Chapter 29: The Devil Deals the Cards, Part 9
Blake Wright gently closed his eyes. Another meeting at the annual family conference, another session of dozens of voices rising to say the same thing. Lately they spent more time discussing recent unfortunate events than truly relevant matters.
He had never liked the family conference.
Not when he had attended as just another member, and even worse when he started being at the center. Who would want to be the corpse that all the vultures drooled over?
"Perhaps we should end the family conference for this year. There are always problems, conflicts, but so many deaths, one after another..."
This topic was becoming more frequent, more dangerous.
But Blake knew that no one would do anything. Few had the balls of Chris, who had sacrificed everything for what he believed was right. Blake thought he had been wrong, but respected that.
If the people who whined had his same determination, they would be on their way home, not weakly protesting here.
Still, he had to crush this rebellion before it got out of hand. Everything was under control. The detective would catch the killer or one of them would, all experienced mages. He couldn't remain in the shadows forever. Execute everything to perfection, leaving no trace.
Sooner or later someone would stop him.
There was no point in panicking. To begin with, if those who had died so far had had better control of themselves, both outside and inside the fights, none of this would have happened.
Most of the victims were children, in the first place. Powerless brats. They shouldn't be trembling in their boots because of a killer who dedicated himself to going after children. Assuming the killer was involved in anything more than Rose's murder, and so he believed.
Blake struck the floor with his cane.
As always, the chatter ended immediately. It was good for his mental health to have an off switch.
"Nothing is going to end."
"Lord Wright," protested some idiot, he wasn't even sure who, to be honest. Too many people in a relatively small room. More importantly, too many people who were interchangeable to him. Same clothes, same faces, same motives.
Two of the people who should be present in this room had died violently and two others had left without looking back, but nothing had really changed for him. How could he worry about the deaths so far when all of them couldn't wait for him to finally kick the bucket?
"But nothing. I've made it clear countless times. The family conference is vital for the functioning of the Wright empire, nothing is going to end because of a few unfortunate accidents."
"But anyone could be next!" protested someone else.
"I've had enough. I'm not preventing anyone from leaving. You can go whenever you want, under the same conditions as Chris."
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He only said it because he believed no one would dare, or at least an insignificant number of people. As much as it pained him, he needed these vultures for the sake of continuing the family legacy. Sooner or later he would leave this world and would have to leave the future of the Wright name in the hands of the right person.
Or not. What good was it to him for the Wright empire to continue shining, growing? Worms would be eating his corpse while someone else enjoyed the fruits of his effort. Not only a great inherited fortune, but a perfect growth situation almost impossible to ruin.
Guaranteed success, while he had inherited a ruin full of debts.
Yes, what the hell did he care, deep down. But it was his role. He would play his part until the end.
As expected, no one took his generous offer.
"If you believed that ending the family conference is best, you'd already be on your way to the front door. You've demonstrated the firmness of your beliefs. So at least don't make me waste time with empty words. We're here to build the future, ladies and gentlemen."
What kind of future would the Wright name have with any of these pusillanimous in charge? None good. They would ruin the mission to which he had dedicated his life. Only Samuel. Only he had what it took, he was convinced. The boy had always had something different from the others.
Something that reminded him of himself.
Maybe he was wrong or just saw what he wanted to see. Time would tell. In any case, it couldn't be worse than these guys.
He would bet that Samuel would go after Rose's killer himself, instead of complaining and waiting for someone to solve their problems. Instead of running and hiding.
His son would make him proud. He wasn't interchangeable, just another piece on the board. He had a special spark. He knew it. He knew it.
He wondered what he was doing now. What plans he already had.
Maybe he hadn't needed to hire anyone, after all.
——
"I'll get straight to the point. Do you know who killed Rose?"
"I didn't know anyone had killed her until you told me," Satan replied.
Sam frowned.
"Is that true?" The answer was, of course, useless. If he told him the truth, he was offending him. If he intended to lie to him for some reason, asking him wouldn't make him give in.
And Sam didn't know him well enough to read anything in response.
Even if he did, he was talking to the famous prince of lies, after all.
If he wanted to deceive him, he would. Bitter pill, but it was time he swallowed it, otherwise in the future he would choke.
"Of course it's true. Look, I didn't want to tell you this, but the legends are true. I'm caged. My ability to observe, let alone influence, the outside world is quite limited. That's why you should believe me. Your success is the only way to end six hundred years of confinement. Any help I can give you I would do gladly."
"So all this is not just to make me stronger, so they don't discover me and I can take Blake Wright's inheritance, as well as the throne of hell. It's for you."
"Not only," he repeated without thinking twice, "but that's what any good business is about. Mutual benefit."
And mutual dissatisfaction, he added in his thoughts. If someone is completely happy with an agreement it's because they've come out winning. Therefore the other will feel cheated. The loser.
Sam swallowed, clenched his jaw.
He could deceive him, but he wasn't going to let him screw him, no sir. That was another story.
"Thank you, father. I understand."
——
"I want you to go back home," Sam said.
Anabelle slowly returned his gaze. Processing what she had just heard. For a moment she looked scared, as if she thought he was firing her. But only for a moment.
"Are you sure, my lord?"
Well no, he thought, the truth is not entirely. But I have to try something.
"Don't worry, you'll continue receiving your salary every month, even more."
"That's not what I meant, but thank you, sir."
He handed her a bag of money.
"Here's an advance."
"Take good care of yourself, please. I don't know how I'm going to repay you for everything you do for me."
With your death, maybe. Depending on how things turn out.
"I'll try." He spontaneously gave her a hug. "I'm sorry I forced you to you know what. That Adams made me nervous and now even more. You're not safe here, it's clear. No one will be until I catch that miserable son of a bitch."
The Devil Deals the Cards, Part 9: END