In Father Anderson’s experience, most supernatural incidents followed recognizable patterns.
Malevolent spirits rarely attacked without reason.
Unlike demons from Hell, which possessed their own supernatural forms and could force their way into the human world, ghosts and earthbound entities were generally weaker.
They relied on fear, emotional vulnerability, and prolonged exposure to gain control over their victims.
A haunting usually progressed through three stages.
The first was infestation.
A person entered the spirit’s territory or disturbed an object connected to its death.
Sometimes the trigger was a house, a grave, an antique, or even a seemingly harmless childhood toy.
Whatever the medium, that first contact allowed the entity to awaken.
The second stage was oppression.
Once active, the spirit began testing its victims.
It produced faint voices, unexplained footsteps, foul odors, moving objects, and other seemingly minor disturbances.
As the haunting intensified, it might pull someone’s hair, leave scratches across their skin, disturb their sleep, or whisper directly into their ears.
Remaining calm under those conditions was nearly impossible.
If Anderson’s former self had awakened every night to invisible footsteps circling his bed, he would have been terrified as well.
Knowing something was in the room while being unable to see or defend against it could break even a strong person.
That was the spirit’s goal.
It would continue escalating the harassment until exhaustion and fear destroyed the victim’s emotional defenses.
Then came the third stage.
Possession.
Based on the evidence Ed Warren had sent, the entity tormenting the Perron family was already approaching that final threshold.
That made the situation extremely dangerous.
Once a malevolent spirit gained control of its target’s mind, the victim’s body and life would be completely at its mercy.
“Even with your standing as a recognized paranormal investigator, a formal exorcism request would still need to pass through the diocese,” Anderson said into the phone.
“That process could take days, and this family may not have that much time.”
He could sense Ed’s surprise through the silence on the other end.
Anderson continued calmly.
“I’m an ordained priest with special authorization to respond to supernatural emergencies.
I don’t need to wait for the usual approval process.”
That authority wasn’t common among Catholic priests.
Anderson had earned it through years of successful cases, though the Church occasionally regretted granting him so much independence.
“For the family’s safety, I’ll handle this personally.”
A familiar mechanical voice immediately sounded in his mind.
[Random Mission Triggered]
[Mission: Exorcise the Malevolent Spirit]
[Objective: Save the Perron Family]
[Mission Reward: 5 Points]
[Accept Mission?]
A broad smile spread across Anderson’s face.
He had only just decided to intervene and was already wondering whether the case would trigger a mission.
Apparently, the system had been listening.
“Accept.”
The translucent panel disappeared.
“That’s wonderful, Father.
The farmhouse is in Harrisville, Rhode Island.”
He gave Anderson the full address.
Anderson committed it to memory, picked up the cardboard box, and returned to his office.
“Is Lorraine with you?” he asked.
“Yes.
She’s right beside me.”
A gentle female voice replaced Ed’s.
“I’m here, Father.”
Anderson reached the office door.
“Lorraine, do you still have the crucifix I gave you?”
“Yes, Father.
I keep it with me.”
Anderson opened the wardrobe and began selecting the equipment he would need.
Years ago, he had noticed a faint but deeply disturbing aura surrounding Lorraine Warren.
It wasn’t a normal spiritual presence.
It felt more like a curse—something distant, patient, and powerful that had already marked her.
He had never been able to identify its source.
Unable to remove it, Anderson had given Lorraine a crucifix he had personally carried, blessed, and reinforced for more than a decade.
Its presence suppressed the ominous aura and made it harder for hostile entities to approach her unnoticed.
“If the situation becomes dangerous, hold the crucifix and recite Scripture,” Anderson instructed.
“The Prayer to Saint Michael should also help.”
Lorraine hesitated.
“You gave me permission to use it that way?”
“You have it now.”
Anderson tossed Ed’s package behind the office door and pulled out his prepared exorcism backpack.
“The Lord is merciful.
He’ll forgive you for defending yourself.”
His unusually serious tone caused a brief silence.
Then Ed spoke again.
“Father, what about the Church?
If they learn we proceeded without authorization—”
Anderson’s lips twitched.
The Catholic Church in this world maintained strict control over recognized exorcisms and supernatural investigations.
Through centuries of doctrine, research, and hard-earned experience, it had established itself as the primary authority for dealing with demonic activity.
A formal exorcism permit functioned almost like a warrant.
An ordinary person couldn’t simply enter a home, declare someone possessed, and begin performing dangerous rituals.
Improper exorcisms could injure the victim, strengthen the entity, or spread the haunting to everyone involved.
The rules existed for good reason.
Some supernatural cases were far more complicated than they initially appeared.
A poorly trained investigator could mistake mental illness for possession or provoke a dormant entity into becoming violent.
Work that required professionals should be handled by professionals.
Fortunately, Father Alexander Anderson considered himself exceptionally qualified.
“You and Lorraine are registered paranormal investigators who have assisted the Church before,” he said.
He slipped the dart gun into the backpack.
“As long as I’m present, you don’t need to worry about Church discipline.”
Ed released a long breath.
“I understand, Father.”
“We’ll discuss everything else when I arrive.”
Anderson ended the call.
He stepped back into the chapel and made the sign of the cross toward the crucifix above the altar.
Then he shouldered his backpack and crossed the nave.
Before leaving, he hung a handwritten notice on the front door.
PARISH CLOSED FOR SEVERAL DAYS
FOR EMERGENCIES, PLEASE CALL
Once the church was secured, Anderson headed home.
He never left for a major investigation without preparing sufficient equipment.
Walking into a haunted farmhouse with only a Bible and a bottle of holy water would make him deeply uncomfortable.
Unfortunately, his system hadn’t provided the magical storage space commonly found in fantasy stories from his previous life.
Everything he wanted to use had to be carried normally.
When Anderson arrived home, he went directly to the hidden basement.
The smell of gun oil greeted him as he descended the thirteen steps.
For invisible spirits and incorporeal entities, he preferred shotguns loaded with custom rock-salt shells.
A shotgun allowed him to spread consecrated salt across a wider area, making it far easier to strike something he couldn’t see.
It was also versatile.
If the haunting turned out to involve a physical creature rather than a spirit, he could quickly replace the salt shells with silver-plated or conventional ammunition.
Anderson approached the weapons rack.
Several pump-action shotguns rested in a neat row beneath the overhead lights.
His attention settled on one immediately.
He reached out and lifted it from the rack.
The Winchester Model 1897 was a classic American pump-action shotgun designed by John Moses Browning.
Its solid steel receiver, exposed hammer, and wooden fore-end gave it a rugged appearance that perfectly suited Anderson’s tastes.
This particular model was chambered in 12 gauge.
Its tubular magazine held five shells, with room for one additional round in the chamber.
Six shots in total.
More importantly, the Model 1897 lacked a trigger disconnector.
If Anderson held the trigger down and worked the pump, the shotgun would fire the instant the action locked closed.
The technique was commonly known as slam firing.
Against a violent spirit, rapid follow-up shots could mean the difference between controlling the situation and being thrown through a wall.
Anderson inspected the chamber, tested the action, and checked the exposed hammer.
Everything operated smoothly.
He ran one hand along the worn wooden stock as his smile gradually widened.
The weapon felt heavy, reliable, and familiar.
Perfect for a haunted farmhouse.
“You’re coming with me, old friend.”
End of Chapter 6
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