Chapter 51: I Am the One Who Rings Death’s Bell, Part 5

Sam found himself face to face with the Adversary, though how he got there, he couldn't say.

But they could only look each other in the eye because the Adversary was hunched over. This was because Sam was bound, arms and legs, to a chair that looked more like an instrument of torture. No, it was definitely an instrument of torture. He couldn't move his head much, but what he saw was enough to know he was in hell.

Where else? Satan was caged. He couldn't be anywhere else no matter how much he wanted to. Satan wasn't doing anything to him, for now. He had nothing in his hands. He wasn't attacking him. He was just giving him a creepy smile.

For being the devil himself, he actually looked quite normal. Aside from the burning demonic eyes like molten gold, of course. Too normal, even. As if he could go unnoticed anywhere, slip into any place. Without raising suspicions. Without anyone knowing anything until it was too late.

How many people had he walked behind, smiling as everything burned around him?

To how many people had he whispered in their ears?

For how many had he been the final push they needed to cross the line? With the appearance of being the most normal, anonymous person in the world. A guy you could trust no matter what. A kind stranger. An old friend.

Suddenly Satan had a scalpel in his hand. All the speculative and philosophical nonsense left his mind.

"Don't touch me, you son of a bitch." Sam thrashed around, but couldn't do anything against the shackles, of course. He had superhuman strength. He should be able to break the iron as easily as plastic, but Satan was surely aware of that. He wouldn't have tried to tie him up if he hadn't known it would work.

Satan approached. The scalpel blade glinted in the light of the hellfire.

"It's your fault for betraying me. From the moment you made your decision, you were always destined to end up here."

Sam laughed. It wasn't a smart decision, but it wasn't a decision at all. He was simply overcome by the urge to laugh in the face of the king of hell.

"You were the first to betray me. I would have been your perfect weapon as usual if it weren't for you asking me for the only thing I'm not willing to give you. My body, my own will."

"That's why I... fell from Heaven. I guess we're similar, after all."

"Lucifer, the Morning Star."

Satan cocked his head like a bird, his lips twisting into a parody of a smile.

"Oh? How do you know that?"

Sam didn't know what to answer. He hadn't expected it to be any secret, in the first place. He opened his mouth, though he had no idea what to say. The opportunity to speak was stolen from him.

The scalpel sank into his skin, drawing a scarlet line from his elbow to his wrist.

"Ah, you son of a bitch!"

"You've already said that, don't be repetitive. Anyway, I don't really care how you know. I can assume and that's enough for me. Right now I just want to make you suffer."

He ran the scalpel across his chest, cutting his shirt, tearing skin and flesh as well, naturally. Sam gritted his teeth. He didn't want to give him the satisfaction of screaming or moaning in pain, not anymore. That was the only resistance he could show, now that he had been cornered in this way.

Although, he had no idea how this had happened. He couldn't remember how he had gotten here. He was more than confused.

Yes, that should bother him more than the current situation or the pain.

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He didn't remember how he had gotten here.

He had finished the massacre of the Wrights and, more importantly, he had gotten away with it.

He had Christina on his side and the certainty that Violet would soon fall.

He had retired to an old Wright vacation house to give him time to sink his claws into the girl, so she wouldn't tell the truth. If they had stayed at the mansion they would have had to face endless questions, of course, and it had been more likely that Violet would sing than anything else.

Despite the obvious consequences of revealing himself as part of the family that harbored the Devil's son.

And after that... What? Impenetrable darkness.

"What am I doing here?" Sam asked, knowing that Satan had no interest in answering. It was just a desperate desire to know, nothing more. Something like a prayer, and he was rational enough to know that his prayers would not be heard.

In this world there was a God, but he was nothing more than an infernal spawn, after all. He said it more generally, but well, the question was that...

The scalpel ran across his skin again.

"You know, you've just forgotten. But you'll remember very soon. I know."

"You think you know everything, huh?"

"Yes. I also know how this is going to end. I've known it since before my brother Miguel put me in the cage."

Satan...

He plunged the scalpel into his cheek, piercing his mouth violently, knocking out a tooth, his mouth filled with blood, he felt like he was drowning, no, he knew he was going to die here, he screamed as much as he tried to contain himself, there was no longer any possibility of containing himself, the pain was too much, the flames of hell crackled and roared and rose towards the heavens as if defying the heavenly hosts and it was a message to the Father who had pulled the Morning Star from the heavens.

I am a message, he thought suddenly with terrifying clarity.

His mouth was so full of blood he had to spit to avoid drowning.

His mouth hurt as if it had been set on fire and his whole body trembled.

He didn't like showing weakness to anyone, least of all to his greatest adversary, but what human wouldn't react this way after something like that?

Maybe that was the problem. That, deep down, he was still human. For all his evil, for all his perversity, a human being.

Vulnerable.

"We'll see each other soon, my son. Open your eyes."

What was he talking about? His eyes were open, though it didn't help much. The darkness was consuming his vision. He was going to lose it all soon. That was the feeling he had.

Soon the only thing he could see was a sea of darkness, and those demonic eyes shining in the middle.

Then Sam...

——

Sam woke up, breathing deeply as if he had just surfaced after nearly drowning. As if he had fallen to the bottom of the sea and struggled to emerge for so long that his whole body was cold and numb.

There was a town in the distance, a few lights still on. War had him over his shoulder. Suddenly all the memories hit him, forcing their way to where they should be. Yes. Now he remembered.

He had been defeated, humiliated, captured.

So that, what had that been?

"I see you're awake. We're home, kid."

"Bitch."

"Is that all you can say?"

They entered the town whose name he still didn't know. He couldn't move well, looking around, so if there was a sign with the name of that damned town he didn't see it. Although it didn't matter, of course. Because the town was dead.

All the inhabitants, without exception, had died though they were still walking around.

In the streets.

In the buildings, looking at him through the windows. There were lights everywhere, but it gave him the feeling that those beings didn't need it to see, just like War. Shit, he thought. I'm fucked. Shit, bitch.

He took him inside a building and threw him down the basement stairs, then tied his hands and feet with iron shackles. They must have had something special, because when he thrashed against them his wrists and ankles burned. Something against demons? A sacred object that purified?

In any case, it wouldn't be easy to escape and mutilate that bitch.

"You'll wait here until they come," War said from the top of the stairs.

"Who?"

"Who else? Your sisters."

War closed the door before he could answer.

That was nonsense, of course. Christina and Violet wouldn't come to rescue him, not after being crushed so easily, escaping the clutches of death by a hair's breadth. Surely they would ask for help, but they wouldn't risk their necks to save him.

Their love, their devotion, couldn't go that far.

If he intended to use him as bait to lure them in, he could have taken them or killed them from the beginning, so it couldn't be that he needed them.

War simply sincerely believed that those two would come to rescue him. She was sure of it.

If only he could share that certainty.

The truth was that he was alone again and he would have to manage on his own, as always.

I Am the One Who Rings Death’s Bell, Part 5: END