Investigating a supernatural incident was much easier when the victim remained alive. The person could describe where the disturbances began and what happened before the possession. Gathering enough information could even trigger a random mission.
Maurice Theriault was already dead. Anderson had no useful trail to follow tonight, so he continued with his original plan. He would visit an old friend and deliver the spirit residue left behind by Ronnie DeFeo.
The Ford Raptor soon entered Stamford, Connecticut. Anderson stopped outside a twenty-four-hour convenience store and parked across an empty space without bothering to straighten the truck. He then reached for his phone and stopped the Scripture recording that had played throughout the drive.
The back seat became silent.
Anderson looked past Annabelle's glass cabinet and the case filled with haunted vessels. He picked up the consecrated Bluetooth speaker and examined it through his spiritual senses.
"No sacred energy left."
The speaker had been consecrated with three Spirit points. Nearly three hours had passed since he first activated the recording.
"So one Spirit point maintains the effect for about one hour."
The experiment had produced a clear result. A consecrated device could give recorded prayers real power but that power would fade according to the amount of Spirit invested in it.
Anderson looked toward Annabelle with a warmer expression.
"Behave yourselves. I'll be relying on all of you for future experiments."
None of the cursed objects responded.
Satisfied with their silence, Anderson lifted the large backpack from the passenger seat and stepped out of the truck.
[1:29 A.M.]
He slung the heavy bag over one shoulder and entered the convenience store. The building looked ordinary from the outside and the front area contained the usual shelves of drinks, snacks, toiletries, and household supplies.
A Black middle-aged man stood behind the register. He straightened the moment Anderson entered and lowered his head respectfully.
"Father Anderson. It's been a long time."
"It has."
Anderson adjusted the backpack and walked toward the rear wall.
"Todd, open the door."
"Yes, Father."
Todd pressed a hidden key beneath the register.
The plain white wall opened with a mechanical groan and revealed a narrow entrance. An elevator waited beyond it.
The concealed design prevented ordinary customers from entering by accident. Most people lived their entire lives without seeing the supernatural world. Those who knew the truth had their own places and methods for remaining hidden.
Anderson stepped inside. The secret door closed behind him and the elevator began descending.
Six seconds later, the doors opened onto a corridor covered in red light. Its walls and decorations resembled the entrance to an underground nightclub. Music drifted from somewhere ahead.
Anderson remembered the owner's unusual taste and shook his head. He left the elevator and followed the passage as the music grew louder.
Rock shifted into country before another song took its place.
The corridor opened into a large underground bar.
A long counter ran across one side of the room. Shelves behind it displayed countless bottles of liquor. Leather booths were arranged throughout the floor and every table appeared occupied.
Some guests played cards while others drank or listened to the music. Several sat together in quiet conversation.
Men and women filled the room.
Not all of them were human.
Anderson detected the faint smell of sulfur beneath the alcohol and cigarette smoke. He carried the oversized backpack down the steps without showing concern.
The tall priest immediately drew attention.
A strange rhythm moved through the room as he passed. Conversations stopped and hands froze above drinks or cards. Those who recognized him quickly looked away while several unfamiliar guests continued staring.
Curiosity appeared on some faces. Others showed fear or sudden stiffness.
The relaxed atmosphere tightened around him.
Anderson ignored the reaction. Besides independent exorcists and people with unusual abilities, most of the customers were demons that had been accidentally summoned into the human world. The Church had registered them after determining that they were willing to follow the rules.
Many were old acquaintances Anderson had disciplined himself.
The demons still present were either afraid of breaking Church law or simply enjoyed living among humans. Unlike the violent creatures he had destroyed, they held jobs and paid rent while avoiding unnecessary trouble.
In many ways, they had adapted better than some people.
Anderson crossed the bar and opened another door. Several relieved breaths followed him before it closed.
The next room resembled the convenience store above. Rows of shelves divided the space into narrow aisles. Instead of food and household supplies, these shelves held books, jars, ritual materials, and preserved supernatural specimens.
Anderson walked past them and looked toward the counter.
An old man leaned over a microscope. Reading glasses rested on his nose while a pipe hung from the corner of his mouth. His stern face remained focused on the piece of flesh beneath the lens.
"Father Mike, what strange thing are you studying this time?"
The old man stopped and removed his glasses. Confusion entered his voice before he even looked up.
"Anderson?"
His expression changed when he recognized the towering priest. Surprise quickly gave way to visible pleasure.
Anderson reached the counter and placed his backpack on its broad surface. He glanced at the flesh sample beneath the microscope before looking back at the old man.
"You seem surprised to see me."
"I am."
Father Mike placed his glasses beside the microscope. A wide smile deepened the lines across his face.
"What brought you here in the middle of the night?"
"I destroyed an evil spirit nearby and this place was along the way."
Anderson opened his backpack and removed the small pouch containing Ronnie DeFeo's residue.
"I also found some spirit powder."
"Spirit powder?"
Father Mike's white eyebrows rose. He removed the pipe from his mouth and accepted the pouch.
"Healy has been running short of this."
The old man loosened the opening and examined the pale substance inside. Once he confirmed it was genuine, he closed the pouch and placed it behind the counter.
He then pointed the stem of his pipe toward Anderson.
"I knew you wouldn't leave your church at this hour without a reason."
"You know me well."
Anderson smiled at the elderly priest.
Memories of their previous meetings surfaced in his mind. Father Mike might have retired but he had once held authority and power equal to a senior bishop.