Bella turned on a faucet. The water pressure was pathetically low. She waited, and a thin stream finally trickled out. She sniffed it—heavy with rust.
She didn't know what the house had looked like before, but judging from its current state, the negative energy erosion was severe. This was no longer just a house with ghosts—the house itself was practically becoming one.
While she was surveying the place, a door swung open near the upstairs bathroom. She looked inside and saw a dark-brown wardrobe standing conspicuously against the eastern wall.
The wardrobe door creaked open with a slow, grinding whine. From within a tangle of disheveled clothing, two hands with a deathly blue-gray pallor reached out.
Clap, clap. The hands clapped twice, then curled into a beckoning gesture.
"Oh, screw off—you're really getting into this, aren't you?" Bella ignored the ghost hands inside the wardrobe. They continued their loop: two claps, one beckoning wave, two claps, one beckoning wave—as if inviting her to come join the party.
Summoning allies on enemy territory was somewhat tricky, but Bella's understanding of spatial dimensions had grown deeper and deeper. With a bit of effort, she pulled the Demon Nun into the haunted house.
The moment the Demon Nun entered, the atmosphere inside the house shifted entirely. Where before the air had been thick with creeping dread, the Demon Nun's sheer malevolence blasted that manufactured fear apart like smoke in a gale.
Only a fiercer ghost could defeat a fierce ghost.
The hands in the wardrobe faltered. Even their clapping rhythm seemed to lose its former enthusiasm.
"My friend, this one's yours. Oh, and if you spot any of these people, bring them out to me." Bella relayed the appearances of the Russells and Dr. Serizawa to the Demon Nun, then left her to handle the ghost hands.
The living and the dead occupied different planes. Bella suspected the Russells and Dr. Serizawa had already crossed into the house's interstitial dimension—much like Silent Hill's Otherworld. She could enter it herself, but it would be a hassle. What were subordinates for, if not this?
The Demon Nun let out a heavy, contemptuous snort. The pride of a Pillar Demon kept her maintaining her imperious composure at every moment. Unable to lay a hand on Bella—her contractor—she channeled all her fury onto the ghost hands instead.
She seized one of the outstretched hands. The force she used was immense; the ghost hands, the wardrobe, and the entire house seemed to shudder violently.
Having gauged her opponent's strength, she had the measure of it now. This time she didn't resist, allowing the ghost hands to drag her into the wardrobe.
Once the Demon Nun was inside, the haunted house began to convulse. It desperately wanted to expel this intruder, but the Demon Nun was hardly something that could be dealt with so easily. She drifted from room to room, saturating the house with the corrupting aura of a demonic Pillar.
On the outside, the gray walls began to turn red. Blood red.
"Oh? She's doing well in there. Impressive, impressive!" Bella found a chair, sat down casually, and waited.
Thud, thud, thud. As if the house recognized that she was the real threat, a ball rolled to her feet again, trying to lure her away.
Bella studied the ball, then looked toward the direction it had come from. As though trying to intimidate her into leaving, a figure emerged from the shadows—ashen white from head to toe, pantomiming the motion of bouncing a ball.
"Well now. I underestimated you. My apologies. You've still got fight left in you, I see. And look at how big you've grown—what a coincidence. I've got a particularly big friend who'd love to play with you."
Bella surmised this ghost was the child the witch had sacrificed to a demon all those years ago. Within this house, he'd "grown up."
He now had the body of a full-grown adult, though his movements and expressions remained dim and childlike.
Bella summoned Jason Voorhees. Jason materialized clutching his massive machete, radiating murderous intent.
"Jason—come, feed this young gentleman some... no, feed him a ball! Keep him company!"
Jason was something like Li Kui from Water Margin—couldn't beat the big bosses, but let him loose on the small fry and he'd go to town. A classic small-fry stomper.
Seeing an opponent weaker than himself, he snatched the ball from the ball ghost's hands, then—smack, smack, smack—slammed it repeatedly into the ball ghost.
The ball ghost fled with its arms over its head. Jason vanished into the room in pursuit.
Bella waited a while longer. The house's doors and windows began rattling violently, the yard's swing rocked on its own despite the still air, and the twisted tree nearby flailed its branches.
"O'Rin! Go—play that new funeral dirge you just composed! Show these old ghosts the power of music!"
"Vengeful Ghosts Assemble! Pyramid Head, you're up too. Tear this house apart for me. My requirements are simple: don't leave a single intact plank behind!"
...
While Bella deployed her generals against the haunted house, inside the pocket dimension the Russells, the homeowners—the Perrons—their five daughters, and Dr. Serizawa made ten people in all, huddled together and shaking.
The house's horror far exceeded anyone's expectations.
The Perrons and their five children had been trapped inside the longest—close to half a month all told.
The Russells had arrived one week ago to perform the exorcism.
Mark Russell knew this wasn't one of the training cases Bella had arranged for them. He'd come entirely because his scientific stubbornness had won out. Seeing how well he and his wife worked together, he'd wanted to study the phenomena up close—understand the underlying causes, explain them through science.
And then... then the couple discovered they could no longer leave the house.
Dr. Serizawa had shown up three days ago. His presence accomplished absolutely nothing. A complete waste of a trip.
"Crucifixes! Quick—secure them, then position a crucifix about one meter from the door."
"Salt! How much do we have left? Only enough for three days? Use half a portion—spread it evenly along the windowsills."
"Children, please believe me. I'm a father too. I have a son and daughter about your age. Look me in the eyes—I will get you out of here."
Mark Russell was pulling the same thing Mustache and Heather had done before him: surviving on the handful of tips Bella had tossed off in passing, sheer willpower keeping the group alive for an entire week.
But they were clearly nearing their limit.
He'd assigned each child a small task. The adults he wasn't worried about—it was the children who might crack under the terror, so he had to keep them occupied.
Tasks distributed, he lowered his voice and turned to Dr. Serizawa: "Professor, your student—can you reach Miss Bella right now?"
Dr. Serizawa checked his phone and shook his head. "Still no signal. Nothing at all."