Page 118 of A Hail From Hell: Vol 1

Evan regarded him for a second, then shrugged. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay. I thought I would have to dig you out of a coffin like that one case a few years ago. Do you remember that? You almost died when that spirit possessed you. But you didn’t, thanks to me.”

Aaron laughed. “I still owe you for that one.”

“You bet.”

As the dishes were served and everyone dug in, Aaron briefly excused himself to use the washroom. That’s when Evan shifted his focus to Xen, who sat taut in his seat, arms crossed against his chest. His hawk-like eyes surveyed every face in the restaurant with a frigid look.

“That’s not Aaron,” Evan whispered, dragging his chair closer to Xen’s. His face remained calm, like he was discussing the weather.

Xen lowered his head, side-eyeing Evan. “He isn’t possessed.”

He didn’t look surprised by the revelation. Xen had met Aaron before, and his overly friendly energy had attacked the demon, not something easily forgettable. And right now, Aaron wasn’t exactly exuding that energy.

Evan shoved a spoonful of chicken stew into his face. Since his mouth was occupied, he used their telepathic communication to reply to Xen.

“No, he isn’t possessed. I could tell that much. But he isn’t…Aaron.”

Xen inclined his head, staring at the table. “He isn’t a clone. There’s a heartbeat.”

Someone with enough spiritual energy could clone a person. Someone withabundantspiritual energy could make the clonealmost identical to the original host. But for that, they’d have to know the person like the back of their hand.

Other than Evan, no matter how friendly Aaron was to people, he didn’t have many close friends. And those that were close were normal people with no spiritual abilities. Evan had met them all.

Clones weren’t real people, and although they possessed organs like a human, they wouldn’t work. That would require a constant supply of spiritual energy, and the creator of the clone would deplete his powers uselessly.

But Aaron’s heart was still beating in his chest. And he was eating, which meant his digestive organs were working too.

He wasn’t a clone.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Evan gripped his spoon a little too tight, bending the metal.“It’s his body, but his mind...it feels altered. The voice is his, but the words aren't. I made up some bullshit story about him getting stuffed in a coffin, and he actually played along. That never happened. Is it even possible to control someone’s mind like that?”

Xen adjusted the cuffs of his suit blazer. “It’s possible.”

“How? Who would do it?”

“A demon could do it through a blood bond,” Xen leaned forward to refill Evan’s empty glass. “A spiritually cultivated individual could achieve the same through a binding spell. It links another person's mind to their own—or to whatever creatures they choose. They can influence that person’s thoughts, speech, and access every memory.”

Evan looked at Xen and mumbled a ‘thank you’ as he took the refilled glass of water.

There was no trace of demonic energy on Aaron. Even a speck wouldn’t go unnoticed by Evan’s eyes. So it had to be the work of a spiritually advanced individual and not a demon.

The Nightshade freaks weren’t inhuman beings. They were people, even though mentally unstable. If there was someone among them with a spiritual background, then it wouldn’t be difficult for them to cast a spell on Aaron while he was kidnapped. Perhaps he wasn’t even aware he was being controlled.

But since his brain was influenced, Evan couldn’t ask him direct questions about his disappearance. What if the person in control sensed that Evan was getting suspicious and tried to make Aaron harm others or, worse, harm himself?

That was precisely why Evan hadn’t directly asked Aaron about his disappearance and beat around the bush using Celie and her friends’ arrival as an excuse.

“I need to find the caster of this spell?” Evan’s gaze drifted to the only person—or demon—he'd never thought he’d trust, the only one on whom he could now rely on. “Will you help me?”

Magnetically, Xen’s eyes drew up, boring into Evan’s. If he sensed Evan’s anxiousness, he didn’t point it out. “As you wish.”

Evan could tell before even crossing the threshold, that something was wrong with his house. The once dull but pure aura of his property bore traces of something unsettling. The talisman that hung over the house’s front door was missing. And the scent that assaulted his nose was so familiar, he reflexively groaned.

Expensive cologne and hair wax.

As Celie and her friends poured into the house, Evan almost stopped them before rushing in too. Xen and Aaron followed close behind. When the lot reached the threshold of the living room, however, every pair of feet came to an abrupt halt.

Before them stood a tall man, dressed in a custom-made suit, ginger hair professionally slicked back. He was facing away from them, staring out of the living room window. Upon the shuffle of feet, he turned around and instantly quirked a smile. “Welcome back.”

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