Time passed quietly inside the lounge of St. Michael the Archangel Church.
Father Anderson continued consecrating ammunition until mental exhaustion finally forced him to stop. When he looked down at the desk, two hundred and twenty polished .500 Linebaugh cartridges rested before him.
Every round carried sacred energy.
He had completed so many only because he carefully timed the process around his Spirit recovery. Whenever part of the consumed energy returned, Anderson immediately transferred it into another cartridge.
He released a slow breath and summoned his status panel.
[Father Alexander Anderson]
[Spirit: 20/83]
Anderson had reached the limit he was willing to risk.
He rubbed his temples while studying the remaining value. During the long experiment, he had learned that consecration functioned almost exactly like magical enchantment. The primary difference was the source of power.
Enchanting consumed Magic.
Consecration consumed Spirit.
The physical consequences were also different. When Anderson exhausted his Magic, he experienced an unpleasant emptiness but suffered no serious pain. Spirit appeared to include his mental stamina and perhaps part of his consciousness.
Once it dropped close to twenty points, a steady throbbing began inside his skull. Falling below ten produced a genuine headache and made concentration increasingly difficult.
Anderson therefore decided that twenty points would become his safety threshold.
"Two hundred and twenty should be enough for now."
He stopped massaging his temples and began placing the sacred cartridges into reinforced ammunition boxes. Once properly stored, they would give him a reliable weapon against demons, ghosts, and other supernatural entities without requiring additional preparation.
The golden rounds reflected the light above his desk.
Anderson genuinely wanted to find an evil spirit and test them. He was equally curious about the consecrated phone and whether a recorded prayer played through it would now carry spiritual authority.
If that experiment succeeded, other forms of technology might also accept consecration.
Speakers, radios, security systems, or even remote devices could potentially deliver Scripture and sacred power from a distance.
Unfortunately, Anderson did not have time to continue. His planned experiment involving ordinary purified water was also interrupted before he could determine whether Spirit alone could transform it into holy water.
Robert's family had arrived.
[9:34 P.M.]
Anderson stood outside Mr. Brown's former home and held out a set of keys.
"Robert, these belong to the house. Keep them somewhere safe."
Robert accepted them with trembling hands. His face was flushed with emotion while the sounds of laughter drifted through the open doorway behind him.
His wife Beth and their four children were already inside. After months of uncertainty, the family finally had a secure place to live.
"Thank you, Father Anderson."
Robert's eyes grew red as he looked at the priest.
"When everything fell apart, you gave me a chance to start again. I don't know how I can ever repay you."
"You don't need to repay me."
Anderson gently patted the six-foot-tall man on the shoulder before Robert could begin crying again.
"The rent will be deducted from your salary, so this home is not charity. You're earning it through your own work."
Robert drew a deep breath. Gratitude and determination burned in his eyes.
"I'll work hard, Father. I promise."
"I believe you."
Anderson handed him another ring of keys.
"These open the main entrance, the church building, and the annex at St. Michael's."
Robert accepted them with both hands and listened carefully.
"Your first responsibility is to open the church every morning at nine. Parishioners must be able to enter and pray even when I'm away handling an exorcism or another emergency."
Anderson continued explaining the position.
"You'll also keep the main building, the annex, and the grounds clean. Other duties can wait until I specifically assign them."
Robert nodded earnestly.
"I understand. Starting tomorrow, I'll open everything on time."
"I'll be relying on you."
For the first time in years, Anderson would no longer need to handle every minor responsibility inside the church by himself.
He looked toward the house, where Beth and the children were talking excitedly while carrying their belongings from room to room.
"Go celebrate with your family."
Anderson turned before Robert could respond and headed toward the black Ford F-150 Raptor parked along the curb.
Robert had been preparing to invite him inside. The words died before leaving his mouth as he watched the priest's broad figure disappear into the darkness.
For one brief moment, Father Anderson looked terribly alone.
Robert remained outside until the priest entered his truck, then turned and joined his family.
Anderson settled into the driver's seat and glanced back at the brightly lit house. Robert had already vanished through the doorway.
Laughter continued spilling into the street.
He could easily imagine the atmosphere inside. Beth was probably organizing the kitchen while the children argued over bedrooms and explored every corner of their new home.
A trace of loneliness entered Anderson's eyes.
"Damn it. I'm actually homesick."
Memories of his previous life surfaced without warning. He remembered his parents, his old home, and the peaceful country he had left behind.
There had once been a time when family gatherings and lively conversations seemed ordinary. Anderson had never understood the true weight of loneliness because he had always believed those moments would continue.
Now he walked through an unfamiliar world almost entirely alone.
"You've lived like this long enough," he muttered. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself."
Anderson rubbed his face and looked one final time at Mr. Brown's former house. Then he shifted the truck into gear and prepared to drive home.
Before his foot touched the accelerator, the phone connected to the center console began ringing.
The caller's name appeared on the screen.
Lorraine Warren
Anderson's attention sharpened.
"Lorraine?"
The Warrens did not usually contact him without a reason. Ed and Lorraine spent their lives investigating supernatural disturbances, so a late-night call from them often meant they had encountered something dangerous.
That also meant another random mission might be waiting.
Anderson maintained contact with the couple for precisely that reason. The chance of him independently discovering a haunting or possession was far lower than theirs.
Ed and Lorraine had appeared on television, delivered lectures, and built a reputation among families suffering from unexplained events. Desperate people often contacted the famous investigators before approaching a priest or local diocese.
Fame attracted supernatural cases.
Anderson composed himself and tapped the answer icon on the center console.
"Father Anderson."
Lorraine's gentle voice filled the truck.
"Yes. What happened, Lorraine?"
He leaned back in the driver's seat while looking toward the brightly lit house across the street.
"Ed and I have confirmed another paranormal incident," Lorraine said. "Would you be interested in coming with us tomorrow? This one happened surprisingly close to St. Michael's."
Anderson did not hesitate.
"You already know I'm interested in anything involving the supernatural. Give me the address."
His thoughts returned to the two hundred and twenty sacred cartridges stored at the church and the consecrated phone waiting to be tested.
"All evil must be eliminated."