Page 9 of A Hail From Hell: Vol 1

“There’s…something terribly wrong with this place,” he murmured as the ring scorched his finger inside the coat. “The malice is stronger than last time.”

For the first time since coming across this case, uncertainty flashed in Aaron’s eyes. He rested a hand on Evan’s shoulder. “Hey, I know I’ve been pushy about this case, but that’s only because you’re a self-righteous asshole who wouldn’t accept monetary help from me or anyone because you think that’s cheap—”

“Charity.”

“—so I did not want you to lose this case. But if it’s beyond you, if it’s too dangerous…we can just turn them down,” Even as he suggested that, Aaron’s eyes dimmed, internally sulking.

Evan’s eyes rolled back on their own. “You’re saying thatnow? After bringing me all the way here, you dumbass? What do you think I was trying to tell you since yesterday?”

Aaron pursed his lips. “I thought you were making excuses because you wanted to sleep in. You’ve pulled that before.”

“Never for a case! Only when you asked me to hang out with you.”

“Ouch.”

“I can’t turn back now,” Evan said, resuming towards the mansion with heavy steps. “I’ve decided to give it a shot.” Turning down a client after giving them hope was not something even someone as cheap as Evan would do.

Aaron quickly caught up to him, smiling. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. Getting the payment in hand would be worth the trouble.”

If I come out alive, sure.

Evan’s throat bobbed with a gulp as they closed in on the mansion, the creeping tendrils of darkness swirling around Evan’s feet like invisible fingers, crawling up his body. He didn’t react, used to darkness always lingering around him.

Evan pulled his right hand out of the coat pocket, staring at the ring glistening on his finger.

Crimson Eye, a family heirloom passed down from the Blackwood bloodline. As the name suggested, the red stone at the center was shaped like an eye, and if one stared hard enough into the center, he’d be able to spot a dark iris at the heart of the crystal. The purpose of the ring was to protect the bearer from exposed dark auras and spiritual possession during exorcism. But Evan also used it as a radar to test the severity of the malicious energies depending on how dark the shade of the red crystal turned.

On his finger, the red stone had turned a bloody crimson.

Great. He was going to die.

Before Evan could rethink his decision of carrying out the case, footsteps and murmurs stirred from behind. Three unknown faces caught up to them.

“Mr. and Mrs. Greene, you’re here!” Aaron adjusted his blazer and rushed to greet the client like a professional salesman, all smiles and handshakes. “I’m Aaron Brook, Mr. Blackwood’s manager.”

Mr. Greene, a tall and lanky man with grey-dusted hair and frameless glasses, smiled awkwardly at Aaron as they shook hands. “Mr. Brook, I hope you found your way here just fine.”

“Is that…Mr. Blackwood?” Mrs. Greene—short and plump and pretty doe eyes—glanced in Evan’s direction. Color rose in her cheeks as she left Aaron’s extended hand hanging behind and drifted into Evan’s direction like a feet-less spirit. “Oh my, I never imagined the infamous exorcist of Emberlyn would be this young and handsome and…tall.”

Evan doubted his 5’11’’ stature was impressive compared to her tree of a husband, who was presently pretending his wife wasn’t gawking at a boy her son’s age.

Unruffled, Evan extended a hand, and Mrs. Greene eagerly clasped it in both of hers. “Evan Blackwood. I’m here to inspect this plot at the request of Mr. Greene.”

“What a pleasure! Christina Greene,” she gave Evan’s hand a squeeze before reluctantly letting it drop.

Evan side-eyed Aaron, who looked like he was suppressing a laugh, then shook hands with a gloomy Mr. Greene before following them towards the small wooden fence that separated the mansion from the rest of the plot. However, the couple stopped near the gate, not daring to set foot into the mansion’s boundary.

Even if they couldn’t see the clouds of dark energy or the black tendrils circling around their warm bodies, something about the place was inherently unsettling. As if tied down to an invisible rock, their feet refused to carry them into the property.

Evan glanced at them, then turned his gaze to Aaron, who quickly understood. Smiling, he asked, “Mr. Greene, is everything alright?”

Mr. Greene scratched his neck, a drop of sweat glistening on his forehead as he blinked uncontrollably behind his glasses. “We should just talk here.”

Mrs. Greene had gone completely silent, not even sparing her newly developed crush a glance.

“Have you been inside?” Evan asked, already aware of the answer coming his way.

“No, no, no. But the workers, um, we hired for cleaning up, they…they had an incident.”

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