Evil Eternal Read Online Free

loss of the one.
    “Do you need help getting to the church?” he shouted above the sharp whoosh of the blades. He touched down in a hard-packed field with a harsh jolt.
    The priest merely grabbed his bag, opened the cockpit door and trudged across the field.
    “That’s one strange dude,” he said.
    With a shrug of his shoulders, the pilot waited until the odd holy man made his way to the church doors in the distance before taking off, thankful to be rid of his bizarre cargo and anxious to get back before the storm hit.
    Father Michael trudged through the eight inches of old snow that blanketed the field, crunching through the thick layer of ice that crusted the hardpack. He paused at the massive red double doors to the church. There was a stillness in the frigid air that devoured all sound. Ominous gray clouds filled the sky, ready to burst at the seams. Beyond the coming storm was a feeling, like a faint static electrical charge, that confirmed he was not too late.
    Behind the doors he could hear the quiet murmur of dozens of hushed voices. No doubt they had heard the helicopter and were buzzing about his arrival. He opened one of the doors and was immediately inundated with gasps from the expectant congregation.
    Here stood a man, larger and more imposing than everyone’s worst childhood nightmare of the boogeyman, who was supposed to deliver them from evil. Silence enveloped the church as he strode down the aisle to Father Rooney, who stood aghast before the pulpit.
    Father Michael noted the fear in the people’s faces. Not just fear of him, but a disease of anxiety that had nestled within their bones and turned them into a pack of the living dead. Their priest was in no better shape, his red-rimmed eyes marking him as a man who had slept very little in the past week, if at all.
    “Fath—Father Michael, I presume,” he said, his eyes growing wider at the approach of the massive priest.
    “Come with me,” Father Michael ordered, walking briskly beyond the altar to the rear of the church. Dozens of heads swiveled, following him as he walked down the aisle. He heard Father Rooney assure his congregation that he would be right back and to remain calm. He felt a small twinge in his gut at the sound of their frantic replies.
    A minute later, the priest joined him. “Before I go to the Carron farm, I need to know one thing. Had anyone been staying with them recently? Someone who was a stranger to the community?” The air vibrated as he spoke the words.
    To his credit, Father Rooney did his best not to fixate on the intense timbre of the priest’s voice. He thought for a moment, and said, “Actually, they had taken someone in. A transient was passing through town looking for work a couple of weeks or so ago. Now, there’s nothing odd about that in a farming town. Many of the farm owners here employ migrant workers. What made this stand out, I guess, is the season. We rarely if ever have people pass through looking for work just before winter. Joe Carron took him on anyway, I believe to make repairs to the barn and fencing around his land. Why do you ask?”
    “Did you see this man when you went to the farm three days ago?”
    “No, but what does this man have to do with the possessed child?”
    “Everything. How do you know the child is possessed? You’re not a trained exorcist.”
    The small-town priest quickly grew angry. “Because she changed from a beautiful little girl into some sort of demonic beast before my very eyes, that’s how I fucking know she’s possessed! I watched her jump through a pane of glass and tear the back off a cow with teeth that were longer than her arms! And I ran. I ran for my life and I haven’t the courage to go back there and it makes me sick to my stomach thinking about what that family is going through, alone!”
    In a perfect world, Father Michael would have had the time to talk the priest down, allay his fears, his sense of personal failure. This world, however, was far