Chapter 8: I Am the God of Hellfire, Part 8

"I thought you couldn't bring me back here," was the first thing Sam said. "Not after my birthday. That's why you risk appearing in the flames."

"Let me clarify things for you then." Satan's voice emerged from the depths of darkness. "First, it's no risk. Every time I appear, I protect the room so our voices can't be heard outside."

Ah. Convenient.

"And as for this, I can do it whenever I want. That's the problem, that I don't want to often. It hurts me. It weakens me."

"I see."

"But you deserve a reward."

In the blink of an eye, Sam found himself back in the mansion. Not in his room, but in front of the entrance stairs. There was no one nearby. He couldn't even hear voices in the distance.

What had gone wrong?

And how had he moved so far? Time should have stopped, just like at his birthday party.

"Relax," said Satan. "This mansion is nothing but an illusion for you to test your powers in a safe environment."

If bringing him to the void weakened him, creating this illusory reality would be ten times worse. But as he didn't give a damn, he said nothing. He would know what he was doing. If he couldn't trust that, at least for now, his mission was doomed to failure anyway.

A man suddenly appeared in front of him. Well, none of this was real and neither was the man. You could see in his eyes that he was more like an empty puppet.

"Now, my son, let yourself be carried away by the power you feel inside. By the instinct of your blood."

That wasn't very helpful. It didn't really tell him anything, but he supposed he should try before complaining. Sam took a deep breath, closed his eyes. Focus on the power within. If it was just that, pure instinct, he supposed he didn't need detailed instructions.

But it didn't seem smart to handle a dark infernal power 'by instinct' and just like that, as if it were nothing.

It wasn't a single power, however. It was his. All his. Better to stop fooling around.

Sam's eyes snapped open when he felt them burning, yellow like his new father's eyes. The empty puppet flew across the room, slamming against the wall. It slid to the floor, leaving a small trail of blood flowing from the wound on the back of its head.

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Telekinesis.

Okay, that was interesting. It was hard to judge properly since everything was illusory, but the puppet hadn't been badly hurt and he had the feeling it wouldn't have killed anyone doing the same in the real world. Not like this.

But it was still interesting and he could think of many useful ways to use this ability.

For example, if he had had this power, he could have thrown Evelyn off the roof without laying hands on her. Without having to be by her side, risking being seen. Although he had risked it for the thrill of seeing her die, not because of his human limitations. Did that count as a human limitation or was it simply the natural reaction of a demon?

Sam laughed.

He couldn't help that either. He felt on top of the world.

And it was nothing but a drop of the power he could obtain. But a drop was a world when you had been dying of thirst all your life, wandering through a desert. He always wanted power. He wanted to be someone important.

He would fulfill his wishes and get rid of any obstacle in his way, even the Devil himself.

"Very good. Remember that feeling and take it with you, my son. What beats in your chest is my blood, it is the fire of hell."

"Or the cold."

"It's the same." He suppressed the urge to look for him once again. He knew he was there, but he wouldn't be visible until he wanted to be. "The cold can reach such a point that it burns."

"It's true."

He had never looked at it that way.

"I know it well. I live it every day. Are you ready to return to the real world?"

"Yes, but... What else can you do?"

"Excuse me?"

"In this space. What else can you do with this?"

Satan emerged from the wall in front of him as if it were the surface of a river. He spread his arms, raising them, pointing around.

"Almost anything. Dreaming is free, after all."

"Then can you, can you show me Evelyn? I didn't have much time to observe her corpse and what was left of her head."

Satan snapped his fingers.

He disappeared and seconds later, the corpse was at his feet. Maybe it was just an approximation because Satan hadn't seen it with his own eyes, but it was real enough for him.

His breathing became heavier and heavier, observing what was left of her.

Like the breathing of an animal. His dick didn't get hard. It was as if he were looking at a work of art, so it would be extremely inappropriate. After a while, maybe hours, maybe days (time must have been frozen like then, after all), maybe just a few minutes, Satan appeared again looking at him over a shoulder.

Now I just need an angel on the other one, he thought.

"Have you had enough?"

"Yes. Bring me back, father."

That's what he did.

"What will be my next target?"

"You had enough initiative to choose the first one yourself," said the flames in the fireplace, "but if you insist, I'll guide you again."

Well, did it sting or was it just a bit of sarcasm? Whatever it was, as long as it didn't affect him, he didn't give a damn, like everything else.

"Ivor Wright. Get rid of him. Take all the time you need."

I'm proud of you, my son, but the important thing is to do it right, not to do it quickly. Okay?

Sam nodded as if he knew who the hell Ivor was. He didn't think he could fool him with something stupid like I hit my head and lost my memory, but it was inconvenient.

Satan's face disappeared.

He decided he wouldn't go kill anyone or even plan his next murder. At least for now.

He would go to the library.

Sam lay down on the bed, interlacing his hands behind his head, taking a deep breath. But first of all, he would relax and wait until someone felt the need to call him about what had happened to poor Evelyn, if anyone did.

I Am the God of Hellfire, Part 8: END