(A/N):
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
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After the Ouija board's last ember crumbled into blackened ash,
Ghost Rider's skull lowered, flames dying down until the infernal light gave way to Jojo's human face once more.
His breathing was steady, but the heat still radiated from him in waves.
He turned his head toward Veronica and her family.
They stood exactly where they had from the start—
Inside the salt barrier,
Which was now a ring of fire burning steadily around them.
The glow painted their faces in shades of gold and fear. Not a soul dared to move.
"____"
"____"
"____"
Jojo's gaze softened slightly.
"Inadu,"
He said, his voice no longer demonic but still carrying a weight,
"put it out."
Inadu gave a short nod, raised her hand, and with a curling gesture,
Nod~
"____"
The flames collapsed inward on themselves.
They fizzled out into thin wisps of smoke, leaving only the faint scent of ash and burnt salt.
The barrier was gone.
The family was free to move—
But they didn't.
They remained silent, still tense, still unsure if it was truly over.
Crunch~
Jojo crossed the room, his boots crunching on shards of broken glass.
He lowered himself into the chair that had, moments ago, been a throne of hellfire.
Now it was simply a worn piece of furniture again.
He leaned back, exhaling slowly, as if the weight of the battle had finally caught up to him.
His eyes found the family again.
They looked at him like someone staring at a stranger who had just saved their life but still carried fear they felt during his Ghost Rider form
Nobody spoke.
The silence stretched—
Heavy and expectant.
Jojo rose from the chair without another word and made his way into the kitchen.
The floor was still sticky from the red residue Rex had left behind, but he didn't seem to care.
He grabbed a glass from the counter, filled it to the brim with water, and drank it down in a few long swallows.
Gulp. Gulp.
Setting the glass aside, he turned back toward the living room.
The family was still there—
Silent, watchful.
"Inadu will discuss the payment for the case Veronica requested,"
He said evenly, his tone more businesslike than sympathetic.
"That's between you and her."
Without waiting for a reply,
Jojo headed for the front door.
The protective barrier Inadu had cast earlier still shimmered faintly, enclosing the house like a dome of unseen glass.
Jojo stepped through it without so much as a ripple, disappearing into the cool night.
Inadu remained behind, her expression calm but firm.
She approached the family's side of the room, the faint scent of burnt salt still lingering between them.
"We'll discuss the fee,"
She said, pulling a small notebook from her coat.
"Given the scale of what happened here, it isn't cheap."
The discussion was short but tense.
Veronica's mother explained their financial situation—
Tight, already stretched thin.
Inadu listened, then closed her notebook with a soft snap.
"Installments, then,"
she decided.
"The amount stays the same, but you can pay it off in portions. We don't compromise on work, but we can compromise on time."
Relief, mixed with lingering unease, settled over the family as the terms were agreed upon.
The matter was handled… at least the financial part.
Meanwhile,
Jojo walked down the dimly lit street, his hands tucked into his pockets.
The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of rain and the lingering burn of salt from the battle.
Inadu's tracking spell still clung to him—
He could feel the faint tingle at the edge of his senses—
But he didn't mind.
She'd find him easily if she needed to.
For now, he wanted something simple.
A place with warm lights, a chair that didn't reek of fire and blood, and food that wasn't cooked over hellfire.
Eventually, he found a small restaurant tucked between shuttered shops,
Its chalkboard menu scrawled in hurried Spanish.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of garlic, saffron, and roasting meat.
Jojo ordered a plate at random—
Wanting to try local cuisine—
And settled into a corner booth.
The warmth, the murmur of conversation, the clink of cutlery… it was almost enough to clear his head.
Almost.
Because even here, away from the battlefield, his mind kept circling back to that moment after Rex's defeat.
When the Ouja board burned and screamed.
That voice—
Twisted, inhuman,
But so distant—
Had reached across worlds.
Weak, almost faint… but not faint enough to hide from his Ghost Rider senses.
He had traced it, not with his eyes but with the strange pull in his chest.
The trail cut across the Atlantic, stretching all the way back to the United States.
And whatever it was… it was hiding there.
After settling the payment with Veronica's family,
Inadu left the house and followed the faint magical tether she'd placed on Jojo.
It wasn't hard—
His presence in her senses was like a steady pulse, leading her through the winding Spanish streets until she reached the small restaurant where he was quietly enjoying his meal.
Jojo glanced up as she entered, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips.
"Finished squeezing them for the fee?"
He asked casually, taking another bite.
Inadu only rolled her eyes and slid into the seat across from him.
With Rex gone and the Ouja board destroyed, there was nothing left in Spain for them.
The plan was simple—
Return to New Orleans, check on others, then head back to Forks.
But Jojo wasn't in a rush, and for once, neither was she.
They lingered.
One day turned into three, then into a week.
For the first time since Inadu had regained her body, they didn't have an urgent fight or a cursed object to chase down.
There was no ghost, no cult, no blood trail to follow.
They wandered the plazas, ate tapas on balconies overlooking narrow cobbled streets, watched flamenco dancers until midnight.
Jojo found himself pointing out things he thought she'd like—
The glittering market stalls, the strange street performers, even the little bookshops hidden in alleyways.
It was something he had promised her long ago, before she sank into her deep sleep:
That when she woke, they'd see the world together.
Now, with the work here done and the air between them calm, it felt like the right time to make good on that promise.
For that week, they weren't hunter and sorceress.
They were just… tourists.
After their week in Spain,
Jojo and Inadu boarded a late-night flight back to New Orleans.
New Orleans...
The hum of the engines and the quiet darkness outside the windows made the hours pass in a haze—
Inadu spent most of the time staring out into the clouds, while Jojo tried (and failed) to catch some sleep.
By the time they landed and made their way to his mansion,
The familiar humid air wrapped around them like an old, heavy coat.
Jojo unlocked the door, expecting the stillness of an empty home…
Instead, he was met with a sudden burst of voices.
Rosalie was the first to greet him, standing at the foot of the stairs with a knowing smile.
Alice was beside her, leaning casually against the banister, eyes glinting like she'd been waiting for this moment.
"____"
"____"
"____"
Then came Hope, Lizzie, and Josie—
Crowded together in the living room like they owned the place.
Jojo froze for a second, processing the unlikely gathering.
"…What the hell are you all doing here?"
Rosalie stepped forward, clearly unbothered by his tone.
"They decided to spend some time together,"
She said, jerking her chin toward Hope and the Saltzman twins.
"You know, for the curse they're dealing with to… mature."
Jojo blinked, then looked at the group again, his expression halfway between suspicion and resignation.
"They decided to tag along with Hope?"
"Exactly,"
Rosalie replied, completely serious—
Though the faint twitch at the corner of her lips suggested she found his reaction amusing.
Inadu, standing just behind him with her bag still slung over her shoulder, arched an eyebrow and muttered,
"Looks like your peaceful return just got a little more crowded."
Jojo slumped into the chair, running a hand over his face as if trying to scrape off the fatigue from the trip.
Sigh~
"____"
Hope appeared beside him, placing a steaming cup of tea on the table.
Her expression was calm, but her eyes carried the weight of whatever she was about to say.
"Drink first,"
She said softly.
"You're gonna need it."
Jojo took a slow sip, watching her over the rim of the cup.
"Alright… what's the problem now?"
Hope crossed her arms.
"It's about Landon."
That made him set the cup down.
"We've kept him in the surveillance chamber like you suggested, but… yesterday something happened. He started acting violently—thrashing, shouting—then…"
She hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line.
"____"
"…his whole body burned down to ashes. Completely. Alaric and Damon who were visiting at the time. They saw it happen. Scared the hell out of both of them."
Jojo's brows knit together, but she wasn't done.
Chuckle~
"When they rushed in to check, the ashes shifted… and then—"
She made a slight rising motion with her hands.
"—he stood up. Like nothing had happened. Asked why they were staring at him like that, as if he didn't notice what happened."
She pulled her phone from her pocket and unlocked it, sliding it across the table to him.
Jojo glanced at the screen.
"____"
The footage was grainy but clear enough—
Landon in the middle of the room, flames engulfing him from within, flesh peeling away until there was nothing left but ash on the floor.
Minute later, the ashes quivered and swirled upward into his form again, whole and unscathed, blinking like he'd just woken from a nap.
Jojo watched the clip a third time, his expression unreadable, then set the phone down and leaned back in the chair.
"____"
"He's got it,"
Jojo said finally.
Hope tilted her head.
"Got what?"
"A fraction… a fragment of phoenix in him. Small, but enough to explain that little ashes-to-body trick."
He tapped the table lightly, eyes sharpening.
"Which means our guess was right—Malivore does have a connection to Landon. But…"
He paused, letting the silence stretch for a beat.
"…this isn't just influence. The way he came back—it's tied deeper. Malivore isn't just connected to him… it's linked to his very existence."
Hope's brows furrowed.
Frown~
"…You're saying he might not even exist without Malivore?"
Jojo gave a short nod.
Nod~
"Or worse—Malivore made sure he exists because it needs him. Which means every breath Landon takes might serve a purpose we don't see yet."
He pushed the phone back toward her.
"Call Alaric. Tell him to dig—deep—into Landon's history. Parents, birth records, the orphanage he was in before adoption. I want every scrap of information, no matter how mundane it looks. If Malivore's fingerprints are on his life, we're going to find them."
Hope didn't waste a second.
She stepped aside, phone already to her ear, pacing toward the far side of the room.
"Hey, Headmaster? Yeah, it's me,"
She said, her voice low but urgent.
"Jojo's here. We went over what happened with Landon. He thinks Landon has a fragment of phoenix in him—small, but enough to explain his… resurrection trick."
There was a pause on the other end,
Alaric's muffled voice reacting in surprise.
"____"
"Yeah, I know,"
Hope continued, eyes darting toward Jojo, who was calmly sipping his tea.
"But he also thinks it's deeper than that. He believes Malivore's tied to Landon's existence itself. Which means before we even think about letting him walk free, we need a full investigation—parents, birth records, the orphanage, everything."
Another pause, and this time Hope's tone sharpened.
"____"
"No, Headmaster—deep. Not just what's in public records. If something was scrubbed or altered, I want it found. Jojo says if Malivore's fingerprints are on Landon's life, we will find them."
She listened for a moment, then nodded to herself.
Nod~
"Good. Keep him contained for now. I'll stay in the loop."
Ending the call, she walked back to Jojo.
"Headmaster's on it. He'll start digging immediately. He also said he'll double the wards on Landon's containment, just in case he tries something."
Jojo gave a small, approving smirk.
Nod~
"Good. Because if my gut's right, we're not just dealing with a boy who got tangled in Malivore's web… we're dealing with one of the strands holding that web together."
Salvotore Boarding School...
Observation Room...
Alaric's eyes never left the screen as Landon lounged on the worn-out sofa, casually flipping channels and munching on snacks like any other teenager.
But beneath that laid-back exterior,
Alaric sensed something far more complex —
Secrets tightly locked away, just beyond reach.
He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
Sigh~
"____"
'What exactly is this kid hiding?'
The question nagged him relentlessly.
Leaving the observation room,
Alaric stepped into the quiet corridor.
He pulled out his phone and dialed a number saved under a single name: Catalina.
"Catalina,"
He said when the call connected, voice low but urgent,
"I need you to dig deeper into Landon's past. Not just the usual records — anything that's been altered, erased, or buried. His adoption, his time before the orphanage, every loose thread."
There was a pause.
"This isn't just about a kid, Catalina. There's something bigger here, something tied to Malivore. If you find anything unusual, call me immediately."
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(Author's POV)
(A/N):
Thanks for reading the chapter!
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