Philip Simpson - Tribulation

As for the Cambions — well, he’d got lucky there. He hadn’t seen one sign of them which was just as well given that he’d only just started to feel his normal self after the injuries he’d sustained in the last encounter. The moon was helping though. As soon as it had emerged, he’d immediately started feeling better. It also gave him something to look at as he walked. Something about the crimson sphere drew his attention and gave him comfort like nothing else. And there wasn’t much else to see. The sky was otherwise featureless. No stars, just a few dark ominous looking clouds that hinted of rain but never delivered.

He thought about Aimi almost continuously, wondering how long it would be until he saw her again. He also considered the problem of Gabriel. He desperately wanted to talk to her, to get reassurance, to have some of his questions answered. At one point, he was even so brazen as to call her name out loud, but wasn’t terribly surprised when she didn’t immediately materialize.

He’d kept his glamor and his concealment ability wrapped closely about him like a cloak. It was clear that the Cambions could track him physically, even if they couldn’t sense him, so he took care to conceal his tracks. He passed various other demons as he jogged along — some no more than twenty feet away — but they failed to notice his presence. An hour earlier, an Astaroth had even flown over his head, so close he could’ve stabbed it with his sword but it hadn’t even looked down, oblivious to the dangerous temptation below. Sometimes, to amuse himself, he thought of himself in those terms — a dangerous temptation. Like chocolate to an obese person. They wanted him but were likely to get killed in the process.

Fifteen minutes earlier, he’d moved through Wheeling and across the West Virginia River — not that there was much left to see of the once mighty flow of water. It had all but dried up; the remnants an ugly, sluggish, ash-filled goop. No living thing could possibly survive drinking that.

Shortly thereafter, he was in Pennsylvania. Jogging down the car-strewn interstate about twenty miles later, he found himself passing through another town. He located a road sign and cleaned it off enough to read what it said. Washington. He was in Washington, Pennsylvania. First town he’d been through in Pennsylvania. First time in Pennsylvania, actually. During his travels, Sam had visited roughly half the states but none now were terribly different from each other. All mostly deserted, covered in ash, vegetation dead or dying, ravished by earthquake and fire. It became depressingly monotonous after a while. What he’d give for a bit of color for a change.

Now, Sam guessed it must be around 5am. Just outside Washington, still on the interstate. Sam liked this time of the morning. It was often a lull time when everything was quiet. There were fewer demons on the streets and in the air, and even the light swirl of ash ceased for a while.

Into this quiet, something intruded — a light in the sky. Sam’s heart began to beat faster in his chest with the thought that it could be Aimi but as it got closer, Sam felt his excitement ebb away. It was an angel alright, but it wasn’t her. Couldn’t be her. Far too big.

The angel hurtled down towards him. At almost the last moment, it unfurled its folded wings like a sail and landed with graceful precision just in front of Sam. He recognized her immediately.

“Hello, Gabriel.” Perhaps she’d heard him call her name after all but had deliberately waited. It would be a bad look if an Archangel dropped everything to answer a summons from a demon. Probably frowned upon in her angelic circles.

She nodded ever so slightly at him, smiled and folded her wings neatly behind her back. Her glow began to fade almost as soon as she landed. Sam figured it was probably done in a conscious effort not to draw any more attention to herself. Not that it mattered. Demons for miles around would’ve seen it, but given it was almost dawn, they might not investigate. Besides, demons were probably pretty wary of glowing lights in the sky by now. They could only mean one thing.

“Good morning, Samael.”

“You’re being very formal with me, aren’t you?” he asked, keeping his tone light. “Normally you call me Sam. Something to do with my popularity at the moment?”

“Popularity?” she asked, sounding puzzled.

“I had a few visitors yesterday. First Aimi, which was a welcome surprise. Then my father. Finally a group of Cambions out on a hunting expedition. It would’ve been fun except for the fact that they were hunting me. Know anything about all this?”

The only indication Gabriel gave of being surprised was raising her eyebrows slightly. “First, Aimi. Yes, of course I knew about her. We gave her permission to visit you. Secondly, no. It concerns me that the Great Betrayer would contact you now, of all times. He’s up to something as usual. And thirdly, that’s just the subject I came to warn you about.”

It was Sam’s turn to be surprised. “What? The Cambions?”

Gabriel nodded. “How did you fare against them?” she asked.

“Ok, I guess,” he replied. There were times to talk things up — not that it was in Sam’s nature to do so. This, however, wasn’t one of them. “I got one of them but not before he wounded me. He had one of those cursed blades. Like my brothers.”

“Like your brother’s, but not as powerful. Like his, they have the ability to drain energy though. They also slow your healing powers.”

“I know all this,” said Sam impatiently. “I found out the hard way. I had to smash my way out of the motel I was in. Broke my foot and dislocated my shoulder in the process. They almost had me, then dawn came and they disappeared. Just as well. There’s no way I could’ve beaten them all.”

“They are known as the Devil’s Hand, in case you didn’t know.”

This was news to him. “Devil’s what?”

“Hand. Lucifer has used them for thousands of years to conduct special missions — missions of grave importance to him. He does not employ them lightly. That’s what I came to warn you about, not just to have a casual conversation. These are not just normal Cambions you are dealing with.”

“I know,” he said. “They’re of royal blood, like mine but weaker.”

“No,” said Gabriel. She looked grim. “That’s not it at all. Yes, they are of royal blood, but the Devil’s Hand is special.”

“Special, how?” he asked. “They still died like every other demon, didn’t they?” And then the memory struck him again. The knowing smile of the demon as he killed it and the odd way it just disappeared. He clicked his fingers. “It’s not dead, is it?”

She smiled at him without humor. “Very perceptive, Samael. The Devil’s Hand is the most deadly foe you are ever likely to face because they cannot be killed here on Earth. In fact, every time you kill them here, they will return stronger.”

“Let me get this straight,” said Sam, something like panic awakening in his chest. “Each time I kill one, it comes back stronger than it was before? You mean the one I destroyed yesterday will come back and be faster and more deadly?”

“Exactly.”

Sam threw his arms up into the air in exasperation. “Great. Wonderful. How am I supposed to compete with that? I barely managed to defeat one of them yesterday. Why has my father sent them against me? And why now?”

“I don’t know,” confessed Gabriel. “This is a crucial time for him. For all of us. Your brother will be sailing for these shores at the head of an invasion fleet very shortly. Perhaps your father wants you out of the way, to ensure that your brother succeeds where he failed last time. And of course, you must know where you will end up if you do die…”