Page 15 of A Hail From Hell: Vol 1
“Whatnow?”
“No, no, no. Please don’t die,” Aaron slapped his phone against his palm so hard that Evan almost winced for the phone. “I’m pretty sure I charged it. Dammit.”
Dead phone. Typical.
Evan’s eyes wandered upstairs. It was the effect of so much concentrated malice in this place. He knew it would happen, so he didn’t—
“Give me your phone,” Aaron stretched out a hand towards him.
Evan shrugged. “Don’t have it.”
Aaron blinked, a confused smile creeping up his face. “What do you meandon’t have it?”
“Electronic gadgets falter or stop working in a place so heavily haunted, you know that.”
“Ido—” Aaron sucked in a sharp breath, trying his very best not to combust, then spoke calmly. “Remember how we talked about staying in contact throughout the exorcism? It’s dangerous in here. How am I supposed to look for you if you get lost in one of the bazillion hallways in here?”
“Then just call out to me as loud as you can,” Through years of secluded meditation, Evan’s five senses had sharpened to an almost superhuman level. He pulled the coat taut around himself, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. “Stop stressing and send those pricks back.”
“What pricks?”
Evan’s shoulders tensed as Bruce’s voice boomed from behind. When he spun around, the four men came into view, their agitated bodies huddled together. All but one.
“You weren’t referring tous, were you?” Bruce stepped forward, crowding Evan as he held his breath, hating the thick scent of Bruce’s leather jacket.
That smell—no,stench—made Evan feel like he was breathing next to the skin of a dead animal.
Surprise, that was basically what leather was.
A vein throbbed in Evan’s forehead. “I don’t know. Do people usually refer to you lot as pricks?”
Anger flared in Bruce’s eyes.
“You little shit!” He bared his chipped yellow teeth, hand flying out and coming down so fast that Evan almost—
Aaron caught that hand.
—almostsent an energy blast straight to his crotch.
“Now, now, there’s no need to talk with fists,” Aaron was equally tall and built like the rest but contrastingly bright and polite. He flashed a handsome smile at a frowning, pig-faced Bruce. “Isn’t it best if we get this over with soon so we can all go home, hm?”
Bruce’s minions glanced at each other, then hauled Bruce back, begging him to calm down. While they placated the wild pig, Aaron turned to Evan, his smile faltering slightly. Momentarily, something simmered in his dark blue eyes. Something Evan often caught Aaron suppressing.
Anger.
Aaron couldn’t drop his salesman persona because of some rude customers, but thoseprickscustomers were doing a great job at provoking him. Perhaps they weren’t aware that the quiet ones were the scariest when they finally snapped.
“Let’s start already,” Aaron took out bundles of dried Noctis from Evan’s backpack, a slight furrow between his brows. “Just like usual, right?”
Evan nodded. “In every corner.”
Spirits and malicious energies lurked in the corners of the room where light was scarce and shadows abundant. Burning Noctis in every corner would repel the spirits and force them out. That was exactly what Evan wanted. To drive them out of the mansion so he could take care of the thing upstairs.
During his survey of the mansion earlier, Evan had found a peculiar door on the first floor, at the end of the long, narrow hallway. Approaching it was nearly impossible because of the thick black mist crowding its entrance.
That had to be the room where the cursed item—or whatever was attracting these resentful spirits—was.
“Do you know what you’re dealing with here?” Aaron asked, face taut as he came back after distributing dried Noctis to the men who reluctantly snatched it from his hands. Anxiousness radiated from his rigid shoulders and crept up Evan’s skin.
