Chương 81: Chapter 81: Old Mac
In the case of a paranormal event, if the person involved isn't dead, tracing the cause is relatively simple, and there might even be a chance of triggering a random task.
However, since Frank Lynch unfortunately died, York can only proceed with his original plan: to visit a certain place. While seeing a friend, he would also deliver the spiritual powder he had come across by chance.
Soon, York arrived at his destination: a 24-hour convenience store located in Stanford.
After glancing at the seemingly empty convenience store due to the lack of people around, York casually parked his car, and stopped the recording on his phone.
It was unusually quiet in the back seat.
"A three-point spirit attachment can only last for three hours?"
York looked back at the back seat, ignoring the Annabelle doll and other mediums for evil spirits, and took the Bluetooth speaker back.
After about three hours of playing, York could no longer sense any divine energy from this Bluetooth speaker.
"So this form of consumption means one spirit power equals one hour of effect?"
With this experimental result, York's look at the Annabelle doll became gentler.
"Stay put for me, I'll be counting on you guys from now on."
Content, York picked up the backpack from the passenger seat, spoke to the empty back seat, and then got out of the car.
[1:29]
York, carrying a backpack bigger than a hiking one, entered the 24-hour convenience store like a traveler.
The store looked typical, with a wide array of goods in the front and a cash register beside, manned by a dark-skinned middle-aged man. He nodded respectfully at York.
"Father York, it's been a while since you've been here."
"Yeah."
York responded casually, carrying his backpack, which looked just like a normal bag on his shoulder, and walked toward the back wall.
"Todd, open the door for me."
"Right away!"
Todd, the cashier, pressed the 'Y' key on the keyboard beneath his computer as he responded.
As York approached the wall, it split open with a creak, revealing an elevator.
To ordinary people, this might seem strange, but for York, it was normal. This was all to prevent accidental entry by the uninitiated. Just like Roline had said earlier, ordinary people have their world, and those who are different have theirs.
York stepped in, and the door closed automatically, taking him to his destination.
Six seconds later.
When the elevator doors opened, York saw a corridor bathed in red light, resembling a bar's decor, with music faintly audible in the background.
Remembering a certain individual's preferences, York shook his head and walked out of the elevator into the corridor. The deeper he went, the louder the music became.
Rock, country...
Listening to the music and reaching the end, everything suddenly became clear.
York, standing at the entrance with his backpack, squinted his eyes. Above was the convenience store, and below was a bar-like setting. It had everything a boutique bar should have.
A narrow bar counter, shelves filled with various bottles, and scattered sofa booths.
At a glance, each booth had patrons – playing cards, drinking, sitting quietly listening to music, or chatting. There were men and women, but not all the patrons were necessarily human.
Smelling the faint scent of lava, York, with his now seemingly tiny backpack, walked down the stairs nonchalantly.
As the rock music played, the tall and robust priest attracted everyone's attention. As York passed by, a synchronous rhythm occurred – everyone momentarily stopped what they were doing.
However, aside from those unfamiliar with the situation, these people merely glanced and then diverted their eyes.
Curiosity, suspicion, fear, stiffness – these expressions could be seen all around.
The playful atmosphere changed for a moment, but York didn't mind. Most of the patrons here, other than the exorcists with special abilities or unorthodox methods, were mostly demons accidentally summoned and registered, now in human form.
Bluntly speaking, many were familiar faces York had dealt with before. The demons still here were either trained by the church or were content to live peacefully, enjoying human life. Compared to the destroyed demons, these obedient, job-holding demons were the real winners of life.
Thinking this, York walked through the door into another area.
Behind him, relieved sighs echoed.
Click!
The environment changed again. This place had the same layout as the convenience store above – rows of shelves, but instead of regular goods, they were filled with books, various jars, and peculiar formalin-soaked specimens.
York's gaze stopped at the counter ahead. There was an old man with cool features, wearing reading glasses and a pipe in his mouth, hunched over a microscope.
"Father Mac, what new thing are you researching now?"
At the sound of York's voice, the old man at the counter paused his work. He removed his glasses and looked up, his expression changing from puzzled to surprised.
"York?"
Seeing the old man's expression change, York stopped in front of the counter, placing his backpack on it. He glanced at the piece of meat under the microscope and smiled.
"Surprised to see me?"
"Hmm, indeed I am."
Recognizing York, the old man put down his glasses and showed a genuinely happy smile, creasing the lines on his forehead.
"Why do you have time to come here?"
"I exorcised a spirit and happened to be passing by, so I thought I'd come see you." York answered truthfully, pulling out a bundle of Franklins from his backpack and handing them over.
"Hmm, I've also got some spirit powder."
"Spirit powder?"
At this, Old Mac's white eyebrows lifted slightly. He took the crumpled bundle, holding his pipe in his left hand, and uncovered it to peek at the powder inside.
"This stuff has been in short supply recently."
Confirming its authenticity, Old Mac put away the bundle and pointed at York with his pipe, smiling.
"But I knew it, you wouldn't leave your nest unless you had to."
"You know me well."
York smiled, looking at the old man before him, reminiscing. Despite being retired, this man was at least a bishop in his prime.
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