The_Demons_Wife_ARC

by Rick Hautala

  Fuck you!

  “Have it your way, then.”

  The coils tightened even more. Tiny crackling sounds that she knew were her bones breaking echoed inside her head. Her vision swelled as dense blackness deeper than any black she had ever experienced spread out from the edges and reduced what she could see until it was no more than a single pinpoint. And in that pinpoint was the face of the snake staring at her as it opened its mouth wide.

  I’m…so…sorry.

  “Sorry for what?”

  That this is happening…that I have to…die like this…that I won’t ever get…to live…my life…with Samael…

  “You’re pathetic, but if you think you can get me to pity you, you’re dreadfully mistaken.”

  Not as pathetic as you.

  The coils tightened until a sudden huge explosion of white light flashed across her vision with a huge concussion of air. Claire had the vague thought that something in her brain had exploded. From a great distance, she heard a huge crashing sound like wood and glass and bricks exploding inward. A sudden gust of icy wind tore at the small part of her face that was still exposed from inside the snake’s coils, and then—miraculously—the pressure that had seized her began to relax.

  Am I dead…or dying…?

  The utter silence that followed made her think for a moment—a moment that seemed to last forever—that she had left the world. An incredible feeling of relief and acceptance that all of her worldly troubles were over filled her like the white light that bathed her.

  And then her body took over, and she gasped raggedly for air. Her chest filled with burning pain, and…faintly…she heard voices.

  They were far away…lost in the bright white light that had danced all around her. As the light began to fade, she opened her eyes and saw a luminous figure hovering above her. From the center of the blazing light that emanated from this being, there shone two silver eyes as bright as the sun. It hurt to look at them directly, but she couldn’t turn away.

  What’s happening to me?

  The thought rang like a bell inside her head.

  Still unable to see clearly, she felt something…someone grabbed her arm and started to pull her. Claire found it impossible to take a deep breath. Every one of her ribs seemed to have been shattered…like porcelain, but—somehow—she sucked in enough air to fill her chest. It was like gulping fire.

  But with the fresh oxygen, her head began to clear, and she gradually focused more clearly on what was happening around her.

  The bedroom was filled with a dazzling light.

  And the memories were coming back to her…

  She had come in here to check on Sally…to see if she was resting…

  One of the bedroom windows had exploded inward. Shards of glass and splintered wood littered the floor everywhere, and standing amidst the ruin was a glowing white figure. The light was dazzling.

  Michael!

  The angel filled the room, towering so high his head brushed against the ceiling as he faced the monstrous horror that writhed and coiled on the floor beside the wide, queen-sized bed. A high hissing sound filled the room, mixing with the deeper roar of the icy wind that blew in through the broken window. Pinpricks of snow and ice swept across Claire’s face, refreshing her and drawing her even more fully back to awareness.

  Every joint, every bone, every muscle in her body ached and burned and throbbed. Her head pulsated in time with her rapid heartbeat, and her vision was spinning, but that was mostly because of the snow and the glorious, radiant light that filled the guest bedroom.

  The snake—the demon that had been Sally—coiled in upon itself and raised its head so it, too, was pressed against the ceiling. Its blood-red forked tongue kept flickering in and out of its mouth. Its eyes glared with a cold, piercing flare, but was it anger…or fear?

  Claire sensed motion behind her and, turning, saw Samael in the doorway. He watched, amazed to see what was going on in the room. His expression looked as awestruck as Claire felt. When he caught her glance, he smiled, and for some reason, that simple act was more reassuring that anything else. He came to her and knelt down on the bed, gathering her into his arms.

  “You can’t defeat me,” the snake said, its voice high and shrill.

  “I already have,” said Michael as he brandished the sword he was holding. Beams of light reflected off the blade like shining silver splinters, but Claire was convinced the light was coming from inside the sword. Small tongues of silver flame licked up and down the length of the blade.

  The snake hissed and spat in frustration, and then it made a sudden dart toward Claire and Samael. But Michael lunged forward quickly and swung the sword around in a whistling arc that sliced its neck. The snake coiled and uncoiled in frustrated rage and pain. Its thrashing body made loud scuffing sounds on the carpet.

  “Go back to where you came from,” Michael said in a low, resonant voice. “And don’t come back. It’s over.”

  The snake’s face split into a vicious grin as it weaved its head from side to side like it was trying to hypnotize Michael. Thick, black blood ran down the demon’s sides.

  “It’s never over,” the snake said. “You know that as well as I do.”

  “At least it’s over for now,” Samael said.

  The snake turned its full attention onto Samael, who was standing at the foot of the bed. It lifted its head as if to strike at him, but Michael took a quick, threatening step closer. Hissing wickedly, the snake shrank back until its winding coils were pressed against the furthest bedroom wall.

  “You thought you could keep me out by using your powers,” the snake said. Its unblinking eyes were fixed on Samael. “But you made one simple miscalculation, like everyone does…eventually.”

  “Oh?” Samael said. “And what was that?”

  It struck Claire as amazing as well as bizarre that Samael, the man—no, the demon she had married—could speak so calmly and reasonably to a demonic creature like this as if things like this happened every day.

  “You made a barrier you thought would keep things out, but you don’t know what you’ve already walled inside.”

  The snake’s words sent a chill through Claire, but Samael’s grim smile didn’t falter. Glancing at Michael, he raised his left hand and held it with his palm up. Michael took hold of the flaming blade and handed the sword hilt-first to Samael. Samael’s arm seemed to droop for a moment from its weight, but he braced his feet and brought the blade around, gripping the hilt with both hands like it was a baseball bat.

  The snake’s head continued swaying from side to side, but Claire was sure, now, that she saw sudden panic in the creature’s unblinking eyes. Its scales changed color in rapidly shifting waves as Samael raised the sword above his head and, with three quick steps, approached the snake just as it struck.

  Samael quickly sidestepped the strike and then, planting both feet about shoulder-width apart, swung the sword down in a single, swift blow. The blade whistled through the air and caught the snake behind the head, cutting deeply and ending with a loud thunk sound when it was stopped by the snake’s spine. The snake hissed as it coiled in upon itself, making as small a ball as possible—which was still considerable. Another furious hiss sprayed a clear liquid across the room. The tiny amount that hit Claire’s forearm burned like a wasp sting.

  Samael, however, seemed not to notice as he placed his foot on the snake’s body and yanked the blade free. Then he swung again…and again…and again until the snake’s head was finally severed. It hit the floor and rolled over so the pale-white underside of its throat was exposed. The flesh around the throat was convulsing as thick, black blood spurted onto the floor. The snake’s eyes rolled back and stared at the floor. They quickly lost their light.

  An unimaginable sense of relief swept through Claire as she watched the creature’s body snap and twitch until it finally came to rest. Samael stepped back and, wiping sweat from his face, smiled at Claire. She wanted to rush to him and embrace him, but she wa
s so wrung out she couldn’t get to her feet.

  Samael handed the sword back to Michael and then moved toward her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. His voice was soft and had an odd resonance. Claire knew it was because her hearing was distorted, not his voice. As the first wave of shock began to subside, and she began to absorb what had just happened, the darkness that had threatened her when she was trapped in the coils of the snake came rushing back.

  She looked up at Samael and tried to speak.

  She wanted to let him know that every inch of her body throbbed with pain, and that she was worried that whatever was happening still wasn’t over…that this had been only the first wave of several more to come.

  But the only sound she made was a low, whimpering moan before she pitched forward, and the darkness dragged her down.

  ~ * ~

  She awoke to the sound of voices and a vague sense that someone—

  Maybe many someones

  —was touching her.

  The sensation was so diffused she couldn’t be sure it even related to her. She tried to open her eyes but wasn’t sure she remembered how to do something as simple as that.

  Am I dead? She wondered again but—oddly—that thought didn’t frighten her.

  “Am…I…dead?”

  This time, she was positive she spoke the words, but there was no answer, reassuring or otherwise. The voices kept talking to each other, getting louder and seemingly ignoring her. One of the voices had a sharp, rasping hiss that reminded her of…something…

  What?

  She knew as she came closer to consciousness, things would only get worse, so she listened to the two voices as they spoke in weird, buzzing tones. She couldn’t make any sense of anything, but she didn’t care. She actually felt comfortable and warm, floating as though she had risen from the floor…or ground…or bed…or wherever she was lying and drifting along on the warm current of air that was blowing over and around her.

  But she wasn’t flying.

  She was relieved when she realized she was still very much in the real world. No one could feel as rotten and confused as she did and be dead.

  So she just lay there, trusting that whoever or whatever was close to her had her best interests at heart. No matter what was going to happen, she wanted to believe that—for right now, at least—everything was fine because…

  Samael saved my life…There was a snake…An impossibly huge snake…And he killed it...

  It was also the last clear thought she had before the darkness sucked her back down, and she was gone again.

  ~ * ~

  “Feeling better?”

  When Claire’s eyes snapped open, she found herself lying on her back, looking up into Samael’s face. He was smiling reassuringly as he leaned over her. He had a cool washcloth in one hand and was gently wiping her forehead and cheeks.

  “Umm…I do now.”

  She managed a weak smile. When she focused past him, she realized she was in his bedroom…lying on the master bed. Behind him, sunlight poured in through the windows, lighting the gauzy curtains with a nimbus of white light that hurt her eyes. In the distance, she could see that the yard was covered with a fresh coating of snow.

  Snow?

  It was so bright and clean it reminded her of…

  “Michael!”

  The name was out of her mouth before she could stop it.

  “Don’t worry. He’s fine,” Samael said gently. “He’s…taking care of a few things.”

  Claire caught the hesitation in his voice but wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he meant by it. She was confident she would find out…eventually.

  As the sleep fog cleared from her mind, hazy memories of what had happened returned.

  Had it really happened…had she imagined it…had she dreamed it?

  “Last night…Did we really—”

  “Ut-ut,” Samael whispered, placing his forefinger gently over her lips to silence her.

  But Claire wasn’t having any of that. She swatted his hand away and then hiked herself up in the bed so she was leaning back on her elbows.

  “No!” she said, speaking so sharply it hurt her throat. “You have to tell me everything that happened. I saw what I saw, and you can’t pretend I didn’t.”

  “I’m not pretending anything,” Samael said mildly. “I just don’t want you to get upset.”

  “Upset? What the Hell are you talking about? Of course I’m upset! Last night I saw my roommate turn into a—”

  Claire choked on what she had been about to say and ended up coughing so hard pinpoints of light skittered across her vision. Samael leaned in close to comfort her, but she pushed him away and, still coughing, shifted around so she was sitting cross-legged on the bed.

  “You want a glass of water?” Samael asked.

  She shook her head no and, covering her mouth with her fist, waited for the coughing to subside. Once she could catch her breath, she asked the most pressing question on her mind.

  “So what happened to Sally?”

  Samael broke eye contact with her and turned to stare out the window at the early spring winter wonderland.

  “Samael…” Claire took hold of his arm and shook it. “Come on. You have to tell me what happened.”

  She paused, but the only sound he made was a deep sigh.

  “Was that really Sally who…transformed? Or was that a demon?”

  No answer.

  “Tell me! Is Sally dead?” She all but choked on the word.

  Samael turned to face her. His expression said it all.

  “Oh, my God!” Claire said, staring at him over her clenched fist. “You mean she…she…Last night…Did you really use Michael’s sword to…to kill her?”

  Samael’s shoulders dropped as if he were a car tire that had a sudden leak. He lowered his head and then started shaking it slowly from side to side.

  “It’s more complicated than that,” he finally said, “but that’s some of what Michael’s taking care of right now.”

  Chapter

  15

  Body Double

  The day after I got married…this morning…should have been a lot different.

  That was pretty much Claire’s only thought as she busied herself about the kitchen, making breakfast for herself and Samael.

  There was so much to talk about, but she had no idea where to begin. It was up to him and Michael, who joined them for a while. Before long, Michael excused himself and left by the front door without explanation. So Claire and Samael sat there in the kitchen, eating silently until Claire said what was on her mind.

  “You have to tell me everything.”

  Samael considered and then nodded.

  Once they started talking, Claire kept quiet, letting him do the talking while she tried to understand something she was beginning to think she could never fully comprehend.

  Samael confirmed her memory of events…to some degree, but parts of his narrative seemed—at least by the way he acted, not by what he said—to diverge from her memories, confused though they were. The ultimate horror and sorrow was his statement that he feared Sally was, indeed, dead, but not by his hand.

  “But you…you cut the head off last night. I saw it.”

  Samael bowed his head and shook it. It bothered Claire that he wouldn’t make direct eye contact with her or, when he did, he wouldn’t hold it for long.

  “Okay, then…who was it…or what was it?”

  “I’d say the snake was a…an emissary.”

  “An emissary?”

  Samael nodded.

  “From”

  “From my…”

  A genuine smile lit up his face.

  “From my former ‘supervisor.’”

  “You make it sound like you had a regular job,” Claire said, picking up on his amusement.

  “You want bureaucracy? Try working for Hell. It’s quotas this and deliveries that…The only difference is the usual commodities—”

  “People
’s souls, you mean.”

  “Yeah.”

  Samael’s expression dropped, but for some reason what they were discussing struck Claire as so ridiculous it bordered on the absurd. She started to chuckle and then had to struggle not to laugh out loud. Maybe laughter was the only sensible relief from the total insanity of what she had been through…what she had witnessed last night.

  In the clear light of day, as it were, she couldn’t accept that the person she had thought was her roommate was, in fact, a demon. Or had a demon possessed Sally and was masquerading as her? Or did that snake demon have nothing to do with Sally, and she was safely at home or at work?

  Her memory had the hazy overcast of a nightmare, now, rapidly dissolving in the daylight, but her aching ribs reminded her that whatever it was, it had been all too real.

  “I thought my job at the chemical company was bad,” she said, “but your boss sounds like a real dick.”

  Her remark didn’t get the reaction she wanted or expected. Instead of laughing or even smiling, Samael was silent as he looked at her with a pained expression.

  “What is it?” Claire asked. “You’re not telling me everything, are you?”

  Samael remained silent for a considerable time. The only sound was the steady tick-tock of the kitchen wall clock.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” Claire said, trying without success to keep the edge out of her voice. She shifted forward in her chair and, reaching across the table, took both of his hands in hers. They were burning hot, and they had a slick, oily feeling.

  “A lot,” he finally said. “Too much.”

  “What do you mean?” Her hand tightened on his. “You know you can tell me anything…everything!”

  He continued to avoid eye contact with her, and she shook his hands roughly, banging her elbows on the table in the process.

  “Samael, I’m not some little wallflower you have to protect. I’m your wife, for Chri—for gosh sakes.”

  Samael didn’t say a word. His expression remained flat…unreadable. He stared down at his coffee cup and twirled it around inside the saucer, spinning it by the handle. The china made a high-pitched ringing sound that immediately irritated Claire, but he seemed not to notice…or care.