The Watcher took flight. He hovered above Sam for a moment as if he’d forgotten something.
“You know, you never told me how you got out of Hell,” said Sam, yelling in order to be heard above the flapping of Samyaza’s great wings. Years earlier, during the battle between Sam and in brother in Hell, Satan had banished Samyaza to a deep pit in his Kingdom for interfering. The Watcher had never mentioned it and Sam had never thought to ask. He did now though.
“Perhaps another time.” The Grigori winked at him. “Now is the time to run.”
Sam turned. Approaching down the highway in the darkness were five figures. They were spread out, equidistant from each other in a rough line, still several hundred feet away but closing rapidly thanks to their long, loping gait.
Sam would face them. Eventually. But now was not that time. He had things to do, plans to make.
He turned east and sprinted off. The true test of his endurance was about to begin.
Chapter Nineteen
“ The rest of mankind that were not killed by these plagues still did not repent of the work of their hands; they did not stop worshiping demons, and idols of gold, silver, bronze, stone and wood-idols that cannot see or hear or walk.”
H e ran through the night, his heart feeling lighter than it had for a long time — perhaps ever — despite being hotly pursued by the Devil’s Hand. Samyaza’s offer was indeed intriguing. The thought of having a safe place to spend eternity, perhaps where Aimi and he could spend it together, was almost impossible to resist. It was certainly an appealing proposition, especially in light of Gabriel’s betrayal.
But the Watcher was cunning. He had given him the news of Gabriel’s and Satan’s pact at that exact moment for a reason: to confuse Sam, make him more susceptible to other offers. Despite knowing this, it didn’t affect the allure. Sam wanted to believe, wanted to believe that what Samyaza offered was honest and true. Time would tell.
Right now, he had to focus his mind. The Devil’s Hand, while not exactly closing on him, were certainly not falling back, keeping pace even as he accelerated. Unlike him though, they had probably not already been running for many hours, arriving refreshed a few hours ago from Hell. Idly, he wondered if they trained like him. Had they spent their youth running for mile after mile like he had? Probably not. Hell no doubt had its own less subtle ways of training its warriors.
He probably would have out-distanced them more easily but he ran into a few problems. First, an earthquake had caused part of the road to collapse completely, leaving a gaping hole in the earth that appeared to go on forever — so deep, in fact, that Sam kept expecting to see Hell somewhere in its depths. It was also rather wide. He was forced to make a wide detour around it. Behind him, the Devil’s Hand closed the distance between them.
Then, near the town of Bethlehem, he was hit by a fire-storm. It wasn’t a huge problem. He was, after all, almost completely immune to fire as he’d imagine the Devil’s Hand were. But that wasn’t the issue. They were a relatively new phenomenon, becoming increasingly frequent. Fire-storms took the form of balls of lava falling from the sky, deadly to normal humans and highly destructive, largely responsible for most of the burnt towns and cities he had encountered. They struck the road in front of him. So intense was the heat that they melted the tar, creating a sticky mess that spelt ‘death trap’. If he ran through that, the tar would stick to his boots, further impeding his progress.
He detoured again, off the road, thrusting himself through smoldering plants, long since dead but still able to burn. The detour cost him time but he knew it was worth it. Experience had taught him well. The Devil’s Hand might not be as wise.
Sure enough, when he’d completed his detour and returned to the Highway, Sam cast a look over his shoulder. The Devil’s Hand had not bothered to avoid the burning road. They lacked Sam’s experience on Earth, running straight through the viscous black tar. Four immediately ran into trouble, their black boots becoming encased in the sticky sludge, slowing their progress considerably. If Sam got lucky, they might even have to retreat back to Hell to get new boots.
Unfortunately, the fifth member, ever so slightly behind the others, saw the difficulty they were having and followed Sam’s detour around. On closer inspection, Sam realized this member of the group was one of the two females.
He slowed slightly — not obviously — but enough to allow the isolated female to close the distance. This was almost too lucky. It was exactly what he’d been waiting for: an opportunity to isolate one of them. If he faced them as a group, he knew that his chances were slim. But one on one? That was a different story. Silently, he called to Yeth, willing his great Hellhound to appear. The timing couldn’t have been better. Sam could sense a church nearby, a portal that Yeth could use to his advantage.
Still cloaked in his glamor, Sam sprinted ahead. There was a mass of cars piled ahead of him on the highway, scattered like so many child’s toys. Enough to obscure his movements. He somersaulted over the first one he came to. Ahead of him was a jumbled maze of other cars. He darted in amongst them and then skidded to a halt and crouched down. He didn’t have to wait long.
He sensed her mind state first, of course. As she got closer, her thoughts became clearer to him. She didn’t expect an ambush, confident that Sam was like a deer being pursued by a pack of wolves, certain that his fear would drive him on.
Her footsteps and the sound of her breathing became apparent before she did and for once, everything went exactly to plan. He waited until she just gone past the car he huddled behind and then leapt after her, as silent as death. Some sixth sense or desperate self-preservation must have warned her at the very last moment, but it was too late. To her credit, she swiveled with surprising speed, brought her sword up and almost managed to block his blades despite not knowing exactly where the attack was coming from. It was impressive and something Sam would have struggled to do himself. He was careful not to kill her straight away though, which would have been pointless. He needed the scent trail.
His Wakizashi knocked her block sideways, even while his Katana was already curving upwards, biting underneath her arm and slicing through it almost without resistance. Blood spurted. She screamed once and tried to drive her remaining blade-like hand straight into his eyes. He blocked it again, removing the other hand just as easily. Unarmed and completely defenseless, Sam thought she might have surrendered or perhaps even pleaded then. But this was the Devil’s Hand he was dealing with here. A Cambion like him, unafraid of death and confident that if she died here, she’d just come back to face him stronger next time.
She screamed defiantly and threw herself at him. He plunged both swords though her, one through the neck and one in her chest, killing her instantly. She disappeared. Yeth appeared at his side as if her death had summoned him, his body flaming, sensing his master’s mood and prepared for battle. His Hellhound was to be disappointed this night. There would be no more fighting.
Sam pointed and understanding blossomed in the great demon’s mind. A fight might not be on the cards now but it was coming and soon. Sam assured him of that, patting Yeth’s great flanks reassuringly. The Devil’s Hand thought they had the upper hand, but things were about to change.
He thanked Yeth and cautioned him to escape. Four more Devil’s Hand were rapidly approaching, intent on avenging their fallen comrade. Sam could sense their mood and it was dire. Even he and Yeth might not be a match for them.
As Yeth faded back to Hell, taking refuge in his own plane, Sam took to his heels and fled.