Chapter 145: It Fears You

As Janet spoke, a tangible shroud of fear crept across her visage, her eyes widening with the resurgence of haunting memories. Margaret, seated beside her, drew in several deep, steadying breaths, a testament to the chilling effect the mere mention of the name had on them both.

The sisters had been sharing the same room, and of late, Janet's sleepwalkings and murmured secrets in the dark had shattered the tranquility of Margaret's nights. Initially dismissing it as mere sibling mischief, Margaret's realization dawned with a chilling clarity: Janet was possessed by a spectral presence.

Jon's brow furrowed in a mix of concern and skepticism. "Who are you talking about?" he pressed.

"That... the one behind my sleepwalking episodes!" Janet responded, her voice a whisper of dread.

"And is this spirit present now?" Jon probed further, his gaze sweeping the room.

Janet's silence was a heavy veil, prompting Jon to issue a challenge to the unseen. "I invite you to reveal yourself," he called into the stillness.

The room held its breath, but no answer came.

Janet, who had been reclining with a deceptive casualness, now perched on the edge of the couch, her body taut with anxiety.

Margaret, sensing Jon's skepticism might dismiss their plight, interjected with urgency, "It's not her doing, you must believe us!"

Jon exhaled a weary sigh, his patience fraying. "This is your final chance. Show yourself willingly, or face my compulsion," he declared, his voice laced with a steely resolve that betrayed his previous leniency.

The sisters flinched at the ultimatum.

"Please, no! You mustn't antagonize it!" Margaret's plea was fervent, her hands fluttering in a desperate bid to deter Jon. The ghost's influence had sown a terror so profound that Margaret's expectations of a traditional exorcism were upended by Jon's direct threats, branding him in her eyes as recklessly unversed in the supernatural.

Abruptly, Janet ceased her agitated movements, collapsing back into the couch, her head drooping forward as if in defeat.

"Janet, are you alright?" Peggy's voice was laced with concern as she leaned forward.

All eyes converged on Janet, who remained motionless, her head bowed in an eerie stillness.

Then, after a tense pause, Janet's head rose incrementally, her gaze locking onto Jon with an unnerving intensity. Her breathing became labored, the sound grating and deep, utterly incongruent with her delicate frame, instead reminiscent of a weathered old man's rasping breath.

A palpable chill descended upon the room, the lights flickering as if in response to the growing dread.

Peggy and Margaret exchanged glances, their fear manifesting as a visceral, creeping terror that seemed to gnaw at their very souls.

Jon, undeterred by the ominous atmosphere, met Janet's altered demeanor with an icy smirk. "So, you've chosen to confront us after all?"

Margaret's heart skipped a beat as the realization dawned on her: the malevolent spirit that had taken residence within Janet was now among them, its presence palpable in the room. Initially, Margaret had harbored suspicions that Jon was nothing more than a charlatan, a trickster preying on her mother's gullibility. Yet, the unwavering confidence he exuded in the face of the supernatural painted a different picture—one where he was either supremely equipped to banish the ghost or was utterly unhinged. In the depths of her fear, Margaret clung to the hope that it was the former.

A chilling laughter spilled from Janet's lips, a sound that was paradoxically youthful and ancient, a dissonant symphony that sent shivers down their spines.

Peggy's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock, as she instinctively retreated. Margaret's gaze was fixed on Janet, her eyes reflecting the terror that clawed at her heart.

"Janet, are you alright?!" Ryan's voice, laced with concern, cut through the tension, but Peggy's hand on his arm halted him, her eyes now pinned on Jon with a mixture of fear and burgeoning hope.

Janet's voice, now a grave and raspy echo of her own, reverberated through the room, "Do not refer to me by her name!"

Jon, unfazed, took a leisurely sip of water before inquiring, "And what should we call you, if not Janet?"

The entity using Janet's voice declared, "She is sleeping! I am the one who holds sway now!"

Jon's response was a dismissive scoff. "Titles are inconsequential. I'll be blunt," he said, his gaze piercing. "Leave the girl's body, and then we can converse as equals."

The entity within Janet responded with a guttural roar, its gaze locked on Jon with malevolent intent.

The room's occupants recoiled in alarm, yet Jon merely shook his head, a wry chuckle escaping him. "Intimidation? A primitive tactic. Is this truly your gambit? Very well, allow me to assist you in your departure."

As he spoke, a subtle glow ignited within his eyes, a harbinger of unseen hellfire at his command.

Margaret's skepticism crumbled, replaced by a burgeoning faith in Jon's mysterious capabilities. The unfolding spectacle before her eyes hinted at a power beyond the mundane, a force that Jon seemed to wield with ease.

A spectral wail, old and wracked with torment, filled the room, yet Janet remained motionless, her form silent and still. The eerie cry seemed to emanate from her very essence.

In the wake of the haunting scream, a spectral figure materialized behind Janet—a wizened old man, his hair as white as moonlight.

While terror gripped the others, Jon regarded the apparition with an air of expectancy, his voice tinged with a hint of reproach. "Was this charade necessary? Had you heeded my warning, such suffering could have been spared. Now, shall we proceed?"

The spectral figure of the old man, now revealed to be the ghost that had been haunting Janet, stood before them, his demeanor unexpectedly benign. Jon's use of hellfire had not been an act of aggression, but rather a means to draw the spirit forth.

"I merely desired... to be with my family once more," the old man articulated slowly, his gaze settling on Jon with an expression that bore the warmth of a kindly grandfather rather than the coldness of a malevolent phantom.

"But they have long since departed from this world," he continued, his voice tinged with a melancholic note. "Yet, upon your arrival, I sense... perhaps now I can find peace, perhaps."

His tone shifted, a note of despair creeping in. "But I am bound here, unable to depart!"

Margaret, her protective instincts flaring, confronted the apparition. "Do you wish to continue haunting my sister?" she demanded, her voice echoing with both fear and defiance.

The old man turned his gaze to Margaret, his head shaking with a gentle, sorrowful motion. "It hungers for her, with a terrible longing, and it nearly claimed her! My intent was to expel you from this dwelling, to save you. However, my intervention is no longer required."

His eyes, now soft and weary, met Jon's. "It fears you!" he murmured, a note of awe in his voice. "The dread it feels in your presence is palpable. You possess a power it cannot contend with."

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