Chapter 618: Morbid Crisis (VII) _2

Constantine turned to walk towards the sofa, seeing that Angela hadn't moved from her place, he turned back and asked, "What's the matter?... Alright, my earlier actions were wrong, I apologize. I was a little on edge, just consider me a lunatic if you wish."

"I saw it! That demon! It was… it was a demon, right? Black… surrounded by a swarm of bugs and then you summoned a different kind of fire and burned it to death…"

Angela stuttered this out and then covered her eyes, rubbing them fiercely, saying, "No, that's not right! I should have stopped seeing these things when I was 12, how am I seeing them again…."

However, Constantine's eyes were wide open. He quickly walked up to her, took Angela by her wrists, removed her hands from her eyes, and staring into them he said "You can see these things? Are you a psychic?!"

"Hey! You damn bitch! Are you messing with me?!" Constantine violently let go of Angela's wrists, and said, "From where are you? Do you not know the rules of this trade? Exorcists can't meet each other. Even if they want to visit, they must notify in advance!"

"No, I'm not. I'm not an exorcist... otherwise, it would be no need for me to come and find you." Angela took a deep breath, calming her somewhat frightened emotions, and said: "Do you remember what I told you? My sister and I, from a young age, could see such things."

"I thought… the things you were referring to were just common ghosts and creatures. Children are more spiritually perceptive, seeing those things wouldn't be unusual."

"But, you never told me… until now you could see demons!" Constantine raised his voice. He discovered that Angela doesn't seem to understand the severity of this situation. Placing his hands on his hips, shaking his head in despair, he explained.

"Everyone who can see demons, are the ones singled out by demons. That is to say, only if your soul is marked by demons, they will allow you to see them. This has nothing to do with any spiritual perception, it's a curse, a terrifying curse."

"But I never believed that!" Angela hurried to the couch, collapsed onto it, and said somewhat desperately, "My sister and I could both see such illusions. She told our parents about all of this, but they treated her as mentally ill and sent her to the insane asylum."

"I used to be scared of these things, but later I started to deny their existence, believing they were all hallucinations…" Angela took a deep breath, held her forehead and sat down, then said, "Until I was 12 years old, and I stopped seeing them completely."

Constantine stood still and said rather coldly, "What makes you think suddenly you couldn't see them?"

"Because I never believed they were real, as long as I didn't believe, they couldn't hurt me!" Angela emphasized.

"No." Constantine disagreed. He sat down opposite Angela, looking into her eyes and said, "It's because they chose your sister."

Angela stared right into Constantine's eyes, there seemed to be a mesmerizing power in this man's eyes that made people sink deep into them, unable to extricate themselves.

Suddenly, she saw a hint of sorrow in Constantine's eyes. Such an emotion should not be present in his gaze. She heard Constantine say:

"Whether they are identical twins or fraternal twins, the souls of all twins have a substitutable property. Demons only need one."

"They placed a curse on both of you, letting you see them. But afterward, you could no longer see them, not because you stopped believing, but because..." Constantine paused for a moment, before saying: "Among you and your sister, the demon chose your sister and abandoned you."

"Impossible!" Angela shouted. "You don't understand, we are the same, we…"

"Nothing is impossible." Constantine lowered his head, reached out to pick up the cup of water in front of him, and drank it in one gulp. But he seemed to have more he didn't say.

Angela's emotions, on the other hand, seemed to have collapsed. She shouted: "You damn liars! Demons, devils, it's all illusions, I never believed…"

"You're definitely an accomplice to the killer! You've all conspired to kill my sister and are trying to blame it on a demon. This is just a hoax. I will bring you to justice."

Constantine sighed, looking at Angela who was riled up in front of him. He'd seen many like her, who didn't believe in the supernatural. Apparently, Angela was one of them.

"If you don't believe me, then you can leave," Constantine said with apparent fatigue. He turned away, took another sip of water, stood up, and intended to go to his bedroom.

Suddenly, he heard a slight movement and the sound of a bullet being loaded from behind him. Turning around, Angela had pulled out a gun, pointing it at Constantine, its dark muzzle sending a chill down his spine.

From her tear-streaked eyes, it was clear that this police officer had reached her breaking point. The stress she had been subjected to had finally shattered her.

Constantine's gaze turned even colder as if he was done talking nonsense with Angela. He waved his hand, the gun was slapped out of her grip, then he walked into his bedroom without turning his head, slamming the door shut with a "bang".

He had just reached his bed, loosening his tie, removing his jacket, when he heard the sound of soft sobbing outside the door. Constantine stood in the middle of his room, lighting a cigarette.

He took a puff, cocked his head back, and exhaled slowly.

Angela, sobbing leaned onto the back of the couch. She heard the bedroom door open, but didn't have the heart to look up until a shadow covered her head, the scent of tobacco wafted over. She looked up and saw Constantine's face.

Constantine lowered his head to continue smoking, then in a slightly hoarse voice, he asked, "How old was your sister?"

"…Like me, 27 years this year."

Constantine closed his eyes and said, "I see."

He took another deep breath and said, "As I said before, you're suddenly not being able to see them isn't a coincidence. This is also related to your sister's death. She was probably taken away by demons."

"How do you know?" Angela tried to resist one last time.

"Because when I was 27, they came for me too."