"Semi-Short Stories" [ Story Collection ]

Only One Way [] 12/14 []

Samson was the first to arrive at the Swan residence. He's donning his typical all-black outfit: a long-sleeved, high-collared shirt tucked into tight pants, paired with leather boots and gloves. His hair is cascading down his back in soft waves. Max's first thought when they open the door for him is that he looks like some sort of death omen.

"Max. It's been a while."

Wordlessly, the teenager escapes own the hall, to their bedroom. Samson steps into the house, closes the door behind him, and offers a smile to one of the two men seated on the couch. Waiting for him.

"You wished to speak."

"Samson. Please, explain to my brother here exactly how Martin Darling managed to be released from prison."

"Ah, yes. The truth this time." His smile is now aimed at Raphael. It's a bit sinister. Raphael shifts, glances to Michael as if to say 'how do you know this guy?', and looks back to Samson.

"Yes. The truth.

Samson sits in one of the armchairs, one leg crossed over the other. "My Lord came to me a little over a week ago to inform me of a man with less morals than even I. He instructed me to call the man to convince him to make a deal. It didn't take long to do, he was open to anything that would get him his freedom back."

Something about Samson's presence caused Raphael to seem more understanding. He looks interested. "How did you get into the prison without being seen or stopped?"

"Oh, I didn't do that part. He sent His son to actually carry out the deal." Samson makes a face. "Do you know how difficult it was to give my dagger to someone besides myself? It's meant only for me, and-"

"We don't care about some knife, Samson, we just want to know about this deal and Martin. What else did he get out of it, besides wealth and freedom? Is it something we should be concerned with?"

Samson leans back, thinking. "No. At least, not just yet."

"What does that mean? When should we worry?"

"I've not figured that out yet." He looks deep in thought. Like he's planning something. Like he's been planning something all along. "I doubt he'd care much about you two, of course. It's your sister you should worry about."

Raphael, seeming to come to his senses, abruptly stands. "Is that a threat? Is that a fucking threat?"

Samson isn't fazed. He tilts his head to the side, his eyes narrowing a tad. "No. It's a warning."

"What is he planning to do to Leigh?"

"I heard that he wants to kill her. "

Michael lets out a single, humorless laugh. "That isn't going to happen. Not if we have anything to say about it."

"But do you? You you have anything to say about it? Do you believe you'd be able to stop him?" Samson looks at home, resting in the chair. He looks like he owns the place. "Do you think you have what it takes?"

"I have no doubts about it." Michael stands, reaching to his belt. "If he so much as looks at my sister..." He pulls his gun from its holster. "He'll get a bullet straight to the heart."

"I thought cops were meant to be compassionate. The records say that he has the right to be out...what do you think the public will say about you shooting an free man, Chief?"

The gun is returned to its holster. "I don't care what they say. At this point, there's only one way to deal with Martin Darling. And this is it."

As Michael moves to sit back down, there's a knock at the door. Samson is to his feet within seconds. The sinister grin is back on his face.

"Sit, sit. I'll get the door."