Sam frowned, doubts starting to intrude despite knowing that this was his father’s intention. Could the Bible be interpreted as fiction, written by the victors? Never for one moment had he ever thought it was anything but the truth. But something Satan had said was niggling at him. Satan knew what was predicted. Why would he ever allow himself to be subjected to that? Why would any sane person allow themselves to be chained at the bottomless pit for a thousand years?
Sam had his answer. Sort of. Satan was neither a person nor sane. But still… the thought wouldn’t go away and Sam hated himself for allowing his father to sow the seeds of doubts within his mind. That was exactly the way his father liked to operate and Sam had fallen into his trap like a naive boy.
“You’re lying. You always lie.” Sam was almost shouting now but he could hear the questions behind the anger in his voice. His father, no doubt, could hear the same thing.
Infuriatingly, Satan simply cocked an eyebrow. “Believe what you will, my boy. All will be revealed soon enough. I like surprises. Don’t you?”
Sam said nothing, not trusting himself to speak. He glared at his father, both hands twitching to touch his swords. Satan gave no indication he noticed.
“Speaking of surprises,” he went on conversationally, “I’ve got one planned for you. When you get back, I mean. Not that you may notice straight away but it will become apparent eventually. Oh. I forgot to mention that your girlfriend won’t be there when you get back either.”
Sam was suddenly moving, both swords in his hands without thought, charging towards the hated figure in the chair, intent on ending him. His last image was his father’s face, a snide look on his face. Just before his swords could reach him, Satan disappeared, Sam’s blades passing harmlessly through empty air a fraction of a second too late.
Chapter Sixteen
“ You cannot drink the cup of the Lord and the cup of demons too; you cannot have a part in both the Lord's table and the table of demons.”
Sam had one moment of confusion in which to realize that he’d missed killing his father when he was suddenly back in the motel, his eyes wide, sprawled on his back. He sat up quickly. His father hadn’t been bluffing: Aimi was gone. He could still see the imprint her body had made in the bed. He touched the spot. It was still warm. Aimi had only just left, either of her own accord, or taken by force. He didn’t imagine it would be the latter, as Aimi had been a force to contend with even before she was an angel. Now… well, he pitied the demon that crossed her path. He got up off the bed and it was only then that he noticed it, sitting on the bedside table.
A strawberry.
It was a message. A message left just for him. There were probably no strawberries left growing on Earth now. Only an angel could presumably conjure a strawberry out of thin air. Aimi was telling him she was alright. Strawberries had been what she used to eat when they trained together in Hikari’s garden. Good times. Safe times.
He breathed a sigh of relief. He’d only just exhaled when the door to the motel was hit by something exceedingly heavy and powerful, and it exploded in a hail of wooden splinters. Sam ducked instinctively, even though he knew the shards couldn’t harm him, and grabbed his swords from where they rested next to the bed.
Silhouetted against the dark sky was an even darker figure, man-sized or perhaps slightly larger — in Sam’s confusion, it was hard to tell. It seemed to be gathering the darkness around it. Sam’s night vision was usually exceptional but for some reason, he couldn’t get a clear look at what this was. Perhaps his encounter with his father had fogged his mind, or maybe it was something else. Regardless, he hadn’t sensed this creature in front of him until now. It was almost as if it were employing a similar technique to his glamor.
His mind started to clear, focusing into battle readiness. The thing — for that’s what it was; it certainly wasn’t human — took a step into the room. As he focused, details emerged, like his mind had parted a curtain previously closed to him.
He recognized it then. Well, maybe not exactly what it was but he had a fairly good idea. It was a Cambion, like the half-human, half-Lemure he’d encountered earlier. But different. This creature was half-human alright, but it certainly wasn’t half-Lemure.
Much like Sam, it looked almost completely human. He. It was definitely male, albeit slightly larger than normal. He appeared slightly bigger than Sam — maybe just a few inches, but Sam knew that that extra reach would count when they crossed blades. Long limbs were connected to a powerful torso that tapered into a narrow waist, all completely encased in black armor. In fact, if it wasn’t for the small black wings (which appeared far too small to be functional) and the horns jutting from its head, it would have passed for human — once again, much like Sam. He knew which demon had mated with a human then. It had to be the spawn of some Prince or Princess. Definitely some form of demon royalty at any rate and, by definition, something to be wary of. This creature would not be as easily overcome as some half-Lemure hybrid.
And overcome it must be. Sam had no option. The only door out of the place was the one the Cambion had come through, and the only window was next to the creature. Basically, the only way out was through it. Fight it was. There was no mistaking the intent of the creature as it stalked towards him on long legs, flicking a long dark strand of hair out of it face and drawing a slim black blade as it moved.
Sam didn’t have time for this. He wanted to end this quickly before more demons were alerted by the noise. He strongly suspected his father had sent this demon after him. After all, his glamor was still in place. How else would it have found him?
He drew both swords and struck out using the momentum from the draw, so fluid and blindingly fast it appeared to be only one motion. As he attacked, the words of Miyamoto Musashi came to him: when the enemy attacks and you also decide to attack, hit with your body, and hit with your spirit, and hit from the Void with your hands, accelerating strongly.
In his arrogance, he assumed that would be the end of it. He could imagine the creature may be able to parry one sword, but two? To his surprise, he found himself fighting for his life. The Cambion parried both blades with casual ease. The riposte almost took out Sam’s eye, the tip of the creature’s sword missing by the barest measure. He smelled iron.
The Cambion came for him again. Sam darted to the side, desperately bringing his Katana down and across to block the vicious swing. Amazingly, he was too slow, unprepared and sluggish. Not by much but it was enough. His opponent’s blade snuck through his defense and tagged him neatly on the chest, slicing straight through his sweatshirt and into the fragile flesh beneath. The blade bit. It was shallow but stung more than it should have. Instinctively, Sam knew that this blade was much like the one possessed by his brother, probably not as powerful but still able to draw the life-force out of whomever it cut.
Sam jumped back, reassessing the situation. The Cambion paused for a moment and smiled knowingly. Sam didn’t bother returning the gesture. It was a waste of time posturing. The Cambion probably expected him to fight conventionally, content to let his sword do the work, watching his opponent become steadily weakened. Instead, Sam did the unexpected and feinted then reversed his blades, striking out simultaneously with both at completely different angles. No doubt his foe would be aware of Sam’s abilities but perhaps not his unpredictability.
As he suspected, the Cambion was caught unawares. It did remarkably well under the circumstances however, even managing to block one of Sam’s blades with a speed that Sam suspected wasn’t far from his own. As quick as it was though, it wasn’t quick enough. Sam’s smaller blade — the Wakizashi — took the creature just under the ribcage. Sam angled it up sharply though, plunging it directly into the Cambion’s heart.