken her and didn’t look like she’d aged a day. He guessed people didn’t really age in Heaven. And not only that. She was happy. Content. Just looking at her made him want to cry with happiness. Not that he could, but he needed to vent his feelings and confusion somehow.

  Aimi smiled at him reassuringly. She hadn’t moved from where she stood beside the bed. This time, when she spoke, the words came from her mouth.

  “I know this is hard to understand, Sam, but I’ll explain everything. It’s going to be ok.” She beamed at him again, erasing some of his doubts, easing the swirling sense of panic fluttering in his breast. As she sat down on the side of the bed she turned her sideways to him, revealing the true extent of her wings. She patted the place next to her. “Come and sit with me.”

  Without knowing that he was moving, he was suddenly next to her. Her hand was in his and the feeling brought back a rush of warm memories. She used to do this when they were younger. Almost without him being aware, her hand would find its way into his. The feeling was almost as satisfying as the kiss they’d just shared.

  They faced each other in silence, faces only inches apart, the only light coming from the faint glow of her body.

  “I … I thought I’d never see you again …” he began.

  Aimi put one delicate finger on his lips to silence him. “Hush. There are things that need to be said and little time to say them. As usual.” She paused for breath, her eyes locked to his. He finally realized what was different with her eyes. They had silver flecks in them, flecks that he’d never noticed before.

  She smiled in a disarming fashion. “This should be fairly obvious to you – well, to anyone really – but I’m no longer what you might call human. Sam. My Sunshine. I’m an angel.”

  Sam knew it. Of course she was. How could she not be? The questions swirling around his head were not what but how.

  She nodded as if hearing his thoughts, which apparently she could. “I was chosen,” she said. “Few are. In fact, none have been for thousands of years. Gabriel said that the war on Hell has taken its toll on the Angelic ranks though. They needed more.”

  “Why you?” Sam managed to ask.

  “Because, apparently, I’m pure.” She rolled her eyes theatrically. “A pure soul. Uncontaminated by greed, hatred and other undesirable human traits. I tried to argue but they said that’s what someone who was pure would do. There was no reasoning with them. They were adamant, and what am I in the face of angelic determination? I relented, of course - with one condition.”

  “What was that?” Sam asked, knowing in his heart what the answer would be.

  She smiled at him, the movement sending streaking arcs of lightning through his cerebral cortex, directly wired to the pleasure centers in his brain. “That I’d get to visit you from time to time, of course. Silly.”

  Sam didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. From time to time? What on Heaven and Earth did that mean? Would he only get to see her occasionally, when the hierarchy that existed in Heaven determined her every movement? He suppressed his frustration, feeling suddenly ungrateful and unworthy. What was he complaining about? He had her here and now, with him. How shallow and selfish must he appear? As Aimi seemed to have the same basic mind reading skill that he had, he tried desperately to shield his mind, like he would from another demon.

  And at that moment, he determined that he would change, make Aimi proud of him. No longer would he be subject to his baser temperament. He could control it. He would control it. He shouldn’t have to shield his mind from her. She was part of who he was. She had made him the man he was today.

  He let go of the shield around his mind and relaxed, letting Aimi see the confusion and frustration ebb away. He could see that she sensed it, too, smiling at him again.

  “How often?” he asked, seeking to keep the desperation out of his voice.

  She tilted her head, a delicate gesture he remembered fondly. “When my duties allow.”

  “What duties?” He was intrigued.

  “All angels have duties. Some are assigned to watch over certain individuals. Guardian angels, if you will.”

  “Are you one of those?” he asked eagerly. “If you are, you could get assigned to me. Then …”

  Aimi held up a hand to stop the torrent of excited words pouring from his mouth. “No, Sam. I know. It’s what I wanted too. What I asked for, in fact. I was refused. Guardian angels are often much more senior than I. I’m far too junior and inexperienced for such a responsibility. Besides, you already have a Guardian Angel. Of sorts.”

  Sam breathed out heavily, determined to keep his promise and control his frustration. “You’re talking about Gabriel.”

  “Yes. I’ve been told that Gabriel is much too busy to act as a Guardian angel for anyone, but she made an exception for you. She likes to keep an eye on you.” She paused again and met his eye once more. Sam could detect no emotion from her at all. Was she jealous? Of him and Gabriel? Impossible! Not Aimi. Not his Aimi who was the nicest person he’d ever met in his life. No wonder she’d been chosen as an angel. If she wasn’t worthy, then no human was!

  “It’s not like I see her very often. In fact, I haven’t seen her for years.”

  It was true. The last time they’d had any contact with her was just before he ventured into Hell to rescue Grace. She wasn’t envious, though. As she listened, Aimi’s mind opened to him like a flower in the sun. The only emotion Sam could perceive was love. Love for him.

  “So what is your role, then?” he asked.

  “I act as a messenger. Sometimes, I have to pass on messages between the Grigori and Heaven; occasionally between Heaven and Hell but that doesn’t happen very often. I’m also assigned to report on certain events. There’s more – lots more – going on than you can possibly imagine.”

  Sam smiled crookedly at her, feeling a little smug. “Oh, I don’t know. I think I’m fairly well informed at the moment. I know for instance that the Antichrist and his forces are planning an invasion of the U.S.”

  “Yes.” Aimi nodded slowly. “We were hoping that this information had filtered through. But there’s more that I can’t tell you.”

  “Rules?” asked Sam.

  “Rules,” she agreed, smiling wryly at him.

  They sat in comfortable silence for a moment. “So, when did you actually become all angelic and everything?” he said, trying to keep the conversation light. He really wanted to kiss her again.

  “I don’t really know. Time doesn’t really seem to well, pass in Heaven. There just doesn’t seem to be any concept of it.”

  “Then how do you keep track of what’s going on in the real world?”

  “I must admit, it’s difficult. Heaven is such a blissful place that you really don’t wa
nt to be reminded on what your life was back on Earth.” She stopped when she saw his face fall, and squeezed his hand tightly in reassurance. “No, I don’t mean that I don’t miss you. It’s just that it’s hard to look at all the pain and suffering going on in the world right now when you’re surrounded by perfection. Besides, even if I wanted to see what was going on, it’s really difficult.”

  This was what Sam really wanted to know. In the time since he’d been left alone, had she been watching him? With him in some way? He’d always had this thought in the back of his mind as his comfort blanket. No matter how hard things got, it always made him feel slightly better knowing that Aimi might be watching him.

  “Difficult?” he asked. “Difficult how?”

  She frowned. “It’s hard to explain. It’s like there is a heavy mist between Heaven and Earth. And it’s not just with your eyes. It’s in your head, too. It’s hard to focus on the Earth. You only catch glimpses from time to time, and that’s only when you really focus.”

  “Have you seen me?” he asked.

  “Of course,” she said, smiling. “Only you. There’s no one else that I wanted to see. But it was hard. I tried to find you sometimes but I couldn’t. It was as if you’d disappeared or something.”

  Sam had wondered whether his glamor concealed him from angels as well as demons. Although Aimi hadn’t been an angel at the time, it was clear that spirits in Heaven had limits.

  “I can conceal myself from demons,” he said. “That might explain it.”

  Aimi said, “I saw Gabriel on a few occasions. Once she even asked if I could find you, almost as if she couldn’t. Or maybe it was a test to see if I was fit to be an angel. Who knows?”

  “And what about Hikari?” he asked. He felt guilty not asking about his Sensei and father figure sooner, but there were just so many questions he needed answered.

  “He’s so happy.” Aimi smiled brightly. “At peace, like everyone in Heaven. I see him but not as often as I’d like now that I have duties. He watches over you, too, when he can. I know he misses you.”

  Sam’s heart surged with pleasure. He felt like crying again. This moment would be even more perfect if Hikari had been there to share it with them. “And what did you see, when you did find me?” he said eventually.

  Aimi’s face twisted in consternation. It hurt him to see such an expression on her beautiful face. “Pain, mostly. I hated to see you like that. I wanted to see you but every time I did, I’d only find you suffering. My heart ached for you at times like that and I would have given anything to be with you, but as soon as the mist gathered again, I’d forget. Heaven has that effect. Almost as if they don’t want you to remember how painful your physical existence was. I’d see you sometimes when you fought; the conflict that your heart and mind was going through, the loneliness and anger you felt ...”

  Tears were rolling down her cheeks. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her even closer. He couldn’t bear the thought of her being in anguish.

  “I didn’t think angels could cry,” he said playfully, trying to change the mood.

  She laughed and wiped away the tears.

  “So, you’re allowed to be here. Now?”

  “Yes, of course.” Her eyes darted to the right. He knew her so well he didn’t have to read her mind. She wasn’t being honest.

  “Aren’t angels meant to always tell the truth?” he asked.

  She slapped him lightly on the arm. “It’s only a tiny white lie. I had to deliver a message and you were nearby so I thought, why not?” She laughed happily. “Besides, I’m not all angel. My human side is still here.”

  “Whereabouts?”

  “Here,” she said, pointing at her head and then her heart.

  “And where else?”

  Slowly, she raised her fingers to her lips, never once losing eye contact with him. She smiled slyly. Sam had never experienced such a delightful rush of emotion.

  They kissed again and he savored the salty taste of her tears in his mouth. They were his. The tears were for him. The kiss went on and on and gradually but inevitably turned into something else. Something wonderful.

  He knew he was dreaming. He had to be although he hadn’t dreamt in years. You had to be asleep to dream and he really couldn’t risk it. Meditation had served him in its stead.

  Anyway, dreams were the lovely happy visions that Aimi talked about. Since he was a small boy, all he’d ever had was nightmares. There was nothing lovely or happy about what he saw when he was asleep: flames, pain, suffering; dark voices whispering to him, urging him to release the beast within him. He’d always wake from them in a terrified sweat, screaming, his heart racing, the fear only lessened with the passage of time, and comfort from Aimi and Hikari.

  This time was different though. There were no flames or pain - only an empty, featureless plain that stretched on forever. Above him, dark angry clouds surged. The ground beneath him was cracked and warped, without color.

  He quelled the slight note of panic he felt. Dreams for him could be dangerous. His father lurked in his dreams and as he well knew, his father could be persuasive. He wasn’t known as the Father of Lies or nothing. That was why, when with trusted companions, he slept in a pentacle. Only then, safe in the magical symbol, warded against demons, would he have dreamless, peaceful sleep.

  But he wasn’t in a pentacle, of course. A part of his mind knew that his body was in a bed in a deserted motel somewhere in Ohio. With Aimi asleep by his side.

  He cursed his foolishness. He shouldn’t have been so stupid but he hadn’t been thinking. His mind was filled with thoughts of Aimi and what they’d shared together. Knowing that she was sleeping next to him. He felt so at peace, so happy. It just felt natural and right - so natural and right that he’d just fallen asleep. It was the first time he’d done that in years. It was only now he realized his error.

  He tried to force himself out of the dream, back into reality but it felt like someone or something was blocking him. He willed with every ounce of his energy to wake up. To no avail. The dream landscape remained all too real. He wondered what was happening back at the motel – whether Aimi was alright. He knew she was an angel now and could probably defend herself more than adequately against demons, but it didn’t stop him fretting. The thought that she’d been highly trained with a sword by the same master that had trained him gave him some comfort. Besides, she had wings, didn’t she? As a last resort, she could always fly away.

  Doubts still niggled away, though. Demons lurked around that motel too, in some numbers. He wondered what would happen to his body if demons discovered it unguarded. Finally, he let it go. It wasn’t like he could do anything about it.

  Resigned, he tried to make the best of a bad situation. He never knew – he might gain something out of this. Perhaps gain some knowledge he could use against his brother. Or father. He tried not to think about either of them. Thoughts were powerful amongst demons. Just thinking about his father sometimes had the power to summon him.

  He did a quick inventory. In the dreams he had experienced before, he’d always been equipped like he was normally in real life. As a boy, he’d been armed with Sinai – his bamboo practice swords. He’d learnt with some pain and terror that bamboo had no effect on the demons sent to torment him in his dreams.

  This time was different. He was armed with his real swords. He was wearing his normal items of clothing and boots. Even his pack was strapped on in its accustomed position. It was vaguely reassuring.

  In the distance, something appeared. Sam focused his vision, squinting, but whatever it was seemed to resist scrutiny. With a shrug, he decided to walk towards it. It was not like he had anything better to do.

  He walked swiftly. When whatever it was in the distance didn’t appear to be getting any closer, he broke into a trot. The object stayed the same distance away. Frustrated, he ran faster and faster until he was sprinting. The object stubbornly resisted his attempts at a meeting.

  He stopped s
uddenly and thought it through. This was a dream. It wasn’t reality. Physics operated differently in dreams. He focused his mind, willing himself to get nearer to this … thing. To his surprise, it worked. He wasn’t moving, but the distance between them seemed to shrink. It got closer and closer and then, finally, he could make out what it was.

  A chair. In that chair sat a man. It wasn’t until he was six feet away that he knew without doubt who that man was. His father. Satan himself.

  His father was dressed as he often was when they saw each other - calmly crossed-legged in a debonair pin-striped suit. His dark hair was slicked back over his extremely handsome pale features. In fact, if Sam hadn’t known better, he wouldn’t have guessed the figure was a demon at all. He supposed that was the whole point. How else was he meant to worm his way into the hearts and minds of men when he looked like a devil?

  “Ah. My little horn. So good of you to join me. I wondered how long it would take you.”

  Sam hated the way his father was so smug, so knowing. In fact, he hated everything about him.

  “What do you want, Abaddon?” he asked, not bothering to mask his feelings. His father knew what was in his heart in any case.

  His father adopted a mock affronted expression. “Is that any way to talk to your father? And I would prefer it if you did call me ‘Father’, you know. Although the old names have a certain ring to them, I don’t think there’s any call for formalities between us. You are still my son, after all. ” He smiled at Sam, all charm and suaveness. Even Sam, who knew his tricks only too well, had to remind himself who this creature was. It was all for show. He knew what dwelt under the mask of sophistication that his father liked to wear. Everything about him was a lie. So pretentious.

  “Spare me,” said Sam, gritting his teeth. “Let me out of here. I need to return.”

  His father raised his eyebrows. “Return, do you? Who to, I wonder? Have some pressing business to attend to, do you? A hot date is it, Samael?” He smirked and it took every ounce of willpower that Sam possessed not to react with violence.