As Ghost Rider stepped onto the cold stone floor of the basement, the air grew thick with malevolence.
Thud. Thud.
Bathsheba's panicked, guttural voice echoed once more from the deeper shadows:
"TURN BACK, VENGEANCE! YOU WILL ONLY JOIN THEM!"
Ghost Rider didn't even slow down.
FLAMES danced across his skeletal frame, casting horrific shadows against the old walls.With a sneer etched into his flaming skull,
SNEER~
He growled:
"I'M NOT HERE TO JOIN YOU. I'M HERE TO END YOU."
Suddenly —
A shriek tore through the basement.
From behind a dusty, broken-down piano, something lunged at him —
a twisted spectre, almost human, but grotesque beyond reason.
It wore what looked like a tattered maid's dress, the remains of a frilled cap barely clinging to its decaying head.
Its face was nothing but a hollow void, a black emptiness where its eyes should have been.
Graaa~
With a hissing wail, the spirit charged at Ghost Rider with outstretched claws.
Ghost Rider didn't even bother turning fully.
With a brutal backhand slap, his flaming hand connected with the creature's twisted form —
—CRACK!
The spirit screamed in agony as it was hurled across the basement, smashing into the far wall with a sickening thud.
Thud.
The impact force caused the wall to crack and crumble slightly around the broken figure.
The maid-ghost whimpered pathetically, bowing her head low and trembling, her voice barely a whisper yet filled with terror and reverence:
"M-My Lady Sherman... Forgive me..."
Ghost Rider narrowed his burning eyes.
It was crystal clear now —
This spirit was once Bathsheba's maid.
Bound even in death to serve her mistress's wickedness.
His chains rattled menacingly as he advanced toward the shivering ghost.
"YOU SOLD YOUR SOUL FOR HER. NOW YOU'LL FACE JUDGMENT."
Behind him, Freya and Leah reached the bottom of the stairs, watching it.
From the shadows, Bathsheba's furious voice howled, dripping with venom:
"USELESS WRETCH! YOU'VE FAILED ME!"
The broken spirit of the maid, still trembling near the cracked wall, tried to crawl toward Bathsheba's direction, whispering desperately:
"F-For...give...me...my lady..."
But Ghost Rider had already made his judgment.
FLAMES erupted around his hands as his infernal chain coiled into his grasp, crackling and hissing like a living serpent.
Without mercy, Ghost Rider swung the chain in a fiery arc.
WHOOSH—SLASH!
The chain sliced cleanly through the maid's ghostly form, cutting her into two burning halves.
KYAAAAA~
The maid let out a high-pitched, otherworldly wail, the sound echoing painfully through the basement as her fragmented spirit disintegrated into black smoke,
vanishing into nothingness.
The fire of the Ghost Rider's chain glowed even brighter for a moment before calming down.
Ghost Rider's burning gaze lifted immediately, now locking onto Bathsheba herself, who was materialising from the darkness at the far end of the basement.
"____"
"____"
She stared at him with unbridled hatred and fear, her form half-solid, half-shadow, twitching grotesquely as if the human shape could barely contain her malevolence.
Ghost Rider took a slow step forward, his voice a rumbling roar:
HAHAHAHAHA~
"BATHSHEBA SHERMAN—YOUR TIME IS UP."
The air in the basement grew heavier, hotter, as Ghost Rider's laughter echoed like thunder against the stone walls, flames rippling higher from his body.
"____"
Bathsheba, for the first time, fell completely silent, her twitching form freezing under the oppressive force of his presence.
Then, with another iconic, earth-shaking roar,
RAAAAAAA~
Ghost Rider stepped closer, his voice booming like an angry god:
"WHAT... IS THE NAME OF THE DEMON YOU SERVE, BATHSHEBA SHERMAN?"
For a moment, Bathsheba said nothing.
She just stared —
a deranged smile spreading across her cracked, ghostly face.
Fufu~
Then, out of nowhere,
She threw her head back and let out a loud, shrieking laughter, the sound so insane and mocking that even the fire around Ghost Rider seemed to crackle with agitation.
Her wild eyes, gleaming with madness, locked onto Ghost Rider's fiery skull.
Anyone else might have been shaken by the insane hatred boiling off her... but not Ghost Rider.
From the crazed glint in Bathsheba's eyes, he could immediately tell:
She wasn't just a worshipper.
She was a blind, raving devotee.
A zealot.
Finally, with a twisted, arrogant voice,
Bathsheba spat out the name like it was a blessing:
"MALTHUS! I SERVE THE GREAT LORD MALTHUS, THE CONSUMER OF CHILDREN AND BREAKER OF SOULS! MY SOUL IS HIS! MY CURSES ARE HIS GIFT!"
The name reverberated around the basement, as if even the shadows recoiled at hearing it.
Freya and Leah, behind Ghost Rider, both instinctively flinched, feeling a dark, corrupt power stir slightly at the mention of that demonic name.
But Ghost Rider only tightened his grip on his chain, his flames burning fiercer, as he growled:
"THEN YOU'LL JOIN HIM... IN HELL."
Bathsheba's face twisted into a mask of fury and desperation.
Her hands moved rapidly as she began to utter a curse, ancient and foul, the very words making the air in the basement colder and heavier.
A sickly greenish mist formed around her hands and shot like a viper toward Ghost Rider —
but the moment it struck his flaming skeletal form...
Nothing happened.
The curse fizzled and evaporated harmlessly, as if it was nothing but a weak breeze against a mountain of fire.
GRAAAAA~
Before Bathsheba could even react, with a blazing roar, Ghost Rider swung his burning chain.
The fiery links wrapped tight around her neck with a metallic screech, the flames searing her ghostly flesh.
GACK~
She shrieked —
In rage this time, but in pure, terrified pain.
"YOUR CURSES... ARE WORTHLESS!"
Ghost Rider snarled, his voice like the cracking of the earth itself.
With a savage pull, he yanked her off her feet, the chain dragging her helplessly toward him.
Ghost Rider reached out with his other hand, grabbing Bathsheba by her hair, lifting her cursed, wailing form high off the ground.
Ahhhh~
"____"
Her body twisted and thrashed like a fish caught on a hook, but she couldn't break free.
Without mercy, Ghost Rider forced her to look into his burning eyes, locking her in his judgment.
The Hellfire spread from his body into hers instantly —
Her soul ignited with searing flames.
Bathsheba's screams grew louder and louder as her form began to disintegrate, black smoke and bits of her spirit burning away, piece by piece.
The last thing Bathsheba saw was the merciless, eternal flame of judgment before her very existence was obliterated into nothingness.
All that remained was a faint, lingering smell of smoke... and silence.
The heavy silence after Bathsheba's destruction was thick, almost unreal, like the house itself was holding its breath.
"____"
"____"Only the crackling embers from Ghost Rider's burning chain could be heard fading slowly.
Then —
Footsteps.
Thud. Thud.
Slow, careful ones are descending the basement stairs.
Ghost Rider —
turned his burning gaze toward the entrance.
There stood Lorrine, her face pale but determined.
Her eyes, wide with shock, had witnessed everything:
Bathsheba's disintegration, her confession of the demon's name... Malthus.
She clutched the wooden railing tightly, steadying herself as she moved closer.
"Jojo,"
Lorrine said, her voice hoarse but urgent,
"I... I know that name. Malthus..."
Jojo's flaming skull tilted slightly, silently urging her to continue.
Lorrine swallowed and pressed on, her heart pounding.
"Before capturing Anabelle... before we even knew she was possessed by an evil spirit... I found signs. Signs that something far bigger was helping her."
"A connection to something ancient, something dark... and the name I found, in an old Vatican report given by the church... was Malthus."
She looked straight into Ghost Rider's flaming sockets, her hands trembling.
"It's not just Bathsheba. She was only a pawn. Jojo..."
She took a shaky breath.
"Malthus is orchestrating something much bigger. And he's already targeted my daughter once. Before escaping..."
For a long moment, the basement was deathly still.
Then, Ghost Rider's voice rumbled out, low and menacing, shaking the very walls:
"THEN WE FIND HIM. AND WE BURN HIM."
The fire around Ghost Rider flared even higher, casting monstrous shadows against the cracked walls.
Puff~
With a sharp whoosh of black smoke, the terrifying form of the Ghost Rider vanished, and Jojo stood there once again in his human form —
tired, but relieved.
The heavy darkness that had once filled the farmhouse seemed to lift slightly, replaced by a calm, almost sacred stillness.
Jojo could feel it:
The lingering spirits of the children —
once trapped and tormented —
had finally been freed.
They had likely ascended, their souls no longer bound to this cursed place.
With quiet steps, Jojo climbed out of the basement.
The sight that greeted him warmed his heart:
"____"
Roger and Carolyn were sitting on the floor near the wall, hugging each other tightly, both crying uncontrollably.
Carolyn's body was still trembling from the aftershock of the possession, but Roger's presence grounded her, keeping her from spiralling into despair.
Jojo waited patiently, giving them a moment.
Freya, Leah, and Lorrine stood nearby, watching quietly, giving the family space.
After a while, Roger and Carolyn calmed down enough to notice Jojo approaching.
Jojo knelt slightly to meet their eyes and spoke in a firm but kind tone:
"Listen carefully,"
He said,
"Bathsheba is gone. She won't hurt you anymore."
Both Carolyn and Roger visibly relaxed at those words, but Jojo wasn't done.
"But,"
Jojo continued, his voice serious,
"For your family's safety, you need to burn or sell anything old left in this house. Furniture, trinkets, even heirlooms, if they have ties to the past. It's better not to take any chances. Curses can linger on objects even after the spirit is gone."
Roger and Carolyn nodded earnestly, tears still in their eyes but hope flickering on their faces.
Carolyn clutched Roger's arm and whispered,
"Thank you... Thank you all... You saved my daughters... You saved me..."
Roger, voice thick with emotion, added,
"We owe you our lives. All of you."
Freya and Leah simply smiled warmly, while Lorrine gave a small nod, wiping a tear from her eye.
Nod~
Jojo stood up, giving them a reassuring look.
"Take care of your family. Love them. Protect them."
And with that, the dark chapter of the Perron family's nightmare had finally —
truly —
come to an end.
Before Jojo and the others left, he turned back one last time to face Roger and Carolyn, who were still clinging to each other.
He pulled a small, plain-looking visiting card from his coat pocket and handed it to Roger.
"One more thing,"
Jojo said, his voice firm but gentle.
"Please... don't tell anyone about what you saw tonight. Especially about this form of mine."
Roger looked at him seriously and nodded, understanding the weight behind the request.
Nod~
Carolyn, still shaken, managed a weak but determined nod as well.
Jojo then gestured to the card in Roger's hand.
"If you or your family ever encounter anything... supernatural again, don't hesitate to call this number. Day or night."
Roger looked down at the card.
No mention of magic, no mention of spirits —
Just a lifeline for those who truly needed help.
Carolyn clutched Roger's hand tightly, her eyes filled with silent gratitude.
Freya, Leah, and Lorrine gathered near Jojo, and with a final nod to the Perron family,
they turned and walked out of the farmhouse, leaving behind the place that had finally found peace.
After leaving behind the Perron family —
who finally looked relieved and lighter, as if a heavy curse had lifted —
Jojo, Freya, Leah, and Lorrine made their way back to the quiet farmhouse they were staying at.
The Sun started to rise, showing that the long night is about to end.
The warm, faint smell of wood and herbs greeted them.
Inside, Gerald —
The quiet but steadfast guardian of the farmhouse stood near the doorway.
He welcomed them back with a simple, respectful nod, his sharp eyes instantly scanning them for any injuries.
Meanwhile, Lorrine's little daughter, who had been sitting cross-legged on the old, comfy sofa watching cartoons (something cheerful and colourful playing on the TV, a stark contrast to the heavy night they'd had), immediately spotted her mother.
"____"
With a bright, overjoyed cry, she leapt from the couch, her small feet thudding against the wooden floor, and ran toward Lorrine.
"Mommy!"
she cried out.
Lorrine dropped to one knee and opened her arms wide, catching her daughter into a tight, trembling hug —
as if the horrors of the night melted away for just a moment.
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she smiled genuinely, stroking her daughter's hair and whispering softly,
"I'm here, baby... I'm here."
The others —
Jojo, Freya and Leah—
exchanged small smiles at the heartwarming sight, the heavy mood lifting slightly inside the farmhouse.
In the days that followed, life slowly returned to normal.
The heavy, suffocating tension that had clung to their group for so long finally loosened its grip.
Jojo, Freya, Leah, Lorrine, Gerald —
and now Lorrine's little daughter —
allowed themselves to breathe, to enjoy the peace they had fought so hard to reclaim.
The farmhouse they were staying at felt warmer, livelier.
Laughter replaced the hushed, wary conversations.
Instead of tense planning and late-night watches, their days were filled with the simple joys of a real vacation.
For the next four days, they spent their time sightseeing, visiting famous tourist spots.
**********************************************************************************************************************************************************
(Author's POV)
(A/N):
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give a review and power stone!!!