Shaw didn't even look at her and continued absorbing energy. Bella glanced at Constance's gun—just an ordinary firearm—and dismissed it, pressing on with her slaughter.
The curly-haired man's spirit was unusually strong. A surge of black energy burst from his soul—pure killing intent—forcing Shaw's grip apart. The white-robed ghost froze for a split second, caught off guard.
Constance, furious, clenched the gun with both hands and fired repeatedly at Bella.
Bella dodged the bullets with easy, almost stylish movements. She was just about to say something snarky—maybe even strike a pose—when she suddenly snapped back to reality.
She'd screwed up.
That old hag was sly. Gunshots that loud? There was no way the Harmons upstairs wouldn't hear them. The shots would trigger the house alarm—and the police would be on their way. Bella had zero intention of exposing herself to the public.
That meant tonight's operation had to end immediately.
"I'll be back!" she declared, tossing out the classic line. She called to Shaw, who summoned her true form—the ghost pickup.
The two climbed in calmly, slammed the gas pedal, and drove straight into the wall. Midair, without the slightest resistance, the truck vanished from the basement.
The Harmons, still living in the house, were indeed startled. They called security, called the police, panicked for half the night—and found absolutely nothing. The ghosts faded one by one, and under the old maid's mocking smile, Constance fled through another passageway in utter humiliation.
Outside the haunted house, Bella sat in the truck. "How sad... do you think they even realize their daughter is already dead?" she asked Shaw. The daughter's body lay right by the basement exit, yet neither parent had touched her.
Shaw remained in ghost form as several police cars passed by, unseen by the officers. "Take me home."
"You mean... they know on some subconscious level? But refuse to accept it?"
Bella sighed. The dead could not return. If Charlie's family had arrived a little earlier, she could have saved that girl. A pretty kid—dying like that was such a waste. From the timing, when the girl died, they'd still been hiding in Tucson...
If Charlie's family had come later—or not at all—the Harmon family of three might have resolved their misunderstandings and stayed together. As ghosts, yes, but together. Now everything was stuck in the middle.
The parents vaguely sensed something was wrong with their daughter—they noticed she didn't eat, didn't attend school, had no social life—but they refused to pierce that final layer of illusion. Their marriage was already dead. If they learned their only child was gone too, that last thread binding them would snap. What happiness would remain?
If all three died, understood each other, and stayed in the house as ghosts... maybe that would actually be the best ending for them.
"What am I supposed to do? Kill the ghosts and force the Harmons to leave Los Angeles? Or... wait and let the family reunite?"
"Take me home."
"Sigh... you're completely emotionless. Were you this numb when you were alive? Never mind. Forget it. Let's just go home. We'll try again tomorrow."
Bella spun the wheel and drove away from the haunted house. Which mattered more—life or emotion? Or was it love and family bonds?
The question left her utterly tangled. If she didn't intervene, the Harmons would remain together forever—just in ghost form. The couple's lives would be the only cost. If she did intervene, she could save them—but learning their daughter was dead might shatter Mrs. Harmon completely. She might go insane, take her own life, spiral into despair. And Dr. Harmon would likely suffer years of unending guilt and regret—dying of it in old age wouldn't be surprising.
By her values, Bella wanted to save lives. But saving them only to condemn them to misery—what meaning did that have? What should she do?
Back in her room, Bella tossed and turned like a flipping pancake, so much that Natasha gave her a very strange look the next morning.
"If you really can't hold it in, you can handle it yourself. I don't mind. Just... maybe be quieter."
"Huh? What are you even talking about?"
Bella still hadn't figured out what to do about the Harmons, but killing the other ghosts was definitely the right move.
At dusk the next day, she kept her promise—driving the pickup back in and hacking her way through the haunted house again. Without Constance to rally them, the ghosts were scattered. Bella and Shaw spent the entire night and only managed to kill three—one of which was the old maid, who simply didn't want to go on and stepped forward to die on her own. Harmon's daughter was spared again—Bella still hadn't decided what to do about the family.
On the third day, the results were a bit better—they killed four ghosts. On the fourth night, Bella and Shaw went hunting again. The complicated issues could wait. They'd handle the simple ones first. Ghosts didn't respawn—kill one, and that was one less problem.
"Huh?"
She drove the pickup through the wall into the basement, ready to clear from bottom to top like before—but the moment they emerged, they felt themselves caught in a dense web of energy. The phased pickup instantly turned solid. Shaw stiffened as if crushed under an enormous weight—unable to move at all.
Bella tried reversing, but the pickup had lost its phasing ability. They were trapped inside the walls.
"What the hell? A magic-suppression array?"
She traced the energy's source upward and saw a massive seven-pointed star covering the ceiling. Around its perimeter were countless Hebrew symbols, and at the center was a vividly drawn scorpion.
She didn't understand its inner workings—only that it was highly advanced, tied to ancient knowledge of Heaven, Hell, and everything in between. Most mages probably wouldn't understand it either—they just copied the diagrams. The suppression array lived up to its name. The fierce ghost Shaw immediately lost all mobility.
But such arrays, while easy to draw, were even easier to destroy. Bella drew her gun, aimed at several key nodes, and prepared to break the seal.
Suddenly—a streak of dark metal flashed across her vision. A gun barrel. A shotgun. Unlike a handgun, its power and speed were far greater. Bella didn't dare take the hit. She'd barely climbed halfway out of the truck when her instincts screamed danger. She snapped back inside instantly.
Bang! Bang!
"What... is this?"
White grains of salt scattered across the floor. Bella blinked in confusion.
A beat later, she understood.
This was unmistakably the work of a demon hunter.
Someone had mistaken her for a demon.