At the end of the hallway on the right side of the chapel was a small room that served as Father Anderson’s private office and lounge.
It looked ordinary enough.
A desk stood near the window, accompanied by several chairs, a worn leather couch, and bookshelves filled with Bibles, theological texts, medical references, and occult case files.
A narrow wardrobe held spare clothes and other everyday belongings.
Anderson opened the wardrobe and placed his backpack inside.
He then removed a polished pair of black clerical shoes and changed into them.
Traditional Catholic vestments could be surprisingly elaborate.
Depending on the occasion, a priest might wear an alb, cincture, stole, chasuble, cassock, or other ceremonial garments, each with its own purpose.
Anderson had no intention of putting on all of that for an ordinary morning at an almost-forgotten parish.
He settled for his black clerical clothes, proper shoes, and Roman collar.
After closing the wardrobe, he picked up a Bible from the desk to complete the image.
Clothing affected how people perceived a person.
After glancing into the mirror, Anderson found that the dangerous exorcist carrying drugs and firearms had disappeared.
In his place stood a calm, compassionate priest who looked ready to listen patiently to anyone’s troubles.
“Convincing enough.”
He adjusted his coat and crossed to the other side of the office.
A silver cup, a sealed packet of salt, and a bottle of purified water had already been arranged on a metal tray.
Few parishioners visited this early in the morning, so Anderson planned to prepare more holy water before anyone arrived.
It was part of his regular routine.
Whenever he had spare time, he replenished his supply of blessed water and manufactured additional ammunition.
His underground armory already held countless rock-salt shells, silver rounds, and conventional lead bullets, but Anderson never believed there was such a thing as too much firepower.
Holy water was a standard tool for exorcisms and demonic infestations.
His specialized ammunition had equally clear purposes.
Rock-salt rounds were highly effective against ghosts and lesser spirits.
Silver worked against certain demons, shape-shifters, and cursed creatures.
Ordinary lead remained the most reliable answer to physical monsters that still possessed flesh and bone.
Anderson also carved tiny crosses into the tips of selected rounds before blessing them with prayer and channeling magic into the metal.
The results were extremely satisfying.
He enjoyed making them almost as much as he enjoyed testing them.
Holding the tray in one hand and the Bible in the other, Anderson left the office and returned to the chapel.
As expected, the building was empty.
He approached the altar and placed everything on the table beneath the crucifix.
The physical ingredients required to prepare holy water were simple.
Purified water and salt were enough, provided both were properly blessed.
The consecration was what gave them power.
Anderson poured the water into the clean silver cup.
He then measured a small amount of salt, blessed it separately, and dissolved it into the water.
“Now for the consecration.”
He glanced up at the figure of Christ before opening the Bible.
Just as he prepared to begin the prayer, a voice called from outside the church.
“Father Anderson?
Are you here?”
Anderson raised an eyebrow.
He recognized the speaker immediately.
The voice belonged to a young delivery driver named Evan.
More importantly, Anderson had personally helped the young man obtain his current job after steering him away from several less respectable career choices.
“I’m here,” Anderson called.
He turned and saw Evan cautiously peeking through the open chapel doors.
The young man wore a delivery uniform and baseball cap, and he held a medium-sized cardboard package against his chest.
When Evan noticed Anderson looking at him, he immediately took a step backward.
“No need to come closer, Father,” he said quickly.
“I’ve got a package for you.
I’ll just leave it here.”
Before Anderson could respond, Evan placed the box on a pew near the entrance.
Then he hurried out of the church without waiting for a signature.
Anderson watched him disappear through the gate.
His lips twitched.
“It was only a practical lesson in momentum and consequences.”
He had simply used a little physics to convince Evan to stop associating with criminals and return to honest work.
Apparently, the lesson had left a lasting impression.
Shaking his head, Anderson walked to the entrance and picked up the package.
He sat on the same pew and placed the box on his lap.
The sender’s name caught his attention before he opened it.
Edward Warren.
“Ed?”
Anderson’s expression became more serious.
A package from an ordinary parishioner could have meant almost anything.
A package from Ed Warren usually meant that someone’s house had become dangerously haunted.
Ed and his wife, Lorraine, were well-known paranormal investigators.
Ed was a demonologist who regularly worked with Catholic clergy and had earned recognition from members of the Church because of his experience investigating alleged possessions and infestations.
He wasn’t an ordained priest, however, which meant he couldn’t formally perform a Church-sanctioned exorcism whenever he wished.
Lorraine Warren possessed the more unusual gift.
She was a powerful clairvoyant and medium capable of sensing or seeing presences hidden from ordinary human perception.
Ghosts, dead souls, malevolent spirits, and demons could rarely conceal themselves from her completely.
The names Ed and Lorraine Warren had seemed strangely familiar when Anderson first met them.
He suspected he had heard of them during his previous life, but the memory remained distant and incomplete.
His phone suddenly rang inside his coat.
Anderson already had a strong suspicion about the caller.
He removed the phone and checked the screen.
“Of course.”
Ed Warren’s name appeared on the display.
Anderson answered.
“Did you receive the package?” Ed asked immediately.
“The delivery service just notified me.”
Anderson glanced at the unopened box.
“Yes.
What kind of trouble have you found this time?”
An awkward cough came through the phone.
“It’s probably a coincidence.”
“Of course it is.”
“I’m serious, Father.
Lorraine and I encountered what appears to be a genuine case of malevolent supernatural activity.”
Ed’s tone lost its earlier embarrassment.
“I sent you the evidence we collected.
Please review it.
If you agree that the family is dealing with a demonic infestation or possession, I’d like you to help us present the case to the diocese and request authorization for an exorcism.”
“I understand.”
Anderson looked down at the package.
“I’ll examine everything.”
He ended the call.
No system notification appeared.
Anderson felt a trace of disappointment but quickly suppressed it.
A mission could still trigger after he learned more about the case.
He opened the cardboard box.
Inside were a digital audio recorder, a tablet, a sealed envelope, and a handwritten note attached to the recorder.
Father Anderson, fast-forward to the end.
The message suggested that Ed’s recording session had not gone smoothly.
Anderson pressed the play button.
At first, the recording contained nothing unusual.
He heard quiet conversation, footsteps, furniture creaking, and distant background noise from inside a house.
He activated fast-forward.
The audio raced ahead until a faint abnormal sound emerged through the distortion.
Anderson immediately stopped the recording.
A piercing scream exploded from the speaker.
“AAAAAAAH!”
The sound echoed throughout the empty church.
It was high, violent, and filled with such unnatural agony that very few human throats could have produced it.
The cry seemed to shift between several tones at once, as though multiple voices were screaming from inside the same body.
Anderson calmly turned off the recorder.
He believed the audio was genuine.
The Church, however, would demand stronger evidence before approving a formal exorcism.
He picked up the tablet and powered it on.
Only one video file had been marked for review.
Anderson opened it.
The footage had been recorded inside a chaotic living room.
Several adults were chasing after a young girl who was sliding rapidly across the wooden floor.
At first glance, it might have looked as though she were crawling backward.
A closer inspection revealed the truth.
The girl was lying flat on her stomach.
Her hair had been pulled straight behind her, and her head was being dragged backward as though someone had wrapped a fist around it and was running through the house.
There was nothing visible behind her.
The adults shouted and tried to grab her, but the unseen force pulled the child away each time they came close.
Anderson watched until the video ended.
“Effective evidence.”
He switched off the tablet and reached for the envelope.
Several printed photographs were inside.
The first image showed a little girl sleepwalking through a dark hallway with her eyes closed.
Two pale hands rested on her shoulders, but no body was attached to them.
The second photograph showed the same child climbing a staircase in her sleep.
Behind her stood the faint outline of a young boy.
He had black hair, completely dark eyes, and wore clothes that appeared to come from an earlier century.
His blurred face was turned directly toward the camera.
Anderson pressed his lips together.
He returned the photographs to the envelope and dropped everything back into the box.
The evidence was more than enough to convince him.
He picked up his phone and called Ed.
The line connected almost immediately.
“This family is in immediate danger,” Anderson said.
He stood and looked toward the crucifix above the altar.
“Give me the exact address.”