“The last thing I remember before passing out is the demonic shape embracing your mother. The demon, to roars of ecstatic approval from the acolytes, departed, taking your mother with him. I managed to let out another weak groan and then I was struck from behind again.
“When I awoke, it was morning. The acolytes had gone and there was no sign of either the demon or your mother. To this day, I do not know why they let me live. I managed to wriggle free of my bonds and investigated the altar as best I could in my weakened state. I found remains of candles and a pentagram drawn in chalk. When I touched the red stain, I found that it was blood.”
Hikari took a deep breath, filled with pain and remorse. “I wish I could have stopped them. I sometimes think that I did not do all I could to save her.”
Sam’s heart ached with anguish but he managed to put his small arm around his master’s shoulders. Hikari hugged him back and they held each other for a few moments.
“And you’ve never seen my … my mother again?” said Sam eventually, stumbling over the unfamiliar word.
Hikari got up and began pacing the small room. “I saw her a few months later. She passed me by in the street and I almost missed her, but something made me turn when she was only a few feet from me. She was obviously pregnant. Her hair had been done differently from how she normally kept it and she wore heavy makeup — something which she had never used before.
I ran up to her and grabbed her arm. She looked at me in a way that I will always remember. Her glance was blank but beneath it, I knew that her true self still fought for freedom. She pretended not to know me, shook off my hand and continued on her way. I attempted to follow her but it was almost as if she used some arcane means to elude me.
“I moved to Utah shortly after that. What I had seen convinced me that I had to make plans more rapidly than I had thought. I had allies here and resources. Besides, my wife wanted to move back here after so long in Japan.
“We’d been here a few months when, one night — it was near midnight — there was a knock at the door. I remember having a feeling of tremendous foreboding but despite my wife’s pleas not to answer the door, I did so anyway. I took the precaution, however, of being armed, and crept down the stairs with my katana in my hand.
“When I opened the door, there was a cloaked figure standing there holding a cloth wrapped bundle. When the figure saw the sword, she lowered her hood. It was your mother.”
Sam gasped. To think that his mother actually came to this house was a welcome revelation. She felt somehow closer to him.
Hikari gazed at him as if he sensed his thoughts. “It was good to see your mother again at last, almost as I remembered her. She had aged though. Her hair was greying at the temples and there were new lines on her face. She handed me the bundle and told me: ‘Look after him. Guard him well. We will need his strength in the coming battle.’She then placed something in my hand and closed my fingers over it. I tried to get her to come into the house but she only shook her head sadly. I could tell that she was very afraid. She said that they were looking for her and that she had to hurry.
“I unwrapped the bundle and found your tiny face swaddled within. ‘What will be his name?’ I asked. ‘Samael,’ she replied.”
Sam froze at the name. Something in his body responded to it at a subconscious level and deep down he knew it was his proper name. Sam was a name that he had always worn like a comfortable coat given to him by a stranger — something he liked but that didn’t truly belong to him. Samael rang true. It was the first time he had heard Hikari use it. “Samael,” he repeated.
Hikari nodded slowly.
“Like you, I recognized the name. It is the name of a powerful demon — a fallen angel. Some believe he is the Angel of Death. Names — especially amongst demons — are powerful. Protect your name. Never let those who you do not trust learn the truth of it.
I have never lied to you, Sam. From the moment you were old enough to understand, I told you what you were. Please understand, I shortened your name not to deny you your heritage or conceal the truth from you, but to protect you from those who would bring evil upon you.”
Hikari sat on the bed again and placed his arm around Sam’s shoulders. “Although it is your true name, it does not represent your true nature. While you are half demon, you are also half human and have your mother’s goodness inside you. Fight against the demonic side; never let it dominate you.” He pointed to Sam’s chest. “When in doubt, listen to your heart and let it guide you.”
“What did she give you?” Sam asked.
“It was the cross I had given her,” said Hikari with a weary sigh. “She obviously thought she was not worthy of it anymore.”
“And what about my mother?” asked Sam, looking into Hikari’s eyes. “What happened to her?”
Hikari returned the look without flinching and then sighed again and looked away.
“There is no easy way to say this. Your mother is dead, Sam.”
It was well after midnight. Sam was out past the boundaries of their backyard practising his swordplay, his back to Jacob’s Ladder and the slumbering townspeople. Red soil and rock interspersed by small clumps of green shrubbery stretched as far as the eye could see. Sam’s eye in any case. It was an overcast night. Most humans would see very little in this light. Sam could see perfectly well.
A set of bamboo poles were embedded in the red soil of a small depression. He struck them rhythmically with two-handed blows of his training sword. It was a shinai — a practise weapon made up of four bamboo poles bound together with leather wrappings.
He struck the bamboo pole harder and harder. His hands started to hurt. Even though his palms had hardened with the training regime set by Hikari, he could feel blisters forming. He ignored the pain and continued. Before him, he imagined that the poles were his enemies. Demons, the cultist followers that worshiped them — it didn’t matter. He just wished to strike them down. Anger burned like coals in his stomach.
Most of all, he imagined that they were the ones that killed his mother. He struck even harder and felt wetness in his palms. They were bleeding, but he didn’t care. He cried out with the next strike and both the shinai and the bamboo target shattered. He didn’t stop. With one fluid movement, he picked up another shinai from the ground and began his assault on another pole.
He struck again and again, pouring his rage and frustration out on the inanimate objects, and catching sight of himself in his sword. His irises, once black, had now turned blood red.
Breathless and exhausted, he collapsed to the ground, his palms leaving moist patches of darker red on the soil. He wished he could cry but he could not. Instead he screamed, over and over. When he could scream no more he wrapped his arms around his knees and began rocking back and forth.
He heard a noise behind him and could tell by the careful tread that it was Hikari. If he’d wanted to, his master could have crept up on him without his knowledge. His master intended for him to hear — probably fearful of alarming him.
He felt the arms of his master wrap themselves around him and hold him tight. “It’s alright,” said Hikari, rocking the five year old boy gently. “It’s going to be alright.”
Sam clung to his master just as tightly. Hikari was wrong though. It was not going to be alright. His mother was dead and he would never see her. Nothing would ever be alright again.
3
5 WEEKS SINCE THE RAPTURE