The distraction suddenly gave him openings. He struck out with both swords, using his whirlwind attack, opening up a clear space on top of the car. Yeth ploughed on and even Sam paused to witness the sheer majesty of a Hellhound in full attack mode.
Yeth probably weighed as much as a rhinoceros; perhaps as much as four thousand pounds. Not only that, but his armored scales deflected even the most determined attack. Yeth’s flaming hide ignited any part of a Lemure foolish enough to get in his way. Those that didn’t were simply trampled. As he charged, Yeth discharged an almost continuous stream of fire, withering many more Lemure that were now fleeing before him. Even cars were not immune to the power of a Hellhound, burnt and blasted out of his path. It was a full rout; the Lemure streamed past Sam, now oblivious to him in their haste. He almost felt sorry for them.
Sam turned but the Devil’s Hand were nowhere to be seen. He couldn’t even sense them amongst all the confusion. They must have retreated in order to avoid the panicked stampede.
The distance between them now clear of obstacles, Yeth hurtled towards him. The great demon skidded to a halt a few feet from Sam, shaking the ground, his obsidian claws generating sparks where they dug into the road.
Sam smiled. It was quite an entrance. Not for the first time did he thank his good fortune for Yeth. Reluctantly, he also silently thanked Samyaza. If it hadn’t been for the Watcher — without his knowledge and the statuette — he and Yeth would never have met. He did owe the Watcher. The great demon was a gift. His Hellhound always had his back, and without him, all would have been lost long ago.
At Sam’s unspoken command, Yeth extinguished his fire. Sam was immune to the Hellhound’s fire, but his clothes and backpack certainly weren’t, and there were precious items in his backpack that he couldn’t afford to lose. He also didn’t want to arrive in New York naked.
The injuries and the sudden darkness caused his head to spin, momentarily disorientating him. Shakily, painfully, leaking blood, Sam dragged himself onto Yeth’s back, only now becoming aware of the extent of his injuries. There were many, some of them quite deep. He would need several hours — if not days — to recover.
He’d just settled himself onto Yeth when the Devil’s Hand suddenly reemerged, impinging on his awareness. In the confusion, Sam had missed one of them. Even Yeth had overlooked it. Concealed by the fleeing Lemure, the Cambion had snuck up on Sam from behind. As Yeth turned towards the city, intent on carrying his master out of the tunnel, the Cambion darted out from behind the concealment of a car and leapt, his blade before him like a spear.
At the very last moment, Sam reacted. But he was still a fraction too late.
It was one of the male demons. One of the ones he hadn’t killed before. Thankfully. If it had been one of the demons he’d already killed, he wouldn’t have survived. As it was, the Cambion’s Hell-wrought blade pierced his side even as Sam’s sword darted out like a snake and plunged through the demon’s chest, killing it. It disappeared, but the damage had already been done. Sam clutched his side with one hand and it came away smeared in thick arterial blood. This wasn’t good.
Grunting, he managed to sheathe his sword, using this free hand to hold on to Yeth’s neck. Without it, he would’ve fallen. The rest of the Devil’s Hand materialized out of the darkness. Yeth didn’t need to be told, leaping away and soon out-distancing the remaining four members of the Devil’s Hand. Sam clung on for dear life. If he fell, the Cambions would have him.
As Yeth loped away from danger, Sam could feel his life leaking out of him. The Cambion’s cursed sword wound would not heal easily, perhaps not in time to save him. Already his other cuts were reopening, the Hell sword having reduced his body’s abilities to heal itself. He felt weak. Dizzy. The ceiling and sides of the tunnel spun sickeningly. Several times he almost toppled from Yeth’s back. Somehow, he managed to stay upright, clinging onto Yeth’s neck with both arms, heedless of the blood pouring from his wounded side.
In the distance, an oval patch of lighter grey gradually revealed itself. They were nearing the tunnel exit. Thankfully, Yeth had destroyed or scared off any remaining Lemure. They were alone in the tunnel.
As they emerged from the tunnel, that all changed. Several armed figures stepped out of the shadows. One of them stepped forward, wearing both a helmet and a mask to ward off ash. Sam, defenseless as a newborn baby, made no move to resist as the figure helped him off Yeth’s back, easing him onto the ground. He took it as a positive sign that this person must not be in league with demons. They would’ve killed him outright by now if they were.
In some confusion, barely able to focus, Sam noticed that Yeth had turned and was reentering the tunnel. He turned his head on its side to track his Hellhound’s progress.
“Yeth. Stop. Don’t go. I need you.” He forced the words out, gritting his teeth against the pain, desperately trying to remain conscious. “Take me to Hell. I’ll heal quicker there.” There was something n his mouth, making speech difficult. It was only then that he realized it was blood.
Yeth turned his great head, his eyes glowing in the darkness. No good. Devil’s Hand will follow. I will stop. Give you time.
Sam tried to sit upright. “No!” he managed to blurt. “They’ll kill you.”
Yeth ignored him, loping off into the inky darkness of the tunnel.
“Come back,” he yelled. “I command you!”
His weak voice was suddenly drowned out by automatic gunfire. All around him, the other figures returned fire, the noise deafening around the tunnel entrance. Shell impacts sparked and ricocheted all around him but Sam was beyond caring.
The effort was too much. He sank back down to the ground. By the time his head had hit the ground, he was already unconscious.
Chapter Twenty-one
“… and in every sort of evil that deceives those who are perishing. They perish because they refused to love the truth and so be saved.”
Sam woke with a start in an unfamiliar setting. He was lying on a dirty mattress in a darkened room, empty save for himself and some storage shelves filled with unrecognizable objects. He was naked from the waist up. His swords and pack were nowhere to be seen — in itself a disturbing sign. Outside, it was daylight. The single window in the room, covered by an old sheet, allowed only the most diffuse light through. A solid wooden door marked the only other exit from the room.
He didn’t bother to try and sit up. Experience had taught him that that was a bad idea after a bad injury. But then he remembered what had happened and sat up anyway.
Yeth. Where was his Hellhound?
The motion caused a wave of nausea to crash over him. He sank back down, both hands covering his eyes. Without doubt, the wounds he had sustained were bad. He must have lost a lot of blood too. He could feel the injuries knitting together though. Ever so slowly. His side where the Cambion had stabbed him was heavily bandaged. Even so, there was a dark stain of blood on it. It must be bad if he was still bleeding. Some of his other injuries were bandaged up as well. Basically, he was a mess, but he didn’t have time to feel sorry for himself. He desperately wanted to see Yeth or at the very least, find out if he was ok.
Sam’s head was pounding, making it all but impossible to use his demonic senses. He had no idea where he was or who was around. For all he knew, there were a few thousand demons directly outside the door.
He was about to force himself to his feet when the door opened. A fatigue-clad figure entered. Vaguely, Sam realized this figure was female. He didn’t bother moving. It she wanted him dead, he would’ve been by now. So exhausted and befuddled he was that it wasn’t until she sank down on the mattress did he realize who it was. He tried to sit up but gave up in exhaustion.