Salt blocking radiation was obviously false advertising—exactly the kind of nonsense a shady salt salesman would make up.
But salt could repel demons. That idea came from the New Testament—specifically the Gospel of Matthew. Salt symbolized purity and sanctity. Holy water was simply water mixed with salt. What people drank in the morning was just saltwater; only after being blessed by a priest could it truly be called holy water.
Holy water wasn't convenient to carry, so demon hunters rarely used it in combat. Salt rounds and salt blocks were their standard equipment instead.
Of course, the real world didn't actually have that many demons. Even among a hundred demon hunters, very few would ever encounter a true, named demon in their entire lives. Most of their targets were ghosts.
The instant the shotgun fired, Bella sensed something was wrong. Seeing Shaw and the truck crushed by the suppression array, she didn't hesitate. She aimed toward the direction the salt blast had come from and fired several shots.
The shotgun's owner froze.
Demons rarely used human firearms—just what the hell was he facing?
"Who are you?" "Who are you?"
They spoke at the same time.
Bella didn't recognize the voice. It sounded like a middle-aged man—not Harmon, and definitely not that old hag Constance.
The suppression array was seriously injuring Shaw. Bella couldn't waste time talking. After forcing the other party into hesitation, she immediately turned her gun upward and unloaded several rounds into the ceiling.
Such arrays were easy to draw—and even easier to destroy. Bullets punched through several key nodes of the formation, shattering it instantly.
The crushing pressure vanished.
The ghost pickup, which had been pinned down like it was under a thousand-pound boulder, returned to normal—though two of its six headlights shattered. The truck was badly damaged.
Shaw's expression darkened with fury. She stared toward the direction the shotgun blast had come from. Bella shook her head at her. The pickup reactivated its phasing ability and slowly reversed out of the haunted house.
—
Half an hour later, a tall, broad-shouldered, bearded middle-aged man cautiously crawled out of the basement through another exit. He was extremely alert, glancing back repeatedly—but all that vigilance meant nothing against invisibility.
He opened the trunk of a Jeep parked by the road and returned the shotgun to its rack.
Suddenly, the cold muzzle of a handgun pressed against the back of his head.
The bearded man gave a small shake of his head and calmly raised both hands, showing he wasn't holding a weapon.
"What's your name? What's your relationship with Constance? And why did you interfere earlier?" Bella asked sharply.
"I don't know any Constance. Someone in our circle said this place was haunted, so I came to check it out."
His voice was steady. With his back to Bella and both hands raised, he couldn't turn around. His answer was clean—no obvious holes.
But Bella wasn't a rookie. Their fields were different, but close enough that lying to her wouldn't be easy.
"You 'came to check it out' and immediately set up a suppression array?" she said coldly. "Demon hunters these days have a strong sense of urgency, don't they?"
Click.
The unmistakable sound of a shotgun being cocked came from behind her.
"Hey, lady," a young man with a buzz cut said, aiming a homemade double-barreled shotgun at her back. "I suggest you put down your gun."
Bella turned her head slightly and glanced over her shoulder. "I suggest you look behind you."
Shaw materialized out of thin air and clamped both hands around the young man's throat.
"Take me home!"
The four of them formed a deadly chain of restraint.
Bella had a gun to the bearded man's head. The young man had a shotgun on Bella. Shaw had the young man by the throat.
On the surface, Shaw looked like the weakest link—but demon hunters had countless ways to deal with ghosts if they were prepared.
Bella had no choice but to show more of her hand.
She moved.
In a blur of motion, her waist twisted, steps light and precise. Her burgundy T-shirt left afterimages in the air. In less than a blink, she shifted from behind the bearded man to directly in front of him.
His reflexes were excellent for a normal human. His hand twitched toward a weapon—
—but the Glock was already pressed against his forehead.
"Don't move," Bella said softly.
The situation reversed instantly.
The bearded man was now both hostage and human shield. The shotgun in the young man's hands lost all deterrence—unless he could move faster than Bella.
To his credit, he was decisive. Realizing the situation was hopeless, he immediately dropped the gun and raised both hands.
"Shaw, come here," Bella said.
Shaw released the young man's throat and floated back to Bella's side.
The bearded man stared, fascinated rather than afraid. "Is that some kind of ghost-control ability? A spell? A technique?"
"Shaw is my friend," Bella replied flatly. "Not what you're thinking. Now answer properly—what are you doing in my house?"
"Your house?" he said. "From what I know, this is Dr. Harmon's house."
"Wrong," Bella said coldly. "At 1:15 p.m. today, the property transfer was officially completed. If you don't believe me, we can verify it together. I'm dealing with ghosts in my own house—what business is that of yours?"
The buzz-cut young man frowned. "Then why are there so many messed-up ghosts in your house?"
Bella snapped. "I created them? Are you insane? I bought this place to live in. My parents, my sister, and I are moving in. I'm cleaning it out. How does that concern you?"
Father and son exchanged confused looks.
A haunted house was rare. Someone capable of actually exorcising ghosts was even rarer. The chance of those two things colliding at the same time was absurdly low.
After a moment, the bearded man relaxed slightly—believing her about sixty percent.
"My name is John Winchester," he said. "That's my son, Dean Winchester. Someone in the demon-hunting circle spread rumors about this place. We arrived yesterday and even saw you driving that ghost pickup."
Bella's expression remained calm, but her mind raced.
She had underestimated Constance. She hadn't expected that old woman to have ties to the demon-hunter community—enough to pull off a perfect borrowed-knife-to-kill maneuver.
She looked again at the two men.
Bella wasn't omniscient. She didn't know every story or every legend. She knew famous ones—Stark, Barbossa, Black Widow. Lesser-known names often slipped past her.
But the father and son standing in front of her?
Those, she happened to know.