Chapter 21: The Devil Deals the Cards, Part 1

"I'm worried about that detective," said Satan. It was still strange to talk to a face drawn in the flames of a fireplace. It was the least of it, but well.

"I'll take care of him, as I've taken care of everything so far."

"It's true that you've exceeded my expectations, but this is a more dangerous man who's looking for a culprit. You'll have to be more careful."

"I will be. And he won't be looking for anything for too long."

"If you already have a plan, share it with me."

He wanted to get moving, to set it in motion, not explain anything to anyone. But he couldn't ignore a direct order. And it was, even if it sounded like a simple request. Although Satan was his only ally in this world, he wasn't going to let his guard down and assume he was on his side. That was very different.

Satan only sought what suited him.

They were father and son after all, both completely selfish monsters. Which seems perfect to me, he thought.

"It's not really a plan. I'm just thinking that I don't like having him snooping around here, but I shouldn't kill him either. It wouldn't solve anything, really. It would only confirm that a killer is on the loose, that what happened are not mere unpleasant coincidences, a string of misfortunes. Besides, they would only send another detective or detectives to the slaughter."

"So you want to finish the job while that guy tries to find you."

"I didn't say that." Although if he had no other choice, he would do it, of course. "Just like Ivor or Kyrie, I can turn him into a culprit. I can ruin his life and make sure they lock him up."

A lot of "I can", but in reality he wanted to say "I want". He would enjoy it immensely, as always, and besides, detective Adams wasn't a Wright, so he wouldn't have to put him out of his misery when he was done with him. He could let him rot, buried under the ruins of his life, all because he had made the grave mistake of getting in his way.

Yes. That ending would fill him with satisfaction.

He still wasn't sure how he would do it, but for now that was his preference. Ruin him, not kill him.

As an added bonus, if everything went well, the authorities wouldn't be the only ones to close the case. Blake would convince himself that everything was resolved and wouldn't send other lambs that Sam would have to sacrifice so they wouldn't sabotage his efforts.

All advantages, wherever he looked.

The problem was that he had no idea how he would achieve it.

Which wasn't really a problem. He had never known, but improvising on the go everything had turned out perfectly. This didn't have to be different.

He had the intelligence and skills necessary to get rid of a mere human.

Crush his insignificant life as if it were a cockroach.

——

Sam was sitting on the edge of the lake, under the shade of the big tree. He followed the swaying of the ducks disinterestedly with his gaze, lost in his thoughts.

Until someone suddenly sat down next to him.

Deep down, he knew it before taking a look, before that man opened his mouth.

"Hello, Samuel," said detective Adams.

"Sam. I don't like Samuel." (They were enemies, whether the other man knew it or not, but it was worth clarifying that.) "What are you doing here?"

That man was looking at the lake too, not at him. Or at least that's what it seemed. Maybe he was analyzing his expressions by looking at the mirror that was the surface of the water.

In any case, it wasn't a dangerous situation.

The detective had nothing, not even suspicions, so there was no reason to worry. If he showed himself too tense, on guard, he could give him the suspicions he needed to start following his trail.

No, he thought. There is no trail.

But that wasn't the point. Relax.

"I see. Well, Sam, are you surprised? Five victims, all dead, and there wasn't exactly a large audience. Not until it was too late. Your sister Christina and you are the only involved ones who survived. For now you're the only people I can ask and expect to get something clear."

"Did you already go see my sister?"

"Yes."

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"Then you can consider that part of your job finished. I'm afraid I know the same as her. No more, no less."

Adams smiled as if saying he would decide that. He didn't like it. He couldn't have done anything to like him, given the purpose of his visit, but it was still true.

"She told me that you asked her for help against Ivor. That she should follow you in secret and only act when he became too violent, crossing the line."

He thought she would lie for him. He resisted the urge to click his tongue. But this wasn't a dangerous situation at all, Christina hadn't said anything that could condemn him.

"Yes. I thought that way I would get him punished and get rid of him at least for the duration of the family conference. For the reason you already know. He had gone crazy, blaming me for Evelyn's death."

"And in the end he opened his eyes and chose to commit suicide."

"How am I supposed to know? Maybe he simply didn't want to spend the rest of his life behind bars."

Adam laughed.

A laugh as fake as when he had smiled at him in the lobby a few hours ago. The little bastard wanted to see his reaction.

To make the most of his poor acting skills, he clicked his tongue and got up quickly. Moving away from the detective, turning his back on him.

"Look, I didn't like Ivor. He almost killed me. But he was my family. That unpleasant laugh..."

"I'm sorry, kid. I didn't laugh at him exactly, but at your frankness. I see you don't like to sugar-coat things. It's true, no one wants to spend the rest of their life locked up, no matter what they've done. And the truth doesn't set you free. The truth only condemns you. One way or another he didn't find peace, only death."

"What are you trying to get at with all this?"

He looked at him out of the corner of his eye. Adam shrugged, still sitting.

"Nothing really. Look, kid, I'm in this job because I'm good with people. Understanding how they work. But not just to solve murders. Not just the why, when and how, although they are undoubtedly important things. I'm interested in people in general."

"So, you're interested in me. You're lucky I turned eighteen a few days ago."

Detective Adams laughed again, this time more heartily.

"Oh, you little bastard. You're not like I expected a spoiled noble brat to be."

"You're not exactly my image of a detective either."

Although that wasn't exactly true. In fiction there were countless detectives who cared more about the big puzzle than the process, the people involved, the damage, starting with Sherlock Holmes. Of course, fiction was fiction, but he didn't know any real detective.

Well, he hadn't known one until now.

"I'll take that as a compliment. And if what you really wanted to know is what I think of all this, in short, your father is wasting his money. However, it's not for me to tell the great Mr. Wright what to do. And I like getting paid. So you'll see me often, I'm afraid, until your father gets bored of me and kicks me out."

Why would he tell him that? Did he suspect him? What had he done wrong?

He did everything he could to keep such thoughts from showing on his face.

"So you believe father is wrong, that nothing is happening here."

"Not exactly. What happened happened. Nero Wright killed his daughter to silence her after years of abuse. Somehow Kyrie found out about this anyway and killed him. Before this, you got involved in the disaster because Ivor Wright assumed you had killed her, full of jealousy. There's no reason to think those facts are related and I doubt very much that I'll find any no matter how much I search like a damn bloodhound."

"Well, okay, but I don't understand why you have to tell me all this."

"Because I had to ask you some questions, we already started talking, so why not? Somehow I have to pass the time."

He hadn't answered any question except with silence, not adding anything to what Christina had told him. He supposed that had been enough for him. It was to be assumed that it demonstrated the little interest he had in this, how closed he considered the case...

Yeah, right.

The son of a bitch suspected him. Somehow he had messed up.

Maybe it was just the fact that the other Sam had been someone close to Evelyn and that he had been at the center of the second incident, but one way or another, the bloodhound had come out of the cage, was sniffing the air, looking for his damn trail.

"Well, very good. But for me this isn't a puzzle, it's about my family. And I don't find it interesting at all."

"Would you wish you had been born into another family?"

Sam clicked his tongue.

He wanted to leave already, stop wasting time, but he was afraid of seeming rushed for the wrong reasons. That bastard wouldn't stop badgering him and testing his patience. He wasn't going to let slip, make such a basic mistake, but it was still irritating.

"I know I have endless privileges no matter how much I complain about this or that. But I wish my family were different. I wish we were a damn family."

Was he overdoing it? Too much melodrama, too many words to a stranger, as if trying to justify himself?

He didn't know. He was doing the best he could, as always, but this wasn't his territory.

"I'm tired of talking to you. I'm leaving, detective, unless you have any more questions."

"No. You're free. I'm sorry I bothered you so much."

Sam returned to the mansion. He headed to his room, his sanctuary. He needed to think, and quickly, of a good plan. Getting rid of him would only bring him more problems, it's true. But at least he had to find a way to confuse his bloodhound's sense of smell. The power he had obtained after killing Kyrie and Nero wouldn't help him, so unfortunately his range of options hadn't really changed.

He was more powerful than the first two, and therein lay the problem.

He couldn't do much more than kill with that power. A brutal death that would at least leave no doubt that there was a serial killer on the loose, and in the worst case, they would realize that it was not a common serial killer, but the son of Satan.

It had given him an overwhelming sense of power and superiority, but realizing that he essentially couldn't use that power until the mission in the mansion was over had considerably deflated his ego.

Sam changed his mind. Instead of going straight to his room, he went to find Christina.

He found her alone and pensive. Perfect for him. Noticing someone's presence, the girl raised her head. Her face lit up as soon as she saw him. His little sister hugged him without saying a word. He returned the hug. That small, soft, warm body. And full of curves.

"I always wish the family conference would end soon, but this year it's... It's too horrible," her voice almost broke.

"At least we have each other. Unlike most of the Wrights, we are family, Christina. We will get through this together."

He kissed her on the cheek.

Christina blushed and turned her head to look at him as if he had never done such a thing. Well, it didn't matter even if it was true. Their relationship was about to change forever anyway.

"I want to talk to you in private, okay?"

Christina nodded. Sam took her hand and guided her to his room. After all, they were siblings. It was nothing strange for them to be walking hand in hand, even at this age.

"What did you want to talk about?" asked Christina, once they were in the room.

"Many things, but first of all..." Sam opened the bathroom door. "Would you like to take a bath together, like old times?"

If she had been blushing before, now she was like a torch.

The Devil Deals the Cards, Part 1: END