Chapter 57 – Confronting the Spirit
"In broad daylight, under heaven's sky, you dare imprison a mother and child…"
"You're nothing but a feeble wretch of a ghost—thinking you can control humans?"
"Even Hell itself would spit you out."
…
Gideon Black stood outside the house, unleashing a barrage of insults.
This, too, was part of an exorcist's craft.
Some Vatican exorcists were said to goad demons into revealing their true names purely through words alone.
Gideon didn't need that here, but he wasn't about to waste a chance to shake Diana's composure. The angrier the spirit, the more likely it would slip up.
So while his tongue worked overtime, his feet stayed planted firmly behind the protective boundary he had drawn—never straying an inch.
And as for Martin? Gideon wasn't particularly worried. Rebecca had said her brother was still alive when dragged inside. That meant Sophie's life was Diana's leverage; the spirit wouldn't dare harm him recklessly.
Beside him, Rebecca and Bret watched in awe. This was their first time seeing an exorcism—and it wasn't anything like they'd imagined.
---
Inside the house.
Diana twitched under Gideon's verbal barrage, her form flickering angrily from window to window.
Then objects began flying outward—
A desk lamp.
A kitchen knife.
Even a television.
Rebecca turned her head with a startled cry. Bret instinctively shielded her.
But the projectiles never struck Gideon.
Each one thudded harmlessly to the ground, as if repelled by an unseen wall. Those few that came close were stopped mid-air, caught by an invisible barrier.
Rebecca stared, stunned. Bret's jaw fell slack.
Enraged, Diana slammed herself against the walls with deafening thuds. More than once, her body lunged halfway past a window—only for sunlight to scorch her back into retreat.
Gideon smirked. The distraction had served its purpose.
He set aside the megaphone and picked up several long fishing rods Bret had prepped earlier.
From his satchel, he withdrew a small wooden jar filled with slips of paper—soaked for twenty years in consecrated holy water.
One by one, he wrapped the damp charms along the fishing line, from hook to tip, until the entire cord was laced with sanctified wards.
Bret frowned in confusion but followed suit, preparing a second rod under Gideon's guidance.
"Bit heavy," Gideon muttered as he tested the weight. "A proper bait rod would've been better balanced…"
Then he stepped boldly to the front of the house.
Rebecca, Bret, and even Diana herself paused to watch—waiting to see what this priest intended.
Gideon raised the rod, thumbed the line, and cast.
Whsshh!
The hook flew forward—only to land wide, smacking the ground.
"Off by a little." He adjusted calmly, gauging distance.
Drawing on the agility trained into him by the Ignatian Exercises, he flicked the rod again.
This time, the hook sailed true, snagging the edge of the curtain inside.
A tug, a pull—
The fabric yanked aside, and sunlight knifed into the gloom.
Zzzzt!
A streak of smoke curled from Diana's arm as seared flesh blistered. She shrieked, writhing in pain.
Infuriated, she grabbed at the fishing line—only to hiss as the holy-water-soaked papers burned half her hand away.
Howling, she recoiled, hurling curses at the priest outside.
Another lamp was raised to throw, but she froze mid-motion, realizing it would be useless.
Snarling, she perched on the windowsill, limbs contorting further in fury. But the border between shadow and sun kept her trapped.
The curses grew more vicious. Hysterical. Shredded by despair.
The torment of her past life paled in comparison to this humiliation.
Click.
Another faint sound outside.
Diana vanished from the window, leaving only charred scraps of skin on the sill.
Beneath the eaves, more floodlights flickered on. Each had damp charms plastered across their frames, crucifixes dangling from their stands.
The bright afternoon made their glow weaker, but even so—the spirit dared not look at them directly.
---
Inside.
Diana lunged, ripping Martin from Sophie's arms.
Sophie pleaded, sobbing, but was flung aside like a ragdoll.
The spirit's lips moved, whispering venom into the air.
Sophie shook her head frantically, resisting. But with Martin dangling in its grip, she finally broke.
Her eyes rolled back, then opened again—unnaturally calm.
She turned toward the window.
"You bastards! Get away from my house or I'll call the police!"
Her face twisted with loathing.
"Rebecca, you wretched little whore! I should never have given birth to you! Martin is the only one I ever loved—I never want to see you again!"
Rebecca flinched as if struck. Tears welled in her eyes. Bret pulled her into his arms protectively.
"And you, priest!" Sophie spat through clenched teeth. "I'll kick your ass straight back to your church! You fraud, you con artist!"
…
"Ah. Possession and verbal manipulation."
Gideon arched a brow, recognizing the tactic. The spirit was running out of options.
He raised the megaphone again.
"Your words reek worse than a sewer rat. I'm standing right here. Why don't you come out and face me?"
The possessed Sophie swung a leg over the window.
Being human, she had no fear of the sun.
Gideon silently measured the distance between them.
The next instant—
His figure blurred and vanished.
When he reappeared, holy water splashed across Sophie's face.
She screamed, clutching her skin as black smoke hissed from the burns.
Gag!
A mouthful of tar-black blood spilled from her lips. Her eyes cleared in an instant.
"Rebecca… I'm sorry…" Tears streaked her face as she stumbled toward her daughter.
"Those words just now… they weren't me."
"Mom, I know!" Rebecca cried, throwing her arms around Sophie.
For a heartbeat, mother and daughter clung to each other, trembling with relief.
Then Gideon stepped in and gently separated them.
"Forgive me for interrupting—" His voice was calm but stern. "This isn't over yet."
Activating his Ethereal Sight, Gideon scanned Sophie. Though the possession had been broken, the shadow that had nested in her mind still lingered.
Suddenly, Sophie stiffened and turned her gaze upward, eyes filled with alarm.
The others followed her line of sight.
The attic skylight had been forced open. A quilt hung from the window, casting a wedge of shadow across the roof.
From within the darkness, Diana slithered out—Martin's unconscious body dangling in her clawed grip.
She had managed to manifest through Sophie's mind and cling to patches of shadow, but her reach was limited.
She couldn't stray far from Sophie. And in daylight, she couldn't roam the open streets.
Now that Gideon had dragged Sophie outside, Martin was the spirit's last bargaining chip.
Diana's limbs bent at grotesque angles as she dangled the boy over the edge of the skylight, her intent chillingly obvious.
"No—! Don't hurt him!" Sophie clasped her hands to her mouth, begging with wide, tearful eyes.
Then her expression shifted, as though an order had been whispered into her mind.
"…Fine. I'll go back inside. Just let him go."
She started forward in a daze.
"Mom, no!" Rebecca's heart clenched. She turned desperately toward the priest.
Gideon narrowed his eyes. So—the spirit wanted to play hostage.
He seized Sophie's arm, yanking her firmly to his side.
Then, drawing a silver cross, he pressed its base against the pulse of her wrist.
His voice rang like iron:
"I advise you not to act rashly. Or else—there will be blood today."
With his other hand, Gideon raised the megaphone and shouted toward the skylight.
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