Roger and Carolyn Perron nodded gratefully before stepping aside.
Lorraine continued the introductions.
“Father Anderson, this is Officer Brad Hamilton.
He’s helping us with the investigation and wanted to witness what’s happening here personally.”
Brad was the more muscular of the two men standing nearby, but even he appeared slightly surprised when he examined Anderson’s powerful build.
He stepped forward and offered his hand.
“Father, I’m Brad Hamilton with the Harrisville Police Department.
It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Anderson raised an eyebrow.
Having a police officer present could prove useful.
At the very least, Brad could serve as an official witness if the events inside the farmhouse later became difficult to explain.
Anderson shook his hand.
“Good to meet you, Officer Hamilton.”
Once they released hands, Lorraine gestured toward the thinner young man standing beside Brad.
“This is Drew Thomas.
He assists Ed and me with our investigations.”
Drew immediately stepped forward.
“Hello, Father.
Let me know if you need help carrying or setting up any equipment.”
Anderson shook his hand as well.
“I’ll remember that.”
By the time the introductions ended, Ed had unloaded Anderson’s bags and equipment cases from the truck.
He stared at the growing pile with an increasingly troubled expression.
“Father, what exactly did you bring?”
“My exorcism equipment,” Anderson replied calmly.
Several long, heavy cases clearly contained far more than Bibles and bottles of holy water.
Anderson turned toward Lorraine.
“I need to speak with you privately first.”
Then he looked back at Ed.
“Could you and Drew carry everything inside?”
Ed glanced at Lorraine, then at the mountain of luggage.
A helpless smile crossed his face.
“Of course, Father.”
He motioned toward Drew, who bent down and grabbed one of the heavier backpacks.
The weight nearly pulled him off balance.
Having successfully found free labor, Anderson walked around the farmhouse and studied the surrounding property.
Without the supernatural presence, it would have been a beautiful place to raise a family.
The isolated farmhouse stood beside a broad stretch of open land.
Thick woods surrounded much of the property, while a large pond lay beyond the yard.
The air was cool and peaceful.
Near the water stood an enormous old tree.
Its trunk was so thick that two adults would have struggled to wrap their arms around it.
The sight made Anderson narrow his eyes.
“Lorraine,” he called.
“Walk with me.”
Instead of entering the farmhouse, he headed toward the tree.
Lorraine’s expression tightened when she realized where he was going.
Still, she followed without hesitation.
Behind them, Drew leaned closer to Ed.
“Mr.
Warren, I’m almost certain one of those cases contains a shotgun.”
Ed lifted one of Anderson’s backpacks and nearly lost his balance beneath its weight.
“Father Anderson’s approach to exorcism is somewhat unconventional.”
Drew stared at the remaining equipment.
“What does that mean?”
Ed carried the bag toward the farmhouse, leading the others inside.
Anderson stopped beneath the enormous tree and looked up into its twisted branches.
“Tell me everything you’ve seen since arriving here.”
Lorraine followed his gaze.
The memory of her first vision returned immediately.
“There was a woman hanging from this tree,” she said quietly.
“Her spirit was filled with hatred.”
She glanced toward the farmhouse.
“I also sensed something surrounding Carolyn and the children.”
Anderson remained silent.
Through his spiritual perception, the woman was still there.
A pale corpse dressed in a stained white nightgown hung from one of the thick branches.
Her head rested at an unnatural angle, while tangled black hair concealed most of her face.
The body swayed gently despite the complete absence of wind.
It wasn’t a physical corpse.
It was a spiritual residue created by overwhelming hatred—an imprint left behind at the moment of death.
An ordinary ghost couldn’t produce something this powerful.
The woman was almost certainly the source of the infestation.
“Tell me who she was,” Anderson said.
Ed and Lorraine approached paranormal investigations using relatively modern methods.
They used cameras, audio recorders, thermometers, motion sensors, ultraviolet lights, and other equipment to detect supernatural activity.
They also researched the history of every property they investigated.
Understanding how a spirit had died—and what it wanted—could mean the difference between ending a haunting and making it worse.
Anderson knew the Warrens wouldn’t have contacted him or requested an exorcism without first investigating the farmhouse’s past.
Lorraine drew a slow breath.
“The property once belonged to a woman named Bathsheba Sherman and her husband, Judson.”
Anderson continued staring at the hanging figure.
“Go on.”
“Bathsheba was believed to practice witchcraft and worship Satan.
Her family was connected to Mary Towne Eastey, one of the women executed during the Salem witch trials.”
Lorraine’s voice became quieter.
“In 1863, Judson reportedly found Bathsheba near the fireplace with their week-old infant.
The child had been killed with a sewing needle driven into the back of its head.”
The corpse above Anderson seemed to twitch.
Lorraine noticed it too, but continued.
“Bathsheba was accused of sacrificing the baby, but the authorities couldn’t prove anything.
Not long afterward, she climbed this tree, proclaimed her loyalty to Satan, cursed anyone who tried to take her land, and hanged herself.”
“What time did she die?”
“Three-oh-seven in the morning.”
Anderson’s gaze hardened.
That explained why the clocks inside the farmhouse repeatedly stopped at the same time.
Lorraine looked toward the pond.
“There were other incidents after Bathsheba’s death.”
“Tell me everything.”
“The original property covered a much larger area, but it was eventually divided and sold.”
She folded her arms, visibly disturbed by the memories.
“A woman named Mrs.
Walker later lived on part of the land with her son, Rory.
Rory disappeared in the woods, and his mother was later found dead in the cellar.”
Lorraine paused.
“A boy drowned in the pond.
A maid working in one of the nearby houses also died under suspicious circumstances.”
Every victim had lived on land that once belonged to Bathsheba.”
Anderson made the sign of the cross.
“Amen.”
He lowered his gaze from the hanging corpse and began walking back toward the farmhouse.
“Those deaths are connected to her curse.”
Lorraine hurried after him.
“Then Bathsheba is the only spirit we need to remove?”
Anderson didn’t answer immediately.
Lorraine had sensed several presences inside the farmhouse.
There was Rory Walker, the missing boy whose spirit had already appeared to one of the Perron daughters.
Mrs.
Walker’s presence also lingered somewhere on the property, along with the drowned child and the dead maid.
Not all of them were necessarily hostile.
Some were likely victims trapped by Bathsheba’s influence.
The supernatural pressure surrounding Carolyn also contained two distinct auras.
One radiated extreme hatred and cruelty.
The other felt weaker and frightened rather than malicious.
At least two spirits had already approached Carolyn.
“Bathsheba is the source of the curse,” Anderson finally said.
“But she isn’t alone.”
Lorraine glanced back toward the tree.
“What should we do about the others?”
“We observe them first.”
Anderson looked toward the afternoon sky.
The sun was already beginning to descend.
“Spirits become more active after dark.
Tonight should reveal which entities are victims and which ones are helping Bathsheba.”
Together, they returned to the farmhouse.
Inside the living room, the Perrons’ five daughters sat close together while the adults arranged equipment around them.
Blankets, pillows, and a makeshift sleeping area covered part of the floor, showing that the entire family had spent the previous night together in the living room.
No one wanted to sleep alone.
Anderson stopped just inside the doorway.
A foul odor entered his nose.
Demons carried the hot, sulfurous stench of brimstone and burning stone.
Ghosts smelled different.
Their presence produced a cold, rotten odor, like damp soil surrounding something that had been buried for too long.
The entire farmhouse reeked of it.
Through Anderson’s spiritual perception, a dark mist covered the interior.
Thin strands of resentment drifted through the walls, ceiling, and floorboards.
Some were faint.
Others were dense enough to resemble black smoke.
The differences confirmed his suspicion.
Several spirits inhabited the farmhouse.
Anderson looked at Roger, Carolyn, and their five daughters with quiet sympathy.
He could imagine the chaos they had endured the previous night—the footsteps, screams, moving furniture, and the sensation of unseen hands touching them in the darkness.
For an ordinary family, surviving even one night inside this house required courage.
Then a faint voice drifted from somewhere above them.
It belonged to a child.
Soft, distant, and frightened.
“Is someone there?”
Everyone in the living room froze.
Father Alexander Anderson slowly raised his eyes toward the ceiling.
End of Chapter 8
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