Chapter 48: I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 2

Sam had never been particularly lucky, but he couldn’t believe that danger had come knocking at his window at this very moment.

For long seconds, he considered continuing to sway his hips, if only to avoid risking his life while his balls were loaded and ready to fire. Fortunately, reason returned, and he pulled out, trying to get dressed as quickly as humanly possible.

He had no idea who had come to mess with him. It could be the angel Castiel, returning quickly, perhaps sensing he was doing something deeply sinful under the sheets. It could be a servant of Satan with the mission to break him.

In any case, they wouldn’t catch him with his pants down.

“Leave it. We don’t have to hide anything,” Christina said, still naked, not even attempting to put on clothes or at least cover herself with the sheets.

Leave it?

Did she think it was Violet, smashing the window to interrupt their incest? For starters, she would’ve most likely knocked on the door instead of breaking a damn window, but if only it were that simple. If only he could look out the window and see her angry and jealous. Then maybe he’d figure out a way to get her to join them in bed. But he was getting a little ahead of himself.

He approached the window and saw nothing through the shattered glass. Nothing at all.

It was a very dark night, but he thought he should’ve heard or seen something by now. He hadn’t taken that long to react. Sam frowned. Was it Violet, after all, and had she run to hide, trying to keep plausible deniability? If it was an enemy, they would’ve tried to enter or at least waited there to grab him.

It wasn’t perfect logic, but it made sense.

The enemy had already announced their presence by breaking the window, after all. If they could arrive unnoticed, if they had caught them in the act, why not try to kill them while they were distracted? Why hide?

“See? It was just her after all,” Christina said. “Come back to bed with me; I still haven’t...” She blushed as if they hadn’t been doing all kinds of filthy things just moments ago. “Well, you know.”

It made sense.

But logic, the attempts to predict the possible intruder, would only work if the person or entity in question also made sense. There were many things he couldn’t know, many reasons to explain any discrepancy.

“You might be righ...”

Of course, he didn’t even get to finish the sentence.

Of course, in that precise instant, the very moment he lowered his guard for even a fraction of a second, something grabbed him by the neck and pushed him back. Against the shattered glass of the window.

“Brother!” Christina shot up to help him, naturally unconcerned about her clothes.

Sam was suffocating.

That thing wasn’t human. In a world where there were mages capable of all kinds of things, it might have been a premature judgment. But he felt it. What had him trapped was an inhuman creature like himself.

Christina tore the creature’s arm off with her water magic, soaking him in the process, of course.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief. That had been too close. And he wasn’t just talking about the lack of oxygen, not the glass shards embedded in his neck. He wouldn’t die from something so minor.

Otherwise, he would’ve already been dead. Regeneration was one of the few powers he had gained during the massacre.

Of course, Violet and Christina hadn’t had the time or opportunity to take him for medical attention. That would have raised too many suspicions.

The wounds inflicted by Blake and the angel Castiel had healed on their own.

Christina was now putting on her clothes. Apparently, she did care about her modesty after all. Good. He wouldn’t have liked her fighting anyone stark naked. That body belonged to him. Her body, her breath, her heart. Every tear, every laugh, every drop of sweat.

But right now, I have other things to worry about, he thought. I already know that.

He glanced down. Towards the part of the arm that Christina had cut with her magic. He saw the blood, saw the skin and flesh torn apart, saw the bone gleaming amidst all that disaster, white as death. And it disgusted him. He had to admit it, as funny as that was coming from him.

He didn't have time to wonder why. When Christina finished dressing, although he wasn't sure she had put on her bra correctly, Sam positioned himself in front of her. Her knight in shining armor.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Another arm appeared in the window.

The intact one, he thought.

And then five more appeared, pushing.

They knocked down what was left of the window, but not just that, no sir. The damn wall too. More than a dozen people burst into his room, moving through the cloud of dust, trampling the debris.

Except "people" wasn't the right word.

It was obvious at first glance. There was nothing particularly disturbing, except for the guy missing half an arm who wasn't reacting at all while he kept bleeding wherever he went, but it was evident.

Their cold eyes. The coldness.

They weren't human, maybe not even living beings. They seemed like damn zombies.

They probably were. Whatever they were, he didn't think they possessed their own will. The interruption had been annoying, but in the end it was nothing to worry about. He could deal with some puppets right away. Crackles. The ice storm that had ravaged the Wright family began to form around him again.

The door burst open.

"What's going on he...?"

Needless to say, it was Violet. In a tenth of a second, she received the same treatment as him. A puppet grabbed her by the neck (it was as good a name as any right now), squeezing. Her neck immediately started to creak. She was enduring inhuman pressure.

But Violet was far from being in mortal danger.

The difference between Christina, him, and the puppets was obvious. The two of them only had ranged attacks while, no matter how strong they were, the puppets had to get close to harm anyone. And there weren't enough of them to overwhelm them by sheer numbers. So it wouldn't even be a fight.

Simply in the process of saving Violet he killed three more puppets.

Arms, legs, and guts flew easily. Necks, too. Except Violet's. She had fallen to the ground, her hand on her throat, massaging it, struggling to breathe. Christina helped her up.

"I have no idea what's going on here, but we need to get out of the house," Sam said.

Inside the building, the puppets could corner them with their power and speed with a bit of bad luck. But in the open field they would just be easy targets. They would fall en masse like flies.

They ran out without protest. Not through the window, the hole was big, but it was completely blocked by bastards.

They easily slipped away, passing through the living room and running down the hallway to the exit. The puppets chased them without making the slightest sound. Anyone would be screaming after losing a limb or two, or at least gasping, experiencing their last throes.

They looked human, but they were anything but that, and who the hell had sent them here? Satan, but Satan needed him alive.

After Christina and Violet? Did he think he would subdue him by threatening their lives? If so, he was much stupider than he had thought.

When push came to shove, he would choose himself, not them. Of course it would be a shame to have to do it after all the effort he had invested in manipulating them, but he could find equally or much more beautiful girls elsewhere. He would lose the taste of the sweet forbidden fruit called incest, but the truth is that sometimes he had trouble getting turned on by that, since after all they weren't siblings. Not really.

He hadn't lived with them, he knew almost nothing about them. It wasn't the same. If only he had the memories of the original Sam, he could see them as his sisters too, not just attractive women.

Unfortunately, that ship had sailed...

Or maybe not. I mean, it was the same body, the same brain, right? The memories had to be there somewhere. Maybe with some hypnotism or some kind of therapy he could unlock the memories, bring them to the surface. Or with magic because, damn, it was magic.

It wasn't very magical if it couldn't solve a small memory problem or almost anything he could think of, with the necessary tools and preparation. But well, he would try it, all in good time.

The puppets came out through the door, but not alone. They also knocked down the walls on the sides. Did they have some limited intelligence or was someone controlling them?

In any case, they had avoided grouping too much at the bottleneck point, but that wouldn't change the outcome of something that could hardly be called a battle. It was more of a cleanup.

They couldn't do anything until they were within punching distance, and they couldn't get that close. Therefore the result was inevitable.

He didn't need Violet and Christina's help, but they joined their forces with him, earth magic and water magic, and it ended even faster.

He had easily gotten used to the role, the destiny, imposed by his 'birth' in this world. From the beginning he had enjoyed murder, breaking a person with his own hands, whether mentally or physically.

Killing these puppets gave him no pleasure.

He didn't hate it either, but it didn't excite him.

Probably because they were nothing more than that, puppets. They hadn't come here of their own will, they couldn't feel pain, so of course there was no pleasure. What sadistic pleasure could there be in destroying someone else's toys? That was for a child. He much preferred destroying the person in question.

A warm laugh without a trace of malice cut through his thoughts, like children playing in the park on a summer day, that is, an even innocent laugh. And despite that, or perhaps precisely because of that, a chill ran down his spine.

"Who's there?" Sam shouted, thinking it was the kind of phrase uttered by a nameless guard whose life was extinguished by the protagonist in an instant. Or something like that, run-of-the-mill henchmen.

In response, a woman emerged from behind the curtain of night.

And what a woman, wow wow, he almost whistled.

But unattainable, his brain quickly came to that conclusion. His relationship with Christina would probably survive his attempts to add Violet to the fun. After all, they were sisters, they were used to sharing, they were family, and besides, Christina would probably understand how that would smooth over all her older sister's problems and doubts.

This woman?

Even if he could bend her, subdue her, turn her into his toy? No, that would destroy the delicate balance, surely.

A shame, he thought. I can't climax and now this.

"I asked you a question."

The woman smiled.

Her lips moved to answer.

I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 2: END