Chapter 123 – The Disciples of the Ram
Judy fished a small key from her pocket — the one Mia had given her earlier before they came upstairs.
She was about to insert it into the lock when Gideon suddenly reached out to stop her.
"Miss Judy!" he said sharply, his tone firm, his eyes solemn.
"The closer we are to the goal, the more cautious we must be."
Before anyone could ask, he flicked the black pen in his hand toward the door of Room 1002.
Clang!
The pen hit the door — and immediately rebounded, snapping cleanly in half as it struck the wall.
Everyone froze.
Clearly, Annabelle had tampered with the door.
"The doorframe, the handle, even the flowerpot by the corner," Gideon said calmly.
"Any of these could be traps."
He pulled a bottle of holy water from his coat, popped the cap, and splashed it across the door.
Ssshh—
White vapor hissed and curled up from the wood before fading away.
Only then did Gideon step aside and gesture for Judy to proceed.
She nodded earnestly, stepped forward, and carefully slid the key into the lock.
Click.
The door opened smoothly.
Judy turned to look at him, eyes shining with admiration.
Lorraine and Mia exchanged glances — realization dawning on their faces.
Ed, meanwhile, was standing behind them, mouth half open as he mouthed silently:
That was my pen…
Gideon ignored his despair entirely.
To cultivate Judy's sense of initiative as an exorcist, he left the next step to her.
"Hmm…" Judy tilted her head in thought.
Then her eyes lit up.
She rummaged through her little bag and pulled out a compact mirror.
"Annabelle is cunning," she said, her voice steady. "There might be more than one trap."
Holding the mirror out, Judy slowly extended it through the doorway.
And then —
Reflected in the glass was a shadowy figure, crouched on the doorframe like a spider, its eyes gleaming with hunger, waiting to pounce the moment they entered.
All three — Gideon, Lorraine, and Judy — saw it at once.
For a moment, the hallway fell utterly silent.
"In the name of the Father, the Son…"
Gideon recited the Latin verses under his breath, flinging the remaining holy water toward the creature.
A flash of light — and the ghost shrieked, dissolving into smoke.
Gideon had intentionally thrown the water slightly off, letting some splash wide.
The scent of sanctified silver filled the air.
After a thorough sweep of the entryway, the group finally stepped inside.
And there, at the far end of the corridor — it was waiting.
The doll sat neatly against the wall, porcelain face cracked, eyes as black as tar.
From behind it, darkness leaked like ink through paper — and soon, twisted spirits began crawling out of the walls.
Their skin was mottled blue and black, their faces contorted in agony, the air growing colder with every second.
At the doorway, Gideon stood in front, a silent wall between the living and the damned.
Behind him, the Warren couple took their positions, forming a practiced triangle of protection.
The room had been split neatly in half by a sacred statue of Christ — the invisible line between Heaven's authority and Hell's corruption.
Everything on their side belonged to the Church.
The rest… to Annabelle.
The doll's head tilted, its movements jerky and unnatural.
It knew it had lost ground.
Gideon glanced down.
The piece of paper he had slipped under the door earlier — I'm coming to find you — had already burned to ash.
He smiled faintly.
"How's the note? Not too warm, I hope?"
His tone was casual, mocking.
Lorraine and Ed didn't get it.
But the doll did.
With a sharp thud, a porcelain ornament flew across the room, smashing against the invisible barrier in front of them and shattering.
Gideon didn't flinch.
Perfect — the more enraged a demon became, the more reckless it acted.
And reckless demons… left openings.
He turned slightly, looking back at Mia with a calm, almost conversational tone.
"You know," he said, voice cutting through the heavy air, "I've always wondered something."
Mia blinked. "What is it, Father?"
Gideon smirked, pointing casually toward the doll.
"Don't you ever think…" — his eyes gleamed with dry amusement — "…that thing is ugly as sin?"
Gideon pointed toward the shadowed end of the hallway.
"Look at it," he said evenly. "The face is all wrong — proportions distorted, an outdated style, and… some kind of dark red residue smeared across the surface."
He paused.
"Tell me — does that look even remotely cute to you?"
His tone was light, almost casual.
"I wouldn't let that thing anywhere near my child."
The others blinked in stunned silence.
Come to think of it… the priest wasn't wrong.
Even Mia, who had tried to defend the doll for sentimental reasons, remembered that first uneasy feeling she'd had when John gave it to her. She'd ignored it — because it was a gift from her husband.
Gideon gave her a sympathetic smile.
"Mrs. Mia," he said mildly, "you might want to have a conversation with your husband about his taste in gifts."
"Yeah…" she muttered sheepishly. "I think I see your point now."
Before she could say more —
Crash!
Several pieces of furniture flew across the room, smashing against the walls.
Clearly, the demon inside the doll didn't appreciate Gideon's critique of its aesthetic.
Gideon sighed softly.
"Apologies," he said, flipping open his Bible. "Didn't mean to keep you waiting. Let's begin the exorcism, shall we?"
Ed and Lorraine exchanged a glance.
He talks to demons like he's ordering takeout, Ed thought, at once impressed and horrified.
Gideon raised a finger and gestured toward the far side of the room.
"You, the gentleman in white — yes, you. Step forward."
A ghastly figure — a middle-aged male spirit crouched beside the doll — froze midair, momentarily confused.
Then, as if obeying an unspoken command, it drifted slowly toward the door.
The ghost snarled, a guttural growl rattling through the silence.
"Hey," Gideon said mildly, "watch your manners. We've got a kid present."
He took a closer look at the spirit's arm — three claw marks forming a strange sigil.
"Now," Gideon said, his voice calm but sharp, "why don't you tell us who you are?"
Everyone — human and ghost — went still.
Interrogating a spirit?
Lorraine and Ed stared, wide-eyed. They had never seen an exorcist talk to a ghost — only banish them.
Even Annabelle tilted its cracked porcelain head, the faint grinding of bone echoing through the room.
The fool thinks he can converse with the dead? the demon seethed. Blasphemous.
But then — something impossible happened.
The marker on the table began to shake.
It lifted off the surface — and started writing on the floor by itself.
Letters formed one by one in jerky, uneven strokes:
Derrick Maxwell — Disciple of the Ram.
Collaborated with Annabelle to attack Mia.
Gideon's brow arched.
"So this is the man," he murmured, "the one who helped kill Annabelle's foster parents."
Lorraine and Ed gaped, speechless.
Father Gideon could communicate with the dead.
That wasn't exorcism — that was something entirely different.
In their long years of fieldwork, they'd learned one immutable truth: spirits despised the living.
There was no peace, no understanding — only hostility.
And yet here, before their eyes, that rule had been broken.
Annabelle's black eyes flickered.
Even the demon within was taken aback.
Impossible.
Utterly impossible.
The damned priest was talking to its servant — to one of Hell's own.
The dead were Hell's foundation —
those abandoned by the Light, whose hatred fueled the endless fires below.
They were the lifeblood of every demon, the essence of sin itself.
And now… one of them was answering a priest.
Gideon's act was nothing less than a desecration of Hell's order.
The demon's fury boiled over.
Its porcelain shell shattered away — revealing its true form.
A towering figure of obsidian flesh,
horns spiraling from its skull like those of a ram,
its skin carved with glowing infernal sigils.
It was the Ram Demon, the true power behind Annabelle's curse.
Lorraine's breath caught.
The sheer malice radiating from it pressed against her chest like a vice.
Wind whipped through the apartment, scattering debris.
On the table, the remaining markers floated into the air.
Their caps snapped off — and all at once, they began to write wildly across the walls and ceiling.
Thick black letters smeared over every surface.
When the group looked up, the words were clear:
YOU HAVE OVERSTEPPED.
At that same instant, the Ram Demon raised its twisted right hand and unleashed a surge of dark energy toward the ghost it once commanded.
But the attack fizzled — halted midair.
The demon's eyes widened.
It couldn't control the spirit anymore.
The dead man's body glowed faintly — not red, but white.
Holy light.
Gideon's voice cut through the storm.
"The moment he chose to speak," he said quietly, "his redemption began."
The glow intensified, swallowing the ghost's form completely.
The demon screamed, shielding its eyes from the searing light.
When it looked again — the spirit was gone.
All that remained was the shimmering trace of divine radiance where it had stood.
The Ram Demon stared at it, trembling with rage — and dread.
That soul no longer belonged to Hell.
Meanwhile, before Gideon's eyes, glowing letters appeared in the air like a notification from Heaven itself:
[Voice of Redemption +1]
He smiled faintly.
"Good," he murmured. "Now we're getting somewhere."