Part 2
Once Father Callahan was back in the car, he confirmed that, yes, we were going to be headed directly for the address of the 'garage sale' where Jimmy found the book.
I should have been nervous and, honestly, I was, but overpowering that was the simple relief of getting away from that fucking book, and whatever was channeling itself through it.
It wasn't even the fear, really. That at least would have been sensible. No, the damned thing had tried to provoke me into opening it twice for a reason. I was pissed off at the damned thing and, despite knowing how damned stupid it was, I still wanted to take a swing at the face of whatever was inside of it.
Though, that itself was probably just fear manifesting in another way. To paraphrase a certain green muppet, one typically leads to the other.
Either way, it wasn't exactly smart to go into an investigation into potential magical landmines while I was pissed off and ready for a fight. As such, I did my best to zonk out, meditate, and reestablish my inner calm on the trip there. Which was good, in that it mostly worked, but bad, in that I completely lost track of where we were while doing so.
Which could be important if we needed to run, since it was clear we'd actually gone quite the distance out. Out into Gotham's suburbs. Which I hadn't even realized were actually a thing.
"That's the place," Jimmy pointed out, at a… perfectly normal looking garage sale. The house looked normal, a yellow-paneled one-story house, a lot of tables out on a white paved cement driveway and slightly overgrown grass lawn. It looked like what you'd expect of any small semi-rural area.
It also looked absolutely fucking wrong, and triggered some sort of weird primal fight or flight response in the back of my head. It took all I had not to fill my hands with fire, and as we pulled up, I did fill them up with a different, more subtle kind of arcane energy.
"Be careful," I cautioned the others. "I'm getting a bad vibe from this place," I said, while nevertheless getting out alongside the two people who didn't have a broken arm.
"If you wish to turn back now, no one will think less of you," Father Callahan offered. "At times like this, conviction is armor for the soul. Prudence is as much a virtue as Justice. If you fear you will waver, even for a moment, then it may be better for you to seek refuge until the storm passes."
I glanced at Jimmy who had apparently barely heard any of that, and looked to him nodding. "Sorry Father. Looks like we need to see this one through."
That wasn't hyperbole, or me just being selfless either. With both of us now 'marked', running at this point would likely just leave us tired and isolated when the monsters finally came. We had better odds trying to see this mess as 'done' as it could get.
I kept that in mind as we approached the.. disturbingly normal yard sale. Eyes tracking over the locals involved.
Two people, a married couple by the looks of it, the woman in her late thirties with a hair cut straight out of a 1950s sitcom and the pearls to match, the man, the same, slightly balding with a prominent tie and glasses giving him a particular look, arguing over a vase. There was a little girl off in the corner with a basic lemonade stand. The proprietor of the sale was a heavily overweight guy with a jacket and trucker's cap, sitting in a lawn chair near by a big glass jar partially filled with small bills.
Every single one of them screamed alarm bells in the back of my head. Not in the way of my recent bouts of unrecallable-familiarity, but in something simultaneously more and less natural to me. Something deep, primal. Instincts from a forgotten age flaring to life.
We got ten feet towards them, right beside the two baskets full of dolls that Jimmy had mentioned. One labeled 'Probably not haunted', the other labeled 'classical', when I heard a noise.
"Run away."
I blinked, paused mid stride, causing Father Callahan and Tim to do the same a moment later as I turned my head towards the basket.
One of the 'probably not haunted' dolls, a red haired raggedy ann style sack doll, had bent its neck to face us twitching in small tiny, struggling motions to keep its neck bent against the stiffness of its own construction. It was looking at us. "Run away," it said in a begging tone, pleading.
"Yeah, fuck that," I said tonelessly, as I reached out with my good arm, grabbed the basket, and swung it into Jimmy's chest.
Jimmy stumbled, but managed to get his hands around the basket. Good.
"Take them and run!" I barked at him, switching my attention back to the human shaped individuals populating the yard sale.
As I'd anticipated, they had not reacted well. The couple were now looking at me blank faced, the child had twisted their neck unnaturally towards me like an owl, and the man in the chair-
Remained slumped over, limbs and neck unmoving, but their torso had started to shift.
"Mage Armor," I invoked, not needing to verbalize the spell but saying it anyway, both to tell my allies what I was doing and to focus my mind on the unfamiliar Cantrip. A loose cloak once more materialized around me, though this time, instead of water resistant plastic, it was fabric reinforced chain.
At the same time, I raised my good arm in the direction of The Couple, who had in the time rushed towards us, their hands reaching forward, eyes now pitch black, mouths wide open. Holding it ready as they closed the gap until they almost got within reach.
With a Crack, the Cantrip I'd begun charging back in the car fired off, an arcane Jolt of electricity, barely as strong as a taser, but more than enough to cause muscles to seize. At least if these things were (still) working with human-like biology. The best gamble I'd had in my underdeveloped arsenal.
One that partially paid off as the 'wife' ate the discharge, body convulsing and locking up as she tripped up over her own legs and face planted into the dirt.
At the same time Father Callahan raised his shotgun, having drawn it from some unknown location on his cassock. Unloading a round of (presumably iron, blessed, both, or some other anti-demon) buckshot into the husband, knocking him back.
I took a step back, and kept my arm on the woman as lighting continued to arch, between us keeping her down, counting down the limited seconds I could maintain the spell. Five, four, three-
The husband rose up, chest bleeding, but not nearly as badly as buckshot could have been- had The Father loaded up with beanbag or salt rounds? Normally, admirable, but currently not ideal.
I dropped the Lighting, stepped forward before he could get up, pulled back my arm, and cast Fist.
This would normally be a bad idea. My arm was injured, and even if it wasn't, I was weak for my size by the local average. I was, however, still bigger than the husband, and while at my current level of Mastery, Fist could only amplify the force of my blow by half again the force I could put into it. The Cantrip also 'insulated' my hand in a protective effect similar to wearing a set of brass knuckles. Which, added with my ability to use a full body 'Telephone' punch on the perfectly lined target, left the possessing or shapeshifted demon with a crushed nose, and missing tooth.
At which point the lemonade girl attempted a flying tackle at me, only to eat a second round from Father Callahan, who was now cracking open the breach of his gun and extracting fresh shells from his pocket.
"Try not to kill them," The priest said, as he closed the breach, then firing it point blank into the possessed(?) woman's back, before flipping it up to present the crucifix embedded into the stock, as he grabbed the downed demon's head.
I began charging another Jolt seeing the Cantrip's effectiveness. "Understood. I am uncertain I can incapacitate this many nonlethally," I warned him-
Only to abandon the slow charging Cantrip for something faster as I snapped my arm, crying out, "Behind you!"
The man laying in the lawn chair hadn't gotten up to join the attack. Instead, he had, for lack of better word, hatched. His torso splitting open vertically, as a bloody, disproportionate, skeleton like thing burst out. Its head was long and crested, torso shrunken beyond emaciation, fingers as long as forearms spread wide like a spider's legs, arms longer yet still as I lunged forth, ragged, useless wings dragging from its back like a cape of flesh.
My Eldritch Blast hit it, and barely seemed to get its attention, but that gave Father Callahan time to get his shotgun up and fire another round into it.
Its flesh combusted on contact, screaming out in five voices as it staggered back.
I switched back to Jolt and hoped the Father could handle the bone–blood-corpse-demon-thing, stepping back as the man of the couple, jaw now clearly broken again, got up to his feet, neck rolling unnaturally as it twitched between me and the Father, before he got to his feet, leaning down to try and tackle Callahan to the ground.
I let loose and once more the man was eating dirt, as his muscles seized up the same way his 'wife' had. Which was good since that meant that vulnerability probably wasn't just an act meant to give us false hope.
I managed to keep him under shock for three seconds before the 'Wife' suddenly swept my legs out from under me, sending me crashing to the ground.
"Gah!" I grunted out, as a surge of heat and lighting shot up from my bad arm as I landed hard.
I tried not to focus on it. I twisted around, trying to get a view on my target, but was disoriented from my fall, the pain was affecting my focus. Not good, where was-
"Urk-!" I grunted as a hand, impossibly strong latched and dug into my side, the conjured chainmail feeling like the only reason she hadn't stabbed her fingers directly through my flesh.
I slapped my hand against the ground casting a Thunderclap. Omnidirectional force exploding out from the point of impact, to try and dislodge the possessed woman- shoving her away from where she'd almost gotten her other hand on me, but failed to dislodge her.
Taking advantage of her disoriented state, I then cast another Eldritch Blast into her face. Then another, then another She let out a savage roar as she stabbed down with her other hand knife into my side, knocking the wind clear out ot me, as the Mage Armor did it's job preventing her from running me through, but failing to stop the blow entirely.
Then out of nowhere Jimmy came rushing up with a baseball bat and in a running swing struck her right across the head in a way that should absolutely be lethal, and visibly deformed her skull.
"Jimmy!" I started, only to notice the Husband getting up, "-Behind you!"
Jimmy turned around and clocked the possessed man… Only to immediately be tackled by the lemonade girl who'd finally gotten back up.
Not that I was in any position to help, as the wife, despite having her brains mashed in and a now clearly broken neck, clawed into my chest with renewed vigor, seemingly unhindered by her injuries.
Corpse possession. They were dead from the start. Unfortunately that didn't provide me with a lot of other options. My most effective Cantrip needed time to charge and I didn't have it. I needed to keep punching her back, hope I bought time for Father-
Suddenly, an iron nail seemed to almost sprout out of the possessed woman's head, freezing her in place. A pair of sudden sounds from above, drawing my attention up to see the same had happened to the other two possessed corpses.
My head snapped around, seeing Father Callahan, breathing heavy hand bloody pressed against his chest, shotgun nowhere to be seen. The demon thing he'd been fighting on the ground, another nail in its head.
And a man with red hair with a stark white streak waking up to us, a clearly annoyed look on his face. Several more nails held loosely in one hand.
Part 3
"I told you this was a fool's errand, Tobias," The red haired man said.
"And I told you, no matter how loud or many a wolf howls, a shepherd tends to his flock!" Father Callahan replied. Which suggested that either 'Tobias' was his first name, or another name he'd gone by.
Given the day's events, his prepared reactions, and apparent history with several colorful characters, including this guy who could apparently teleport nails into people's heads. It would not surprise me if the good Father might have needed to make use of an alternate identity or two.
Oh, and speaking of events. "Sound off, everyone alive?" I asked.
"I'm alive!" Jimmy said, bleeding from a head wound.
"I'll live," Father Callahan called back. "I'll likely need to see this stitched, however," The old man grumbled, still holding at his chest.
"Think I might have sprained something," Jimmy said, poking at the possessed lemonade girl, who likewise was either dead or disabled… and then reaching for the nail in her head.
"Don't touch that!" Father Callahan, the Mystery Nail launcher, and I all said at once, if admittedly in rather different tones. Which was a bit alarming, since, while I'd been the loudest of the three of us to call out, I'd done so mostly because I was unsure. If the other two also were warning him off… These things probably weren't all the way dead.
Well, the bodies were probably dead. Extra dead in the case of the weird bone demon Father Callahan had apparently blown in half in addition to doing… Whatever that weird white/blue fire was. Probably some kind of purifying effect? Was that literally holy fire? Was that even a thing in Christianity, outside of an Angel's burning sword?
I was letting myself be distracted. These things could still be dangerous-
And also possibly due to hatch given what had happened with the one guy-
I quickly pushed the possessed body off of me, and scrambled back just in case.
"This is the help you enlisted Tobias?" The red-haired man asked. "Truly your flock is well guarded."
"And yet, we all live to serve the lord another day," the old priest shot back. "Even if not all of us believe He is who we are working for. You do have my gratitude though Mr. Blood, this… Could have gone much worse if not for you stepping in."
The now named man rolled his eyes at the thanks, but was interrupted before he could give a more verbal reply.
"Your name is Mr Blood," Jimmy asked, clearly unsure if he should be worried or impressed… and naturally leaning to the second option.
"Jason Blood," the man introduced, and once again a large number of factual memories slid down to match the general impression I had with him.
Jason Blood. A man from the Arthurian times who'd made it to this age 'the long way'. A practiced occultist with a specialisation in demonology. Despite that and not actually being a 'hero', he was generally on the nicer side of the fence in the whole battle of good and evil, but he was ultimately more of a fence sitter than a face puncher. A 'big neutral' who was often invoked… somehow, by… people. Generally to positive results?
Okay, still a lot I didn't know about this guy. But I did know some and what I did know told me he might be exactly the sort of person to help me deal with some of my magic related issues.
But that was something that could wait until we weren't all in danger of being horribly murdered..
"Pleasure to meet you Mr. Blood," I said, as I got myself back onto my feet, after checking my feet and legs. My back was screaming in pain from where the possessed had clawed at me, but I seemed able to move if I needed to. Hopefully it was just muscle layer things, and I'd be able to fix it with a few healing fruits. "I'll echo the Father's gratitude. Any idea of what these are, and more importantly, how to neutralize them as a threat?"
"The Iron nails will bind the demons possessing them until they can be properly excised," The red haired occultist helpfully informed. "Something Tobias should be more than capable of."
Father Callahan took a fortifying breath, "I'll make the arrangements." As we'd been speaking he had been looking out at the current… Neutralized possessed, clearly saddened at the loss of life, but not raising a word of protest, despite his instruction.
Something about Blood's expression softened, "You couldn't have saved them. They were dead long before you arrived." His gaze flicked over to me and Jimmy, "The price paid for meddling with forces mankind was not meant to touch."
I would have rolled my eyes at the heavy handed warning, if it didn't have a rather obvious and recently proven point.
That said, "Would anyone have any objection to me using my limited, but non-demonic magical capacity in the form of a healing spell?"
It was an honest question, and as my eyes flicked between Father Callahan and Mr. Blood, the ancient occultist frowned in my direction. "This may not be the best spot."
"Then if you could elaborate the minimal safe distance, I would very much appreciate the ability of dealing with the stitch in my side, and the good Father's bleeding before they become problematic," I told the elder magician bluntly.
The red haired man let out a snort, frown neither deepening nor lightening, "That would depend on the specifics."
"Non-invocative conjuration of an edible healing agent in the form of a fruit," I described quickly. "Direct shaping based off of a mixture of personal imagery and a heritable template. No active ties to the fae, lower realms, or active deities."
Somehow Blood seemingly understood the jargon I spat out and actually gave it a half second's consideration. "It should be fine if you conjure it away from the site. But let Tobias bless you or the area first. There's a small risk something will use the chance to slip its way in."
"Fair enough," I agreed.
"So… we're done? Crisis averted?" Jimmy asked.
I flinched at the 'C' word, but again looked to the more experienced locals.
"Not a chance/If only we could be so lucky," Blood/Father Callahan said not missing a beat.
"You don't get animated bodies without a would be necromancer," The ancient mage explained in a tone more annoyed than informative. "This was just a landmine, or more likely a tripwire."
"There is also the book's origins to consider," Father Callahan said. "As well as any other tainted relics they've passed on in the meanwhile."
That reminded me, "Jimmy, what happened with the dolls?" I asked, suddenly concerned about why exactly he'd doubled back, when I'd told him to run.
"Dropped them off in the car," Jimmy said helpfully.
"Dolls?" Blood asked, frowning deeper.
"I think… and I could be wrong," I admitted. "That they might be the actual victims- well the original owners of… these," I gestured out to the various possessed bodies.
Which, holy crap I was surrounded by a bunch of demon possessed corpses. Any merciful god listening-
"Fucking Gotham," I exhaled.
My exclamation went ignored as suddenly both Jason Blood and Father Callhan were very interested in the basket of probably possessed dolls, and likewise rushed (well hobbled in The Father's case) to the car to check.
"Wait, so… the demons yanked out their brains and crammed them into the dolls somehow?" Jimmy asked me as he followed the others. "Like the Ultra-Humanite?"
"Probably their souls," I corrected, doing my best to keep up, not easy given the way every step sent an ever growing amount of pain shooting across my back, but I'd dealt with worse.
Jason Blood opened the door and looked at the dolls, and saw them collectively flinch back in the basket, squirming lamely in some struggling, but ineffective effort to make space, crying out.
"Noooo!"
"Don't eat me!"
"Please, please god have mercy!"
"This one is worse!"
"God please, I know I wasn't the best christian but please save us!"
"Go away. Just leave us alone!"
"For god's sake," Father Callahan grumbled as he pulled Mr. Blood back away from the basket.
If the red haired man was at all put off by the tiny screaming, seemingly possessed dolls, he did not show it. Simply looking over at the priest and offering a grudging, "Your new magician friend seems to be correct."
He then turned his attention on me, which was hard to notice because I was very much disturbed by the whole screaming doll thing. In a weird way it was actually more horrifying to me than the possessed corpses had been.
Those… those were people then. Stuck like that. Barely able to move. Experiencing who knew what. At least six of them were moving, and there were five more not. Were they playing dead? Did they not have the energy? Was their condition deteriorating?
I… I didn't have a Cantrip for that. Not at the level I could use. Not with my current problems.
"What do we do?" I asked, fighting down a gulp from my suddenly dry throat. "They're people, to confirm?"
Jason Blood stepped ahead enough to reach out with one of his remaining nails and touched it to one of the moving dolls, which flinched away from the contact. "No burns, and still mobile. Unless something much more powerful than was in those corpses has lowered itself to playing bait for a trap, I would say these are anchors for the human souls pulled from our Necromancer's victims."
Needless to say the Dolls… didn't exactly like that.
"It's you… you're alive. Thank goodness."
"Does that mean we're safe?"
"There's still a demon!"
"He's a demon! Save us!"
Jimmy looked between the dolls, Father Callahan, and Jason blood… Then adjusted his grip on his bat.
I grabbed it.
Jimmy looked at me, and I shook my head at him, before turning my attention back on Mr. Blood. "Alright, what do we do?" I demanded. "We can't leave them like that."
"Jason, it might be best if we parted ways for now," Father Callahan said, before turning to the dolls.
Jason backed away, but made no apologies. I suppose when it came to checking the risks he felt justified. Which he was. Though I did feel he didn't have to be a dick about it.
Again a look of sadness and frustration crossed Father Callahan's face, along a clear question. How the fuck were we supposed to deal with this.
Apparently, the answer he found was to give a speech. "Be at ease children. All the demons here are bound, you are safe. Though your trials have not ended, this storm has passed. Hold fast, the devil will not have you as long as I hold breath."
Mr. Blood muttered something I couldn't hear at that, before raising his voice. "I'll take my leave then."
Then he started walking right back off.
"Wait," I interjected. "Please," I added quickly, as I hobbled in his direction. "I have a few questions- Problems if I'm honest. Magic ones. Would it be possible to arrange a consultation or something with you at some point?"
He shot me down immediately, "I don't take requests anymore."
"Then how about a trade," I offered. "You've probably got a lot of people bugging you for scrut work, right? Minor or mortal stuff? Help me solve my issue and I can take a lot of that off your caseload. If nothing else I'll be someone you can delegate people towards."
The ancient occultist paused at that, looked at me, and once again, I couldn't help but feel the sensation of something ancient, something larger than me, examining every single cell of my body like it was some six year old's attempt at a painting…
Then he turned away, "Stop by my house next Tuesday if you survive all of this. Preferably after lunch time."
"Tuesday after lunch, gotcha," I nodded, then turned back to the car.
Well… That was one bit of progress in all of this mess.
Now all I had to do is handle the figurative car crash in front of me.
Good fucking gods… Like ReplyReport Reactions:dnd-addict, 84900137, MR.PEPS and 476 othersMizuki_StoneMay 10, 2025Add bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 4 Part 4 View contentMizuki_StoneExperienced.May 27, 2025Add bookmark#352Part 4
Once I got back I conjured up a couple healing Oranges and split them up between us. Not just because of religious reasons this time, but because well… Oranges were just easier to split up and share than most other fruits. At least without a penknife or something.
I'd been a bit worried that Father Callahan wouldn't take the offer, but he accepted the magic conjured fruit without complaint. A fair step up considering he hadn't eaten the first one I'd offered back in his office, but I imagine he'd probably also run it through a bunch of tests. He seemed the type to trust but verify.
Either way, the magic did its job, and while my oranges couldn't fix broken bones, they seemingly could fix whatever deep tissue damage the demon possessed corpses had done. So that was one problem solved.
Which… Just left us with the much, much larger problems of both continuing the investigation and dealing with the dolls.
Mostly it was the thing with the dolls. I had no freaking idea about what to do with them, and was distinctly worried that I was not alone in that.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. "Okay, I've… got some ideas that could help with this. But all of them are very long term, and none of them are great." I said.
"You want to frog them?" Jimmy asked, which… what?
"I already said I don't turn people into toads," I reminded him.
"You also said you don't fireball people," he argued.
"And I don't, I can chuck a bolt of fire. Barely hot enough to light a candle or burn paper," I argued. "My take on transformation magic is even worse. Almost all of it is self targeted. Magic to change my appearance, turn into a tiger or a gust of wind, that sort of thing."
"And you can't just teach them that?" He asked me.
That caught Father Callahan's attention, and he looked at me rather closely at that.
"I-" I paused. "That… is an option." Two Cantrips came to mind, three with potential Overmagics. "But it'll take me the better part of a year to master the right Cantrip, and that's assuming I don't get distracted with other stuff. Which, let's be honest, I will. After that, it'll take them time to learn to use it well enough to help. And there's a lot of them," I reminded him.
Honestly, at that point, it was almost a better idea to just try and invent an entirely new Cantrip that would let me 'frog' someone. Almost, because inventing new Cantrips was not simple, and was also pretty damned dangerous. Acquiring and preparing the proper 'seed' alone was… Well, I'd probably be better off mastering a few other Cantrips first.
Besides, I already knew what I wanted the first Cantrip I actually created to be, and selfish as it was, I wasn't ready to give up on that dream just yet.
"And the process involved in 'teaching' such a spell?" Father Callahan asked. "The same sort of ritual you went through?"
"A lesser one," I said. "The 'grand' ritual my teacher used to endow all of us used a whole bunch of reagents to supercharge things, and was only possible because he was already a master of Cantrip Magic. I'm not at that level. I'm not even sure I'll reach the level needed to teach a single Cantrip some time this year. Do we even know if the dolls will last that long?" I asked, casting a worried look at the basket.
The old priest sighed, and in a quiet tone admitted, "I don't know."
There was a beat between us as the three of us looked at each other, and then back at the basket.
"Well… It's an option," Jimmy said lamely.
"I don't suppose the church has people for this?" I asked Father Callahan.
"You're talking to one of them," he said bluntly. Then sighed. "I can offer shelter to them, Pray to God for his assistance, and talk to some old, more experienced friends of your persuasion," he said to me. "But I can't offer much more than that. The Lord does provide, but sometimes… Sometimes all we on Earth can do is ease the transition into his arms."
I grimaced hard at that wording, not liking the sounds of it in the slightest.
And I wasn't the only one, "What exactly do you mean by 'ease the transition'?" Jimmy asked in a worried tone.
"If their bodies are gone. Corrupted or stolen, then releasing the spell will remove their only anchor on this world," The priest said, sounding miserable but resolved as he said it.
My grimace turned into a scowl. I wasn't just going to give up "Disguise Self," I said. "That's the best Cantrip I have for it. At the low levels it's a localized illusion, but with practice it can do shapeshifting. Let a human turn into any biologically viable shape. I'm not sure what it'll let a Doll do, but it's better than nothing."
I just needed to solve my magic instability problem first. No, even with that I could probably cast it a bit. It was unstable along with being limited in how long I could keep it running, but it should still last half an hour, about the same as my Hideaways, provided I could cast it since it was almost as unstable as Prestidigitation.
Still,even that cantrip had seemingly recovered after I tried to use it, I could probably practice it a bit. Progress would be absolutely sluggish compared to what I'd managed with Blessing and Goodberry, but it was better than nothing.
"And if they're unwilling to do whatever steps your magic demands?" The priest asked.
I considered it for a long hard moment…. And my eyes fell to the ground, "Then… I also know some countermagic."
And as if to mock me… that Cantrip would be easy to learn. Its range was unstable, but I didn't need range for this kind of work. Depending on how fragile the enchantment was, I might not even need to practice.
"Wait, Reed, you can't mean!?" Jimmy asked.
"We don't know what it's like for them, being like that," I said softly. "They're not screaming in pain, but…. They can barely move. What's it like not being able to breathe? Can they even feel? They saw the demons directly, are their souls exposed in some way? Are they unstable? Fading? Is the very essence of what makes them, them safe or is it being eroded away/" I asked him seriously.
That brought him up short, "That's… that can happen?" he asked me.
"When a soul is exposed in some ways, in some forces. This is demonic magic," I reminded him. "For all I know they've got metaphysical sippy straws leading straight down from them to the pit. I know basics, possibilities, maybe options. But I'm not nearly experienced enough to actually diagnose this stuff."
"For now we'll take them back to the church," Father Callahan suggested. "There is no safer house of refuge for people in their position. With luck Zatara will have options whenever I can finally reach the man."
"What about the necromancer?" I asked him. "The demons, cultists, or whatever behind this?"
"Jason's on their trail now," The old man reassured. "Sir Blood might not be the easiest man to set into motion, but once he's decided on a course of action, neither hell or highwater will stop him. Man's like an old grouchy bloodhound. He'll growl and bark, but he never lets go of a scent."
Well that was reassuring. I gave a nod. "We'll get them back to the church then. Uh… Jimmy, you know your way around here?" I asked him.
He scratched at the back of his head. "It's not exactly my normal haunt, why?"
"I figured someone should look over the rest of the stuff here, maybe investigate in more detail," I suggested. "But I'm new in town and have no idea where the hell I am or how to get back to anywhere." And I didn't exactly have the cash for a taxi, much less a phone to call one with.
Father Callahan tossed Jimmy the keys. "Get them to the church and wait there," he said. "Someone from GCPD's 'Detailed Task Force' will come soon enough, tell them what happened and send them our way when they do."
Jimmy caught on fast. "Gotcha… Uh… What if they want to take the dolls with them?"
"If they do, they're not who they claim to be," the priest said seriously. "Sprinkle some holy water on them and be ready to run."
Jimmy's eyes widened a bit, "O…kay?" he said unsure, but got into the front of the car either way.
"Right," The priest said as he looked at me. "I don't suppose you have any trick to spot any danger or traps in advance?" he asked me.
"Not… particularly?" I admitted. "I've got magic armor and a taser spell though?" I offered.
He grunted, then reloaded his shotgun. "Old fashioned way it is."
"Uh… let me prep a healing fruit just in case," I suggested. Then started casting another Goodberry. Like ReplyReport Reactions:dnd-addict, PurpleTwilight, 84900137 and 419 othersMizuki_StoneMay 27, 2025Add bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 4 Part 5 View contentMizuki_StoneExperienced.Jun 16, 2025Add bookmark#362Part 5
The house, on the surface level, had seemed relatively normal, which was somehow more creepy than if the entire place had been loaded up with body parts and pentagrams.
Which wasn't to say there weren't bodies and pentagrams. They were just up in the attic. Finding those was almost a relief. Almost because… fucking bodies, and unholy ritual circles. Like the bad kind of ritual circles. The sort so bad even my near neophyte eyes could take one look at it and say 'yep, that is some dark fucking juju.'
I'm not even sure how to describe how I knew that. It was just… Instinct. Not the same sort of just feeling that I normally got with my sealed away memories, but… I dunno it was hard to describe. Just looking at it set off alarm bells in my head. The markings carved into each line and circle might as well have been spelling out 'this is not a place of honor' in how they sent shivers down my spine. The feeling swelled up unprovoked the same way the demon tome had done, just much, much less subtle, and utterly monotonous in its purpose.
I wasn't sure if that meant whatever force behind it wasn't aware, or if it was just entirely monofocused on its purpose. Either way, I did not want to deal with it.
That said… I kinda had to anyway. Or at least help Father Callahan try to.
As a side note. I think the only real realization that is more unpleasant than figuring out you're miles outside the depth of your ability? Is the realization that you're still the most qualified person to do the job, and hence, expected to try and do it anyway.
Fuck.
Yep. That about summed up my situation. 'Fuck'. Nothing better or worse to add to it.
At least I wasn't alone in this.
Father Callahan had, if anything, reacted even more negatively to the circle than I had. Rocking back on his feet as if physically struck at the sight, before firming up, as brow narrowed, and his mouth prayed. "In the name of Jesus Christ, I rebuke and break any curses, hexes, spells, demonic activity, or any other evil thing that has been sent against me or passed down through the generations to me or to any of the people or areas for whom I am praying-"
And as he prayed, the circle, or at least the presence behind it reacted, flinching back in turn, withering under his influence.
After a moment's hesitation, I decided to follow the Father's lead with a Blessing of my own. All the while trying to keep my mind clear, and not worrying about the openly jealous, and historically less than magic friendly nature of his god's attention. "Invoke thy mercy." I chanted as I began to walk in a circle around the circle. "To be a ward against pain, against ill-thought, against harm and actions come to regret. A Blessing to mend that which aches, to shield against wrath. A bastion forged as a circle against all the evils in the world. Let the callousness of man ease. Let the savagery of nature fade. Let the maliciousness of the immaterial lose all grasp. I bind this place in Peace. I bind this place in Succor. I bind this place in Mercy. By my will no rest will be disturbed. By my steps let the circle be formed. By my law, no hurt be caused or left to fester-"
The old priest did not object to my blatant heathen sorcery, and despite once more feeling distinctly aware of something watching very closely over my shoulder… Nothing less mortal seemed to object either.
Well, outside of the demon circle I was currently casting my spell around. It didn't really seem to like my magic any more than I liked it. Particularly once the spell finished, and every carved line, inked in what I could only assume to be dried blood, promptly caught fire.
Bright, fucking golden fire too. Brighter than my Firebolts ever got.
Which was…
Huh.
"Huh," I repeated out loud.
Then I noticed that, oh. That wasn't just a visual effect.
"Oh crap!" I said, quickly shooting out a Ray of Frost, as an improvised fire extinguisher, which… didn't really seem to be working great.
Luckily, Father Callhan was already helping, pulling off his cassock and beating it against the flames.
Thinking quickly, I switched to Acid Splash which did work a lot better! But was still limited to me frantically throwing fist sized globs at a fire that was starting to slowly spread across the hardwood floor.
Thank fuck it was hardwood, and that the cultists had apparently dusted. If they hadn't the entire place probably would have gone up.
As it was… yeah the crime scene was… pretty thoroughly disturbed.
It wasn't giving me any more evil vibes though so… Probably worth the trade?
"Good fucking gods," I exhaled between frantic breaths once we were done. My arm aching badly from all the frantic motion.
"I can recommend a fairly good one," Father Callahan said dryly while likewise trying to recover.
I considered it. I really did. While back in my world I'd been part of 'the holy church of I don't know', in this world I did know. In this world, gods were tangible facts, capital G God among them. I was pretty sure they weren't actually omniscient or potent, but they were certainly much closer to that state than… Well almost anything else. I didn't doubt for a second they were aware of me, aware of all of this. That they'd influenced things here, and likely would have even without Father Callahan actively asking them for assistance.
But at the same time I knew if I did agree to believe in them now because of that awareness, it wouldn't be because of any sort of faith. It'd be because of fear. Fear of that God's power. Fear what would happen to me if I ran into some of the nasty stuff around here without that power. Fear that wouldn't go away entirely even if I did sign up because I had seen good, faithful men be damned, doomed, and destroyed despite being 'children of God' supposedly walking in his grace.
I could not truly believe in the God depicted in the various things I read was actually all powerful, and even less that they were 'all forgiving'. I could only believe that they were powerful. And that wasn't enough for anything genuine. Not for what they were asking.
"I'd rather not pay lip service to any sort of being who could see through it," I exhaled, careful to catch my breath. "Doesn't really seem polite."
"The path is always open for you," The old priest said, not pressing further, but also clearly not 'giving up' on me. Which was… nice, in its own way. More from the meaning behind it than the actual offer, but still.
"Right… well that's one magic landmine disarmed," I said, nudging my foot along the now inert, and much less understandable symbols. "I hope this doesn't count as tampering with evidence," I frowned in concern.
…Eh… Angry cops were probably still less dangerous than demonically possessed cops. At least relatively.
"As long as they send the right team it shouldn't be an issue," Father Callahan confirmed.
Well, if they didn't at least I'd get another free meal that wasn't another fucking Goodberry.
"Any idea what this was?" I asked, gesturing to the altar with my good arm. "I mean outside of a ritual site obviously."
"Probably where they created the dolls," The priest surmised, looking around at the cadavers scattered lazily off to the sides of the ritual altar.
Well, rather the remains. Most weren't exactly intact enough to count as a proper corpse. Bits hacked off in brutal, uneven cuts, probably to make the fetishes that seemed to be… parts stitched together and placed at critical points in the circle. A macabre display to put it mildly.
"The bodies they stole were relatively intact, bait for the trap," The old priest explained in a tone trying to be analytic, but still clearly laden in disgust. "They probably didn't get everything they wanted from them. This is where they did their darkest work."
"Why even bring the dolls outside then?" I muttered, a few ideas coming to mind. Keeping them in view maybe? Or nearby as a food or fuel source of some kind.
"Arrogance and sadism," Father Callahan said, breaking me from my theorycrafting.
"Arrogance and sadism?" I echoed.
"They like to see people suffer," he explained. "Relish in it as if it were their only source of water in a desert. They're also cocky bastards, they like leaving hints for people. Giving little clues that could tell people something's wrong. They feel a deep need to prove their superiority. Like a serial killer sending messages to the paper. The same foolish vice, equally likely to get them caught."
"Well, I never got the impression most demons were all that smart," I mused. "Some sure, but most… I guess you're right. Cruelty over competence" It'd take a while to try and get used to that sort of mindset. It wouldn't be fun either, but I could do it. I'd have to if I wanted to try and predict their behavior.
"Just be mindful that some are more clever than most," He nodded. "And all but the youngest have centuries if not millennia to find out just what happens when someone does catch on," He cautioned.
Which… Fair enough. There were few things more likely to get you killed than being cocky about the other guy being vulnerable because they were being cocky.
After all, while most demons might not be all that smart, almost all demons were natural schemers, with who knew how many plots boiling away in their brains… Or whatever other bit of themselves did the function, since some of them didn't have proper heads. Or organs. Or bodies for that matter.
Point was, they had a knack for setting up plans and tricks. Often rather elaborate ones. Which brought something to mind. "So… that was the obvious trap. Where do you think they set up the more subtle one?"
"That Mr. Reed, will be what we spend the next few hours trying to find out," The old priest said with a sigh.
I echoed his expression. Yeah… this was going to take a while. "Might as well start with the books?"
"If there weren't any more on display then, I doubt they repeated themselves. It'd be too obvious even for them. But we might as well," the old priest agreed.
I considered some alternate options. "They used a little girl as part of their bait team. Wanna bet they set up something with some kid's knick knack?"
"Gambling's a sin," Father Callahan scolded. "Besides, there's no proper child's room inside the building. It'd stand out too much. My money would be something small and valuable. A nice watch or a pen."
I nodded along, eager to learn.
Part 6
By the time the cops got there, we'd found a few more suspect items. More specifically, we'd found two bookmarks, a single bullet left loose in a cabinet, a steak knife, and another doll, because of course there was another doll.
Incidentally, the doll and the knife were the only really 'obvious' finds of the lot. At least to me, though I'd admit I only found the knife obvious because of my rather recent experience. To anyone else, they might just think they were having an influx of intrusive thoughts.
The doll though? Yeah no, that wasn't subtle in the slightest. I mean first it played dead. Then it tried to pretend to be another victim, but it was shit at it. There was no hint of the pain that the trapped human souls had seemed to be experiencing, and while it had claimed to be scared, there was nothing genuine to its tone. It had also lied about its mobility, and well.. The demonic hissing once the holy water hit had kinda confirmed any suspicions its shitty acting raised, in a rather violent way.
Lucky for us, while it had reacted negatively to the holy water, it had reacted even more negatively to Father Callahan's holy buckshot. So that potential problem had been pretty much solved on the spot. There might still have been some residue, but overall, I was willing to say that the threat of the item was neutralized.
For the rest of the items though? I was honestly kind of worried about them. I didn't actually have any readily accessible magic senses or anything. All the Cantrips good for that were too unstable to risk using more than once. But I still felt I was a bit more aware of these sorts of threats than most people… And everything outside of the knife and doll would have slipped right past me.
There probably was bad mojo caked into them. I certainly wasn't going to risk letting anything that failed Father Callahan's sniff test go. Hell, at this point I was of the mind that the whole building should probably be burnt down for safety's sake. Good old cleansing flames. And while demons were often pretty fire resistant, I figured that'd just make it obviously dangerous if it actually survived the blaze.
Unfortunately I did not exactly have the legal, political or economic pull to burn down a crime scene without suffering some notable repercussions, so all I could really do was pass on that advice when the cops did eventually show up.
As for said officers… To my immense, personal relief, they actually ended up looking less professional than their late arrival indicated. A bunch of oddballs, less than half of which actually having a badge, mostly nursing mugs, cups, or cans of various caffeinated beverages, and all looking critically overworked.
In short, they looked like the sort of cops who actually did their job in this city. Well this job specifically.
Which was good, because it meant they'd probably take us seriously, and hence, reduce the odds of anyone else getting their souls stolen, and bodies possessed. But bad in that it also meant that Father Callhan and I had to go take a trip down to the station to explain our sides of things… in detail. Possibly also in paperwork.
But we probably also weren't going to end up in jail. So… mixed blessings.
"So what made you go into the building that you, by your own words, felt might be full of monsters?" My interrogator/debriefer of the moment asked, embodying that mixed blessing. Because, on one hand, I was now officially in the hotseat. On the other? I was currently talking to a surprisingly cute, gothic, possibly magic cop lady who, while serious, was not grilling me into the table. And had, in fact, provided coffee and donuts for my 'interview'.
Her name was Detective Lisa Drake. I'd ballpark her age as somewhere in her mid to late twenties given, you know, she was a full officer, but she had sort of youthful elfin features that meant she could be well into her thirties.
Or you know even older, because comic book logic.
Regardless, she had black hair in a bob cut, sharp blue eyes highlighted by massive amounts of eyeshadow, a wide mouth and sharp jaw, also touched with makeup, that, combined with her very pale skin gave an almost skeletal impression.
A cute skeleton, mind you, but still it was clear that she was pushing the 'goth' vibe hard. I wondered if she might actually have some Necromancy related talents? She was apparently part of Gotham PD's supernatural division after all, and Necromancy had a lot of law enforcement applications. Particularly when it came to tips and witnesses.
"Well… When you put it like that, it does sound pretty dumb," I admitted. "On the other hand, no offense intended, but I was kind of worried some cop would go in and touch the wrong thing and end up getting poss- Influenced. Influenced by the contaminated items." I quickly changed the word, given I was unsure if I was being recorded or not. Heck, I wasn't even sure how official this was.
"You can say possessed," she said. She seemed almost amused, but also a little annoyed. I got the vibe she'd had to dance around technicalities and vague descriptions quite a lot on her job.
"Well, yeah, that," I confirmed, taking a deep sip. If I was entirely honest they probably would have gotten me compliant with the coffee and donuts alone. I'd been fighting off caffeine withdrawal all week, and while the Goodberries had helped with headaches and muscle cramps, they had, if anything, made the mental part of my cravings worse. I kept wanting to go find something to drink, even with my body fully hydrated.
….Which actually brought some other supernatural threats to mind. "Well, that or cursed. Or a bunch of other things. I'm still learning when it comes to the occult end of things, but I've at least got a broad understanding of the dangers and behaviors of the supernatural, and some ability to pick up on the warning signs. That's more than most cops are trained for… Present company, presumably excluded."
She gave me an unimpressed eyebrow at the naked flattery, but leveled back out to a more neutral, professional expression. "And did you find anything?"
"A few," I confirmed. "Watch for the knife- actually it's a good example," I noted. "On the surface, the threat it provides is obvious once you know what to look for. It makes people around it more aggravated. Either instills or amplifies feelings of rage and power, projects images of committing violence into people around it. Just generally tries to convince people around it to get stab happy in a 'subtle' way that can be dismissed as their own subconscious. But I'm betting that's not all it does."
"And you have evidence of this?" she asked, suddenly much more alert.
"No, but that's how demons do things," I replied. "They plot, they scheme, and even when their goals and methods seem straightforward they always seem to try and lay in a few hooks. I'll wager as bad as the influence is on people around the knife, the real horror show only starts after someone gives in. Maybe it'll work as an infection vector to the people it cuts, animating them as corpses, either possessed like we saw, or more traditional undead. Or even just give them the plague. It could also use the act of murder as a ritual 'by the user', condemning or transforming them in some way. Despite its influence, they are the ones to act, after all."
"But you don't know what it could do." Despite how vague I was being, and the actual words she used, neither her voice or expression seemed dismissive.
"No, but that's how demons generally operate," I said. "Or at least that's my general understanding of it. They're sneaky, sadistic, and really like getting other people to get their hands dirty as part of some bigger plot. Father Callahan can probably explain better…. If I'm not already preaching to the choir here," I added a bit more sheepishly. Knowing I might be lecturing someone a lot more versed in the supernatural than I was.
It had been worth saying though. Gotham had supernatural bullshit aplenty, but mostly in the form of various undead, ghosts, zombies, haunted crap and restless spirits, plus a bunch of mystics causing or taking advantage of that.
Worst case scenario? I was wrong, they knew it, and would either correct me, in which case, yay, I was now less wrong, or believe I was a fraud. In which case… They might lose interest in me. Which might be a good thing, even if it was more likely to be troublesome instead.
"Haven't run into many demons," the officer said, and I felt a flash of validation. "Lots of conmen, some odd occurrences, one particular ghost who never seemed to learn the word 'no'."
I nodded along, "That fits with what I understand for Gotham. Lots of stuff straddling the line between the living and the dead, some corrupt nature spirits, interest of a few of the higher and darker powers… Not a lot from the forces of H E double hockey sticks, but apparently some."
"The holy water does make a compelling case," she admitted. "I'm guessing you intend to stay involved?" she asked, and I got the impression that this was the important question.
"I'll help how I can," I said lamely. "Look. I am not professional. I know more about how the supernatural works than most folks. I've even got a little magic of my own. But also acknowledge this crap is out of my weight class. If you think I can assist you on keeping whatever the fuck is happening from happening? Well, I am entirely willing to put my meager abilities at your disposal in the name of not having a bunch of demonic bone monsters running down the streets. If you tell me I'd best help out by staying the fuck out of your way? I'll just as happily do that."
Normally, I'd be a bit more hesitant to open up like this. Well, open up like this to goverment officials. I knew you had to be careful of what you said around cops. But Father Callahan had vouched for them, and, frankly speaking, I was in over my head.
More importantly, as I'd noted earlier, I knew what happened to people in my position once they ended up dismissed by the police, in horror movie situations.
So I sipped my coffee and waited.
Rather than answer me though, she instead looked over at the large 'mirror', which was rather obviously a window to where other officers were watching all of this.
Yeah, I could guess how this was going to go. "Could I get another coffee on my way out?" I asked her. "Or to whatever cell you're taking me to, if that's how it's going," I said, already defeated.
Before Detective Drake could answer me however, the door opened, and a red haired man in a trench coat walked, no, stormed in.
He was… Oddly alarming. His hair was a brighter shade than Blood's was, a more traditional ginger, but likewise flaked with gray. His features were angular, sharp, but more in the traditional 'chiseled action hero' sort of way than the elegant line of the female detective's, and showed plenty of mileage, with lots of stress lines. I'd have put him in his late forties, but on second glance, man looked like he could be younger, and simply have been sandblasted by the road of life into looking older.
More importantly, there was something about how he carried himself. An intensity to his eyes, a hunch to his posture that was frankly… offputting for lack of better word.
He reminded me of a mangy dog. The kind where you couldn't be sure if they were rabid or not. There was an edge to him, one that screamed danger in the back of my head.
"Detective James Corrigan," he introduced himself, and I felt a familiar, though mostly still redacted flow of information. He was… someone associated with the occult? Good guy I think, but on the grayer end of the scale. I somehow knew even less about him than I did Batman, and I'd wager nineteen facts out of twenty were locked away when it came to my memories involving The Bat.
I didn't know what that meant for this guy, but something told me it wasn't good.
"You say you can do magic? Let's see it," he said bluntly.
Fighting down a gulp, I gave a nod. Considering making a goodberry… Then deciding that maybe something with that much chanting and gestures might not be great for this specific instance. "Right… Like I said, I'm a newbie, so don't expect anything too impressive but-" I snapped my hand and conjured a Firebolt between my thumb and forefinger. "I can do the basics… Well, some of them."
Corrigan took a deep breath, as if waiting for some sign… then seemed to ease some of the tension from his shoulders, as I passed some unseen test.
Or at least I hoped I passed? "I can also do lightning? Well, more a taser. And conjure an armored cloak. It vanishes if I take it off though, and isn't that much better than normal chainmail."
As I had spoken, the older Detective had shifted gears, "Good to know. Now what do you know about demons?"
"Ah… I suspect, more than I want to, less than I need to. Have you talked to Father Callahan yet?" I asked him.
Corrigan looked over at Drake, a grimace on his face, before looking back at me. "I might have a few questions for you about him as well."
Thaaaat was a bad sign…