I stretched my fingers and popped my knuckles, thinking about the case. Honestly, the whole thing was a massive mystery. There were signs of typical haunting that would suggest a good old haunted house kind of scenario. But at the same time, the haunting persisted when she moved out of the house, which suggested an attempt at possession or haunting of an object she had on her not knowing about it.
But to counter that theory, the haunting was weaker when out of the house, which just doesn't make any sense. If the house was haunted, it was a simple ghost or apparition, and they shouldn't be able to make their way out of the haunting grounds. If it were a possession attempt, then it would be a lesser spirit most likely, and the place would not make any difference, maybe aside from a church, but unless her mother lives in one or on a blessed ground, then no.
I went over my knowledge of basic spirits, but nothing made sense. Now alone at the table, twirling my tea in the cup, I had a decision to make. Going half blind was dangerous, but on the other hand, I wanted to unravel the mystery, and a payday for anything supernatural was also a nice bonus. I had prepared the best weapons for any kind of dark spiritual being, so I should be good no matter what it was, even if I was not too keen on using them. And, well, who am I kidding? I was way too excited not to go. I needed to know what it was.
I told the woman to try to sleep that night with someone else in the room and to pray before going to bed. That was more for comfort than anything else. Also, she should cover the bed in salt and silver if she had any to make the spirit's life harder if it wanted to send those dreams.
Now, I had an address and a ghost to deal with. I sent her a message that I would be dealing with it tomorrow.
Having made the decision, I drank the rest of the coffee and went home, still going over the possible scenarios. The most problematic part was the smell of burning hair. This was a sign of the ghost taking a fully material form, which meant that it was around a second-tier entity. It was not very powerful and without a fully formed consciousness, but it could be annoying.
Overall, ghosts and any other beings fitting the umbrella term of a ghost would usually have similar characteristics unless they had fully formed consciousness. They would always have an anchor, something that lets them stay and materialize in the normal world. This anchor can be a place, an item, or even a person. Ghosts can choose to materialize or not. However, once the night comes, the anchor is automatically connected to the world of the tangible, whether the ghost enters or not, allowing it to be destroyed or sealed. Usually, that's how exorcism rituals work. But what was the anchor in this case? I have no idea.
Well, there was the other method of dealing with ghosts, ripping them apart. If you used an attack that could hurt a spiritual being, you could go about it without an exorcism and just kill the ghost directly. The church frowned upon this method since it would not allow the soul to ascend to heaven, assuming one believed in it in the first place, but thankfully, I was not a priest, so this option was open to me.
This was a bit harder since ghosts could be elusive, but not to toot my own horn, I was one of the best when it came to curses and dark arts. So as long as I got my hands on the thing and it didn't run, I should be able to do it without an exorcism. Hopefully.
With my mind set on the head-on battle, I went to bed. Ready for a dreamless sleep.
***
After a couple of hours of sleep, I finally woke up. Although my internal clock was telling me that I didn't get the full sleep, it was nothing a cup of coffee couldn't fix. I opened my eyes and got up fro… wait, that's not my house.
The place I was now standing at, with my bed that I could swear I was just lying in, nowhere in sight, was an old house. A classic American suburban home that anyone's parents bought when house prices weren't a cruel joke. The room I was in was a classic, cozy living room. There was an old piano in the corner that was more of a decoration and a photo stand than an instrument. Also, a sofa and a TV in front of it, with a coffee table next to the sofa.
But there were also strange things that didn't fit. There were a couple of family photos on the walls and the piano, but all of them had their heads scratched out. The clocks in the room weren't working, all of them set to 2.34 a.m., and the windows had bars in them, cold steel bars that fit more in a prison.
The rest of the house was filled with dense white fog that seemed to swirl and move like a living being without any wind to be felt.
Wait, this seems familiar. But how? This was supposed to be the client's nightmare, not mine.