Exorcist Party
The prayer circle in the Carey house got tighter, and the air was thick with the smell of melting wax and the family's quiet, intense whispers. Kane’s knees hurt from the hard floor, but he couldn't stop looking at Martin Carey's flickering shape. The spirit hovered, its muddy tendrils dripping onto the rug. Its eyes were full of rage that had been there for hundreds of years. The children had fallen silent, their small faces pale but resolute, clinging to their parents' hands. Kivior Thames stood tall, his broad frame an anchor in the storm, while Lina's voice cut through the tension like a gentle knife.
"Martin," Lina said again, her tone soft, coaxing, like she was talking a frightened animal down from a tree. "We see your pain. We feel it. Tell us more. Let it out."
Martin's laugh rasped, echoing off the walls like gravel under boots. "See it? Feel it? You mortals play at understanding. Elena's screams—still ring in my ears. The stones hitting her flesh, her blood on the ground. My child—never breathed, never cried. Thrown into the river like trash. This town did that. Mathias, Landon, all of them. Vengeance is my balm. My right!"
Kivior stepped forward, his voice booming over the rumble shaking the room. "Vengeance belongs to the Lord, Martin. Not you. Let Him judge. Release this hold. We can help you cross over. Peace awaits."
"Peace?" Martin's form solidified, mud hardening like armor. "No peace for me. Not until they pay. Blood for blood. Child for child."
The kids whimpered, but Lina shushed them, her hum resuming—a low vibration that seemed to steady the air. "We know your story, Martin. The book, Moriah's deal. You ripped the page—kept the spell unbreakable. But faith breaks all chains. Let us help."
Martin's eyes narrowed, his hook glinting in the candlelight. "You know nothing. Moriah's power—it's mine now. I'll take another soon. Watch this town weep."
Kivior raised a vial of oil, anointing his forehead. "We command you, in Jesus' name—speak your full truth!"
Martin snarled, lunging forward, but the circle held, an invisible barrier rippling like water. "Truth? Elena's ritual—our child bound to Moriah. Her immortality tied to its soul. Breaking it kills her. I won't let that happen!"
Kane's heart pounded. That's why the page is missing. He edged closer, medallion in pocket, but stayed silent, watching the Thames work.
Lina's eyes filled with tears. "Your love for Elena—it's beautiful. But this path destroys you. Let go."
Martin's voice cracked. "Love? That's all I have left. They took everything else."
.
.
.
Outside, Vera Kingsley floored the gas, the patrol car's engine roaring through the empty streets. Her hands gripped the wheel, knuckles white, the ghostly woman's face still etched in her mind. The child in the road—gone like smoke. The locked door, the sputtering engine—it felt like a warning. Or a trap. She radioed the precinct, voice steady despite the fear. "Jack, you there? Heading to Carey house. Kane might be in trouble."
Static, then Jack's voice. "Copy, Sheriff. On my way. Stay safe."
The old bakery, where the aroma of freshly baked bread lingered even at night, served as a reminder of the good old days as the road wound through the town.Vera's thoughts raced—Kane's cabin cracked open, his radio cut short. What was he into? The Carey house lights grew closer, glowing like eyes in the dark.
She parked, pistol drawn, approaching quietly. Voices leaked from inside—chants, a low hum. Then a raspy snarl. Martin. She burst through the door, weapon up. "Police! Freeze!"
The scene froze her—Thames family in a circle, kids wide-eyed, Martin hovering like a storm cloud. Kane knelt among them, medallion in hand. "Vera? What the—"
Martin laughed, his form twisting. "More fools. Come to die with the rest of them, Sheriff Kingsley?"
Kivior raised his hands. "Join us, Sheriff! Faith will bind him!"
Vera aimed at Martin. "Stand down! This ends now."
Martin lunged, hook swinging. Vera fired—bang!—bullet passing through mud. He reformed, snarling. "You can't kill what's already dead!"
Kane threw the medallion— it sizzled on Martin's chest, smoke rising. "Run!"
The family scrambled, kids crying as Lina herded them out. Kivior splashed oil, chanting. "In Jesus' name—begone!"
Martin howled, retreating, but not before swiping at Vera. She dodged, heart pounding. "Kane, the book!"
He grabbed it from the altar. "Got it!"
Martin vanished, his voice echoing. "This isn't over. The child is coming to be taken!"
The room fell silent, the family panting. Vera lowered her pistol, turning to Kane. "What the hell was that?"
Kane met her gaze. "Exorcism. I called them for help."
Vera's anger flared. "Wait, you know them? You call them here, without telling me?"
"Desperate times," he said, voice low. "The Thames are the real deal. Radical believers—exorcisms, cleansings. I thought they could end it."
Lina stepped forward, calming the kids. "We felt him weaken. But he's strong. We need more time, and more tools."
Kivior nodded. "We'll finish it. We always do. At the mention of his name, every knee is forced to bow, and so will this vengeful spirit."