Page 29 of A Hail From Hell: Vol 1

Aaron reared back, alarmed. “Damn, what day is it today? Evan Blackwood actually expressed his gratitude. No wonder it looked like it’d rain.”

Evan gritted his teeth. “On second thought, fuck off.”

Aaron burst out laughing as he spun around, waving a hand over his head. “Glad to see you’re still you, dude. Goodnight.”

As soon as the front door shut, Evan rushed ahead and locked it, shoving a chair under the handle just in case someone heard his screams and barged in.

Note: There was no other residence in a one-mile radius around his house.

A cold sweat broke out across Evan’s skin, turning his palms clammy as he stared at the door.

He could ask for help. Maybe from Rhea—

“Run, Evan.”

He flinched as the memory resurfaced before reluctantly pushing it down.

No. He couldn’t ask for help. There was no telling what might happen if he dragged someone else into the mess he’d created. The creature’s origin was still a mystery, and he couldn’t bear the thought of another life lost on his watch.

That would never happen again.

Alright. If I’m going to do this, let’s give it my all.

What exactly wasthis?

Hopefully notdeath, even if, deep down, that was what Evan was preparing himself for.

Blowing out a breath, he stalked into his bedroom. He picked up Misty, who was still curled in his bed, and nuzzled and kissed her as much as he could in one go, as if this was the last time he was holding her. As he laid her on the bed and covered her with a blanket, he whispered, “I hope someone finds you if I am to die here tonight.”

Just to make sure she could escape in the worst-case scenario, Evan opened his bedroom window.

Then he found his backpack perched against the foot of his bed. Taking out a few things from it along with salt, he locked his bedroom door and made his way back into the living room.

Evan wasn’t the type to live by mottos. If he had one, it was simple:

Don’t diea pathetic death.

Night had nearly swallowed the sky. Distant thunder rumbled, a strong breeze rattling the windowpanes as a gentle pitter-patter began outside.

Turning on a single table lamp just enough to shed light in the living room, Evan pushed aside the chairs and carpet, making space in the middle.

“I hope this works,” he muttered a quick prayer to the Del and started making a salt circle on the tiled floor, big enough for him to sit inside.

Without his ring, the salt circle was the only thing that could prevent Evan from getting possessed during a confrontation with a spirit. That was to say if he successfully summoned the thing to him. He was too weak to cast a light barrier over himself, still exhausted from his Greene Mansion field trip.

Now that I think about it, I am pretty useless without Crimson Eye.

Useless or not, he was definitely a little stupid for not coming up with a backup for the ring over the course of almost a decade as an exorcist.

Setting the empty can of salt aside, Evan pocketed a tiny bottle in his shorts before sitting in the middle of the salt circle and closing his eyes.

Not all exorcists were born with a set of abilities, and not all born with special abilities became exorcists.

Sight, the ability to see spirits and inhuman creatures, was passed down to Evan from his maternal bloodline. He could also see human auras, the faintest traces of spiritual energy, and almost all entities without a form. If it was once a human, Evan could see it. If it wasn’t, he could see its traces.

But although he could sense the unusual heaviness in the air, he couldn’t visually spot the form of this entity or any traces. It was a first for him, given Rhea always complimented him, saying hisSightwas as strong as the ability could get.

And ifSightwasn’t working, the only way to reveal the evil was to use himself as bait.

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