Page 43 of A Hail From Hell: Vol 1

But why was he still wearing the showpiece?

Dry leaves crunched behind Evan. He spun around, catching a glimpse of a shadow before it slipped under a huge bush.

His head gave a curious tilt. Was that the same child spirit he’d seen at the bakery earlier?

Every spirit had its own essence. Between two resentful spirits, depending on various factors, the severity of their resentment would vary. Even if it was without a form, Evan could tell apart different spirits by their essence.

Earlier, he’d not been close enough to feel its essence, but he remembered the feeling of its eyes watching him. That had to be the same one he’d seen at the bakery.

Stuffing the book under his left arm, Evan stepped towards the bushes and trees lining the dry trail to his house. It was surprising to find a spirit lingering so close to the sacred river. Usually, spirits didn’t dare wander anywhere near Del, whose waters treated all souls the same.

The spirit must’ve been desperate to pass to the other side.

But…

Evan stopped halfway towards the sound of the rustling. Even if he wanted to help—which he didn’t—how was he supposed to exorcise the spirit without his ring?

He squinted, a blue light glinting in his irises as he stared in the direction where the spirit was hiding. There was no strong intent of any particular emotion coming from it. No resentment or hatred or anger. Maybe it was a weak spirit. Evan could possibly touch it without getting possessed.

Possibly.

Evan contemplated for a few long minutes before huffing out loud. “Ah, screw it.”

What’s the worst that could happen?

Death.

Evan stormed towards the bush, his core of spiritual energy flaring. A soft blue glow radiated off his arm as he cast a light barrier over his hand and reached into the leaves.

The plan was simple. Expose his core of spiritual energy, touch the spirit, and sprint like his tail was on fire.

It was like playing tag, but with a ghost.

“Come out. I know you’re in there…” Evan said, voice commanding, surprisingly firm. At his words, a high-pitched sound stirred from behind the leaves.

Evan froze.

A second later, another whine broke free, ringing clearly in his ears. After dumbly blinking for a moment, Evan leaned over the bush to peek at the source of the sound. When he caught sight of brownish-white fur curled on the other side, his shoulders dropped. “A dog…?”

The said dog’s head snapped up, big black eyes, ears folded back, and tail excitedly wagging. Rushing out of the bush, it rubbed its dirty, muddy body against Evan’s legs, whining out loud as if reunited with its lost owner.

Evan rubbed his sweaty forehead, a cold chuckle leaving his lips.

It was a dog. He was trying to exorcise a…dog.

With a sigh, he dropped his guard into the bin and his head into his hand. His face burned.

Ever since the incident at Greene Mansion, he’d been on edge, always paranoid. It was so unlike Evan Blackwood, who was known to be aloof and unbothered—as described by the townspeople.

A wet nose brushed his ankle, and Evan glanced down.

The dog—of some small breed he couldn’t identify—had comfortably huddled between Evan’s feet, panting with its tongue lolled out. It almost seemed to be smiling at him.

After a moment of reluctance, Evan reached down to scratch behind its ears, and it whined happily in response.

“What are you doing out here, bud?” Evan patted its head and brushed some dried mud from its fur. “You’re gonna get hurt if you jump at strangers like this. Go back home, ‘kay?”

Still reeling from the rush of adrenaline, Evan dusted his hands on his pants, then turned away, making his way back home.

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