Page 96 of A Hail From Hell: Vol 1

But instead of playing right into Xen’s hands and dropping the subject, Evan saw it for what he always visualized an inescapable situation to be. An opportunity.

“I want…” Evan softly let the words out. “Answers.”

Xen’s eyes slightly narrowed, trying to gauge Evan’s intentions, but he cunningly kept his mind empty and let his mouth do the labor. “I want answers whenever I ask and whatever I ask for.”

Xen cocked his head. “How many?”

“Ten questions,” Evan offered.

“One.”

“Five.”

“One.”

“Three!”

Xen considered Evan's slightly panicked face for a moment before straightening. “Done.”

The Shadow let go of Evan’s shoulders and dissolved quickly, as if ashamed he’d held Evan captive like that. Xen walked past Evan, knuckles brushing his arm.

Evan blinked at the empty space, eyebrows raised high. Had he just beaten a demon at negotiation?

Smirking to himself, he spun and jogged to catch up to Xen. “Give me your word.”

“You have my word.”

“What type of demon are you?”

At the speed of that question, Xen was briefly taken aback. “Is that the first question?”

Evan shrugged nonchalantly. “Nah, I’ll save that for the future. Just making small talk.”

As they walked deeper into the area, more houses appeared, barely standing, most of them ruined from lack of maintenance. The air was foggy with dust and…something heavier. The aura was so thick and tangled that deciphering whether it was malice or resentment or longing was almost impossible. Such dense energies shouldn't have manifested in a residential area. Not unless a tragedy had occurred. One that’d claimed many lives.

When Xen didn’t answer, Evan nudged him. “Well? What type?”

“Type…” The word dropped from Xen like it had offended him on a spiritual—no, demonic—level. Like it was an insult to his long generation of ancestors.

For some reason, Evan felt the need to soothe a burn he didn’t inflict. “As in, what kind? Like low-level or, er…what was it? Hellguards?”

Xen smirked. “There’s a third category too.”

“I know. But you’re clearly not from…” For a moment, Evan’s firm assumption faltered. His eyes unknowingly drew up Xen’s body. Could he be…?

Just as the thought surfaced, Evan chuckled to himself with a shake of his head. His vivid imagination was running wild again. What would aDemon Kingbe doing here, taking a stroll with an exorcist? And not to mentionwherehe’d found Xen, in a containment mirror. Who would dare imprison a Demon King? Was the mirror realm strong enough to contain one?

The more he thought about it, the more absurd his doubts seemed. Xen was probably reluctant to answer because he was indeed, like Evan’s assumption, a low-level. Not that Evan thought there was anything to be ashamed of being a low-level demon. That would be like mocking the poor in the human world.

“You know what, never mind,” Evan had no idea where the Old Temple was, so he followed beside Xen, eyes alert andstudying his surroundings. They left behind the abandoned residential area and entered a clearing surrounded by dense trees. There was a narrow pathway ahead that led straight to a stone door, nestled into a huge tree.

The Old Temple.

On both sides of the rock-laden pathway stood walls of thorns almost ten feet high, each thorn several centimeters long. It looked like a manmade barrier. At seventy steps of distance was the stone door. The rest of the temple was not visible. The thick bark of a mighty tree had somehow grown around it, spiraling appendages thoroughly wrapping the temple in its claws, leaving open only a small partition at the base for the stone door.

“Is this it?” Evan stared at the stone door in a mixture of wonder and wariness. Wonder, because of the outward appeal of the mysterious construction. Wariness, because of the dense air of a certain energy radiating through and around that stone door.

Resentment. Immense, unquenchable resentment.

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