After receiving the address from Lorraine Warren, Father Anderson returned home. He did not rest.
Another confirmed paranormal incident meant he needed to prepare for every possibility. More importantly, the case would give him an opportunity to test the ideas that had emerged from his successful consecration experiments.
Anderson found a miniature Bluetooth speaker small enough to fit in his palm. He placed it on the table, drew a deep breath, and focused his Spirit on the device.
During the confrontation with Bathsheba Sherman, even a small amount of Magic added to a rock-salt shell had caused significant damage. Three points of Spirit should therefore be enough to give the speaker a noticeable sacred effect.
[3 Spirit Points Consumed]
White radiance flowed across the small speaker and settled inside it.
Anderson examined the device in silence before writing a note that included the exact date and time of the consecration. His enhanced holy water retained its sacred properties for approximately twenty days. He needed to determine whether a technological object would remain consecrated for the same length of time.
With the first item completed, Anderson began his next experiment.
He poured five hundred grams of purified water into a clean container and placed it on the table. Then he allowed his spiritual power to spread toward the perfectly still liquid.
If this worked, the consequences would be enormous. Anderson would no longer need blessed salt, a formal ritual, or even a church to create holy water.
[1 Spirit Point Consumed]
The water remained unchanged.
Anderson studied his status panel.
[Spirit: 79/83]
He invested another point.
[1 Spirit Point Consumed]
Nothing happened.
The purified water looked exactly as it had before.
Anderson continued without changing his expression.
[1 Spirit Point Consumed]
[1 Spirit Point Consumed]
Point after point entered the container, yet no sacred radiance appeared. By the time Anderson had invested forty-eight points, only thirty-two remained available.
He finally hesitated.
Either his theory was wrong, or the amount of Spirit was still insufficient. A third possibility was that his faith lacked the strength needed to transform such a large quantity of water.
Anderson had deliberately chosen five hundred grams because he wanted a measurable conversion rate. Without knowing how much Spirit was required for a specific volume, the technique would be unreliable during an emergency.
"Continue."
His Spirit recovered at one point per minute, so time was the only resource he truly needed. Mental exhaustion was unpleasant, but a successful result would justify the discomfort.
[1 Spirit Point Consumed]
[1 Spirit Point Consumed]
When the total investment reached fifty points, the purified water finally changed.
The liquid became unnaturally clear. A gentle sacred glow shimmered beneath its surface, identical to the radiance that appeared during a successful blessing.
"It worked."
Anderson's voice echoed quietly through the house.
[1:32 A.M.]
In the basement armory, cartridges clicked against one another as Anderson arranged the final pieces of equipment.
"Consecration is still more mentally exhausting than enchantment."
He rubbed his brow and looked over the polished ammunition marked with small crosses. Anderson picked up his custom .500 Linebaugh revolver and loaded the heavy sacred cartridges into its cylinder one at a time.
Once the revolver was ready, he placed it on the table and reached for a second handgun.
The stainless-steel Desert Eagle was one of the most recognizable semiautomatic pistols from his previous life. This model was chambered in .50 Action Express and fed from a seven-round magazine. Its considerable weight helped manage the brutal recoil of its oversized cartridges.
Anderson filled the magazine with consecrated rounds and inserted it into the pistol.
The greater the firepower, the stronger the argument.
He surveyed the custom revolver, Desert Eagle, sacred grenades, and boxes of consecrated ammunition spread across the table. His preparations had become far more flexible than before.
Rock-salt shells had once been his primary response to ghosts and other spiritual entities. Consecrated ammunition could now fulfill the same role while retaining the penetration and destructive force of conventional bullets.
He no longer needed to sacrifice physical stopping power merely to affect a supernatural target.
The .500 Linebaugh revolver allowed him to select different heavy loads depending on the threat. The Desert Eagle gave him faster follow-up shots and a larger magazine. Together, they were sufficient for most situations he might encounter.
Thinking about the investigation scheduled for the following day, Anderson gathered his experimental notes and headed upstairs. As the notebook shifted in his hand, one of the pages briefly opened.
[Conversion Rate: 10 Spirit Points Can Transform 100 Grams of Purified Water into Holy Water]
[9:13 A.M.]
At St. Michael the Archangel Church, Robert worked diligently among the weeds growing near the edge of the grounds. He wore practical work clothes beneath a simple church jacket and repeatedly reminded himself of his responsibilities.
"I have to work hard. I can't disappoint Father Anderson."
He had just cleared another section when an unfamiliar voice interrupted him.
"I haven't seen you before. Are you the new employee?"
Robert paused.
Several parishioners had already asked him the same question that morning, so he looked up with his prepared answer ready.
The speaker was not one of the elderly worshippers he expected.
A teenage girl stood nearby wearing a red hoodie, jeans, and a backpack. She looked far too young to be visiting the church alone on a weekday morning.
Hayley noticed his prolonged stare and frowned.
"Is something wrong?"
Robert quickly realized that he had been impolite.
"I'm sorry. It's my first day, and I haven't learned who normally comes here."
"So you're surprised that someone my age visits a church."
Hayley glanced toward the older parishioners moving through the entrance.
"Father Anderson is here, right?"
She adjusted her backpack and began walking toward the main building.
Robert hurried to stop her.
"Actually, Father Anderson went out this morning."
Hayley turned around.
"Where did he go?"
Robert remembered helping the priest carry several heavy bags into the Ford Raptor earlier that day.
"I don't know."
At that moment, the black Ford F-150 Raptor was moving steadily through traffic toward Amityville, Long Island.
Father Anderson tapped the music icon on the center console. A song began playing through the truck's speakers filling the cabin with lyrics about surrendering to the unknown and waiting beneath the shadow of the sun.
The road stretched ahead as he continued toward the address Lorraine had given him.