Evil Eternal Read Online Free PDF

second. He grabbed it by the throat and with one thrust sent it across the barn where it was impaled on a series of metal hooks used to hang horse reins and equipment. The demon wailed and flapped about while black-and- veridian blood spewed out of its numerous dark nipples in every direction, showering the barn in gore.
    The girl demon had taken that moment to grasp Father Michael’s leg, sinking its teeth through the muscle of his left calf. Without even a grunt of pain, he brought the trident down on its head, killing it instantly.
    He was grievously injured, for a normal man. One more to go.
    He zipped a crucifix at the remaining demon, what was once Mary Carron, who had just recovered from his kick. It jumped sideways, avoiding the dagger. Flicking his wrist, he shot another crucifix, again missing its mark.
    The demon leapt into the air, mouth and arms wide open, attempting to land on the priest and tear him to shreds. Father Michael rolled to his left, yanked the trident from the dried husk of the girl-beast, and hurled it at the demon. One of the trio of blades caught it in the base of its neck, shattering it to bits of ragged flesh and bone. An orb of gold light exploded from its skull before it dropped onto the floor, lifeless.
    The impaled demon was still wriggling to get free and shrieking like a prehistoric swine. Only a blade with the exorcist’s engraving could free Joseph Carron from his demonic imprisonment. Slowly, he limped to him, retrieving a crucifix from the floor.
    “God be with you, you are free,” he said before plunging it into his deformed chest.
    He spent several moments staring at the desiccated corpse. Tonight had been proof that it had been too long since his last encounter with the likes of this mayhem. There was a time when he had an army behind him in the fight against such evil. Now, only madmen would believe such a thing truly existed. Evil had become a fairy tale, something you told the kids to scare them into doing the right thing. What was in this barn was the stuff of make-believe, the dementia of uncivilized man.
    Turning to go back outside to his gunnysack with the necessary tools for his next task, Father Michael was caught square in the chest by a flying pitchfork. The force of it lifted him off his feet and nailed him to a wooden post.
    He howled in agony. Syrupy rivers of blood seeped from the wounds. The pitchfork had hit him so hard his feet were inches off the ground. He was too weak to even grab the handle and free himself.
    The sound of measured clapping distracted him from the extreme pain.
    A man in his early forties with salt-and-pepper hair and a workman’s build descended slowly from the rafters like a feather. He smiled when he saw the impaled priest.
    “An excellent performance, if I do say so myself, Father Michael.”
    His voice had a distinguished lilt. He softly touched down on the ground and approached Father Michael.
    Despite the white-hot agony that now rippled through his chest, Father Michael’s rage grew.
    He was here. The dark master’s favorite minion, the cursed one banished to walk the earth for eternity, a carrier of blight and misery.
    Cain had returned.

Chapter Five
    Aimee DeCarlo waited anxiously at the booth by the window. Looking at her reflection, she fingered her long, black hair, deciding whether to keep it down or pull it back in a ponytail. Her right leg, crossed over her left, jumped up and down to the rhythm of her agitation. She managed an easygoing smile when the waitress asked her for the third time if she’d like to order. Brunch hours were coming to a close. The waitress eyed the empty seat across from her and flashed a look of sympathy.
    “I’ll wait a few more minutes,” Aimee said. “But I will take another mimosa.”
    “Coming right up. This one’s on the house.”
    Aimee inhaled deeply through her nose, holding her breath for a count of five before slowly releasing through her mouth. She repeated it three times,