Chapter 122 – The Demon's Wrath
Mia instinctively turned toward the voice—
but Lorraine grabbed her wrist, stopping her mid-step.
"Remember what Father Gideon said!" Lorraine's voice was firm, her gaze unwavering.
That was enough to jolt Mia back to her senses.
But the whisper behind them didn't fade.
"Mia… it hurts."
"My Hera… why won't you answer me?"
"Ah… it hurts so much…"
The sound of her husband's trembling voice pierced her like a knife.
Mia's hands clenched the stroller handles until her knuckles whitened, her whole body shaking.
The voice was so real—she could see his face contorted in pain, his bloodied hands reaching for her.
"Was that… really just an illusion?" she whispered, eyes darting toward Lorraine, pleading for an answer.
And then—
That word.
"Hera."
John was the only one who ever called her that.
A name only the two of them shared in private.
What if—just what if—it really was him?
The thought crept in like poison, eroding reason.
Her grip loosened. She started to turn.
But Lorraine stopped her again, holding her shoulders.
"Calm down, Mia! You called John barely fifteen minutes ago."
Her voice was steady, logical, a lifeline of reason.
"He couldn't possibly have made it here that fast."
Lorraine's words cut through the fog of fear.
Mia froze.
The logic settled in.
Her trembling slowed.
Good—she was grounding herself again.
But then—
"Mom! Dad and Father Gideon are trapped inside the apartment!"
"Mom! Uncle John—oh no, you're bleeding!"
Lorraine inhaled deeply.
"...Haaah."
Even knowing it was all a demon's trick, resisting the urge to turn around demanded every ounce of willpower.
If Father Gideon hadn't warned me so many times… she thought grimly.
Behind them, the voices continued their eerie duet—Judy and John, pleading, frantic.
"Judy, please! Help me! Mia and your mother—they're not themselves—"
"Uncle John, are you just back from the hospital?"
To anyone else, the conversation would have sounded terrifyingly real.
But the longer Lorraine listened, the clearer she became.
Her lips curved into a knowing smile.
"John's supposed to be gravely injured. Since when does a man with crushed ribs talk this much?"
She shook her head, her tone almost mocking now.
"And the fake voice pretending to be my daughter—it forgot it was supposed to be begging for help. It's just… talking."
Lorraine's eyes sharpened.
"And one more thing—it's too rehearsed.
They're desperately repeating memories we already know, trying too hard to convince us it's real."
The truth cut through the illusion like light through fog.
Mia exhaled shakily, realization dawning.
"Father Gideon was right… The next one to speak will probably be my baby."
And as if on cue, the voices stopped.
Utter silence.
Had they turned around at that moment, they would have seen—
no people.
Only a doll lying motionless on the pavement.
Annabelle's lifeless glass eyes stared up at their retreating backs, unblinking.
Why?
Why did they know?
That wasn't supposed to happen.
They should have screamed.
They should have fallen for it—just like every other fragile human before them.
This wasn't how the story was meant to go.
Failure.
Pure, infuriating failure.
"The priest."
"It's the priest's fault!"
The doll's head jerked sharply to the side, the black pupils snapping toward the building where Gideon was working.
Its fury simmered, cold and venomous.
You'll pay for this…
Annabelle's body trembled, the air around her distorting.
Dark energy pulsed outward like ripples in water.
Within seconds, she sensed them—three figures inside the building.
The priest. The man. The child.
Holy water.
Sacred sigils.
That damned barrier that bound her in place.
She could feel the Church's power constraining her movements.
They'd trapped her like an animal.
So be it.
If they thought that would be enough to stop a demon, they were fools.
Annabelle's essence spread through the building, slipping through walls and vents like smoke.
And then—she found her chance.
The divine wards only covered the hallways.
The apartments themselves… were still full of people.
Perfect vessels.
The doll's glass eyes flashed.
And in an instant—
Annabelle vanished.
First Floor, Apartment 103
Music thumped faintly behind a closed door.
Inside, the same Black lady from before was dancing happily, swaying her hips to the beat.
Her little terrier, Lucy, pranced around her feet—until suddenly, it froze.
Growling softly, Lucy darted off into the next room…
...with a thin, red leash dangling from her mouth.
Feeling the soft brush of fur against her leg, the Black woman glanced down.
Lucy, her little terrier, was bouncing excitedly toward the door, pawing at the handle.
"Oh, honey," the woman cooed in her warm, rhythmic tone, "that sweet priest just told us not to go outside."
She shook her head and started walking over.
Then —
"Woof! Woof!"
Two sharp barks echoed from behind her.
She froze.
Her head turned slowly.
Lucy — the same Lucy — stood beside the sofa, teeth bared, fur bristling, glaring toward the door.
"What the—!? Two Lucys!?"
Her eyes widened, utterly bewildered.
The real Lucy suddenly bolted into the bedroom, then came running back out —
a small silver cross clenched in her teeth.
It was the same cross that nice, dark-haired priest had given her owner earlier.
Lucy growled low, then snapped her neck sharply, flinging the cross at the door.
The fake Lucy — the one by the entrance — flickered like a dying flame and vanished into thin air.
"Damn!" The woman blinked hard, clutching her chest. "I must be seeing things."
Still shaking her head, she patted Lucy's head affectionately and went right back to dancing, letting the music drown out the unease.
Outside the window, a porcelain face watched her in silence.
Annabelle.
Its glossy black eyes reflected the woman's swaying silhouette for a long, hateful moment—
then the doll faded away.
Over the next several minutes, noises echoed throughout Dawnlight Apartments.
A thud here.
A scrape there.
Whispers leaking from vents and stairwells.
If anyone had been standing outside, they would have noticed something chilling—
a small, pale doll appearing again and again in different windows,
always just before being driven out by some unseen force.
Each time, Annabelle's attempts failed.
Once.
Twice.
Ten times.
Eighteen times.
By the eighteenth, she landed hard in a patch of shrubs beside the building.
Shhhh—
A sharp sound sliced through the air.
One branch snapped clean in two, revealing the doll sitting motionless amid the leaves.
Its painted smile was gone.
Its gaze — murderous.
Damn that priest.
Damn that hypocritical, child-touching church!
All of you should burn in Hell!
Annabelle seethed, shaking with fury.
Never — not once — had she encountered a human this troublesome.
Cruelty, deceit, torment — those were the demon's privileges.
But now she was the one being toyed with.
Hunted.
Humiliated.
If word of this reached the underworld, she'd never hold her head high again for centuries.
But rage soon gave way to a flicker of fear.
This cunning priest had sealed every exit.
Had she truly been outmaneuvered by the Church?
No.
No — there had to be another way.
Gathering her strength, Annabelle spread her presence across the building once more, searching for a weak point.
Then she sensed it.
Those three mortals — the priest, the man, and the child — had reached the tenth floor.
They were knocking on the door across from Mia's apartment.
The hallways were all saturated with divine power.
But Mia's home… remained untouched.
That was her domain.
The spirits bound to her command still lurked inside, waiting.
Annabelle didn't hesitate.
She dissolved into shadow and returned to her territory.
Meanwhile, on the tenth floor—
"Thank you for your cooperation," Gideon said warmly as he stepped out of Room 1001.
It was the last apartment on the floor.
From this moment forward, the entire building was under divine lockdown —
a sacred web so tight that no evil could escape.
Judy clutched her small cross, excitement gleaming in her eyes.
Ed, on the other hand, just sighed and shook his head.
After watching Gideon's meticulous setup, he couldn't help but feel… bad for the demon.
"Alright," Gideon said finally, turning to him. "You can bring Lorraine and Mia back now."
All the relics were in place.
The building was now the safest spot for miles — which, ironically, meant it was time to gather everyone inside.
When the exorcism began, no one knew how violent it might get.
If more spirits were drawn to the commotion, Mia and Lorraine would be far safer under Gideon's wards than out on the street.
Still, to prevent any "teammate suddenly possessed and panicking mid-exorcism" situations, Gideon had everyone drink a dose of holy water in advance.
He even handed each of them five protective charms —
"Lose a few, keep your soul," he said lightly.
And, of course, he reminded the Warrens to keep a close eye on Mia.
If she slipped, the demon would seize its chance.
When everything was ready, Gideon reached into his coat and pulled out a small piece of paper soaked in holy water.
"Borrow your pen for a second," he said to Ed.
Judy leaned in curiously as Gideon wrote in neat, dark ink—
I'm coming to find you.
He folded the note carefully, a faint grin tugging at his lips.
Then, with a hint of mischievous satisfaction—
he slipped the note under Mia's door.