(A/N):
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
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Old Cemetery...
The iron gates of the cemetery groaned open as Jojo pushed them, the sound echoing through the dead of night.
Mist clung to the crooked headstones, curling like ghostly fingers around the group's feet.
The air was thick with rot and the faint tang of iron—
Old blood, soaked into earth that had seen too many burials.
"____"
"____"
"____"
To anyone else, this would be nightmare fuel.
But not for them.
A Ghost Rider, two witches, a tribrid, and two siphoners…
The kind of squad nightmares themselves avoided if they reach full potential.
Whistle~
"____"
Jojo let out a low whistle,
His eyes silver glowing faintly as his x-ray vision cut through the soil beneath the cracked slabs.
He tilted his head, scanning grave after grave.
"Well, ain't that a sight…"
He muttered, lips curving into a crooked grin.
Grin~
"Nearly every hole in this yard's stuffed with cursed junk. Dolls, bones, charms—you name it. Whoever set this up didn't half-ass it."
Hope folded her arms, her gaze sweeping the cemetery with a sharp, uneasy stare.
"So it's not just one voodoo medium… they scattered them."
Inadu's jaw tightened, her tone grave.
"____"
"No. The scattering is intentional. A decoy. Only one medium anchors the curse, but dozens are planted to confuse anyone who tries to break it. Destroy the wrong ones, and it could backfire—kill the villagers instantly."
Joshi and Lizzie exchanged looks, their earlier curiosity from the ritual now replaced with awe and nerves.
"____"
Joshi smirked faintly to cover it.
Smirk~
"Figures. Our dad barely lets us near real spells, and now we're babysitting a landmine field of black magic."
Lizzie nudged him, whispering,
"Shut up, you'll jinx us."
Jojo chuckled darkly, crouching to pick up a bone fragment sticking halfway out of the soil, his voice low.
Chuckle~
"Relax. That's why you got me. If the real medium's hiding here, I'll sniff it out… one way or another."
His eyes burned faintly red in the mist, casting an eerie glow as the group stepped deeper into the graveyard.
They started gathering all those mediums in one place.
Josie raised her hand, siphoning just enough magic to peel the coffin lid aside with a dull creak.
Creak~
The smell of rot drifted up, thick and cloying, making even Lizzie wrinkle her nose.
"____"
"Well,"
Josie muttered, waving her hand dramatically in front of her face,
"cozy little place. Real fixer-upper."
Lizzie shot her sister a look.
"Seriously? You're joking while we're grave-robbing?"
"Correction,"
Josie smirked,
Smirk~
"we're saving the world while grave-robbing. Big difference."
But the humor drained quickly when the sisters' eyes fell on what lay skewering the corpse.
A long, blackened stick, twisted like it had grown out of pain itself, pierced the body straight through the ribcage.
Its surface was studded with rusty nails, jagged thorns, and tangled clumps of matted hair.
The dried blood coating it gave off an unsettling shimmer under the moonlight.
Lizzie shivered, crossing her arms.
"Okay… that is so not normal grave décor."
Inadu stepped closer, her expression tightening.
"It's not just a stick. That's a Baton Macabre—a voodoo conduit. Each nail, each thorn, is a curse bound into it. The hair? A tether to the living. And the blood…"
She crouched, her fingers hovering just above it without touching,
"is what feeds it. Whoever made this wanted their hate to last for eternity."
The corpse beneath the stick looked half-mummified, flesh clinging in leathery strips.
Jojo leaned in, his .
"Looks like the stick's been drinking him dry for decades."
Freya's lips curled into a grin, though her eyes were serious.
Grin~
"Then we destroy it before it drinks anyone else."
Inadu straightened, eyes narrowing on the cursed stick.
"This could be the true medium… or just a very nasty decoy."
Jojo's grin widened.
Grin~
"____"
Without hesitation, he reached down, fingers wrapping around the blood-crusted baton.
With a sharp tug, he wrenched it free from the corpse's chest,
The brittle ribs cracking as the body slumped further into the coffin.
Creak~
"Guess we'll find out soon enough,"
He said lightly, tossing the baton onto the growing pile of cursed objects.
Dust and fragments of bone scattered as it clattered against the others.
"That should be all of them."
Then, with a whoosh, fire burst from his shoulders and skull as Jojo's form erupted into his Ghost Rider self.
WHOOSH!
Hellfire licked the edges of his leather jacket, chains rattling as he turned toward the group of girls.
His empty sockets flared like furnaces.
He let out a low, rasping chuckle, smoke curling from his jaw.
GAGA~
"TURN AROUND, LADIES."
Freya arched a brow, smirking.
Smirk~
"Excuse me?"
Hope folded her arms, unimpressed.
"Seriously, Jojo?"
"YES. TRUST ME—YOU'LL WANT TO."
Lizzie tilted her head, trading a look with Josie.
"Oh, this I've got to see."
As the girls, half-curious and half-skeptical, finally turned their backs, Ghost Rider's empty sockets blazed hotter.
A wicked grin split across his fiery skull.
GRIN~
With deliberate slowness, he reached down and tugged at the zipper of his pants.
FWOOSH!
A roaring stream of hellfire erupted out with the force of a flamethrower, scorching across the pile of voodoo mediums.
The cursed sticks, blood-soaked dolls, and thorned fetishes shrieked as they blackened and cracked, flames devouring them in an instant.
The Rider tilted his head back slightly,
A guttural sigh of relief rumbling from his fiery throat.
"AHHH… NOW THAT'S WHAT I CALL MULTITASKING."
Behind him, the girls stiffened.
Freya, without turning, muttered,
"...I am never asking what he just did."
Josie whispered to Lizzie,
"Please tell me he didn't—"
Lizzie groaned,
"He totally did."
Hope pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Why do we even let him do this?"
Meanwhile,
Ghost Rider's infernal stream kept raining down,
Reducing the last of the cursed mediums into nothing but glowing embers and drifting ash.
When the fire finally sputtered out, he zipped back up with a casual flick of his wrist and growled,
GRRR~
"ALL CLEAN. YOU CAN TURN AROUND NOW."
When the girls finally turned back,
The sight before them was both terrifying and oddly absurd —
Every voodoo medium was crackling in unholy hellfire,
Flames twisting upward like screaming spirits as they burned into ash.
With a hiss of smoke and a puff of fire,
Hiss~
Jojo shifted back into his human form.
His smirk was lazy, like he'd just done a chore rather than scorched a dozen cursed relics.
"____"
Hope scrunched her nose and leaned down toward him, pouting.
"Did you just water wash the voodoo mediums?"
She pinched her nose dramatically, as if he reeked.
Jojo just stretched and yawned, eyes glinting with mischief.
Yawn~
Freya covered her mouth with a small laugh.
Pfft~
"Not water wash, darling… that was a fire wash."
Inadu, ever composed, folded her arms and gave a firm nod.
Nod~
"He got the job done. That's all that matters."
The tension broke; chuckles rippled through the group, even Lizzie letting out a reluctant laugh.
Chuckle~
Hahaha~
"____"
"____"
"____"
For one strange moment in the middle of the cursed cemetery,
It almost felt like they were just friends teasing each other —
Not a band of supernatural beings burning away dark magic in the dead of night.
Meanwhile,
Back in the settlement, every man, woman, and child froze where they stood.
A crushing weight pressed down on their lungs —
"____"
"____"
"____"
As though invisible hands had tightened around their throats.
Eyes widened in panic, bodies stiffened,
And for a single dreadful heartbeat the entire town seemed to suffocate together.
Then, just as suddenly, the pressure vanished.
Gasps echoed through homes and streets as people clutched their chests, drawing in deep, desperate breaths.
Mothers held their children tighter, old men collapsed onto benches with relief, and workers staggered to the walls for support.
But as they tested their limbs, something felt… different.
Their movements were lighter, freer,
Like chains they hadn't even realized they carried had been shattered.
Whispers spread quickly, fear clinging to every syllable.
"What just happened?"
"Did you feel it too?"
"It was like something let us go…"
Confusion rippled across the settlement.
Yet no one dared step outside to investigate.
Doors remained barred, curtains tightly drawn.
Better to stay hidden from whatever had caused that suffocating grip —
And whatever had just released it.
Meanwhile, far from the settlement,
Pennsylvania...
Maybrook...
Gladys bolted upright in her bed.
"____"
AHHHHH!
A guttural scream tore from her throat as she clutched her chest, nails digging into her skin.
Her body convulsed, trembling violently,
And thick streams of crimson tears slid from her eyes like molten blood.
Her breath came in ragged gasps, each inhale a battle.
She knew this feeling too well—
Backlash.
The recoil of broken voodoo.
Someone had severed her bindings, cut through the shackles she had spent years weaving with blood and bones.
"Impossible…"
She hissed, teeth gritted so hard they threatened to crack.
Forcing her shaking body still,
She reached inward with her senses, tracing the threads of power unraveling one by one.
The trail led far—
West, over forests and rivers—
Until her mind's eye slammed against the settlement in West Virginia.
Her eyes widened.
That cursed little town.
The one she had carefully blanketed with her magic, turning every soul into a puppet bound to her will.
Now… free.
Her lips curled into a snarl, blood still streaking her face.
"Who dares…"
She whispered, her voice venomous, trembling with both pain and fury.
"Who broke my chains?"
The candles in her chamber flickered wildly, shadows twisting across the walls as her rage boiled over.
Gladys staggered from the bed, her body still wracked with tremors.
Each step was uneven, a limp dragging her toward the small table by the window where her phone rested, charging.
Her trembling fingers closed around it,
Slick with sweat and streaked with blood from her nails clawing at her palms.
She jabbed at the screen until the call connected.
The line clicked—
And before a word could be spoken from the other end, her voice exploded through the receiver.
"WHO DID THIS?!"
She shrieked, her voice raw and jagged.
"The shackle—the curse—I bound them all! And now it's shattered!"
Her breaths came in violent rasps, nearly choking on her own fury.
"Do you understand, Jackson? Someone destroyed my work! In West Virginia! Under your filthy nose All of it—undone!"
On the other end of the line,
Jackson's deep voice came, cold and steady.
"Calm yourself, Old Gladys. You're raving."
"RAVING?!"
Gladys' voice cracked into madness, a mix of rage and disbelief.
"Do you even know what this means?! Someone powerful is there. Someone strong enough to burn my medium to ash! You think this is nothing?!"
There was a pause—
"____"
Silence heavy as stone—
Before Jackson finally replied, his tone shifting, darker, more calculating.
"Then we will find them. And when we do… they'll wish they had never set foot in that cursed town."
Gladys pressed the phone to her ear, her body still trembling.
Blood tears streaked her cheeks, her eyes wild.
"You'd better, Jackson. Or everything we've built—everything we've bled for—will fall to pieces."
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(Author's POV)
(A/N):
Thanks for reading the chapter!
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