Chapter 275:

…"What is it?" she demanded. "Police? Ghost? Mother's ghost?"
Jack was shocked by the idea that his dead wife was responsible for this massive destruction. Amanda half smiled. Well, he thought, she stood out from the crowd. Then he saw the empty look in her eyes, and the truth became clear. She was hurt, and her sanity hid in a place where this fantasy could not be resolved. "What's in it?" Gina was asking, her grip on her arm was so strong that it stopped the bleeding.
"I don't know." He lied. "Amanda?"
Amanda's smile did not disappear. She just stared at him through him.
"you know."
"No."
"you are lying."
"I think…"
He lifted himself from the floor and brushed off the porcelain, feathers, and glass shards from his shirt and pants. "I think... I'll go for a walk."
Behind him, in the lounge, the last complaining stopped. The air in the corridor is invisible. It is very close to him, invisible as always, but so close. This is the most dangerous moment. He must be nervous now. He must stand up, as if nothing happened. He must leave Amanda and leave all explanations and accusations until it is over.
"Walk?" Gina said incredulously. "Yes...walking...I need some fresh air." "You can't leave us here." "I will find someone to help us clean up." "But Mandy."
"She will overcome it. Make her a reality."
That's difficult. That is almost inexcusable. But now some people say.
He walked erratically to the front door, feeling sick after so many spins. Gina was angry on his back. "You can't just leave! Don't you care?"
"I need air," he said, doing whatever he wanted, his throat dry. "So I will go out for a while."
No, the disciple said. No no no.
Behind him, Jack could feel it. I'm so angry now, ready to turn my head. Don't touch him unless you don't allow it. But he could feel its discomfort, like a physical existence.
He took another step towards the front door.
Still by his side, pestering him every step. His shadow, his fetch; unshakable. Gina yelled to him, "You grandson, look at Mandy! She forgot!"
No, he must not look at Mandy. If he looks at Mandy, he may cry, he may collapse because of what he wants, then everything will be lost.
"She will be fine," he said, barely whispering. He reached for the front door handle. The demon quickly and loudly bolted the door. There is no pretending of temper now.
Jack kept his movements as much as possible, pulling the door, top and bottom open. It ran wildly again. This game is really exciting. This is also terrible. If he is sure to push too far, will the demon's frustration go beyond its lessons?
He opened the door again gently and smoothly. Likewise, gently and steadily tap it to lock it. Jack wants to know how long he can hold on. He had to go out somehow: he had to coax it to pass. According to his research, what the law requires is only the first step.
A simple step.
cancel. The bolt is cancelled. bolt
Gina stood two or three yards behind her father. She didn't understand what she was looking at, but it was obvious that her father was fighting someone or something.
"Dad-" she started.
"Shut up," he said benignly, grinning when he opened the door for the seventh time. The smile was trembling, it was too wide and too easy.
Inexplicably, she returned with a smile. This is cruel, but very real. No matter what the problem is here, she loves him. Polo broke into the back door. The devil was three steps ahead of him, stomping in the house like a sprinter, and locked the door before Jack reached out. Use an invisible hand to lock the key on the lock, then crush it in the air.
Jack pretended to walk to the window next to the back door, but the blinds were pulled down and knocked. Thief Y cared too much about the windows to keep an eye on Jack, but missed his chance to double through the house.
When it saw the trick being played, it made a little harsh sound, then chased it, almost sliding onto the smoothly polished floor into Jack. It can only avoid collisions through the most flexible exercises. Indeed, it will be fatal: touching that person in the intense contact of the moment.
He sat at the front door again, and Gina was wise for her father's strategy and cancelled it when fighting towards the back door. Jack had prayed that she would take this opportunity to open it. she has. It was slightly open: the cold air of the crisp afternoon shrank into the corridor.
Jack closed the door of the last yard in the blink of an eye, feeling that he did not hear any complaints.
This is not an ambitious creature. At that moment, what it wanted to do, beyond any other dream, was to put this person's skull between the palms and talk nonsense. Smash it to the smithy, then pour the hot idea on the snow. Stay with Jack forever.
Are there so many questions to ask?
He walked into the squeaky fresh snow, the bottom of his slippers and pants buried in the cold. When the anger reached the steps, Jack was already three or four yards away, walking along the path leading to the gate. Escape. Escape.
Tap whistling again, forgetting years of training. Every lesson it learned, every battle rule engraved on the skull, was overwhelmed by the simple desire to have the life of Polo.
It crossed the threshold and started chasing. This is an unforgivable offense. Somewhere in hell, power (they can propose for a long time; they can lie to the cursed man for a long time) feels guilty and knows that the fight for Jack Polo's soul has failed.
Jack felt it too. When the devil's footsteps melted and vaporized the snow on the trail, he heard the sound of boiling water. Follow him! This thing broke the first rule of its existence. Without him, he felt the victory of the spine and abdomen.
The demon overtook him at the door. Its breath is clearly visible in the air, although the body it radiates is not yet visible.
Jack tried to open the door, but Yanarin closed it suddenly.
"Car, car," Jack said.
Can no longer bear it. He held Jack's head in his hand, intending to crush the fragile bones into dust. Touching is its second sin. It makes "endurance" beyond endurance. It roared like a banshee, withdrew from contact, slipped in the snow, and landed on its back.
It knows its mistake. The lessons it learned echoed. It also knows the punishment for leaving the house and touching a man. It was tied to a new lord, and the slave was enslaved by this clumsy creature. Polo won.
He was laughing, looking at the demon silhouette formed in the snow on the trail. Just like a photo developed on a piece of paper, the image of anger is clearly visible. The law brought losses to it. The lifted spirit can no longer hide from the owner. In Polo's eyes, all this is shining. Chestnut flesh and bright, eyeless eyes, arms flapping, tail lit with snow melting.
It said: "You bastard." Its accent had an Australian accent.
"Only when you don't speak, you can't speak." Polo said calmly and absolutely. "Understood?" Uncovered eyes were cloudy with humility.
"Yes," the eavesdropper said.
"Yes, Mr. Polo."
"Yes, Mr. Polo."
Its tail slid between its legs like a whipping dog.
"You can stand up."
"Thank you, Mr. Polo."
It stood. The view is not pleasant, but Jack still rejoices. "They will have yours," Tap said.
"Who?"
"You know," it said hesitantly.
"Name them."
It replied: "Proud of its old master." "Power. Hell itself."
"I don't think so." Poro thoughtfully. "It's not your restraint that can prove my ability. Am I better?" His eyes were gloomy.
"Isn't it?"
"Yes." It admitted painfully. "Yes. You are the best of them."
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