(POV Shift: First Person)
The world narrowed to three things: the icy burn on my ankle, the plastic of the Polaroid camera in my hand, and the impossible image it held. I was on the floor, inside the salt circle, gasping, my body trembling from an adrenaline overdose. Outside, in the hallway, an unnatural silence reigned. She was gone. For now.
My HUD was an explosion of color and text. I had never seen anything like it. The viewer count had skyrocketed to a number with so many digits it made me dizzy. The chat moved at an unreadable speed, a torrent of capital letters and flame emojis. But the donation and subscription notifications, those I could see. They were constant.
xX_GamerGod_Xx just subscribed for 6 months! ZERO YOU ARE MY GOD!!!LaChicaGamer92 has donated $20.00: OMG THE PHOTO!!! YOU HAVE IT!!! I'M SHAKING!!! TacoDestroyer has donated $10.00: BEST GHOST HUNT EVER!!! BETTER THAN ANY MOVIE!!! Esceptico_Total has donated $50.00: Ok. I give up. I take back everything I said. This is real. My God, this is real. Be careful, kid. Angel_Investor has donated $100.00: The proof. You got it. But the wrath you've provoked... prepare yourself. The price of victory is the next battle.
Angel_Investor's comment brought me back to reality. This wasn't over. I grabbed the Spirit Box from the floor. I turned it on. The hiss of white noise filled the room, but this time, it was clean. No whispers, no hatred, no my name. Nothing. It was empty.
With the last ounce of strength I had, I yelled: "It's clear! You can come up!" My voice sounded hoarse and strange.
I waited, holding my breath. I heard the sound of a door opening downstairs, followed by cautious footsteps on the stairs. Moments later, Ed and Lorraine's silhouettes appeared in the bedroom doorway, looking at the glowing salt line as if it were the shore of a safe island.
Their eyes met mine on the floor, and the relief on their faces was instantly replaced by deep concern. The hunt was over. It was time for the experts to take over.
(POV Shift: Third Person)
The stale air of the basement seemed to follow them upstairs, clinging to them like an invisible shroud. Lorraine's revelation, the name "Bathsheba," hung in the kitchen with more weight than the crucifix on the wall. The Perron family, now with an identity for their torment, seemed even more terrified. Roger held a trembling Carolyn, while the girls huddled together, their childish eyes fixed on the unknown young man who had conjured a vial out of thin air and whose right hand was an abomination of plastic and metal.
Ed Warren, however, was already in combat mode. The fear on his face had been replaced by a steely resolve. He moved around the kitchen, his mind working at lightning speed, formulating a plan from impossible puzzle pieces. He stopped in front of Alex, his gaze intense and direct.
"Tell me about that... angel investor," Ed said, his voice low and serious. "Tell me exactly what the message said."
Alex, still catching his breath, recited the words that were now burned into his mind. "It said I'm not just a witness. That I'm an anchor. That my presence strengthens her, anchors her to this plane. It called me... a battery for her."
A deep silence fell over the group. Carolyn stifled a sob. The idea was not only terrifying, but cruelly ironic. The only outside help they had received was, in reality, fuel for the fire consuming them.
"A battery..." Lorraine repeated softly, her face pale. "It makes sense, in a horrible way. Entities need energy to manifest. Strong emotions, fear, anguish... they're her sustenance. But you... you're different. You're a conduit. That window around you, those thousands of eyes I spoke of... each of them is a tiny spark of attention, of focused energy. Your 'stream,' as you call it, is a feast for a hungry spirit."
Ed nodded, assimilating the terrible logic. "So, your presence here is a double-edged sword. We need you as a witness, but you stay, and the evil grows stronger. You leave... and we have no idea how a god would let you go." He looked at the bundle of sage Alex had bought. "And that? What's it supposed to do?"
"Repels minor presences, according to the shop," Alex replied, feeling the weight of responsibility crushing him. "Though I doubt Bathsheba is a 'minor presence.'"
"It's a tool," Ed declared. "And we're going to need every one we've got. Listen everyone," he said, raising his voice to address the family. "This will be a long night. Bathsheba knows we're here. She knows we're a threat. She's going to attack, and she's going to attack hard. I want you to stay together. Lock the doors. Pray, if you know how. Lorraine and I, with the help of...", he gestured towards Alex, "...our new partner, are going to install the equipment. We need irrefutable evidence for the Church to authorize the exorcism. We need to capture her activity."
His speech, filled with unshakeable confidence, seemed to inject some strength back into the family. They nodded, their faces still filled with fear, but with a new spark of hope. The battle for the Perron home, and for Alex's soul, was about to begin.
(POV Shift: First Person)
While Ed and Lorraine discussed the photograph in hushed tones, I leaned back against the wall, exhausted. My ankle throbbed with a cold, deep ache. The adrenaline rush had faded, leaving me empty and trembling. My attention returned to my HUD, the only constant in this madness.
The chat was still a madhouse, but now more organized. My moderators (friends from my previous life whom I had given the role) were working at full capacity, putting the chat in slow mode so something could be read.
Mod_Sandra: CALM DOWN, PEOPLE! ZERO IS OKAY! REPEAT, HE IS OKAY! xX_GamerGod_Xx: That photo has to go in a museum! Or the Vatican! TacoDestroyer: Did you see how the salt glowed? EPIC! 10/10 protection special effects! LaChicaGamer92: I'm so relieved. But his ankle... does anyone know how to heal a ghost frostbite?
A tired smile touched my face. My community. They were still here. I looked at the donation notifications, which kept coming. They were smaller now, but the messages were pure relief and congratulations. "$5 for you to buy a beer when you get out of there," "$10 for Alex's therapy fund."
I took another of my sanity pills. The bar on my HUD rose from a dangerous 25% to a healthier 55%. The feeling of panic clinging to the edges of my mind receded, replaced by deep, lucid exhaustion. I opened the shop out of curiosity. The list of items had changed again. Prices had skyrocketed, but the products were next level.
[VETERAN SHOP]
Vial of Vatican Holy Water (Holy Damage) - $150.00
Forged Cold Iron Shard (Disrupts Manifestations) - $125.00
Complete Containment Circle (Salt, Runes, Candles) - $200.00
Spiritual First Aid Kit (Treats minor injuries) - $75.00
I saw the first aid kit and felt a pang of longing. With my current balance of just over a hundred dollars, I couldn't afford it. Next time, I thought. If there was a next time.
I closed the shop and focused on the Warrens. They had stood up and were looking at me. The analysis phase was over. It was time to formulate the plan.
(POV Shift: Third Person)
"We have everything we need," Ed declared, his voice resonating with new authority. He held the Polaroid as if it were a state document. "This photograph, along with our testimonies, the recordings of the static during the aggression, and Alex's injury... No Church official in their right mind will be able to deny the severity of this infestation."
He paced the small room, carefully avoiding disturbing the salt line. "Tomorrow, at dawn, I will drive to see Father Gordon. I will present our case. With his blessing and the bishop's backing, I will request authorization to perform an exorcism ritual in this house."
The plan was clear, direct, and followed the protocol they knew. But Lorraine, who had been looking at the door as if she could see through it, added a grim warning.
"The creature knows what we've done," she said. "We have defied her, wounded her, and captured her image. She will no longer be content to scare the girls or throw objects. Her wrath is now absolute. And when she knows we intend to cast her out of her land..."
She looked at Roger and Carolyn, who had come upstairs upon hearing that the immediate danger had passed and were now in the doorway, listening. "Her strategy will change. Today's attack was a physical pursuit, a demonstration of territorial power. Her next attack will be more intimate. More insidious. It will be an attempt at possession."
The silence that followed that word was deeper than any silence of the night.
"Carolyn," Lorraine continued, her voice soft but firm. "She has been weakening you from the start. The bruises, the anguish... she is preparing you. You are the vessel she desires to take."
Ed nodded, his face a granite mask. "That means we cannot leave you alone for a second. Roger, the girls, must be your shadow. And while I am gone, Lorraine and Alex will stay. Their new objective is not to hunt, nor to provoke. It is to protect. To protect Carolyn at all costs."
He turned to Alex, who was still on the floor, but now listening with full attention. "Your job, son, has changed. You are no longer the hunter. You are the guardian. You are the sentinel. Use your tools, your salt, your... incense, whatever it takes to keep her at bay until I return with the heavy artillery."
Dawn began to paint the sky a pale gray. The night of the hunt was over. The long, terrible vigil for Carolyn Perron's soul was about to begin. And Alex, the streamer who only wanted to mock terror, now found himself on the front line of defense, the only one who could look the monster in the eye and force it to blink.