The scenery flew by with barely a glance passed to it from Morgan. She wasn’t even slightly worried, truth be told. Powerful spirits were something she knew how to handle well. While it was certainly true that her mental repertoire was vast, having practiced her Craft for most of her life and having had passed on to her the ancient knowledge of her bloodline, being both a medium and an incubus - or succubus, as the case may be - had given her a certain special insight into the veil that separated the living and the dead. There were ways to merge the two, of course, and there were many ways to pierce the veil entirely - but that wasn’t the issue at hand.<br/><br/>“Salt isn’t just good for absorbing water,” she said as she drove. “It’s long been a pure substance used to ward off certain things, mostly spirits. Iron is the only other substance that is known to be able to hurt them. But while salt burns them temporarily, wounds caused by iron are far more permanent.”<br/><br/>They soon came to the edge of a sort of miniature forest. She parked by the side of the road and stepped outside. She locked her door, opened up her trunk, and then opened up the doctor’s bag therein. Within the bag resided pockets, racks, holders, and the like - all containing just a little bit of everything. She pulled out a tray lying atop to reveal some larger tools beneath, including large white candles the likes of which might be seen in any given church. She removed just one of these and three empty jars of her special design. Then she put the tray back and pulled out a black velvet sack with a red velour interior and started putting things into it.<br/><br/>When she had what she needed, she closed the trunk.<br/><br/>“We’ll need to head into the woods here. I know the perfect spot,” she told her guest.<br/><br/>Oddly enough, the “woods” were actually part of the property owned by the St. Mary’s Church. That old wives’ tale about witches not being able to set foot on hallowed ground was as authentic as the film Hocus Pocus. It was into the southwest corner she led her fellow medium, until she found a secluded spot among the trees that offered a lot of shade; at this late hour, it was darker than it usually was. That wouldn’t be a problem, however.<br/><br/>The first thing she did was to set out the large white candle. Then she pulled out thirteen smaller candles and set them into a ring headed by the larger one. She instructed her guest to stand in the centre. She could feel the air getting crisper but the temperature wasn’t dropping as it normally would have. The candles weren’t pure-white; their wicks were dark-blue, and that was their real benefit. It would draw the spectre in, yet it would be unable to pierce the veil once the candles were lit. Which actually begged another question…<br/><br/>“I must ask you something,” she said, “and you must be honest with me. Have the spirits chasing you tried to directly harm you in the past?”<br/><br/>Throwing a door was one thing. Clawing at someone was entirely different. She wasn’t worried because he wore the pendant, but he it might cause him to panic being in such close proximity to the poltergeist if she lit the candles<span style="font-style: italic">after</span>the poltergeist drew near rather than before. In either case, she removed a tall jar with a black lid; the liquid inside was as black as night, and it bubbled and churned like boiling tar. She set that aside for the moment before setting the three jars in a triangular pattern within the circle of candles and opening up their spouts. She set the black-lidded jar at the exact centre of the circle before facing the largest of the white candles. She would not leave him alone within the circle; she, too, would be within its confines. She had to be for this to work.