Chapter 17: I Am The God of Hellfire, Part 17

Sam looked at himself in the mirror.

He didn't see himself, but Evelyn. He already knew he could do it, with the same naturalness as transforming into a body or more, but there was nothing wrong with testing it first.

Besides, he had a certain curiosity. He touched his breasts.

"Well, if I didn't have better things to do, I would thoroughly explore this body," Sam stopped. "What man hasn't thought about that once or twice?"

Well, it's not like he was very interested in other people, but he supposed it was common.

It was strange to speak and hear a woman's voice.

Not as much as the sacks of flesh hanging from his chest, or the absence of what should be hanging between his legs. But strange.

Not everything was a competition.

Before Violet or Christina burst in (he had learned, fortunately without dire consequences, that both had a copy of the key to his room), or even Annabelle, severely complicating his plans, Sam regained his original form.

Sam knew that patience was a virtue, especially when you intended to become a full-fledged serial killer (three victims were too few to be considered that yet, although there wasn't much difference). Not even the devil himself had imposed a time limit on him, but he didn't want to wait until nightfall.

Unlike his second murder, he knew the targets. He had seen them at the funeral. Naturally, it had been difficult to overlook the people receiving so many condolences. Distinguishing them from Ivor's parents hadn't been very hard.

For starters, Lord Wright, Blake Wright, hadn't accepted any condolences.

He had kicked Ivor out of this family, and that was his final word on the matter. The official story that the boy had committed suicide hadn't produced any sympathy in him. At least he didn't show it to the outside world.

The point is that he knew his targets, he had a plan, why should he wait?

Although it would be easier under the cover of darkness, he decided he would attack in broad daylight.

All he had to do was look for an opportunity and know how to recognize it when it came. No, he also had the tools to create a good opportunity, none of that passive stuff.

He had the power, the control.

He just had to prove it again.

He left the room full of determination.

At first, he had thought that perhaps he shouldn't go after Evelyn's parents, after all.

It was crueler to leave them dead in life, tormented by the fact that their daughter had died too young and horribly. Like empty shells. Not to mention it would be less predictable. Parents starting to hallucinate their dead daughter, crazy with grief. That was something even natural.

But realistically, it was the best way.

It wouldn't be as effective with other people, at least now that he had gotten Ivor out of the way, and it would be suspicious if someone who didn't have a particularly special connection with Evelyn started hallucinating her. Anyone would doubt their sanity after seeing a dead person, even in this world of magic, but it wouldn't be the same. Besides, they might suspect. They might get too close to the truth.

It had to be her parents, even if it meant putting them out of their misery. He would have preferred to leave Ivor rotting in some sanatorium with his regrets, turning his head until he convinced himself he was crazy, but that's how things were.

He had to be practical. Not everything could be fun, this was also business.

A succession ritual, that's what Satan had called it. He would prove to him that he was the perfect heir. He, a human, ironically, instead of a demon. And, of course, he wouldn't be content with just what he was willing to give him. It wouldn't be proper for the son of the devil.

Evelyn's parents. Nero and Kyrie. Maybe now they thought they would be better off dead, but Sam would torment them until they understood the true meaning of wishing for death.

With a smile on his face, Sam sprang into action.

——

Kyrie's heart stopped. It wasn't a metaphor. It stopped long enough for it to start hurting, for only a few threads of consciousness to remain, the darkness that sank her into unconsciousness or death covering her vision. But in the end, it started beating again.

Slowly and painfully.

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Because she had seen something that couldn't be there.

"Evelyn?" she asked in a quiet voice.

It was impossible for the apparition to be real, but it didn't disappear. It was standing in the middle of the hallway as if nothing had happened, staring back at her. As if the last few days had been nothing but a nightmare. How many times had she wished for that? But now that the possibility was within her reach, she couldn't believe it so easily. She couldn't accept it just like that.

She took a step forward. Evelyn, or whatever it was, didn't move. She was going crazy. She must have lost her mind.

What mother wouldn't lose her mind after losing her only daughter?

In any case, it couldn't be what it seemed. Something so wonderful couldn't be true, could it? She swallowed and ran towards her with outstretched arms. Only then did it move, turning around and fleeing, much faster than her.

Why?

She found it hard to believe that she was hallucinating all of this, but if it was Evelyn, she wouldn't run away from her. Her little girl would run into her arms. What was happening, what did it mean? In any case, when she turned the corner, there was nothing but an empty hallway. All the other adults were at the family conference and the younger ones generally tried not to bother, and not to get involved in these matters.

Of course it was so empty, and of course she hadn't seen Evelyn. She was dead. Dead.

"Oh my God." Kyrie fell to her knees, bringing her hands to her mouth to stifle her sobs. Tears made the world blurry and distant. Even more distant than it seemed since her world had lost all light and color it might have ever had. "Oh my God."

Kyrie cried bitterly, trembling on her knees.

She had excused herself from one of the many meetings of this endless family conference. Kyrie's mind was sharp, sharper than her husband's. She had saved several of their businesses from financial ruin, although he had taken all the credit. Naturally.

However, today was different. Her mind had lost its sharpness. She couldn't handle the family meeting, so many hypocrites pretending civility while planning to stab others in the back, or push them to their death from the heights.

Today she had barely been able to get out of bed.

So she had decided she needed to take a break. What a cruel joke. She wanted to scream, she wanted to vomit. Evelyn had never been there. Of course, her only daughter was underground, buried forever in darkness.

Now her corpse would be being devoured by worms.

"Oh my God."

And as if it wasn't bad enough, Kyrie was no longer even able to trust her own senses. This was the first time she had hallucinated her daughter, but she doubted it would be the last. No wonder. She couldn't sleep and couldn't stop thinking about her, it was only natural.

Nothing changed when she staggered into the family conference room. Rather the opposite, millions of eyes piercing her like blades, looking at her as if they knew she was losing her mind, demanding that she calm down. As if her daughter wasn't dead. As if she herself wasn't more dead than alive.

Kyrie took refuge in her husband's arms. They had never had major problems, but they had never loved each other. A marriage of convenience like so many others. However, now he was the only person in the world who could understand even a fraction of what she was feeling.

Our daughter, she thought. Our little one.

"Has something happened?" Nero asked softly, returning the embrace.

"I saw her."

"Kyrie, she is..."

"I know. I know, but I saw her. I'm losing my damn mind."

Nero said nothing. Who would know what to say in a situation like this? He just hugged her tighter.

"Maybe we should suspend the family conference," someone said.

Kyrie knew her relatives perfectly well from going to the meeting year after year, but now she couldn't say who had spoken, even though the room had been silent until then.

Right now she wouldn't even recognize her own mother's voice.

"So many tragedies in a few days," they continued. "Chaos, confusion. I'm not sure it's worth it. Maybe it's a sign."

Whoever it was, she doubted that someone was helping her. If they wanted the family conference to end early this year, it was for their own convenience. The Wright family wasn't taught to cooperate. Not really, although they had to pretend to be a united front behind closed doors, behind the scenes they were like any noble family.

Lies, plots, and backstabbing. Over and over again. She had learned to live with it, but now Kyrie couldn't stand it.

Look at the Wrights gathered there and she could only wonder which of them had pushed her. Because part of her was convinced that it couldn't have been an accident, a mere coincidence. Even though at the same time she couldn't think of how that atrocious act could be of advantage to anyone. The family was such a cluster of evil that she didn't doubt it for a second.

Maybe she needed to believe that it hadn't been a mere accident, that she still had something to do in this world. Expose the culprit, kill them with her own hands. Maybe she was right. In any case, she couldn't stand any of this.

So much falsehood, so many vile people. It wasn't worth it. None of this family should be inherited, everything should burn in hellfire and disappear from this world without a trace.

People began to talk, too many voices to make much sense of, even if she had the will to make the effort. Her head hurt even more than before. She wanted to be anywhere but here, so many words filling the air and not a single truth.

But at the same time I don't want to leave the place where my little girl died, I know. Not yet.

Lord Blake Wright silenced the voices, gently tapping the floor with his cane. He didn't need to raise his voice or make some grandiose gesture to ensure he was heard. I suppose that was the true meaning of having authority. That everyone was hanging on your words and your actions, any message you had for them.

"We're not going to end anything," Blake said, and no more would be said about it. "The family conference is an annual event for a good reason. It's difficult for us to get together, but it's necessary. We're not going to postpone anything because of a few unfortunate events."

For a moment Kyrie saw herself lunging forward to kill that son of a bitch or die trying. A few unfortunate events, as if it meant nothing. It may for you. For you, but for me that was everything. Her mind's eye redrew the state of the corpse. The fleeting glimpse that had almost killed her.

Kyrie managed to contain herself. Blake Wright probably deserved to die too, but she didn't care for one simple reason. He couldn't be her daughter's killer. He had nothing to gain from it, it was completely ruled out, without a doubt.

All the parasites in this room were the ones trying to gain something from him, after all.

Since in this mansion his word was law, the family conference resumed. Like starving jackals, they began to make an infernal noise gathered around the table, in the center of which was the feast. The prize for which they would all kill each other. Just Blake Wright's position, when they all had wealth to spare.

Kyrie brought her hands to her head, closing her eyes.

They were all better off dead. Not just her.

But not yet, she thought.

Kyrie Wright was a ghost with unfinished business.

I Am The God of Hellfire, Part 17: END