Chapter 55: I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 9
Sam knew what was good for him.
Getting the hell out of here without looking back, obviously. But, even though his mind was anything but clear, he recognized that nothing had really changed. It was still a terrible idea to escape like this, without a plan.
It sounded easy, except he’d be caught again immediately.
So he had no plans to resist while being taken wherever, even if what would make entry more difficult for Hunger would make it harder for him to get out as well. He didn’t like it, but that was how things were. It was the right decision. He understood that.
It took a great deal of willpower not to contradict his plans, trying to escape as soon as War pulled him from the basement into the moonlight. Because, of course, it hadn’t been long since he’d been left there like a bag of trash. No matter how eternal it had felt under that damn bitch’s tender care.
The Puppets were still where they had been when he arrived.
He imagined they didn’t need to eat, sleep, or rest. Or maybe it was worse. They needed all those things but could ignore their body’s needs as long as War gave the order. Until their bodies failed them. Collapsed, whether from hunger or thirst.
In any case, those creatures (because they couldn’t be called anything else) sent shivers down his spine.
He couldn’t think of a worse fate than ending up like that.
Surely, that’s how he would end up if things went wrong. Satan intended to take everything from him, to reduce him to a mere puppet. It was like looking at his future. Sam swallowed hard. But that would never happen; under no circumstances would he say yes to Satan, no matter what he did. Selfishness was what had gotten him this far. The belief that nothing was more valuable than himself.
That would never change. There was no reason for it to change.
War took him to what had once been a town hall not long ago, but now it was as dead as the rest of the village.
She led him to the third floor, passing row after row of puppets, some standing like statues, others apparently patrolling the area. Then she just tossed him into another room that didn’t seem to have anything special about it. Sam looked around as if it were a joke. But this was dead serious; Guerra had already turned his back on him, heading toward the door.
“Is that it? No extra security measures or anything? She going to come to rape me again, for fuck’s sake!”
That was something none of them apparently wanted.
Had she bothered to move him, but wouldn’t cooperate?
“There is more, but why would I share the details with my prisoner?” War said simply.
Of course. That made sense. Sam was still too affected by the experience; he should have thought of that. It was disgusting, feeling so vulnerable again, so human. He thought he had discarded all of that the moment Satan told him what he had to do.
He had been wrong, or maybe it was impossible to discard it all in the first place. Perhaps, despite the demonic blood running through his veins, he was nothing more than a human.
This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
He felt like throwing up.
War must have interpreted that as a desire to protest.
“Shut up. I already have enough headaches.”
War slammed the door. I have much more right to be angry; you know that, right? Of course, she knew, and she didn’t give a damn. Well, the feeling was mutual.
“Great.”
Sam took a deep breath and jumped to his feet. His legs were too close together because of the shackles, so he barely avoided falling on his face again, but he managed to regain his balance and move toward the wall.
He kicked it, leaving a hole bigger than his shoe.
“Let it be clear that this is not an escape attempt!”
He received no response.
He leaned back, already planning what he would do the next time Guerra or one of his sisters opened the door. He couldn’t act recklessly, but he also couldn’t wait too long. Both could lead to his doom. He was going to repeat that his situation hadn’t changed, but it actually had. It had changed for the worse.
Before, he had only feared that Guerra wouldn’t be alone with his puppets but accompanied by his sisters.
——
Christina sat, staring at her lap where her hands were intertwined. Her surroundings were very noisy, but the sounds barely reached her ears; they were muffled as if her head were underwater. Even if someone had approached her to shake her, trying to get her attention, it would have taken several seconds for her to react.
And it was no wonder.
She was waiting for her older sister.
Violet was inside, being interrogated. Christina had already had her turn. She had made sure to go first. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her; she wanted to and did, it was just that trusting wasn’t enough.
If she had learned anything from the last tumultuous days when her entire life had turned upside down, it was that.
Love was the only rock she could cling to, but sometimes it wasn’t enough. Sometimes, something more was needed.
Of course, they had prepared their story before entering to ask for help. While they had lived their whole lives sheltered by the Wright family, that didn’t mean they were stupid.
That’s why she had to go first, even though it seemed Violet had changed her mind.
If she told a different story, if she told the truth, she wouldn’t just be betraying Sam. She would also pay the consequences. She had been willing to wet her neck and kneel before the executioner’s axe because...
Love was the only rock, the only spark of light in this dark world.
Even as she prepared for her betrayal, she desperately clung to the idea that these measures had been unnecessary. She had already lost too many things. She didn’t need to lose trust in her older sister, who had always been there for her.
Soon she would find out if she had placed her trust well.
Soon she would know whether what Sam received would be help or the embrace of the flames of a pyre.
Let it burn, let the devil burn, the people would sing with a happiness bordering on madness. Christina clenched her hands. As if they themselves weren’t unbearably monstrous in wishing for such a thing. As if they themselves weren’t responsible for cornering her in the first place.
No one was to blame for being born. Everyone deserved a chance. Christina fervently believed that, or maybe she needed to believe it; in any case, she did.
The door opened.
With an uncertain and distracted expression, Violet approached her.
“What did you tell them?” she whispered, her question, the million-dollar question, that would decide countless destinies.
“What we agreed upon.”
Christina searched for any trace of lies in her older sister’s face. She found none, but that didn’t naturally mean they weren’t there.
Did she not want to lose trust in her older sister? She almost laughed at herself out loud. She already had. The proof wasn’t that she had to doubt what she saw, but that she didn’t know what she was seeing. Just a few days ago, she would have been able to read her like an open book as always. Now there was a gap in the middle that she would probably never be able to bridge.
Her heart was breaking into a thousand pieces, but she had to face reality.
“Will they help us?” she asked. A second chance.
“Yes.”
And for the second time, she didn’t know what she was seeing on that once-familiar face.
With a heavy heart, Christina prepared for the moment they would set out.
Yes, they already knew their destination. Tracking down Sam hadn’t been difficult at all. By cooperating, they had finished quickly. They would have to repeat the exercise to ensure that War (whom they had naturally blamed for what had happened in the mansion as well, or at least Christina had) hadn’t transported him elsewhere. But it wouldn’t be a problem.
Getting medical attention hadn’t been either, although her leg still hurt like hell; she just had to grit her teeth and endure it.
That had never been the hard part.
The real hell awaited them now. In just a few hours.
In the red-tinged village called Wormwood.
I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 9: END