Sam smiled grimly and prepared to do just that. He’d go down fighting and take as many of these bastards with him. As if sensing his resolve, the ten men in front of him tightened the fingers around the triggers of their guns. Sam sensed the movement and edged his hand ever so slightly towards his Wakizashi.
And then everything changed.
The wall directly over his left shoulder exploded in flames and rubble. Like everyone else in the room, Sam flinched. When he looked up, he found himself staring at something they wouldn’t have expected. Not here. Not now. Not ever.
The eight foot dog, its impenetrable coat ablaze, its eyes molten fire — towered just a few feet from Sam.
‘It’s a Hellhound!’ hissed one of the prisoners, horrified. Some of the others started to mewl in terror.
As if on cue, the great demon threw back its massive head and howled — a sound so dreadful that it chilled the blood and even sent an involuntary shiver of terror racing down Sam’s back. It shut its jaws with an audible click, the terrible sound thankfully fading. The Hellhound lowered its head once again and cast around as if looking for something. Or someone.
Finally, it found who it was looking for.
The black eyes of Sam and the red eyes of Yeth locked for a moment. For a moment, just a moment, Sam could’ve sworn that his Hellhound winked at him.
Chapter Nine
“… and so that all will be condemned who have not believed the truth but have delighted in wickedness.”
One of the men facing Sam stood slightly in front of the others; very tall, probably at least as tall as Sam but lean, almost emaciated. He had thick grey hair and a matching beard. Through it, Sam could see a crooked smile forming as the implications of the demons arrival sank in. Sam assumed he was the leader.
“Lay down your weapons and we won’t give you to the beast,” said the leader in an authoritative voice that carried easily through the large space. It was the voice of a man accustomed to others doing as they were told. “Clearly, you are outmatched.” He gestured towards his followers and then to the flaming Hellhound.
Sam cleared his throat. “I’d say you were outmatched. I suggest you lay down your weapons and I’ll kill you quickly. If you don’t…” Sam sighed theatrically, “… then things will go very badly for you. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Who are you to warn us?” sneered the man.
Sam met the man’s eye. “Yeah, you’re pretty tough when you have your guns and your demons to support you. Tough enough to capture starving teenagers and use them for your own ends. You will pay for what you’ve done here.”
The leader’s eyes were bugging out, in complete disbelief that someone in Sam’s position would have the audacity to speak to him in this manner. With an effort, he composed himself and turned to the Hellhound.
“Destroy him, mighty demon. Take him to Hell where he shall suffer for eternity for his crimes against our Master.” The man’s expression was that of someone in the midst of religious fervor, and the last few words came out in an excited falsetto.
Yeth had not moved since his explosive entrance. He did so now, turning in Sam’s direction and taking a leisurely stride towards him. The captives hurriedly shrank back within their cage to avoid the intense heat and spits of fire that leapt from its coat. Sam turned to meet its advance. When the Hellhound was so close Sam could’ve reached out and stroked its fiery nose, it stopped. Again, they locked gazes for a moment, Sam having to stretch his neck upwards. It was a frozen tableau for the barest of moments. Neither Sam nor the great beast moved. The demon worshippers were collectively holding their breath, their pent up excitement about to explode. Those in the cage huddled in terror.
The Hellhound turned towards those that followed and worshipped its kind. Then Yeth opened his mouth. A torrent of fire, hotter than a furnace, surged out, enough to instantly ignite and kill the three demon worshippers closest to it — including the leader. The others screamed in terror and pain; fire poured down upon them as the great head left and right. Some on the fringes managed to partly avoid the deathly fire, trying to run even as they battled their flaming clothes. By that point, it was too late. Sam was already amongst them, his swords darting in and out as he dispatched the remainder with ruthless efficiency.
When it was over, the pitted and smoking concrete floor was covered with burning copses. Sam strode out of the flames, idly patting out his own burning clothes. He walked up to where the Hellhound waited and a rare genuine smile crossed his lips. “Thank you,” he said.
Yeth merely dipped his mighty head slightly in acknowledgement.
“I don’t know how you knew I was in trouble, but I think you just saved me.”
It marked a new chapter in their relationship. He patted the side of the great demon, ignoring the flames. He was still surprised at how much Yeth had grown in the time they had known each other. He had been there at Yeth’s ‘birth’ after all — back when the Hellhound was still — for lack of a better word — a puppy. It had been three years since then, and in those three years, Yeth had never, never, arrived unannounced or uncalled for. “How did you know I was in trouble?”
The rough, sibilant voice sounded in his head. Sensed it. Felt your need.
Unconsciously, Sam had reached out to his familiar. A familiar was what magicians of old had once referred to the animals that served them. He didn’t know how else to categorize their relationship, but Sam knew one thing for sure. Since Yeth had come along, he certainly felt less lonely.
Go now.
“Sure. You go now. Again — thank you.” Sam stretched up and patted Yeth on the head, the great demon lowering his mighty skull obligingly so Sam could reach. Sam’s hand was completely unharmed by the demon’s flaming aura. Funny how he still spoke aloud to the demon, even when it was unnecessary. He could easily communicate the same way that Yeth communicated with him, but it somehow just felt better this way. More normal. Like he was speaking to another person.
Sam was about to say more, when the sound of gunfire intruded. Sam hadn’t noticed before, but now that the warehouse was all but silent, the gunfire was horrendously loud. Sparks flew off Yeth’s hide, barely troubling the demon. Instinctively, he knew that the rounds being fired were iron. Experience had taught him that Hellhounds were almost immune to physical damage — even from iron. Sam would not be so lucky.
Swiftly, he took shelter behind Yeth and peered cautiously around one of the Hellhound’s great forelegs. Above the level of his eyes, on the catwalk that Sam had used to gain entry to this place, stood a man. In his hands was a machinegun, spitting out round after round in the direction ogrin f Sam and the Hellhound. Clearly, they hadn’t accounted for all the demon worshippers.
Sam was still formulating a plan when return fire echoed from nearby. The man on the catwalk undulated under a barrage of bullets, screaming. He slumped against the railing and plunged to the floor, landing with an ominous thud.
Somewhat mystified, Sam glanced in the direction of the return fire. A young African-American woman — if Sam had to guess, he would’ve said she was in her teens but it was hard to tell under all the accumulated grime — was holding another machine gun in her hand. She looked shocked but determined, staring with grim intent at the place where the man on the catwalk had just been. Sam could see that her finger was still pressed against the trigger but no more bullets emerged. The magazine was empty.