"The spot should be right here."
Recalling the general direction of the other scream, York stopped beside a small tent wedged into the corner of the second-floor hallway.
According to Peggy, this tent was a little playground she had set up for the children.
York crouched, unzipped the tent's central flap, and—while pulling a sacred Bluetooth speaker from his backpack—leaned inside.
The interior was exactly as Peggy had described: a children's paradise, furniture scattered everywhere, a dazzling array of toys.
His gaze swept the space and settled on a spinning carousel lamp whose pattern showed the Hunchback.
"The Hunchback? So it's you…"
From the revolving lamp York sensed the evil within, the evil spirit hiding inside.
Looking at it, he couldn't help thinking of the carrier objects like annabelle stored in the basement back home.
"Don't disappoint me."
Eyes fixed on the stylized Hunchback, York flashed an intrigued smile and set the sacred Bluetooth speaker in front of the carousel lamp.
With that done, he backed out and headed to the next location.
Main bedroom, spare bedroom—York's figure moved through every room on the second floor, leaving a sacred Bluetooth speaker in each corner before he left.
He finished by placing the final speaker in Janet's room; surveying the device on the bed, he clapped his hands in satisfaction.
Thirteen Bluetooth speakers now dotted the house—after tonight, every inch of it would resound with the voice of God.
Glancing at the Crosses covering the walls, York stepped out.
Time passed, minute by minute.
Night soon arrived.
That evening York took charge, dividing everyone into two groups.
He and Janet would stand watch in the room where incidents kept happening.
Ed, Lorraine, and the others would stay with the Peggy Family in the main bedroom—and they needed a way to sound an alarm. Ed stared blankly at the winchester m1897 in front of him, utterly bewildered.
"A gunshot warning beats a phone call or a scream every time; some things can block out everything—phones, shouts—but the rounds in this gun can break through any barrier."
Noticing Ed's confusion, York shrugged. A man steps up when it counts; as an American citizen Ed can certainly fire it—only a matter of whether he has to.
"So, Ed, if anything happens, fire without hesitation. That way I'll know there's trouble here. With luck, nothing will happen—best-case scenario."
Ed drew a deep breath, accepted the shotgun without protest.
"I understand, Father."
York smiled, then turned to Lorraine. Compared with ordinary people, those with psychic gifts are more vulnerable in a haunting—the first to face danger are always the sensitives.
"Lorraine, shut down your sixth sense; try not to perceive anything. I don't want It dragging you into the unknown. Still, the Cross I gave you earlier should hold for a while."
After the warning he looked at the Peggy Family standing in the main room and produced a prepared bottle of holy water.
"As I showed you earlier, pour this into the humidifier. Atomized holy water will let you know if something breaks in."
"Yes, Father." Lorraine took the clear liquid silently.
She knew every church keeps only a limited supply of holy water; how this priest had such an apparently endless stock was beyond her.
"Good." York nodded, decided he'd overlooked nothing, and waved them on.
"Go in."
The Warrens exchanged a glance, nodded, and walked toward the main bedroom, joining the Peggy Family. Moments later they closed the door as planned.
Without orders from York they would remain inside the main bedroom all night, no matter what happened.
Once the door shut, York turned to Janet, who stood nearby, tense.
"Scared?"
Janet shook her head.
"Not scared!"
"Good girl."
Satisfied, York glanced at the tent in the corner and flicked the wall switch.
A click, and the lights died; the hallway plunged into darkness. While the lights had been on the corridor had seemed harmless, but in the dark the atmosphere shifted, terror creeping in.
Janet suddenly remembered the nightly footsteps and nursery rhymes; she shivered despite herself and unconsciously edged closer to the tall priest.
"It's all right, child. I'm here." York spoke gently, drawing an identical sacred Cross from his coat and hanging it around her neck.
"Nothing can come near you."
A Cross imbued with 64 points of Holy Imbuement was different; Janet felt an immediate calm. She clutched the Cross and nodded firmly.
"Let's go in."
York smiled, led her into her room, and shut the door.
A soft click sealed them off from the world.
He had Janet sit on the bed and began unpacking the backpacks arrayed around the room.
The pack holding sacred C4 could wait; the linebaugh and the 12.7 mm SHAK-12 Heavy Assault Rifle needed to be readied.
After testing the SHAK-12's power in the church and gaining Holy Imbuement, he no longer cared for shotguns that limited his reload speed.
Holy Imbuement removed all restrictions, and with the SHAK-12's twenty-round magazine, a sustained burst outclassed any shotgun.
York shed his cassock, eyed the high-tech gear in the pack, and began kitting up.
A bandolier of twenty-five holy bullets, eight 12.7 mm magazines of oversized sacred rounds, the holstered linebaugh, six Holy Hand Grenades—he equipped them all.
Janet, sitting on the bed, gaped. Young as she was, growing up in America she recognized the arsenal the priest now wore.
"Guns? And grenades?"
For the first time in her short life Janet felt a brand-new kind of shock.
"That should be enough."
Unaware of her thoughts, York hefted the SHAK-12, racked it, checked its action, and—feeling no encumbrance—grinned in anticipation.
"Now… it's time for some music!"