If that minor spirit hadn't been killed, Nina Bell—who had sacrificed her soul to it for power—wouldn't have been trapped inside that voodoo doll at all.
But now that the spirit was dead, Nina had lost her source of power. She was nothing more than a vengeful ghost trapped entirely inside the doll.
Besides...
By chopping down that spirit, Locke had essentially ensured that Nina wasn't far from actual death either.
The idea that a debt dies with the person was a rule for the mortal world.
It didn't apply to Hell.
And it definitely didn't apply to anyone making a deal with Hell.
To put it simply, Nina Bell was already dead. She was only technically alive in a sense because of the power the spirit had lent her.
But that was the spirit's power, not her own.
Now that the spirit was out of the game, taking its power with it, Nina would eventually fade away once her remaining energy ran out, even if she hadn't kicked the bucket alongside her debt collector right away.
Still...
Chester looked over at Locke.
"Didn't you say you wanted to find out why they wanted you at the final execution visit? Don't you want to see what kind of game they're trying to play?"
The corners of Locke's mouth curled up.
"I don't need to anymore."
Hearing this, Carrie looked at Locke with a hint of curiosity.
Locke looked down and let out a soft laugh. "I don't need to investigate the 'why' at all, because solving cases isn't my job. I just need to know they have a death wish, and that makes things incredibly simple."
What a joke.
Solving crimes was George's job, and George was the one who actually needed evidence.
I'm an assassin.
I go by gut feeling. If I feel like you're plotting something against me, that's more than enough. I don't need to overthink anything else.
Locke sneered.
Why make things so complicated? It was much better to keep it simple.
Chester wasn't exactly surprised by Locke's answer; in fact, it was entirely expected. After all, this disciple of his was a absolute powerhouse who could turn a "stealth mission" into a complete slaughter where killing everyone counted as perfect stealth.
He truly was the youngest cowboy out of Texas.
The world of Texas didn't have room for intricate conspiracies; everything was straightforward, just like the attack style of the serial killers native to Texas.
Simple and brutal.
Serial killers in other regions loved to pull psychological stunts, set elaborate traps, and deploy one technical method after another. But Texas killers had always been direct.
And they were deeply passionate about melee weapons.
Even if you sent an entire army to catch one, he'd dare to rev up a chainsaw and charge you head-on.
Though, from a certain perspective, Locke hadn't entirely inherited the proudest traditions of those folks. He still fought head-on, but he mostly did it using his alternate identities.
It was still a little embarrassing when he thought about it.
Locke sighed slightly to himself, but there was really no other way around it. He was still young—just a seventeen-year-old kid—and needed a bit more time to grow.
As for right now?
Locke stood up from the sofa and stretched. "Alright, I'm heading out."
He had already cut off the problem at its root by destroying the spirit providing Nina Bell with her power. What could a vengeful ghost do if it couldn't even leave the voodoo doll?
If she tried to act like an air conditioner, her cooling effect wouldn't even match a single horsepower.
Plus, he already knew where the doll was.
The rest of the plan would be easy.
Finding evidence to send someone to God was the New York Police Department's business. Locke didn't need evidence; he just needed his instincts to send people straight to Mephisto.
Locke felt like he was practically a VIP client for Mephisto at this rate.
He wondered if he'd get a loyalty discount whenever he had to deal with Hell in the future.
On his way back.
Locke received a phone call from Arthur.
On the line, Arthur informed him that he was officially "dead."
Locke offered his congratulations, and then hung up the phone.
With Arthur "dead," it meant that cheap excuse for an apprentice of his wouldn't be surviving after all.
Locke chuckled after putting his phone away.
By evening...
Night fell.
Locke swapped places with his clone, who had gone out to buy pizza for a late-night snack. Back in his room, he opened his safe, flicked his right wrist, and tossed an antique doll inside.
He had thought it would take a bit of effort to acquire.
He never expected that lawyer wouldn't even bother hiding the doll. He had left it right out in the open in his living room, and the guy had even left the TV on for it.
The next day.
"Morning!"
"Morning!"
Having received a call from Locke early in the morning, Carrie had been waiting by the curb. When she saw Locke's car pull up, she opened the door, hopped in, and greeted him.
"Where are we going?"
Locke replied,
"A church."
Carrie: "..."
Inside the church.
Locke exchanged warm pleasantries with the priest, and then brought up his "troubles." He mentioned feeling like his home was a bit haunted lately, so he wanted to purchase some holy water to protect himself.
The priest accepted the ten thousand dollars Locke presented as a donation to the church. With a profoundly kind expression, he declared that God loved all mankind and would never allow His faithful followers to suffer.
Half an hour later.
Locke lugged a container of holy water the size of a water cooler jug into the back seat, and then drove Carrie back to the Stark Tower.
*Glug, glug, glug!*
*Glug, glug, glug!*
Locke directly poured the expensive holy water into a large plastic bucket in front of him.
Behind him...
The antique doll was letting out a faint wail, looking like it had completely given up on life.
"Roar!"
*Crack!*
"Ah!"
The exact moment Nina Bell—now a vengeful ghost since she lost her demonic power source—tried to burst out of the doll to strangle Locke, a whip-like flash of black light zipped through the air. It lashed the spirit hard, making it shriek in agony as it shrank right back into the doll.
Nina Bell's flat face surfaced on the antique doll, filled with pure malice and a tiny hint of regret.
Standing nearby to make sure Nina couldn't find a way to self-destruct, Carrie suddenly realized exactly what Locke was planning to do.
It was a bit cruel.
Carrie thought.
But...
She felt absolutely zero sympathy!
She had tried treating the world with kindness before, but the world hadn't returned the favor. Just like Locke said, in this world, the only reward for being kind was being bullied.
"Alright."
Locke finished dumping the entire jug of holy water inside. "Carrie, the doll!"
Carrie acknowledged the cue.
Locke took the antique doll without even looking at it, fastened a heavy piece of iron to it, and dropped it straight into the bucket of holy water.
The next second...
Screams and agonizing wails echoed throughout the first-floor living room!
There was even...
The distinct sound of something sizzling and burning!
It sounded exactly like a barbecue.
However, once you stepped out of the apartment, you couldn't hear a single thing even if you stood right outside the door.
That was exactly why Locke had brought Carrie along.
Soundproofing.
And...
She acted as a great cooler!
A few days later.
After waking up, Locke poured himself a glass of bourbon and returned to his study. Sitting down in his computer chair, he took a sip and looked at his monitor.
On the screen was a live surveillance feed.
To be precise, it was a feed from the prison's electric chair chamber, along with a smaller camera feed showing the observation room outside. Right now, several FBI agents and representatives from the District Attorney's office had already arrived.
Naturally...
That lawyer, Nick Rice, was there as well.
Just then...
Locke blinked in surprise as he watched a woman walk in right behind the lawyer.
He actually recognized her.
Though they had only met once—she was the other professional authenticator who had been present when Taylor King came over to appraise the Voodoo Compendium.
Locke set his glass aside, connected to the DMV database, took a screenshot of the woman's face, and ran it through the system.
Very quickly...
A driver's license was pulled up, along with a highly detailed file.
Miriam Shelton.
Female.
Thirty-two years old.
Book authentication expert at the Brooklyn Museum of History. She had a husband and a daughter. Her husband, Clyde Shelton, was a freelancer who held a vast number of patents. Her daughter, Angie, was five years old.
After a moment...
Locke stroked his chin as he looked over Clyde Shelton's data. He fell silent for a bit, then looked up at the ceiling. "Langley!"
No matter how you looked at Clyde Shelton's profile, it had the CIA's handwriting written all over it. Not a single arrest record, a completely law-abiding citizen—man, if this guy wasn't CIA, Locke would happily wash his hair while standing on his head.
But what about this Miriam Shelton?
She was an ordinary person, or at most, a civilian who had occasional dealings with the criminal underworld's auction houses.
That was common enough.
Some museum authenticators were quietly hired by wealthy individuals on the side to verify antiquities, much like how some hospital nurses and doctors moonlighted as underworld medics.
Life wasn't easy, and everyone needed to make a living; it was easy to understand.
At the same time, Locke pulled up Miriam Shelton's complete phone logs. The number for the lawyer, Nick Rice, was right there in the history.
The timestamp was exactly the day after Rice had failed to invite Locke.
On the surveillance screen...
Nick Rice led Miriam Shelton—who looked a bit lost, clearly not knowing why she had been invited here—to her seat.
Soon...
As the clock struck 9:30 AM, the doors to the execution chamber opened. Two people were brought in under heavy restraint and quickly bolted securely into the electric chairs.
At that moment, Nick Rice stood up and walked into the execution room. He flashed his ID to the correctional officers inside, and once the guards left the room, he finally turned to face the Bell couple sitting in the electric chairs, awaiting their execution.
Locke rested his chin on his fingers, leaning against the armrest as he watched Nick Rice talk to the Bells with immense curiosity. At the same time, he silently opened his skill menu and upgraded his lip-reading skill.
Once the lip-reading skill reached the advanced level, Locke could instantly understand exactly what Nick Rice was saying.
Nick Rice didn't look around. With his hands in his pockets and a deadpan expression, he seemed to be delivering a lawyer's final farewell to his clients: "You two, Nina Bell wanted me to pass on a message. A demon is willing to accept your sacrifice, so you don't need to look for any other spirits to trade for power."
Locke raised an eyebrow!!