Chapter 63: I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 17

“At least have the decency to tell me what that little brat offered you, to make you stab your own sister in the back,” War said, her body perfectly still. For now.

But Sam was on edge anyway. Even behind Hunger, even with the protection and aid of her sisters, he knew how fast that cursed bitch could move. And worse still, he hadn’t figured out a way to break through her defenses yet, meaning Hunger was the only one on their side who could actually fight.

Everything hinged on someone who, until recently, had been an enemy. Someone who had violated him (it hadn’t gone as far as penetration, sure, but it still felt like a violation), and someone he didn’t even know well enough to trust. Not trust in the usual sense—that wasn’t even a consideration—but to manipulate her, to make her play along.

He’d tried to get her to reveal War’s weakness, but she’d refused. She’d argued that her goal was to defeat War, let them escape, and claim her reward— not sign her own death warrant. Because afterward, she said, War would want to gut her regardless of their sisterhood.

It made sense, and Sam had realized there was no convincing her otherwise, so he’d given up and focused on attacking before it was too late. He hadn’t given himself up for his sisters, his so-called sex toys, only for them to die trying to rescue him.

He still couldn’t believe they were actually here, risking their lives when they could’ve left this suicide mission to someone else. It made no sense to him.

It was the kind of thing he’d do—but for entirely different reasons. Because he only trusted himself to get the job done. The only exception was a case like this, where he literally couldn’t do it himself.

But he knew Violet and Christina well enough to manipulate them, to make them dance to his tune, just like he had from the beginning. He knew that wasn’t their reason for coming here. They hadn’t come out of distrust or for some selfish motive—they’d come out of love.

He didn’t get it at all, and he still wasn’t sure how to feel about it. But he didn’t need to feel anything. Not until they got out of Wormwood. Until then, his mind needed to stay blank, focused solely on the uncertain matter of survival. He always had bigger problems to worry about.

“Are you not going to answer me?” War asked, her voice dripping with disdain. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter since I already know. As hard as it is to believe. Do you really want so badly to be his whore, to bear his child?”

“No.” Hunger smiled. She didn’t care what her sister thought of her, and besides, she wasn’t wrong. “We’re going to kill Satan together.”

But Hunger responded with the lie they’d rehearsed.

Sam relaxed a little. He hadn’t been sure she’d play along until now.

Of course, he didn’t trust her. He barely trusted himself most of the time. But he had to admit, so far, she was keeping her word to the letter.

In response, War shook her head. Her eyes gleamed with that ghostly purple glow again, her gaze sharp, disgusted, like she was looking at a bug crawling across the road. Nothing more.

“You’ve truly lost your mind. The Morning Star has only one enemy. Only God, who clearly has no intention of showing his face no matter what, could ever defeat him. Not that mutt.”

“Believe what you want, little sister. It’s not like I’m asking your permission.” Hunger shrugged.

“Alright, I get it. If you’re so eager to die, I’ll kill you myself. Whatever I do to you will be a thousand times better than what Lucifer would if he got his hands on you.”

“Is this the part where I say, ‘thank you, how thoughtful of you’?”

“Exactly!”

Roaring like the wild animal she was—and they both were—War lunged at her sister. When she wasn’t toying with her prey, she could move at a blinding speed, Sam had to admit.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

If only Hunger were the weak little slut who wanted to get knocked up, it would’ve made things a whole lot simpler. He could only hope Hunger would prove able to rise to the challenge, or they were all screwed.

“Let’s run,” Violet whispered, tugging at his arm.

Sam shook his head. He’d love to, but it wasn’t an option.

“I made a deal. If we leave now, we’re done for. We all escape together, or none of us do.”

It seemed absurd to him that she hadn’t even let him run while Hunger bought them time—another one of her ridiculous conditions. Since his position was the weakest, he’d had no choice but to agree. He still hadn’t ruled out the possibility she’d betray them. If he were in her shoes, he’d have demanded the same thing. Trust no one. Especially not someone you couldn’t see.

He didn’t know her, couldn’t predict her moves, and the same applied to her.

It was clear that they both needed to be in each other’s sights to feel at ease.

Hunger and War clashed violently in the middle of the storm. The tentacles were a whirlwind, little more than dark purple blurs cutting through the air. There were dozens of them, appearing out of nowhere, moving so fast it seemed impossible to avoid them, especially at such close range.

But Hunger dodged them all anyway.

Not through magic, not by using some mysterious defense system like War’s. She moved, dodging them physically. Sam had to squint just to keep up with her movements.

They were on a whole different level. Both of them.

Hunger shot at her sister again (hell if Sam knew what with), and this time the wall she smashed through was further to the right. It was like she’d tossed her sister out into the street, like a guy thrown out of a bar for drinking one too many.

War hit the ground hard, teeth clenched. She ground them like two nuts in a press.

The attack might not have caused any damage she couldn’t heal in a few seconds or minutes, but it had wounded something far more important: her pride.

And Sam was still far from discovering War’s secret—the fatal weakness that would let him tear her apart.

As far as he could tell, Hunger wasn’t doing anything special. Just attacking. The only difference was that her attacks, for some reason, actually hit their target. Just because.

Because she was a Horseman of the Apocalypse too, he guessed.

In any case, it didn’t help him. Frustrating. Sam vaguely registered that, once again, the Puppets were the only living things (if you could call them that) in this cold, dead city. The cavalry that Violet and Christina had worked so hard to bring here had been completely wiped out.

Well, he could still see and hear some of them clinging to life, but they were just dying slowly now. Their gasps and gurgles, choking on their own blood like fountains, filled the air. It sounded like frightened animals. They might still have a heartbeat, but they were as good as dead.

They weren't "breathing." He couldn’t even say they were capable of breathing.

That’s how bad they were.

They followed Hunger out of the tavern at a relatively safe distance. The Puppets stood still, just like their mistress, waiting for orders.

“I’m going to make you suffer for this,” War said. “Over and over again, until I’m satisfied.”

Interesting.

Even though Hunger had pushed this far, War wasn’t talking about killing her. Sam suppressed the urge to laugh, mostly because drawing attention to himself right now would be... inconvenient. Mostly? Well, there wasn’t really another reason.

Interesting, though, that they were still sisters in the end. That they had a concept of family.

That would make them weak. Something to remember.

Hunger raised her right arm again.

She fired, but whatever the projectile was, War must have dodged it because Sam didn’t see anything. And then she was across the distance between them again.

“Why doesn’t she attack from afar?” Christina muttered, eyes locked on the battle. Watching. Waiting. Analyzing.

She was full of determination, but what did she mean? War could attack from a distance too, and yet she was choosing to close the gap? If that was the case, why? There was always a reason.

Was there some kind of risk for Hunger if she attacked from this range, even though it had worked perfectly the last time?

He couldn’t think of anything else.

Could it really just be a matter of preference? Or was he being stupid? He’d just said it—Hunger had no intention of killing her sister, and even War herself was holding back. This wasn’t a battle. You couldn’t call it a battle if neither side had a killing instinct.

Without the intent to kill, their movements didn’t need to be optimal.

Sam felt satisfied for having figured that out, though it didn’t really change the situation.

Without knowing how to bypass War’s defense system (assuming it was even possible for someone other than her sisters, and for his sanity’s sake, he had to assume it was), nothing he could do would make a difference.

Everything was in Hunger’s hands now.

“This reminds me of when we were younger, always fighting,” Hunger said.

“That never stopped.”

“Oh, really?”

Hunger let out a laugh that could almost be called sweet.

She held the lives of all three of them in her hands, not to mention the promised prize at stake, yet she still wasn’t taking it seriously. She acted like she was just playing with her sister, whether older or younger, whatever.

"If they aren’t taking it seriously, then we’ll have to do something ourselves," Sam whispered. He really didn’t want to draw attention. The sound of his voice was almost completely drowned out when, suddenly, half a dozen Puppets were sent flying through the air.

In pieces.

He had no idea if it was the result of Hunger’s attacks or her sister’s. With so many tentacles blindly flailing about, it was probably her sister’s doing.

"Do what exactly?" Christina asked.

"Dammit, I wish I knew."

I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 17: END