Chapter 93: Nightmare, Part 5

"We’re doing everything we can, my Lord," Anabela informed him with a deep and respectful bow. Sam took the opportunity to steal a quick glance at her cleavage. "But there’s just too much ground to cover. We’re in the largest kingdom, after all. I don’t think we can do any more than what we’re already doing."

Of course, the queen was entirely right. Sam was fully aware of that. He knew asking for more would mean asking for a miracle—something impossible and completely unreasonable. But what could he do? Every second that passed, every hour, every day, brought the moment of birth closer—the damned endgame. He didn’t want to find out what would happen when that thing came into the world.

Would it be more powerful than him? Or just another rival? He had been born of Lucifer’s blood, mixed with that of a human. And even then, he was this powerful. The blend of the Antichrist and one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse…

All signs pointed to the fact that it had to be even stronger than him. More than a plan B, it seemed like the actual plan A. He seemed like the backup plan. His prospects looked grim. That is, only if the birth wasn’t stopped. Only if they couldn’t stop it.

They were, of course, discussing this in private. The queen couldn’t afford to appear servile to anyone, no matter how much she believed him to be some sort of celestial emissary, a chosen one of the angelic choir. Those damn feathered bastards.

"I know, my queen. I apologize for my impatience. I understand perfectly well that it’s impossible to find her so quickly. It’s just that I’m afraid of what might happen. That’s all. I don’t want to put more pressure on you than you already have, ruling an entire kingdom at such a young age."

Anabela nodded. She seemed pleased. Or at least, that’s what he wanted to believe. The queen had to be a good liar to have survived so long in this environment. She didn’t seem like a mere pawn on someone else’s chessboard. She was truly the monarch of Albion.

So he wasn’t sure he could read her if she lied. But what motive would she have to lie to him? Better to set aside stupid paranoia and focus.

He had one goal, just one. Very simple. As long as he made it in time. As long as he rode out to find Famine with the army of Albion at his back. The army and maybe even the queen herself.

"I’m scared too," said Anabela. "The warning of our lord, Saint Michael the Archangel… I’ve never felt such fear. That monster… we can’t let it be born under any circumstances. And I want to kill her too."

"Oh? Why?"

"For you, of course. I heard you were defiled. I mean, I didn’t hear it directly, but it’s the only way. So… what I mean to say is, I’m so sorry. And I’ll gladly make her pay for it. I want you to… I want you to have peace. At least peace."

Anabela hugged him tightly. Not even a week had passed since they’d arrived at the palace, but the woman had grown fond of him quickly. It wasn’t surprising. She had misinterpreted things and placed him on a pedestal. So, as he knew would happen, it was very easy to have her eating out of the palm of his hand.

As Michael should have known too. This suited the damned angel. But it still surprised him that he had lent a hand so easily. Hence the paranoia. His instincts told him there was something fishy going on.

But he wasn’t sure what, when, or how—or what he could do about it, for that matter. So the best he could do for now was…

Sam returned the hug. He stroked her soft, silky hair. Gave her a few pats on the back.

"Thank you."

"Yes, it was… it was a horrible experience, my queen."

"Just call me Anabela. You don’t have to use titles with me."

Sam smiled. "Well, Anabela. I… I can’t get it out of my head. People talk as if only women could… and that’s also horrible, of course, but…"

"I understand perfectly. Don’t worry. And you’re right. People talk as if only women could be victims of such a thing. What a horrible demon." Anabela shook her head. "It’s a demon, after all, but… to think it dared to do such a thing to you…"

Anabela shook her head again.

"I’m furious. I want to kill her as soon as possible. So believe me when I say finding her is my top priority too."

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Sam patted her on the back.

"Yes, I understand perfectly. Don’t worry. It’s just… just impatience, Your Majesty."

——

He left the royal chambers, heading back to his own room.

Heather appeared and made the journey shorter, grabbing his arm firmly and pulling him along. She made sure to lock the door before speaking.

"You’ve been awfully cozy with the queen lately," she said.

Sam blinked. Now what was this jealousy about…? From Heather, of all people. If he’d had to bet, he’d have said Christina would be the first to explode. Maybe that was precisely why she hadn’t. Because he had her so tightly wrapped around his finger that she couldn’t even protest—not even about this. Even if it bothered her. Even if the justifications she told herself weren’t very convincing. Whereas Heather was different. More willing to question him. For now.

"Aren’t you going to answer?" Heather insisted.

"Calm down. It’s just that I don’t understand where this is coming from now. Yes, I’m flattering the queen, I won’t deny it, but we really need her help. What exactly do you want me to do?"

"Fine. I’ll get straight to the point since you want to treat me like a fool. As hard as it is…" Heather took a deep breath. "A Wright. Are you sure it’s just that? Just flattering her?"

Sam shrugged.

"Of course. What else could it be?"

"Please. Don’t think I was born yesterday, Sam. I’ve seen how you look at her. I’m sure even Christina has noticed."

If you both know how I am, and yet you’re still caught in my web… then you’re more naïve than I thought. He acknowledged that half the credit lay in the fond memories both women had of their brother. So, while it was a somewhat arrogant thought, what could he do? When he wasn’t nervous, tearing his hair out over how long this damned search was taking, he felt on top of the world. Living in a palace, rubbing shoulders with royalty—who he was getting closer to seducing each day—and having an army essentially at his command. How could he not feel on top of the world?

"Okay, yes. I think the queen is attractive. I admit it. What’s wrong with that?"

"I hope that’s all it is, Sammy," Heather replied in a much softer tone. "Because if you break Christina’s heart…"

"What? Are you going to threaten me?"

"I would never do that…" Heather lowered her voice even more. "Never. But I’d feel even more broken than she would, Sammy. I want you to know that."

Sam sighed. Then he stepped closer to her and pulled her into an embrace. He stroked her back and hair, giving her pats, just like he’d been doing with the queen not long before.

"Don’t be silly, okay?" he whispered. "I admit I sometimes go overboard with compliments, trying to make a good impression. But that’s all. A necessity to survive in a place like this. To get what we need. We’re not going to have anything close to a normal life until we take care of Famine, her sisters, and Satan. They won’t stop coming after me—and by extension, after you two. Unless you decide to leave me. But I know you never will. I need Anabela, whether she’s beautiful or ugly, to achieve that future. As soon as possible. So you no longer have to fear for your lives. That’s all, Heather. That’s all. I love you. Like sisters. And as women."

Heather lowered her head. After a while, still silent, she wiped her tears with the back of her hand. Her small shoulders trembled.

"I’m sorry…" she murmured.

"You don’t have to apologize for anything. It’s normal to be afraid. We’re all each other has left in this world, you, me, and Christina. Besides, do you think you’re the only one? Do you think I don’t feel jealous when one of those rich bastards looks at you or gives you flowers?"

"That was nothing, Sammy. I’m… I’m loyal to you."

"I know. And what I have with the princess is nothing either. But still, it’s impossible not to feel a little jealous. It’s human nature. That’s all I’m saying, Heather. That’s all."

Sam kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then her neck. Several kisses, trailing down to her shoulder blade.

"What are you…?" Heather asked, her voice trembling.

"You know what I’m doing. Don’t you want it?"

Heather didn’t respond, but when he pulled her toward the bed, pushed her down, and climbed on top of her, she didn’t resist.

——

For some reason, he dreamed of Evelyn’s severed head again.

And once again, it spoke to him. Sam tried to listen to her seriously, but it was of no use. Her words didn’t reach him.

Of course. She was somewhere beyond the darkness, perhaps... waiting for him.

——

Hunger walked through the halls of the convent, alone, of course. She had killed all possible company and hadn’t received any visitors. Well, one, a priest who had probably come to sleep with some nun.

She broke his neck, gutted him, and, feeling inspired, hung his entrails from the chandelier in the vestibule. But that was it.

“Ah, damn it!” Hunger clutched her belly.

She had longed to have a child for a very, very long time. A powerful child, an important child who would change everything. Of course, not just with a nobody. Now she had achieved it, but not everything was rosy.

The damned thing was kicking hard. Hunger doubled over, breathing heavily.

“Not much longer now!”

Her laughter echoed in the chapel, empty and bloodstained.

Even if they found her before the time came, she had no doubt she would manage to bring the child into the world, at least. Her survival was another matter, but she didn’t care much; it would simply mean sleeping alongside her sister War. She didn’t know how much time was left, days or hours, but the moment when the entire world would change was near.

In the long-awaited apocalypse, even the stars in the heavens would fall.

Nightmare, Part 5: END