The "protagonist" Constance spoke of—the so-called strongest medium on the West Coast—was currently sitting in the passenger seat of a pickup truck, holding a plate and eating Italian-style ravioli.
This kind of ravioli didn't come with soup. The wrapper was far thicker than Asian dumplings, and the flavor leaned noticeably sweet.
"Water—water! Hurry, this stuff is way too dry!"
Bella slapped her throat. Shaw, who was driving, immediately handed her a bottle of water.
After gulping down half the bottle, Bella finally forced the ravioli down. She swore she would never eat Italian ravioli again. Whether it tasted good or not was beside the point—her mouth simply wasn't built for it.
"Mm—mm—cough?" She cleared her throat.
"That Natasha... she really worked me to death! Screaming all night—my voice is practically gone!" Bella complained to the ghost woman beside her. The ghost stared straight ahead, driving seriously, completely ignoring her.
Thinking of something, Bella suddenly laughed. "Charlie called and asked what we were doing and why we were out of breath. I told him we were running! Hahaha, I'm a genius..."
She chattered nonstop the entire way. Occasionally, Shaw replied—but only using the same three variations of a single sentence:
The affirmative: "Take me home." The negative: "Take me home..." And the interrogative: "Take me home?"
Even at night, Los Angeles still had people walking the streets. The pickup sped down the relatively empty road, followed South Field Road, circled past Hancock Park, and stopped at the side gate of the haunted house.
They had come to exorcise ghosts. They'd wanted to come three days earlier, but Natasha had dragged Bella off to spar every single day—two long legs clamping her like a vice until her waist and back ached—leaving her with zero energy for ghost-hunting.
Even tonight, they were squeezing this trip in between other things.
Seeing no one around, they activated the pickup's phasing mode. The ghost truck lived up to its name, turning fully intangible and slipping straight through the front gate without resistance.
They had expected hunting ghosts to be tedious—but to their surprise, the entire clan of ghosts was holding a meeting in the basement. Without hesitation, the two charged straight in.
At that moment, Constance was still smiling. She was a living human, yet surrounded by ghosts, showing not a trace of fear. She casually pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The young, curly-haired man glared at his mother, his right arm wrapped around Dr. Harmon's daughter—clearly furious and agitated.
Suddenly, a flat, emotionless voice sounded behind him.
"Take me home."
Dressed in her white gown, Shaw stood behind him, tilting her head as she looked at the two "people" holding each other—seemingly curious.
The ghosts inside the house were even more curious. Who is this? You're not one of the ghosts from our house!
Perhaps because of the arrival of outsiders, several more ghostly figures materialized in the basement—each one gruesome, their deaths unmistakably unnatural.
Bella sat on the steps, staring at them all with helpless disbelief. "Honestly, you all scared the hell out of me. There are so many! Over fifty already, right? And I think I see a dozen ghost babies hiding in the back? Oh my god..."
The ghosts she'd encountered before were always scattered—running into even one was rare. But this wasn't just a haunting—this was a full-blown ghost nest, clustered together like a family bound to a cursed house.
From her observation, the house itself hadn't originally had any problems. No magical nodes, no heavenly treasures, no curses or blessings—nothing supernatural. The issue was simply that too many people had died here. Over time, resentment and negative energy had accumulated so heavily that the place was beginning to transform into a magical node.
She'd never been to New York and had no idea what the New York Sanctum looked like. But judging by this place... with a little work, it wouldn't be much worse.
As long as she cleared out this massive nest of ghosts, ventilated the house regularly, disinfected it, dealt with the corpses buried deep underground, and redirected the magic beneath the house, she could establish a brand-new magic node.
"Your suffering ends today. Let me send all of you on your way!"
After the crocodile and spider incidents, Bella had realized a major problem—carrying weapons was always inconvenient. She couldn't rely on grabbing steel bars from the environment every time she fought a monster; that was far too undignified. After some reflection, she upgraded her ice-ray spell. She could now conjure a sword of ice out of thin air, ensuring she'd never lose combat power just because she lacked a physical blade.
Her magic hadn't been well-suited for fighting crocodiles or spiders—those were physical creatures, and guns were far more effective than magic against them. But a room full of ghosts? That was a completely different story.
Bella grew excited and wrapped an arm around Shaw's shoulder. "Let's split them half and half. My ship's helm needs energy too."
"Take me home!"
"So... we each do our own thing? ...That works too."
They hadn't even finished speaking before the ghosts reacted.
"She wants to kill you! All of you—attack together! Get them! There are only two of them!"
Constance could no longer maintain her fake elegance and screeched hysterically.
Humans varied in intelligence—and so did ghosts. No one became smarter just because they died. Hearing her instigation, most of the ghosts hesitated and observed. Only two freckled brats, blood dripping from their noses and mouths, baseball bats in hand, charged forward screaming.
Bella didn't waste a second. She flicked her hand, unleashing a sword strike.
Truthfully, this move wasn't great against crocodiles—it couldn't deal more damage than a gun—but against ghosts made entirely of energy, it was absurdly effective.
The first ghost kid still swung his bat viciously—but a flash of white light swept past. His upper body froze over and evaporated instantly. His bloodstained overalls carried his legs forward a few more steps before dissolving into the air.
Bella shook the ship's helm charm where the ghost vanished, and her wrist instantly felt heavier. She knew it had worked. If the Flying Dutchman absorbed enough soul energy, it could sail the seas once more.
Her blade flashed like lightning. The second ghost kid vanished as well—and she even took out a burned female ghost in the same strike.
Meanwhile, Shaw attacked repeatedly, eliminating the surgeon's ghost and the noblewoman's ghost one after another.
Hand-to-hand combat worked human-to-human, but not human-to-ghost. Ghost-to-ghost, however, was extremely effective. Shaw was terrifyingly strong. Without her phasing and transformation abilities, one might have mistaken her for a martial arts master. Her movements were swift and lethal—less flashy than Bella's snow-white sword arcs, but brutally efficient.
With a whip kick, Shaw knocked down the ghost of the curly-haired young man. She reached out with her right hand and forcibly consumed his spirit, strengthening herself.
"Let go of my son! Or I'll shoot her!"
Completely panicked, Constance pulled out a small revolver. She knew guns couldn't hurt ghosts—so she aimed it squarely at Bella instead.