The Many Half-lived Lives Of Sam Sylvester Novels & Stories

Instead, he presses his temples, and says, "I give up. Don't try to do anything. You don't know her. You're not gonna win against her." "Let's call Dr Clemente. He will—" "I'll kill him." Samantha interjects, and hearing that, the old couple have their eyes bulge out in horror as they look at her as if she is a monster. Indeed, she is a monster. "Yes. I'll kill him if you call him here. And not only him…" She glances at the unconscious man on the sickbed and smirks creepily. "I'll make sure he will meet Hell much earlier."

The ex-fiancé—no, his half-brother—smirked. “Hello, Samuel,” the half-brother said, voice smooth but deadly. “Remember me? Or should I remind you?” Samuel’s claws dug into the floor. “Phil… Richard’s son? My—my brother?” “I was never really gone,” the half-brother said. “Richard left me behind… experimented on me. Made me stronger, faster… better. And now? Now I’ve come to finish what he started.” Adrian growled, stepping protectively in front of Samuel. “You’re not touching him. Not while I’m alive.”

Jamie had a question mark hanging over his head, but he didn’t argue. We could all see through Elliott’s IAC that Sam was cornered. He was in a room full of distressed mirrors, the kind that make you look like something else. I thought it was ironic in an Alanis Morissette sort of way. Sam didn’t look like himself at all—and he would die the same sort of creature he’d spent centuries destroying. “Whatcha gonna do with me?” Sam was shouting at Elliott just before the mirror behind him exploded into a thousand shards of glass. He ducked and covered his face, but it was too late. Elliott had his Glock pointed right at the old man’s head.

I whispered. If there was a body, then this wasn’t just about me disappearing; someone had been sacrificed, a life reduced to a prop in Sam’s performance. Sam wasn’t just a liar; he was a killer. “How did I live with such a man for five years?” I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warm room, and my skin prickled as every instinct screamed danger. Sam had crossed a line so far back I couldn’t even see it anymore, and I forced myself to move.

My assistant, Norman Lowry, was growing agitated behind me. He patted me on the shoulder, his expression panicked. "Mr. Hatfield, we didn't seem to have prepared for this." No, we hadn't. This was the same ploy that took me down in my previous life. After discovering that Samantha and Howard had swindled away all my inheritance, I had indeed broken down emotionally. However, it was nowhere near the point of being diagnosed with a mental illness. Yet, it was precisely that breakdown that Samantha exploited to set up such an elaborate trap.

With Sam’s skin turning a sickly shade of white, I feel no guilt held within me as I silently watch the life drift away from his eyes–his frantic thrashing slowing down as a look of acceptance washes across his face, embracing his well-deserved violent fate as he rolls to the side. “I hope Sybil drains you dry,” Sam clears his mouth; flashing me a sinister blood-tainted smirk through a sneer before spluttering breathlessly, wheezing in alarm when his body erupts into a fit of violent convulsions, unable to hold on to the remaining dregs of life that are fleeting away before him - watching it float into oblivion as if it were a cloud.

“Okay, I’m gonna need you all to slow down,” Sam said. “I have a sister?” “And a brother. Well, half. Half-brother, half-sister,” Hoot chimed in. “A hermaphrodite?” Sam asked, confused. Hank groaned. “Jesus, no. My daughter and your mother’s son went and screwed each other.”

The way that Selina was fuming now was enough to send any sane being running in the opposite direction. Apparently, there is some history and bad blood between Selina and this Sam guy. “Not long enough, I assure you,” said Selina coldly. “Mind explaining why the fuck are you still alive when you should have been dead two years ago?” Sam smirked. “Being one of the Apostles had its benefits,” was all that he said. Selina narrowed her eyes dangerously. “I see,” she said, flexing the fingers of her right hand. “Then I shall make sure that you stay dead this time!”

But before Egan could call him, he opened his eyes again. “For Pertrov’s plan, use me.” “What are you saying?” Egan asked, even as his heart twisted, as he watched life slip away from his best friend. “Use me.” Sam smiled, his teeth all bloodied. “The best gift I can give Prim is you.” Egan stared in disbelief. This could not be real. Sam had survived several near-death experiences. “Don’t call the ambulance.” Sam whispered, and then he closed his eyes forever. *** Egan watched with bloodshot eyes as Renzo was dragged into the room, bound hands and feet.

she added, softly, her expression darkening. Sam looked at her in surprise. He never stopped to consider who had turned her. "I was born a half-breed, to vampire and human parents, and they abandoned me on an island. But later in life, I was also turned. Fully turned. By a boy—a stupid boy. It was a dumb relationship mistake. I was in love with him for about a minute. And then I realized, too late, what a jerk he was. The first of many bad boy decisions, I guess," she said with a sigh.