Since this was a covert operation, Wanda's assault transport naturally couldn't land directly at the target site. In fact, Wanda had already arranged the visit through the Eternal City's intelligence network under the guise of a "paranormal enthusiast's tour," so the transport, after breaking through the atmosphere and crossing the Atlantic, could only touch down near a remote village in Essex, England. From there, she and Pietro had to travel on foot along Hall Road near the River Stour to reach their destination.
Wanda's target was the infamous Borley Rectory, a house that, though destroyed completely by fire, had long become a legendary name among paranormal enthusiasts. Even The London Daily had published extensive reports on it. Notably, so-called "ghost expert" Harry Pearce had written two bestselling books about the rectory, making a fortune in the process.
Naturally, it hadn't escaped the attention of paranormal "researchers" like the Warrens, who seemed to show up at every haunted hotspot. After extensive research, Wanda dismissed the couple as frauds.
The house was originally built in 1862 on the site of a 13th-century monastery and had a long history of reported hauntings—knocking, footsteps, ghost sightings. But its then-owner, Reverend Henry, had a famously good sense of humor. Rather than be bothered, he built a gazebo so he and his son Harry could enjoy a post-meal cigar while watching the ghosts. The stories varied—some claimed the ghosts were a nun and a monk executed for a forbidden love affair centuries earlier, or perhaps a nun and a coachman. The house didn't become truly famous until the 1930s, when Henry's descendant, Henry Jr., abandoned it after increased disturbances. The next residents, the Foster family, reportedly suffered the worst of the hauntings.
Though the house had long been reduced to rubble, the site still drew paranormal enthusiasts from around the world. Wanda, under the pretense of being one such fan, had scheduled a visit to what remained after the fire: a few moss-covered gravestones and a weather-worn gray chapel. The stained-glass windows of the chapel had never seen direct sunlight. The three panels depicting saints and deities had long since lost their color, now bleak and faded.
It was a minor mission—so naturally, Solomon had handed it off to Wanda and stayed home to catch up on sleep. He couldn't say no to the witches, especially when it came to "domestic matters." That night, both witches had dragged him into the four-poster bed, and by the time he woke the next morning, Dana had already informed him of the "orders" they'd given. Not that he minded—especially after Bayonetta's sharp comments about "how work matters more than your girlfriend." Her tone left him with no choice but to abandon the idea of getting anything done. According to Bayonetta, he wasn't allowed to leave the bed for the entire day—except for the bathroom. Faced with such a firm demand, Solomon agreed readily. One major reason: Bayonetta's black, sheer nightgown.
"Get me a mana potion," he whispered to Dana. The witches seemed very serious today.
Wanda had no idea about the real reason her teacher had taken a day off. She simply assumed he'd been too busy to handle a minor mission himself. Standing before the remains of Borley Rectory, she didn't take the "ghost hunter" records seriously. Solomon had told her many times that most paranormal experts were nothing more than con artists—using staged photos and sleight of hand to make money. While there was truth to the hauntings at Borley, the real story was far removed from the myths. There was no star-crossed nun and monk. In the 13th century, convents weren't nearly as strict as people believed—mixed bathing was common in medieval Europe, and many nuns were forced to abandon their newborns in nearby rivers to avoid exposing broken vows.
"Vengeful spirit," Wanda said after asking the priest for permission to tour the site alone. She leaned on her brother's shoulder, trying to avoid sinking into the trap-like softness of the leaf-covered lawn. "There's a spirit at work—but the source isn't here."
She had suddenly switched to an ancient form of speech, startling Pietro, who thought she'd been possessed. Seeing her brother panic made Wanda laugh. "Ghosts wouldn't dare."
She put away her umbrella and cast an invisible barrier to shield against the wind and rain. Then she showed Pietro her exorcism gear—enchanted jewelry, silver stakes hidden in her sleeves, and a fully loaded handgun. These were gifts Solomon had given her after their last mission, but he'd warned her that such tools were not what defeated monsters—magic was the real key. Wanda took that to heart, but her magical repertoire was still limited compared to Solomon's. Against intangible enemies like ghosts and wraiths, these tools were often more effective than her telekinetic abilities.
"I'm a professional exorcist now. You don't stand a chance."
"Oh, really?" Pietro grinned. He was happy to see their bond repaired again. Screw the Eternal City. Screw the Avengers. Wanda was his sister, Pietro thought to himself. "Then let's settle it the usual way—can you guess what I'm going to throw? Rock, paper, or scissors?"
"Scissors. You always pick scissors first," came a slow drawl from Solomon.
Jeanne jumped to her feet in fury—only to hit her head on the bed's canopy, nearly breaking the Renaissance-era antique that had thus far survived the witches' nighttime "activities."
What had started as a playful bet over a bag of chips had escalated thanks to Jeanne wagering her prized brandy in an attempt to reclaim her dignity from the embarrassment she'd suffered hours earlier. According to Dana, her screams had been audible from across the street. If not for Bayonetta restraining her, the mortified Jeanne might've stormed outside with a gun to silence all witnesses. After graduating from the witches' academy, Jeanne had been brainwashed and spent five centuries working for the Lagrana cult. Her skills in witchly intimacy had completely atrophied. Bayonetta felt it was her duty to help her "review."
As it turns out, the witches' skills—regardless of their partner's gender—were dangerously effective.
"No mind-reading allowed!" Jeanne snapped, wrapping herself in the blanket. Empty brandy bottles lay scattered around the room. The air reeked of alcohol and intimacy. Solomon, as promised, hadn't left the bed all day. He and the witches had consumed plenty of liquor, yet none were truly drunk. Jeanne, however, was a master at pretending to be tipsy—a tactic she used to avoid fulfilling certain promises she'd made to Bayonetta in the heat of the moment. All three of them knew this, but none spoke of it aloud, lest Jeanne lose her temper and start breaking things.
Solomon had no desire to fight naked.
"Fine, fine. But I still think you're going to pick scissors… see? Told you."
"You forced me to pick scissors with magic! It doesn't count!"
Solomon shrugged.
Whatever the witches said was always right.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Enjoying the story? Support the author and get early access to chapters by joining my Patre@n!Find me at: patre@n*com/Mutter
You can read each novel for $5 or get them all for just $15.
I Am Zeus, KING OF GODS (Chapter 79)
Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 391)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 471)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 677)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 1059)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1418)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1422)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1452)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1504)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld!(Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 703)
[+50 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter][+5 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter]