Crossing at the same time, all nightmares start

Chapter 7 Book of Death
It was already noon when we finished distributing the relief.

Matthew is a bit busy today.

Yesterday, three young people who were about to play poker in Santa Monica were killed by Miles, including Sheriff Blake's daughter.

As a priest, he needs to communicate with the family about the details and costs of the funeral.

Miles was sealed with several blessed Bible pages and imprisoned in the church basement.

After last night's experiments, most of the methods of the Thirteenth Section of the Betrayer have very good restraining power against evil creatures.

Miles is included.

This resulted in the first thing Uncle Mai did after his resurrection was to slit his own throat with a kitchen knife.

But Matthew stopped him and gave him some Bible pages.

Miles, who can lift a strong man with one hand, is very strong for an ordinary person, but he is completely not enough in front of Matthew.

They can only be at the mercy of others and put in eighteen different positions.

After leaving Sheriff Blake's house, Matthew drove his second-hand Ford to the address the two black youths told him yesterday.

He was not going to criticize, but to see the so-called ancient Celtic celebration.

Yesterday he checked on his phone and found out that there was only one Celtic holiday during this period.

That was Samhain, the predecessor of Halloween.

Legend has it that on this day, the line between life and death becomes blurred.

The dead will return to the human world and take over the bodies of the living to be resurrected.

It has nothing to do with any natural beliefs.

He didn't think this celebration could be normal.

The target location is a meadow.

Before arriving at the place, Matthew saw a group of men and women in white clothes sitting on the grass and chatting about something. The scene was very lively.

The newlyweds' visit attracted many people's attention.

When Matthew walked out of the car and people saw his priest attire, countless exclamations were heard at the scene, and the atmosphere suddenly reached its climax.

"Father, this is a pagan festival. Are you going to abandon your faith?"

Several unfamiliar white youths gathered around, and one of them said jokingly.

"Or is this your cosplay? A priest who abandons his Lord and celebrates a heretical festival. This idea is amazing!"

Matthew studied the gathering.

I have to say that some North American young people are really open-minded.

These men and women were all wearing only a thin white robe, and the sunlight shone through them, casting a hazy shadow.

It seems that it was distributed uniformly by the organizers of the rally.

In addition, there were many drinks and food placed on the grass for everyone to take, just like a normal festival gathering.

No evil force has been detected yet.

After staring at the surroundings for a while, until a few people became impatient, Matthew smiled and said while spreading his mental power to explore outside.

"Of course. Does the cosplay look like it?"

"It's so similar, it's exactly like a real priest."

The young man who had just spoken put his arm around Matthew's shoulders and said enviously.

“It’s just that everyone here is required to wear the white robes given by the organizers, so I’m afraid you’ll need to change.

But with this outfit, I think there will be a lot of girls willing to chat with you tonight."

As he spoke, the young man handed over a cup of unknown liquid in a wooden cup and blinked hard.

"Brother, try this. After drinking it, you can feel the breath of nature, the kind you know."

"Better than that?"

“It’s so useful!”

"That's great."

Matthew took the cup.

However, at this moment, an old voice suddenly sounded behind them.

"If I'm not mistaken, you are Father Christo from Santa Monica Church, right?"

Following the sound, I saw an old man wearing a white robe and with gray hair appearing behind several white youths at some point.

Looking at him with deep eyes.

"I'm sorry, but priests are not welcome here."

"you know me?"

"I met you once before by chance." "How old are you?"

"80."

"Great!"

Matthew gave a thumbs up, then looked at the liquid in the cup with some hesitation.

At the age of 80, when one can even drip on his hands while going to the toilet, how can this old man still be so strong?

Could it really be effective?

Seeing that the old man was about to take his cup back, Matthew decisively took out his mobile phone.

"Hey, Uncle Blake? I'm reporting a group of people taking drugs here. Yeah, there are a lot of people, so I need to bring more people."

The old man's face suddenly became extremely ugly.

The white youths around them glared angrily and surrounded them.

"You bastard, you did such a great job."

Faced with the M1911 pistol, the young man suddenly calmed down.

"I think so too." Matthew picked up the cup and studied it carefully.

That evening, more than twenty young men and women filled the police station.

No one cares about the ancient Celtic festival, and everyone knows what dirty intentions those who come to participate in the event have.

Before the event started, the organizers also deposited everyone's personal belongings.

This resulted in them being wiped out all at once.

Although Matthew only has one gun and limited bullets, no one wants to be cannon fodder and waste bullets.

Many people took advantage of the chaos to slip away.

In the sheriff's office.

As the person who called the police, Matthew also came here and sat opposite Sheriff Blake.

The latter had just lost his daughter and was on vacation, but faced with such a big thing, he had to come out and take charge of the situation.

"The preliminary test results are out." Blake rubbed his brow lightly, looking a little haggard. "The drink they drank did contain several hallucinogenic drugs. The bastards who organized the rally are in trouble."

"Nothing else was detected?"

"what?"

"It's okay, where are the others?"

"I have applied for an arrest warrant. They should stay here for a few days to cooperate with the investigation."

"That's good."

“It’s not good.”

Sheriff Black's expression was serious.

"Pulling a gun on a citizen is a serious matter, and I'm going to have to work a lot of overtime just to explain it to you."

"Sorry, I'll pay attention next time."

Matthew shrugged.

He found no trace of evil forces at the celebration.

On the surface, it looks like a group of people just found an excuse to get together and do something.

But his intuition told him that something seemed wrong.

So no matter what, it is always safest to lock them up for a few days.

At this time, only Blake continued to speak.

"But luckily you discovered it in time, otherwise if so many people took too much, who knows what they would have done. You know, the police station has been a bit overwhelmed lately and can't handle so many things."

“So is there a reward for being a whistleblower?”

"I'm applying for you."

"Uncle Black you are such a good man."

Matthew decisively played the good guy card.

He chatted with Sheriff Blake for a while and made sure there were no other abnormalities before leaving the police station.

However, just as he left, the old man who was locked in the room deep inside the police station slowly opened his eyes.

His lips moved slightly, and waves of obscure spells floated out of his mouth.

A cold wind suddenly blew in the suburbs of Santa Monica.

In a hidden corner under the assembly warehouse, a strange-looking black book opened automatically and the pages began to flip rapidly.

(End of this chapter)