Sensing that the demons were falling behind, Sam slowed to a fast jog. He could keep this pace up for hours if he needed to. Before the Rapture, he had often run into the Rockies and back before the sun had even sneaked up over the horizon. Night-time was when he always trained, away from prying eyes. Hikari had told him that his night vision was much better than any other humans, something he had suspected when he realized he could see almost perfectly in all but the most absolute darkness.
It was just as well because now the only light came from the moon, which was hardly a great source of illumination… Normally, street lights, the frontages of residential homes, the odd shop open for a late night and the occasional car would provide ample light for the average resident. It was odd running through the small town like this, guided only by the malevolent red glow from above.
Disturbingly, despite his injuries, Sam felt even stronger right at that moment, almost as if the moon was energising him. He looked up, hoping to catch a glimpse of a star in the now cloudless sky. There were none. Had been none since the Rapture. The stars, once beautiful and sparkling in the clear country air, had all fallen. Where they had landed, Sam had no idea.
Suddenly a shadow fell across the moon, a strong wind buffeting him from above. He’d recognised the presence of the Astaroth but he was far, far too late. Too late and too slow. Cursing himself for his lack of concentration, Sam attempted to roll but felt something lift him off his feet with a powerful jolt. It was the Astaroth alright. Clearly, those wings weren’t for show, he thought wryly as the Astaroth slowly gained height. Luck had been on his side though. Instead of those mighty talons piercing his skin, they had merely jagged his backpack.
Then Sam remembered what were in his hands. What had been in his hands all the way down Main Street. His swords. He swept both up at the same time, each aiming for a different leg, and felt a savage surge of satisfaction as the iron weapons both connected and bit deeply. The Astaroth roared so loudly that, if Sam had been able to, he would’ve covered his ears.
Instead, he found himself falling. Surprisingly quickly. He thought, rather belatedly, that he hadn’t actually planned this out very carefully.
The ground rushed up to meet him.
2
TWELVE YEARS EARLIER
“And then shall that Wicked be revealed, whom the Lord shall consume with the spirit of his mouth, and shall destroy with the brightness of his coming.”
Sam and Aimi were playing in the backyard, surrounded by swirling growths of cherry tomato and strawberries. It was late afternoon and the sun, poised to drop beneath the horizon, had lost most of its heat. It was something to be grateful for. He could tolerate the sun, but he didn’t love it the way he knew Aimi and other children did.
He liked it out in the yard — here amongst the riotous knots of living things. The plants provided shelter from the raw gaze of the sun. The yard was so clustered with foliage that there was no danger of the neighbours seeing him which meant he didn’t have to wear his hat or a hood. He liked not having to wear anything on his head. It made him feel free — honest even.
Aimi sat opposite him, small and delicate and dressed in tiny overalls. He knew they probably shouldn’t be in here. If Hikari found out, they might get in trouble. He’d been told by his master that the plants shouldn’t be disturbed when they were growing but today … well, today he was just feeling a little rebellious.
They were playing sticky fingers. It was a simple game taught to him by Hikari two years earlier. He in turn was trying to teach it to Aimi with varying degrees of success. Three year olds, he had learnt, had short attention spans. She was quick to learn and had reflexes like a baby tigress, but she kept stopping to grab a tomato or strawberry which she popped into her mouth with a cheeky smile and small sigh of satisfaction. The juice of one or the other dribbled down her chin like blood.
He coaxed her back into the ready position. She placed the back of one of her hands against his palm, her other hand reversed so that her palm sat flat against the back of his. They moved their hands together in a gentle circle. Then one or the other would strike out. The object of the game was to keep in contact so that any aggressive move was always countered and blocked. He was winning but she had snuck in a few lightning quick blows.
Picking up the pace, Sam’s left hand darted out. Her hand stuck to his like glue and blocked it so he reversed the motion and struck with his right instead. He connected with her face in a light tap.
“I don’t want to play anymore.” She pouted at him.
Sam smiled. “Hikari told us we had to practise.”
“Don’t care,” she said grumpily. Aimi reached out for another cherry tomato. He followed the movement but it was just a feint, and felt the lightest of taps on his right cheek.
She laughed at him, but it wasn’t a mocking sound — more of a joyous, cheeky giggle that he found he loved. He smiled back at her as he stood up, and Aimi reached up in a motion that was all too familiar, fingering the tiny horns on his head. He let her do it. She liked to play with them and he didn’t mind the touch.
“Do you like having them?” she asked, not for the first time.
He shrugged, humouring her as he always did. “They’re ok, I guess.”
“They feel funny,” she said, looking up at him through her long black hair.
He nodded. He knew just how they felt, having touched them very much in the same way Aimi was doing now, over and over again. They felt like they looked — a horn. He’d handled the horns on a bull once and they felt exactly the same; the only difference was that his were glossy black instead of off-white.
“Why don’t I have any? Can I get some? Why do you have them?” She’d never asked these questions before. Now she fired them off so fast it made his head spin.
He answered the first two questions the best he could. “Because you don’t. No, probably not.”
The last question made his heart flutter nervously, but he answered anyway because it was Aimi.
“And I have them because I’m a demon,” he said.
Hikari called them in for dinner. The small, tightly-knit Japanese man waited for them on the back porch as they scampered inside. Sam could tell from his stern gaze that he knew they’d been in amongst the plants but he didn’t say anything. The gaze, as always, was enough admonishment for Sam.
They ate at the dinner table. It was Hikari’s tradition that the dinner table was a place of conversation. The TV and radio always remained off during these times. Sam vaguely remembered the lively and happy banter that Hikari and his wife had when she was still alive. He missed those times and her presence as much as Hikari.
“So, what happened at pre-school today?” Hikari asked Aimi. She shrugged in a way that made Sam want to laugh.
He didn’t though. He never laughed.
“Made some friends. Played some games.”
Hikari tried unsuccessfully to hide a chuckle. “What sort of games?”
“The usual,” she said, in between mouthfuls of rice and fish. “Tag, hide and seek. I made a sandcastle with Sue and Thomas in the sandpit. That was fun.”
“What else?” asked Hikari, steepling his fingers in front of his face.
Aimi sighed before answering. “Did some finger painting and I learned to count to ten.”
Hikari smiled. “Good.”
There was a momentary silence at the table, so Sam seized his chance.
“Sensei, why can’t I go to school?”
It was a question he’d wanted to ask ever since Aimi started going to pre-school. Before that, he had thought that it was normal for children to stay at home. His experience with other children was, after all, rather limited. Other than Aimi, Sam had only ever seen other kids from the house windows or on the occasional outing with Hikari, and even then, it had been from a distance. The few times that he’d left the house during the day, Hikari always made sure he was wearing something on his head. He’d had had very little proper interaction with other children — other people, in fact.