Ghostbane

Richard and Max stepped through the front door of Nat's house, their bodies aching from the night's encounter. The warmth of the indoors was a stark contrast to the eerie chill of the cemetery, but even then, Richard couldn't shake off the exhaustion settling in his bones. Max, as usual, acted unfazed, stretching his arms with a loud yawn.

George stood outside Amelia's room, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Richard raised an eyebrow. "What's with the stance, old man? You guarding the door or waiting for it to fight back?"

George ignored him and turned to Max. "How was the job?"

Max let out a deep sigh and ran a hand through his messy hair. "You know what? I'd rather not talk about it."

Richard scoffed. "It was a nightmare. I swear, if I have to fight another ghost who thinks it's a damn horror movie villain, I'm quitting."

George smirked. "Oh? You're already thinking of quitting? Kid, you've barely even started."

Before Richard could shoot back, Nat emerged from Amelia's room. Her usually stern face looked slightly softer as she exhaled in relief. "She's stable now," she said, nodding at George. "Thank you, George."

George waved a hand dismissively. "All in a day's work."

Then it happened. Nat—Nat, the most no-nonsense, grumpy old healer—smiled.

Max took a step back, eyes wide. "Hold on. Did... did she just smile?"

George blinked, then looked at Nat with suspicion. "Yeah. I think I saw it too."

Max leaned toward Richard and whispered, "Maybe the ghost ain't dead yet. Maybe it's possessing her right now."

George nodded. "That actually makes sense. I've never seen her smile in my life."

Nat's eye twitched. "I'll kill you both."

Max instantly straightened up. "Knew it was too good to be true."

Nat ignored him and turned to Richard. "You can stay for dinner."

Max's jaw dropped. "What? What about me?"

Nat shot him a glare. "Out."

Max looked at George for help, but the old man was already putting on his coat. "Sorry, kid. I don't question miracles."

Richard tried to suppress his laughter as Max and George sulked out the door, muttering about how unfair life was.

Inside, Nat set the table for Richard, and the meal was unexpectedly delicious. For someone as grumpy as her, she sure knew how to cook. The moment he took his first bite, he knew Max was going to be pissed when he found out.

After eating, Richard finally stepped outside, feeling satisfied. Max and George were leaning against the car, waiting.

Max crossed his arms. "Took your sweet time, huh?"

Richard grinned. "Man, that food was amazing. Probably the best I've had in months."

Max clutched his chest dramatically. "You're just saying that to hurt me."

Richard shrugged. "Maybe."

George sighed. "Let's go, before Nat changes her mind and throws something at us."

Richard and Max got into the car, and with a low hum of the engine, they drove off into the night, the city lights flickering in the distance.

---

The morning sun streamed through the windows, casting golden light over the wooden dining table. Richard sat hunched over, scrolling through his phone with half-lidded eyes, still groggy from last night. The exhaustion clung to him, weighing down his body like bricks.

His grandmother moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, humming an old tune as she flipped eggs in the pan. The smell of buttered toast and sizzling bacon filled the air, a small comfort in contrast to the chaos of the last few days.

Richard sighed, rubbing his face. "I swear, I feel like I got hit by a truck."

His grandmother chuckled. "That's what happens when you don't take care of yourself, sweetheart. Eat up."

Just as Richard reached for his fork, he heard the sound of heavy footsteps.

George.

The old man walked into the kitchen and casually pulled out a chair, sitting across from Richard. He poured himself a cup of coffee, acting way too normal for someone who usually spent his mornings holed up in his study.

Richard raised an eyebrow. "Wow. You're actually eating with us today?"

George took a sip of his coffee before answering. "What, am I not allowed?"

Richard smirked. "It's just weird seeing you act like a regular grandpa for once."

George snorted. "Don't get used to it."

His grandmother placed a plate of food in front of them, smiling warmly. "Now, no fighting. Just eat."

Richard rolled his eyes but dug into his breakfast anyway. He was halfway through his toast when George casually dropped the bomb.

"After you're done, head over to Nat's and check up on Amelia."

Richard nearly choked. "Wait, what? Why me?"

George took another sip of his coffee. "Standard protocol. She was just possessed. We need to make sure there are no lingering effects."

Richard groaned. "Didn't we already go through enough for her? She should be fine now."

George shrugged. "She should be. But we don't take chances with this kind of thing."

Richard set his fork down, eyeing his grandfather suspiciously. "Why do I have to go? You're the exorcist here."

George smirked. "Because you need the experience. Besides, didn't you and Nat bond so well that she invited you for dinner?"

Richard scowled. "She invited all of us, but you and Max couldn't shut your mouths."

George ignored the jab. "Either way, you're going. It's good practice."

Richard leaned back in his chair, groaning dramatically. "I didn't sign up to be a babysitter."

George raised an eyebrow. "Would you rather I deduct from your pay?"

Richard sat up immediately. "I'll go."

George smirked. "Thought so."

His grandmother chuckled as she refilled George's coffee. "He really knows how to push your buttons, doesn't he?"

Richard muttered under his breath, stuffing the last piece of toast in his mouth.

After finishing his meal, he grabbed his jacket and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

"I'm heading out."

His grandmother called after him, "Be careful, Richard!"

He waved her off and stepped outside. His old bicycle was leaning against the fence, slightly worn out but still functional.

The ride to Nat's house was long and exhausting. Richard's legs burned from pedaling, and the heat from the rising sun made his shirt stick to his back. He regretted not asking for bus fare, but knowing George, the old man would've probably told him to "build character" by cycling.

The streets were lively as usual—kids playing on the sidewalks, people walking their dogs, and store vendors setting up for the day. Everything seemed normal, yet Richard couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that had been clinging to him ever since last night.

He was about to check on a girl who should've been dead.

The thought made his stomach churn, but he pushed it aside.

Eventually, he reached Nat's house, hopped off his bike, and leaned it against the gate. Taking a deep breath, he rang the doorbell.

Silence.

After a few moments, footsteps echoed from inside. The door creaked open, and Richard found himself face-to-face with a man he had never seen before.

The man looked to be in his late 30s, tall with a solid build, short brown hair that was starting to gray at the edges, and a face that screamed exhaustion. His shirt was wrinkled like he hadn't slept well, and there was an immediate sharpness in his eyes that made Richard instinctively straighten up.

The man scanned him up and down, his expression unreadable. "Who are you?"

Richard blinked, caught off guard by the blunt question. "Uh… Richard?"

The man's expression didn't change. "Richard, what brings you here?"

Richard cleared his throat. "I'm here to check up on Amelia."

The man's stare hardened slightly. "Are you a doctor?"

Richard hesitated for a second before answering. "I'm an Exorcist."

The second those words left his mouth, the man's entire demeanor shifted. His jaw tightened, and a sharp scoff escaped his lips, filled with nothing but disdain.

"Don't you have any shame, Richard?"

Richard frowned, confused. "Excuse me?"

The man stepped forward slightly, his voice cold and sharp. "I said, don't you have any shame ripping off an old blind woman?"

Richard took a step back, stunned by the hostility. "What the hell are you talking about?"

The man folded his arms, his glare piercing. "Exorcist my ass. You're all the same—fake-ass tricksters preying on the weak, feeding them lies and taking their money."

Richard exhaled through his nose, already tired of this conversation.

"Look, man, I get it. There are scammers out there," Richard admitted, trying to keep his voice calm. "But I'm not one of them. Nat asked me to come here. I'm just doing my job."

The man scoffed again. "Your 'job' is to scam people?"

Richard groaned, rubbing his temple. "Dude, I'm literally just trying to check on Amelia. Why are you making this so difficult?"

The man's face darkened. "And I'm doing my duty as the son of this house and the father of Amelia."

Richard blinked. "You're her father?"

The man gave a slow nod, crossing his arms. "That's right. And as her father, I don't want con artists like you anywhere near my daughter."

Richard felt a headache forming. "Okay, then let me ask you something—do you even know what's wrong with her?"

The man's eyes flashed with something unreadable. "She was mentally ill. But she's getting better."

Richard's jaw clenched. "She wasn't mentally ill. She was possessed."

The man scoffed louder this time, shaking his head. "Oh, come on. Possession? That's the best you can come up with? What's next? Demons? Curses? You really expect me to believe that?"

Richard's patience was thinning. "Believe whatever the hell you want, man. But if she was just 'mentally ill,' then why the hell did she suddenly collapse? Why was she screaming like something was inside her? Why did Nat, your own mother, call us for help?"

The man flinched slightly, but his glare remained. "My mother is old. She's blind. She believes in a bunch of superstitious bullshit. That doesn't mean I do."

Richard scoffed. "So your mother, a trained healer, is an idiot? That's what you're saying?"

The man didn't answer, but Richard could see the tension in his jaw.

Richard pressed on. "And if you're so sure she was just 'mentally ill,' tell me—how do you explain the bruises that appeared out of nowhere? How do you explain the way she reacted when we tried to help her? Do you think that's just 'normal'?"

The man hesitated for a second before his glare sharpened again. "I don't have to explain anything to you. I'm her father. I decide what's best for her."

Richard let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah? Well, you're doing a shitty job at it."

The man's nostrils flared. "You little—"

Without warning, he raised his hand, his body tense with anger.

Richard barely had time to react—

"Let the boy in!"

Nat's Intervention

Nat's voice cut through the tension like a blade.

The man froze mid-motion, his fists trembling before he lowered them. He let out a frustrated breath, shaking his head.

"This is a mistake."

He stepped aside, but the look in his eyes made it clear—he still didn't trust Richard.

Richard didn't care. He stepped through the doorway, and the second he did, a heavy sense of unease settled over him.

Something about this place felt… wrong.