The man in black, his eyes riveted to the trail, responds without looking up. "Name's Ulysses Jackson, you can call me Jackson. And no, that this wasn't no demon. Not by a long shot. You don't want to tangle with a demon without bein' ready for it, I can tell ya that, preacher.
Suddenly, Jackson stops, backtracks a few paces and finally spits his chew into the dirt. "Son of a bitch...
The plainly obvious trail of footprints and blood stops abruptly just ahead.