“What about free will?” demanded Sam. “What about people being able to make their own choices?”
Michael stamped his foot. The seemingly insubstantial footing shook with the blow. “Do not presume to lecture me, Demon. Not here, in this place. You have no right.”
“I have every right. For the woman I love. I would do anything for her. Look into my heart and mind. You know this is the truth,” said Sam, angrily. He was shouting now but he didn’t care.
“Control yourself, son of Satan,” warned Michael. “What you say and do now will be tallied up at the end of days.”
“I don’t care,” said Sam carelessly. He took an angry step towards the archangel. “Give me my Aimi back.”
“I will say this for the last time, Samael. No. You may not have her.”
Sam threw back his head and roared. It was an animal bellow of rage and desperation. He felt sick. Sick from the continual pain that his presence here brought. But sick also with the knowledge that Aimi was lost to him. Without thinking, his hands plucked forth his swords, a move fraught with anguish and despair. He felt compelled to do it, almost like he had no choice.
As his swords cleared their scabbards an impact slammed into him, so powerful that it struck him completely senseless, knocking his cherished blades from his grasp. A force washed over him cracking his bones.
“YOU DO NOT DRAW BLADES ON ME HERE, DEMON. FOR THAT YOU WILL PAY THE PRICE.”
He felt himself tumbling for the second time in as many hours. Tumbling, but nothing made sense. He didn’t know what was up and what was down. He was dazed, losing a battle with consciousness.
He hurtled towards the ground, limp, frail and senseless. He struck the road with enough force to create a sizable crater and lay completely motionless, his body curled into a fetal position, broken and shattered. Next to him were his swords. Both were broken, in much the same state as he was.
He lay there for some time. Hours later, his body was discovered by the ragged survivors of New York. They gathered in numbers, creeping out from their places of concealment, clustering around his still form.
A whispered conversation took place in the gathering darkness and eventually, a wretched group of men descended into the crater. One gathered up the shattered pieces of his swords while the others lifted Sam up onto their shoulders.
Slowly, gently – almost reverently - they carried him off into the gloom.
###
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Table of Contents
Prologue
Book 1
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Book 2
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Epilogue
Tribulation Page 29