by Rick Hautala
Samael nodded and said, “Thanks.”
Claire was left wondering how Michelle could have known and gotten a room ready in so short a time. She assumed Samael had snuck in a phone call to her while Claire was distracted, tending to Sally. Still supporting Sally by the arms, Claire and Samael led her up the wide sweeping stairway and down the long hallway to a large bedroom halfway down on the left. Like every other room in Samael’s house, this one was gorgeously appointed. A king-sized bed, freshly made and turned down with silk sheets, was placed between two large windows that looked out over the side yard. Vases of fresh-cut flowers—roses and baby’s breath—were in expensive vases on the bed stand and bureau.
Where do you get flowers like that in March? Claire wondered.
Michelle had laid out a pink, flannel nightgown on the bed, and Claire asked Samael to leave the room so they could help Sally change into it after washing her and bandaging her face and hands. Michelle produced ice packs for Sally’s eyes and wrists. Fortunately, no bones appeared to be broken.
Sally did everything she was told without complaint or resistance, and Claire was glad for that. She was sure she wouldn’t be able to handle it if Sally started freaking out or resisting.
Samael had given Claire a sedative to give to Sally, which she took without complaint. Once Sally was tucked into bed and drifting off to sleep, Claire began to relax for the first since…she wasn’t sure when.
As Sally’s eyes fluttered and closed, and her breathing became deep and even, Claire walked over to the windows and drew the shades down. The semidarkness in the room was warm and restful. Once she was sure Sally was asleep, Claire realized how utterly exhausted she was, too. She considered going down the hall to the master bedroom and climbing into bed, but she had to go back downstairs first and spend some time with Samael.
This was, after all, their wedding day.
They had a lot to talk about.
~ * ~
“Some honeymoon, huh?”
The humorous edge in Samael’s comment made Claire smile…at least a little; but the truth was, she was consumed with anger and worry about Sally, not to mention their own danger. She was also frustrated that her wedding day—a day that was supposed to be so special—had been ruined like this.
What do you expect when you marry a demon?
The sun had dropped behind the horizon long ago, and the sky through the living room curtains was a deep steel blue that was slowly blending to black as storm clouds closed in from the west. It was cold outside. The bare branches of the trees cut the fading sky into lacy black patterns. A strange silence pervaded the house. Samael started a fire in the fireplace. Claire almost said something when he used matches and kindling instead of snapping his fingers or something to start the blaze. Soon, the crackling wood and flickering flames pushed back the encroaching darkness.
Claire pushed her cascade of hair over her shoulders.
“I hear the Caribbean’s really nice this time of year,” she said with a sigh.
Samael didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. They were safest here, but for how long?
“Where did Michael go? Will he be back soon?” she asked.
“’S hard to say.”
His grim expression as he stared into the flames did little to calm her down. Even in the firelight, his eyes looked as shiny and black as polished marble without a single fleck of gold.
“You’d think he’d at least contact us, wouldn’t you?” she asked. She felt safer with Michael around even though his presence unnerved her.
Samael offered to get her a drink, and when he returned with it—scotch and soda—she sipped it, relishing the slow burn of the alcohol as it reached deep into her stomach. The carbonation of the soda water tickled her nose, making her feel like she had to sneeze.
“Well…?” she said, as if there had been no interruption in their conversation.
“You mean about Michael? I’m not sure,” Samael replied. The hint of worry in his voice bothered Claire.
Has something happened that he doesn’t want me to know about? Or is he as in the dark about Michael’s whereabouts as I am?
Regardless, she felt less safe without Michael around. His otherworldliness, as intimidating as it was, exuded a level confidence and competence that even Samael didn’t give her. She took another sip of her drink and found it so soothing she took another. When she looked out the window again, it was full dark, no stars. White streaks of snow zipped past the window, looking like random laser beams.
“That’s the bitch of it,” Samael said, not sounding the least bit amused. “If they came right at us, it’d be one thing. But this way…” He sighed and, looking at the floor as if he was utterly exhausted, shook his head. After a long silence, he leaned back in his chair and, staring up at the ceiling, rubbed his eyes.
So apparently even a demon can get tired and stressed, Claire thought. The thought struck her as mildly amusing, and she started to laugh. Before long, tears were streaming down her face as she found release in seeing the humor of it all.
It felt good to laugh, and as she did, she realized just how much tension she’d been carrying around inside her ever since…well, ever since she realized she and Samael were in real danger...since she had driven to Houlton with someone—something that wasn’t Samael.
Now, all of that seemed like it had happened so long ago…to another person in another lifetime.
Hell, since then, I’ve become a married woman, and that’s only within the last twelve hours.
As she continued to laugh, the absurdity of her situation hit her even harder. She realized she was laughing hysterically as she doubled over and gasped for breath. Her stomach muscles ached.
Samael sat down next to her on the couch.
“Take it easy, love,” he said, looking at her curiously. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
Claire struggled to gain control of herself, but the ridiculousness of what she had gotten herself into was stunning. She forced herself to lean back and take another sip of her drink. Then she decided, to Hell with decorum, and downed the rest in three quick gulps. She hadn’t eaten all day, and the alcohol hit her hard, going straight to her head.
This is exactly what I need, she told herself…something to get me out of my head.
“Can I have another?” she asked, holding her glass out to Samael.
He flashed his old, wicked grin at her as he got up, took the glass, and walked down the long hallway to the kitchen.
Claire heaved a sigh and tried to settle back on the sofa, but her gaze kept shifting over to the dark rectangles of the windows that overlooked the yard.
And as she stared blankly out at the falling snow, she saw something else outside…a shape darker than night had shifted up close to the window. Claire could feel as much as see the presence. She wanted to do something—either call out to Samael or else get up and leave the room, but she was rooted to the sofa.
The longer she stared at it, the more clearly defined it became until she realized that she was looking at a vaguely human shape that seemed to be swelling in size as she looked at it.
It grew to be a lot bigger than any person she knew and now filled the window, blocking out the night.
She wasn’t sure when, but Claire realized she was staring into a pair of eyes that glowed dull red in the darkness, like coals in a dying fire. The longer she stared at them, the brighter they glowed.
“Samael…” she called out, her voice little more than a strangled whisper.
It felt as if unseen hands were gripping her throat and squeezing. The air in the room seemed suddenly to be ten or more degrees lower.
Somehow—later…she could not have said how much later—she managed to get off the couch and ease herself slowly into a standing position. Her chest was tight, her heart racing as she focused on the window.
As she did, the figure became more distinct until she was sure she was staring into the face of a demon. Through the glass, she s
aw a huge face, as blue as solid ice, grinning in at her.
“Samael…” she called out again. She yelled as loud as she could, but the air in the living room seemed suddenly thick. It muffled her call and any other sounds.
Her eyes were wide and as she neared the window, and the face became more distinct. For an instant, she wondered if it was Michael, who had come back and not been able to get into the house for some reason. But Michael’s eyes were silver…not red, and she felt safe in his presence, not suffocated. She remembered how the demon had impersonated Samael all through the drive up to Houlton. One of their enemies—maybe more—could assume any form they wanted in order to fool her. Maybe it was something all demons could do. She wished now she’d asked Samael about it. But one thing she did remember was not to speak to them.
Ever!
Through the reflective panes of glass, she watched as the figure resolved more clearly. The wicked red gleam in the creature’s eyes grew brighter, and the blue face was smiling at her maliciously.
“…Claire…” a voice whispered faintly.
It sounded as if the speaker was standing close behind her…
Or inside her head.
She froze and stared, unblinking as the face pressed against the glass. Flakes of snow swirled in a tornado around it like it was captured inside a huge snow globe. When its mouth moved, long, pointed teeth slid back and forth behind fleshy black lips.
And then it opened its mouth.
The gaping hole looked suddenly huge, and inside…behind the rows of razor-sharp teeth, she saw…people.
It was like looking into a canyon except, instead of rock walls on each side, there were huge teeth on the top and bottom. And now she could see dozens…scores of people, writhing in pain as they thrashed about inside the gaping maw.
“…Claire…” the voice said again, and this time the mouth moved in unison with the sound of her name.
She wanted desperately to call out to Samael, but she couldn’t catch her breath. The icy air in the living room was numbing her.
The demon raised its hands to the window, its claws hooked and vicious-looking as they tapped on the glass like wind-driven ice pellets. Then the blue-faced creature flattened its hands against the glass and began to push.
Claire jumped back but couldn’t look away. She was fascinated as the huge blue hands blotted out the night. She stared at the lines on the palms of the demon’s hands, positive that the winding, spiral patterns had some supernatural meaning. The claws continued to tap and scratch on the glass with loud squeaking and rasping sounds, but gradually the sounds altered until they took on a slow, drumming cadence…like the steady thumping of a distant marching band.
“…Claire…”
Frozen with terror, she watched as the being outside leaned forward, its blue face contorted into a horrible grimace as it opened its mouth in a silent scream and pressed its full weight against the glass. Faint traces of crackling white light ran up and down the creature’s arms, sparking off its fingertips. Spikes of light danced like threads of static electricity. Some penetrated the glass, reaching out as if to grab Claire.
And then—unbelievably—the glass began to bulge inward, as if it was no longer glass but some soft, fluid plastic. Glistening, glassy lumps caught the light and reflected it back in wild, distorted patterns that took on the rounded contours of the claws. Claire was convinced that—any second now—those cruel-looking points of bone would tear through the glass and slash her to ribbons.
“Sam…” she said, no more than a croaking whimper.
Instead of hearing Samael’s reassuring voice, though, a low, gravelly growl filled her head.
“You can’t resist,” the voice said. “You’ve already lost. Samael is one of us…Always has been. Always will be. And no matter what you do, tonight you will lose your life, and your soul will be cast into eternal damnation.”
The fuck it will! Claire thought but couldn’t say.
She knew that the being outside—whoever or whatever it was—could read her every thought. She felt exposed…naked…and vulnerable as numbing cold filled her chest and stomach. At first—for only a few seconds—it was reassuring…proof that she was still alive, and her blood was still flowing.
But within the span of a few heartbeats, the cold intensified until it felt as though she were frozen solid inside.
“Come…to…me…now,” the voice said. Every word was punctuated by a crackling hiss like a nest of snakes writhing inside her head. Claire’s teeth were rattling like someone shaking dice in their hand.
Claire shook her head, resisting with every ounce of energy she had, but the glass sagged further inward, closer…closer. The claws skittered and squealed on the window like someone raking chalk across a chalkboard.
“Your…soul…is…already…mine,” the voice said.
Claire drew on her last reserves of strength, opened her mouth, and screamed, “Never!”
The blue face loomed closer, almost touching her but still separated from her by the glass. Normal dimensions of space seemed no longer to make any sense. The face—the being—the blue-faced demon—looked like it was already inside the house. It had nothing to do but snatch her up and drag her off into the night.
As the face in the window pressed against the flexible glass, its features gradually shifted. Whereas first she had seen a horrible demon, she now saw—
No!
—Samael!
He was reflected in the glass, his expression grim and unmoving as he came closer to her.
The he reached out and grabbed her, his hands clamping down hard on her shoulders from behind…hard enough to make her wince and cry out.
“It’s all right,” Samael said calmly.
At least it sounds like Samael’s voice.
Claire wondered how his voice could be coming from behind her when he was clearly standing in front of her, his hands reaching through the window to grab her.
The pressure of his fingers pressing into both of her shoulders was so strong she was sure his fingers would leave bruises on her skin.
A force as powerful as a hurricane wind suddenly yanked her backwards. She was sure her soul was being ripped out of her, but a sudden rush of cool, refreshing air wrapped around her, bringing her back.
She blinked her eyes and discovered that she was sprawled on her back on the couch.
The figure in the living room window withdrew slowly, and after a while, the glass resumed its normal, flat shape.
Claire was breathing hard, her breath burning her throat and lungs.
When she looked up, she was surprised to see Samael standing over her. He was smiling grimly as he looked down at her.
“I told you. The house is protected,” he said softly, “but it’s not a good idea to test its limits…or our luck.”
Claire gaped at him in disbelief. Her eyes shifted from Samael to the pitch-black night outside.
The blue-faced demon figure was gone. The clawed hands had withdrawn, dissolved into the depths of the night.
“What just…Where were you? Why didn’t you come when I called?”
“I came as fast as I could once I knew there was trouble,” Samael said. He sat down beside her on the couch. The weight of his body pressing down the cushions was reassuring.
Reality!
Claire couldn’t help but wonder when she would trust reality again.
What she had just seen and been through defied explanation.
“What was that?” she asked, her voice tight and small.
“You saw the Hell Mouth.”
“The Hell Mouth,” she echoed.
Samael nodded.
“It’s difficult to understand, but—put simply, you don’t really go to Hell. You…it swallows you.”
“How did it...” she started to say but then fell silent. The sense of relief flooding through her was too intense. She had to absorb it and try to process what she had seen. She wondered briefly if she could ever trust this reality a
fter what she had just witnessed, but when she slid over and pressed her face against Samael’s shoulder, inhaling his scent, she knew she could.
“That was a close one,” Samael said simply, patting her back. “They’re stronger…and more determined than I thought.”
“Do you know who they are?” Claire asked, her voice muffled in the comfort of Samael’s shirt.
“I know one of them. Yes,” Samael replied.
When he didn’t offer more, Claire wanted to demand that he tell her everything, but she realized it might be for the better this way. If she knew the full extent of the dangers they faced—
Like the Hell Mouth.
—it might be too much to handle.
She decided—for now, anyway—to let the mystery be.
“We’re safe, right? You’re sure of it?”
“To be honest, after what just happened, I…I’m not sure.”
Claire pulled away from Samael and stared at him, her eyes wide.
Samael said calmly, “They’ve arrayed some powerful forces against me.”
“Against us,” Claire said softly to let him know he wasn’t alone in this.
“You’re right,” he said, squeezing her hand tightly. “Us.”
He sighed, looking so sad and careworn it all but broke Claire’s heart.
“But you have to remember,” he said, “they’re not after you. They want me. They can’t do you any harm, really, except to try to terrify you.”
“Huh! They’re doing a pretty good job of it so far,” she said with a humorless laugh.
“Just keep in mind, they’re using you to get to me. At least they’re trying to.” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “But like I said, Michael has created a strong defense here. I’m positive it’ll hold.”
“Do you have any idea where Michael is now? Have you heard from him? ”
Claire couldn’t miss the worry in his eyes when he shook his head, no.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m sure he’s all right.”
How can anyone harm an angel? Claire wondered, amazed to be thinking in such terms and accepting it so readily.
“Nothing out there can get inside just like nothing inside can get out. The barrier’s strong, and it will stay that way until Michael lifts it.”
