With the address Rowling had given him, York strode straight into his house without pausing.
Since he'd stumbled upon another supernatural incident, he would prepare for it thoroughly—just as he had the first time he'd performed an enchantment.
In truth, the most important thing about this haunting was to test the idea spinning in his mind.
It didn't take York long to fish out a palm-sized mini Bluetooth speaker.
He drew a deep breath, then channelled his Spirit straight into Holy Imbuement.
If a single point of mana loaded into a salt shell had badly hurt Bathsheba's evil Spirit, three points of Spirit ought to be more than enough.
[3 Spirit spent]
[...]
Watching the sacred energy swirl through the little speaker, York fell silent for a moment, then carefully noted the date and time.
holy water lost its potency after twenty days; he wanted to know how long this Holy Imbuement would last.
With the first item done, York moved on to the next experiment.
He produced a bottle of pure water—five hundred grams exactly.
Then began the imbuement.
Spirit spread outward. As he stared at the calm surface of the water, York's eyes grew darker.
If this actually worked, he would, in a sense, be a god... [1 Spirit spent]
One point gone, yet the water looked unchanged.
Unperturbed, York glanced at the virtual window before him.
[York]
[Spirit: 79/83]
[...]
Another point vanished; the counter dropped to seventy-eight.
Still nothing.
His face calm, York continued to spend.
[1 Spirit spent]
[1 Spirit spent]
[...]
By the time he had burned forty-eight points and the gauge read thirty-two, he began to hesitate.
Either the quantity was insufficient or the faith too weak, he reasoned.
He had chosen five hundred grams precisely so he could calculate how many points turned how many grams into holy water.
Yet forty-eight points were gone and the liquid remained stubbornly ordinary.
'Keep going,'
Watching the gauge tick back up by one after a minute's rest, York pressed on. Time was on his side; fatigue was a small price for results.
[1 Spirit spent]
[1 Spirit spent]
[...]
When the fiftieth point slipped away, the water suddenly shimmered with the familiar sacred glow of church-blessed holy water.
'It worked,'
York murmured in the quiet house.
[1:32]
Basement.
The clink of bullets rang out, followed by a sigh.
'It's getting old; Holy Imbuement is nowhere near as easy as enchantment.'
York rubbed his temples, eyed the yellow, cross-marked cartridges, and slid them one by one into the linebaugh revolver.
Done, he set the linebaugh down, picked up a silver pistol, and dropped its magazine.
Desert Eagle—one of the most famous handguns of his past life, available in.357,.44, or.50. His was the.50.
Overall length 267 mm, seven-round mag, 2.5 kg empty,.50 AE... more caliber, more justice.
He thumbed the rounds home, slapped the mag back in, and exhaled at the sight on the table: linebaugh and Desert Eagle, Holy Hand Grenade, sanctified rounds of every size.
With Holy Imbuement, preparation had become faster and more flexible.
Salt shells for Spirits were now obsolete; blessed bullets did the job better.
Better yet, they still delivered normal ballistic damage and penetration, freed from material limits.
Between the swap-caliber linebaugh and the rapid-fire Desert Eagle, his daily needs were covered.
Thinking of tomorrow, York scooped up the notebook of results and headed upstairs. As his hand swung, the pages flipped to reveal a line:
[10 Spirit converts 100 g pure water into holy water with sacred properties]
[...]
[9:13]
Pluto Church.
A man in clerical garb yanked weeds, muttering:
'Work hard—don't let Father down.'
As he cleared a patch, a curious voice asked:
'Haven't seen you before—new here?'
Robert froze; he'd heard it often. He looked up, expecting an elderly parishioner.
Instead, a girl in a red hoodie, jeans, and backpack stood there—barely a teen.
Hailey noticed his stare and frowned.
'Hmm?'
Sensing her annoyance, Robert repeated his usual line:
'Sorry—first day. Didn't recognise you.'
'Oh, you've never seen a kid here. I get it,' Hailey said, eyeing the older faithful drifting in and out.
'Is Father Yorkes around?'
She slung her pack toward the main building.
Robert blocked her.
'Uh, he's out today.'
Hailey stopped. 'Where?'
Robert shrugged, recalling hauling bags to the priest's car this morning.
'No idea.'
...Meanwhile, a black Ford Raptor merged into traffic, heading for Amityville.
Father Yorkes tapped the music icon on the dash and let a song roll:
Lyrics: let yourself come undone
Everything in this world is close at hand
They say they'll give you all that you want,
and I'll be waiting in the shadow of the sun