Tribulation Read online

  The church grounds had no outer fence. It was hard to tell through the layer of ash and weeds but it either had never had one, or its remains were now buried beneath this foul coating. Sam didn’t really care about the fence – it was more a matter of where the hallowed ground started. Hallowed ground could and still did burn him like phosphorus. Sam had thought that because he was able to wear his mother’s cross – the one he had once given Aimi – that perhaps his sensitivity to holy objects and ground was a thing of the past. It wasn’t. He’d tested this hypothesis in the months since his battle with the Anti-Christ. Sadly, his reaction to other crosses, bibles, holy water and hallowed ground was as powerful and as painful as ever.

  It probably wasn’t going to be an issue in this case, however. He strongly suspected that the church had been desecrated. The fact that the crosses adorning the building appeared to have been torn down was a pretty strong indication. Desecration meant that the grounds couldn’t harm him, though he wasn’t going to take any unnecessary risks. Even though it couldn’t kill him, it hurt like nothing else and it wasn’t something he was in a hurry to feel again.

  There was a path, half buried, that circled the church. Sam suspected that this path marked the boundary of the church grounds. He took two steps closer and extended one of his legs over the path, allowing the tip of his hiking boot to touch the ground. Nothing. Experimentally, he touched his whole foot down. Still nothing. Confident now, he jumped over the path. A part of him expected that now he would feel the searing pain - a little joke played by his father – and he gritted his teeth as he landed. He crouched, waiting for it. When the pain didn’t come, he let out a little sigh of relief and straightened.

  In front of him, the church doors were still intact. Ignoring the flurry of ash it caused, Sam forced his way up the stairs, pushed aside a broken pew and some unhealthy looking weeds, and cautiously pushed the double doors. They opened grudgingly, emitting a grating sound that set Sam’s teeth on edge. If there were any demons around, he had just alerted them. Still, the small town he was in was deserted, and experience had taught him that no humans usually meant no demons.

  He forced the door open fully. Inside, the pews were scattered, twisted and broken. As he suspected from the grounds, the place had been desecrated. Crosses were either hung upside down or missing altogether. Blood was smeared on the walls and the altar looked like it had been used for some form of sacrifice. Standard demon practice.

  Sam ignored most of it. He’d seen it before and while disturbing, he’d become quite inured to it. After a quick scan around, it was time to get to work. Clearing an area roughly in the center of the nave, he produced some chalk from a pocket and quickly sketched the outline of a pentagram. Working from the inside, he was conscious of the fact that if this didn’t work, he was potentially trapping himself in. A pentagram wouldn’t, but a pentacle would. All it took was for him to connect the points of the pentagram with a circle.

  Before he could complete the circle, he fumbled the chalk and dropped it, watching helplessly as it rolled away out of reach. He didn’t dare stand to retrieve it for fear of disturbing his pentagram. He clucked in irritation, wishing that the chalk would somehow just return to his hand.

  Something happened. He saw it out of the corner of his eye. At first he thought he was seeing things and then he realized that yes, the chalk had just moved by itself. Nothing had touched it. There was no wind inside the church to stir it. The chalk had moved of its own accord, exactly at the same time he had wished it was in his hand. He decided to experiment. What did he have to lose? There wasn’t exactly anyone around to laugh at him when he failed.

  He closed his eyes and concentrated, reaching out. In his mind’s eye, he could see the chalk. He concentrated harder and began to get a sense of the feel of it – could actually feel it like it was physically in his hand. He willed it to come to him, to move, to return to his hand. Gritting his teeth with the effort, he felt the chalk move in his mind and knew that he was succeeding. A light touch on his fingertips confirmed it. He opened his eyes and looked down. The chalk was where he’d known it would be, right next to his fingers. Sam smiled in satisfaction. That was some party trick. There were certainly benefits to being a half-demon – especially a demon Prince. He’d remember this one. It could come in handy some day.

  He took a deep breath and used the chalk to draw a circle around his pentagram, instantly transforming it into a pentacle and imbuing the symbol with the power to block mental and demonic physical attacks. In his case, it also served as his own trap. When he was growing up in Jacob’s Ladder, Sam had often slept safe within the chalky outlines of a pentacle. It had been worth it, to finally sleep without dreams, free of his father’s constant mental bombardment.

  Of course, his master, Hikari or Aimi had been around then to free him by simply breaking the outline. But now … well, now there was no one. Potentially, he could break free but it would probably take every ounce of strength he possessed, leaving him weak and vulnerable for days if not weeks. And even then, it wasn’t a given.

  “This better work,” he said aloud. He’d prepared and thought it through carefully and was confident that he had a good chance, but of course, he’d never done this before either. It wasn’t something that you could practice. He’d traveled the other way before - from Hell to Earth - albeit with help from Joshua. He’d even traveled to Earth to Hell before but that was through a portal created by the Lemure. He’d never actually done this all by himself before.

  ”Draw the pentacle, visualize the place and will yourself there,” he muttered.

  Sam still had some questions. Were there certain designated emergent points in Hell, much like the churches were on Earth? Could he just visualize any place in Hell and will himself there? In all fairness, during his last visit, Sam hadn’t seen much of Hell, intent as he was on hiding or escaping, so his options were fairly limited. Besides, much of Hell looked alike. How did you tell one part of it from another?

  Sam sighed and decided to play it safe. He would visualize, or at least try to visualize, the place where he’d emerged last time. Surely that would work? Surely.

  He felt a niggling doubt but decided to ignore it. He had to do it. For his mother’s sake. For Grace. In any case, he was committed now, trapped inside the pentacle. As a last exercise in procrastination, he checked that his backpack was secure, that his Katana was strapped to the outside of it and his Wakizashi was securely tucked into the belt at his waist. They were exactly in the same places they had been fifteen minutes earlier. With a shrug, he sat down, crossed his legs and closed his eyes.

  For a few minutes, nothing happened. He found it hard to concentrate, his mind slipping away onto other, more pleasant memories. The pentacle blocked all the psychic energy that the demon-infested Earth was now suffused with. It was a pleasant change from the usual constant mental barrage. He’d missed this feeling. Of course, the remembered feeling gave way to other memories: memories of Aimi; of shared pleasures, of caresses and kisses, of her smile and the way her long hair seemed to dance in the breeze. Grudgingly, he tore his mind away from thoughts that served to torture him. What was the point in remembering something that could never be again? Aimi was in Heaven and always would be. A place where he could never go.

  The thought made him angrier than he anticipated, wiping out the happy, mellow memories. Without warning, his mind was channeled to a darker place, a place filled with flames and terror, a place he couldn’t deny felt more like home than any other he had known. Hell.

  He locked on to the thought, squeezing his eyes tighter in concentration. Something was happening. A movement, a translocation. All at once, he felt different. Stronger. More powerful. He took a deep breath and hot gaseous sulfur filled his lungs. Smiling tightly he opened his eyes, knowing full well what to expect.

  Sure enough, he was once again in Hell. But it wasn’t in a place he recognized. Suddenly concerned, Sam stood quickly. The flames of the pentacle were dying
already, its power exhausted. He stepped over the outline without restriction and gazed around him. His mouth dropped in awe.

  He was standing atop a rocky finger. Hundreds of feet below him was a sea of raging fire. It surrounded the rocky outcrop he was on completely and went on for as far as the eye could see. Hot winds buffeted him, blowing the hood from his head as if to tell him that the need to conceal his heritage was unnecessary here.

  He’d done it – he’d transported himself to Hell – just not to the right part. Something had gone wrong. Instead of arriving in a place he vaguely recognized, he was now trapped and isolated with no way of escape.

  What the Hell was he meant to do now?

  Chapter Three

  Hell

  “…to the land of deepest night, of deep shadow and disorder, where even the light is like darkness." Job 14:22

  Sam took stock slowly, carefully evaluating the situation like Hikari had taught him. Sure, he was in Hell, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. For one thing, he felt great, and that was certainly a positive. And it wasn’t like he was trapped. He could just craft another pentacle, visualize the church he’d just come from – for that matter, any church he remembered – and will himself back to Earth. Couldn’t he? But then a niggling thought intruded, sowing the seeds of doubt in his mind. What happened if it didn’t work properly, as it clearly hadn’t this time? What happened if he found himself back on Earth surrounded by demons and demon-worshippers? Or worse – what would he do if he found his ability to transport himself no longer worked. He’d be trapped in Hell for ever.

  He sighed, silently berating himself for his self-doubt. The last thing he needed to do right now was start speculating on things that hadn’t even happened yet, and may never transpire. What he needed to do was find practical solutions.

  He looked up. Miles above was the broken rocky ceiling that served as the upper limit of Hell. Lit by the burning fires below, it was bathed in a warm, flickering glow. Tiny, insect-like shapes fluttered near it but Sam knew that it was deceptive. They must be hulking Astaroth, lesser Princes of Hell, soaring on the hot currents of air. There seemed to be other shapes up there as well. Sam wasn’t so naïve as to think he knew every type of demon. The ancient tome of demonology given to him by Hikari long ago contained details of many different types but it was hardly comprehensive. Sam had encountered the more common ones but he was certain that Hell had other surprises in store for him.

  Still, the fact that these flying demons soaring above him appeared to be several miles away was another positive. It would be an absolute disaster if he had to fight wave after wave of Astaroth, trapped on this island of rock. Even he couldn’t fight them off forever; eventually they would wear him down. But so far, his appearance had gone unnoticed. Sam wanted to make sure he kept it that way, so couldn’t stay here. It was only a matter of time before a passing demon spotted him and raised the alarm.

  In recent years, he’d learnt to shroud his mind and presence from other demons using a kind of glamor ability. It had come in handy on Earth of course but now it was about to get a proper workout. He wasn’t sure whether it would actually work in Hell, but he was about to find out. He concentrated, putting the glamor in place, leaving it to operate on automatic without conscious thought. If it worked, great. If not, then he’d deal with the consequences when they occurred.

  That done, he checked out his immediate surroundings. The rocky finger was only about ten feet in diameter – not much larger than the now invisible pentacle that had brought him here. He took a few careful steps over to the edge. His first impression had been largely correct. The outcrop was at least two hundred feet tall, surrounded by a sea of fire. What he thought of as the nearest rocky shoreline was, if he had to guess, probably five miles distant. It wasn’t really a shoreline though – more like a towering wall of rock. And that was the nearest one. When he looked around, the other shorelines seemed to be ten or even twenty miles away.

  He focused on the wall closest to him. Even with his enhanced vision, it was hard to make out any detail. He thought he could see ant-like figures moving up and down the wall, but he couldn’t be sure. Last time he’d been in Hell, the scenery had been similar but different in one crucial way: the precipice he’d looked over last time had had islands of rock floating amidst the fires of Hell. On these islands, the cursed human inhabitants of Hell had been subjected to continuous torture. Where he was now, apart from the one piece of rock he’d been lucky enough to emerge upon, was absolutely free of rocky islands. And he was starting to consider himself lucky. Imagine if he’d actually emerged in the sea of flames? Although immune to some forms of fire and resistant to others, Sam doubted even he’d be able to survive in that sea for very long. He scanned the sea with renewed interest. The fires were almost solid, but like a sea, had peaks and troughs. It undulated like something alive, hurling hot gusts of sulfur-redolent air straight into Sam’s face.

  He was about to give up when he saw movement, movement that wasn’t part of the sea. He watched again, more carefully this time, focusing on the area where he’d seen the earlier movement. There! A tail, reminiscent of a serpent, broke the surface for a moment. It was almost the same color as the fires that surrounded it but more vivid, a brighter hue of orange and red. If Sam’s sense of scale was correct, just the tip of tail that he’d glimpsed must have been at least twenty feet long. That meant … Sam gulped. No wonder there were no fire demons resident in this sea. Sam didn’t blame them. If there were fire serpents over a hundred feet in length living in this sea, then he wouldn’t want to be in there either. The residents of Hell weren’t exactly inclined towards friendship with one another.

  Sam shook his head despairingly. Even if he could survive in these fires, he didn’t fancy his chances against massive fire serpents. Crossing the sea was clearly out of the question.

  He examined the rocky precipice again. Nothing. The landscape of Hell seemed to be a uniform black volcanic rock. The rock he stood upon looked exactly the same as any other piece of Hell. No help there. A thought occurred to him. Lying flat on the rock, he dragged himself to the edge and looked over and directly down the face of the rock. The rock was broken and cragged - perfect handholds. He could easily descend - but to what? A smile slowly appeared on Sam’s face. Down at the very base of the rocky finger, down where fiery waves lapped at the edges, there appeared to be a platform. Sam didn’t know what the purpose of it was but it was definitely better than sitting here.

  He stood up, adjusted and tightened his backpack and swords, and began the long climb down.

  Some indeterminate time later, Sam reached the bottom. He was sweating and his fingers were torn and bleeding, but he’d made it. It hadn’t been the easiest of climbs – the rock was treacherous and kept crumbling away even after he’d tested it, but here he was. He had also discovered something interesting during the descent. The sharp, volcanic rock here in Hell had the ability to pierce his skin – something that would have been impossible on Earth. At first, he’d thought that the rock must have contained a high content of iron but that made no sense. He certainly couldn’t sense or smell iron, which he often could. Also, all demons were extremely sensitive to iron. Why would Satan create a place that was filled with it? It might have been a cruel little joke, something that his father would find amusing but it would also serve to continuously antagonize his followers. Not to mention that it would probably inconvenience Satan himself.

  That wasn’t it. Sam knew there was no iron here. It was something else. And then he realized. Humans needed the sun to live but it also had the potential to kill them, just like the water in seas, oceans and lakes. The natural environment on Earth could be deadly to its indigenous inhabitants. For demons, their environment in Hell had the same effect. Sure, some of them had more immunity to fire than others, but the actual landscape seemed to be a different story entirely. It had the potential to kill him. Good to know. Sam was suddenly glad that he hadn’t followed his imp
ulse to jump straight into the sea of fire. If the rock could harm him, then being immersed in that sea probably wouldn’t be good for his health.

  What made it interesting, however, was the speed at which he was healing. He’d felt it before, of course, but never seen the process repeated again and again. During the climb down, he’d cut himself on rock numerous times. Each time, he’d bleed for a bit and then the wounds would rapidly seal over, and now the wounds were almost gone. He rubbed his hands together briskly in an effort to remove the last traces of blood. The healing process much faster than last time he was here, almost as if his body was becoming even more accustomed to his natural habitat. He wondered what other surprises his body had in store for him, here in this place.

  His hands finally clean of blood, he looked around carefully. Like everything else in this place, the platform was made of rock. It was also rather narrow – about five feet wider than the actual column, creating a walkway around the base. Flames lapped continuously at the edges, threatening to spill over and engulf the platform completely. Sam stretched out one arm experimentally and immersed his hand in the flames, ready to pull back quickly if needed. He didn’t. Surprisingly, the flames tingled rather than burnt. He left his arm in there and started to count. After about two minutes, he felt an itch. After three, a vaguely painful sensation started to intrude. After four minutes, it became almost too painful to bear and he hastily withdrew his arm. Interesting. It seemed he could survive for a few minutes in the fiery sea if required. Of course, that was if he could survive the attentions of the fire serpents ...

  Almost as if the thought of them had served as a summons, a massive head slowly emerged from the sea of fire about fifty feet from the base of the rocky column. Waves of flame surged about it, disturbed by the passage of something as utterly massive as this creature. Sam froze as the head rose higher and higher into the air, revealing a huge snake-like body beneath. The head itself looked more humanoid than serpent, with pointed ears and even a hint of a chin. Instead of a nose, it possessed vertical slits. White fangs, larger than Sam’s entire body, protruded over the edges of its gaping, lip-less mouth. When it was about fifty feet in the air, the fire serpent stopped rising.