When a Hitman Gets Haunted by a Ghost
Chapter 50: Demands Breathing Down His Neck

Chapter 50: Demands Breathing Down His Neck

"He read the messages, but didn’t respond! Am I being ghosted right now? After everything we’ve been through?" Gabriel threw his hands up dramatically, pacing around the kitchen. "Was I being that annoying?"

"Objectively speaking, yes," the shadow by the dining table murmured.

With a sigh, Gabriel set his phone on the table and glared at the evil spirit cocooning in his darkness like some worm trying to turn into a butterfly.

"How long are you going to stay here?"

"How many times must I repeat myself?" Hale sighed, then leaned out of the shadow sourly. "Until you help me restore Lazarus Blessing to its glory!"

"I told you, I’m not doing that." Gabriel ran his hands through his hair. "You took your members’ money and drugged them. Why would I help you?"

"Drugged them? I did no such thing!" Hale snapped.

"Then what about the thing you slipped into their drinks?"

"That is the powder of a divine flower. One of the heavenly gifts," the evil spirit gestured eagerly. "When the Angel’s Trumpet plays, people get a chance to connect with the afterlife! I enlightened them!"

Gabriel tilted his head, picking up his phone to look it up. "Angel’s Trumpet?"

Images of downward hanging trumpet-like flowers popped up. Descriptions said it was a poisonous plant used in making scopolamine.

Gabriel clicked his tongue, turning to the evil spirit. "Did you know? It says here that another name for the drug you used is Devil’s Breath."

"Blasphemous!" Hale’s shadow flared, swelling menacingly. "No devil breathed anywhere near Lazarus Blessing! It was the purest of places!"

"Alright, alright! No devils." Gabriel waved nervously, trying to calm him down. "Take it easy."

Hale fumed, glaring at Gabriel, who sat across from him, bouncing his leg and trying to avoid the evil spirit’s eyes.

"You," Hale jabbed a finger in Gabriel’s direction, "I gave you my life! Yet, you dare refuse me?!" he roared, the sound as loud as a thousand howling spirits.

The words hit like a physical blow. Gabriel almost fell off the chair, clutching his head as a piercing ringing erupted in his ears. "Woah!"

The overhead lamps flickered and swayed violently as Hale’s shadow expanded. A storm erupted in the middle of the kitchen, throwing every untethered object.

"Wait, no, no!" Gabriel jumped up, putting up his hands in defense as a plastic bowl was flung at him. "Stop this!"

What a nightmare. Being yelled at in his own home was already stressful, but now Hale was wreaking havoc. Did Kant feel this helpless too? It wasn’t fun, being on the receiving end of supernatural chaos.

Disagreeing with the evil spirit’s demands was dangerous, but agreeing was ridiculous. However, if Gabriel had to choose one, he had to pick a safer option.

"Fine! I’ll help you, I’ll go to your cul—to Lazarus Blessing!" Gabriel blurted out. "Just take a deep breath and sit down!"

Having received the answer he wanted, the evil spirit immediately shrunk his shadow back to normal size, ending the storm as if nothing happened. He sat down with a "hmph," not even looking at the mess of napkins, utensils, and other stuff on the floor.

Gabriel exhaled in relief, leaning against the counter as the ringing in his ears dulled to a relentless throb. "Tomorrow. We’ll go to someone who can help tomorrow. Alright?"

Hale tilted his chin up, watching Gabriel press his fingers to his forehead with a wince. "Are you ill?"

"No, just a headache..."

"Is that so?" Hale crossed his arms with an air of superiority. "I can tell your head is your weakness."

"Well, I have a bullet stuck in my head, so what do you expect?" Gabriel mumbled, picking up the tablet strip with his painkillers from the ground.

Hale’s features stretched with surprise. "A bullet?"

Gabriel figured Hale hadn’t seen the news. Evil spirits probably didn’t watch the news. He poured himself a glass of water and nodded slowly. "I came back to life with it. Think of it as a souvenir."

"Does it endanger your life? Are there any limitations?"

"I’m tired, let’s talk later." Gabriel swallowed the tablet and walked to the bedroom for some peace and quiet, but the evil spirit followed.

"Later? We’re not done here. Explain what’s going on with you."

"Why would I?" Moving slowly to not worsen the pain, Gabriel lied down and closed his eyes. He pulled the blanket over his head like a shield against entitled evil spirits.

Hale peered at him, incredulity plastered across his face. "Do you think hiding will solve anything? You can’t pretend I’m not here just because you don’t see me," he grumbled, waiting for Gabriel to reemerge from under the blanket.

When that didn’t happen, he straightened and clasped his hands behind his back with a displeased huff. "I’ll have you know, your behavior is incredibly rude. I will be back tomorrow."

Once Hale left with his sinister shadow, Gabriel let out a muffled sigh and emerged from under the blanket to stare at the ceiling.

"So tiresome..."

How had he gone from haunting to being the one haunted?

. . .

Hunter’s head hit the wall with a dull thud, and he swore loudly, grabbing Kant’s wrist. "Fuckin’ hell! What was that for?"

"Tch." Kant gave him a shove and let go. "You stalking me or something?"

Hunter rubbed his skin where the cold key had dug into, and took off his hood with an annoyed grunt. "Yeah, because your sparkling personality is such a magnet." He bent to pick up the cigarette he’d dropped, muttering, "I was gonna ask if you had a lighter."

Kant narrowed his eyes. "You know I don’t smoke."

"Yeah, well, I didn’t expect you to be here," Hunter shot back, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His gaze flicked toward the storage unit. "Since when did you have a spot in my lot?"

Kant sent him a deadpan stare, stepping towards the truck. "Your lot? You own it?"

Hunter scoffed and followed, his boots crunching on the snow. "This place is right next to my house. Last time I checked, your apartment’s on the other side of the city. You’re the suspicious one here."

"Aren’t I always?" Kant muttered sarcastically.

Hunter smirked. "Gained some self-awareness?" He slid his cigarette back into the box before turning back towards his unit. "Can’t even mock you now."

Kant paused and glanced at Hunter’s retreating figure, contemplating. To tell or not to tell... Hunter used to be reliable. Still was. Somewhat.

"Hey."

"What?" Hunter called out, continuing on his way.

"Jones is after scopolamine."

Hunter stopped dead in his tracks and turned around with a scowl. "...What?" His eyes hardened. "Scopolamine? The hell does he need that for?"

"Business expansion," Kant gave a simple response. "He wants the dealer to himself."

Hunter’s jaw tightened. "Is he trying to turn Jolly Wings into a fucking drug joint? No way. I’m not letting Jones get his hands on drugs." He marched to his car and yanked the door open.