Chapter 40: Cold as Hell, Part 6

Blake Wright was one dangerous son of a bitch.

But Sam had managed to escape alive, and this time, for a change, by telling the truth. He was retreating, which might make it seem like he was losing the fight, but in reality, Sam held all the cards.

Everything would end before he backed up to the other end of the hallway. One way or another, there was no doubt about that.

He was slightly worried that a surviving Wright might choose this moment to leap out of hiding. Not because he couldn’t react in an instant and crush them like a cockroach, but because Blake would take full advantage of that split-second opening.

But he could handle it.

He would give it his all and crush the last obstacle in his path to victory.

Twenty seconds, maybe less.

By then, everything would be over, and he had to come out on top.

Ninety percent or more of the hallway was covered in ice, so the magical barrier must have been protecting Blake, even from the temperature.

That’s why, when Sam finally made his move, it would be twice as shocking.

Sam stopped abruptly.

He couldn’t put it into words, but he had a bad feeling. Although Blake saw him hesitate, he didn’t stop. No, it wasn’t strange that he didn’t stop, but not even for a second had he wondered why Sam had stopped right now? Was it a trap?

Yes, he had a bad feeling, and as usual, he was right.

First, he noticed a low-intensity vibration.

Like his ears were just ringing… at first.

Then came the light.

There was a magic circle on the ground behind him. He’d almost stepped on it. He hadn’t read much about these in the library, but he’d read and seen enough fantasy stories to recognize a damn magic circle.

He didn’t know what to do about it, but in any case, it was bad news.

What luck.

Luck? No, this was too much luck. Had he gained some sort of perception power?

The magic circle activated anyway; still, it surely would’ve been more devastating and impossible to escape from if it had triggered when he stepped on it.

His heart leaped into his throat.

How had Blake had time to prepare that?

His office, his sanctuary, Sam understood that. It was the first place anyone in his position would fortify, but here, in the middle of the hallway? Why?

The magical energy gathered, twisting like something alive. Something about to explode.

Had Blake placed it there with his mind in a second?

What did it matter? Sam had a feeling that if he didn’t dodge, it wouldn’t matter what happened next. But he wouldn’t be able to; he realized with despair. At this point, it was too late. With or without power, he’d realized it too late.

But it would be a terrible mistake to assume that meant he had no other options. If he couldn’t get out of the way, then maybe…

He could remove the way.

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Sam punched the floor, following it up with another barrage of ice spears.

And that was enough; it was just wood, after all.

That is, they fell to the floor below.

The hole provided a nice view. Sam saw the surge of magical energy sweep through the hallway, presumably destroying the office.

Ha, serves him right.

As for them, nothing changed, only the setting. He hoped Blake couldn’t pull that trick again until it worked. He wasn’t sure how he could counter it next time.

That is, there wouldn’t be many floors left, to begin with.

“Slippery bastard,” Blake spat.

“Look who’s talking, like father like son.”

“You just told me you’re not my son.”

Don’t be so literal, Sam thought.

“You’re trying to crush your only chance to save him with your own hands!”

While this exchange of useless words was happening, neither of them stopped moving, of course. Blake attacked relentlessly and overwhelmingly like the tide, and his enemy could do nothing but defend.

“Enough, I’m not stupid enough to let you trick me again.”

Sam smiled at the irony. Blake didn’t believe him, but for once, he was telling the truth. He didn’t know if the real Sam could be saved or if it would even be better for him (after all, he was the true son of Satan, not born of pure evil, but made that way), but maybe…

Maybe a part of him was still buried deep in his consciousness.

Sam had come to take his place, so that kid must’ve gone somewhere else. The only question was where.

But even if he told Blake the truth, the whole truth, it wouldn’t convince him, wouldn’t make him lower his guard. It was a shame, but he’d squeezed all he could out of that truth. He couldn’t use it as a weapon again.

Not against this guy, but soon, he’d be dead anyway.

“You’re going to die, you know that. It’s only a matter of time before I break through that barrier. Leave you defenseless like a puppy. Die with dignity, Blake Wright.”

Blake was silent.

Sam doubted he was considering the offer; he’d probably just decided to stop wasting oxygen. So Sam would do the same. There was no point in talking to someone who didn’t want to listen.

That magic circle had probably been Blake’s last trick, an ace up his sleeve. So Sam’s victory was inevitable if things kept going as they were. And there was no reason for that to change.

A Wright appeared, trying to launch a surprise attack. He wasn’t very smart, announcing his arrival with a scream to expel the fear that dominated him. With a sidelong glance, Sam used his telekinesis to drop the chandelier on the son of a bitch, crushing him.

The Wright didn’t manage to strike or even distract Sam enough for Blake to take advantage of a moment of weakness.

Seeing he was cornered, Blake attacked seriously. Up until now, he’d just been biding his time, waiting for Sam to step into the circle, but now he was returning every single blow.

Almost as fast as Sam, Blake countered his ice spears with fire. Was that this family’s specialty or something? Sam hadn’t read or heard anything like it.

Yes, it made sense to use it to melt the ice, but why did so many people know how to use fire magic? Except him, ironically, the son of the king of hell.

But Blake didn’t stop there.

He hurled compressed balls of dirt, generating them out of nowhere. Christina had used the fountain’s water to attack Ivor, but Sam guessed that was a lack of experience. That or a damned limitation of water magic.

He should’ve spent more time in the library, but the massacre had been too much fun.

But nothing had changed, not really. All he had to do to make sure Blake didn’t hit him was keep attacking as he had been. The ice spears would split and deflect the streams of flames or knock down the balls of dirt. Blake couldn’t use both at the same time for obvious reasons.

And there was one thing Sam had learned from his brief study sessions with the books from the library.

Human mages couldn’t sustain that kind of power expenditure for long. Sam, however, felt like he had no limits. He felt like he could keep going until someone killed him.

Something that simple is what decided the fight in the end. Blake’s attacks became weaker, slower.

Sam’s didn’t. That simple.

He saw Blake’s right leg fly through the air, followed by blood. He saw the last obstacle collapse as if bowing at his feet. The barrier, of course, was shattered, but even if Blake managed to get up again through the pain and massive blood loss, Sam would just tear it down again.

Sam moved closer, smiling like a shark.

Running. He wouldn’t make the same mistake Blake had.

He wouldn’t give him the chance to turn the tables.

Then someone grabbed his head and slammed it into the wall. His nose bent, and he felt the blood flow. Bent, not broken, but that was the least of his worries. He struggled at first in the grip of the newcomer but froze when he saw their face out of the corner of his eye.

“Adams?”

He hadn’t seen his body, but not only wasn’t Adams dead, he was ready to fight? He looked better than fine, in fact. Sam had tried and hadn’t been able to break free from his grip, somehow.

“I am an angel of the Lord,” the being said.

He placed a hand on Sam’s forehead, and then Sam began to scream.

Cold as Hell, Part 6: END