Everyone followed Dean's gaze and saw a shapely figure with a stunning body, dressed in a torn white gauze nightgown, still sitting in the passenger seat of Nick's Ford Explorer.
The figure radiated a soft white glow. She sat expressionlessly in the passenger seat, gazing reproachfully at Nick, who had his arm around Dahlia, as though he were an unfaithful lover.
Her gaze sent a chill through Nick's heart, and he instinctively drew his greatsword again. "Guys, can someone tell me what the hell is going on?"
Dean and Dahlia drew their own pistols as well, nervously aiming at the thing in the car, unsure whether she was human or ghost.
Sam swallowed hard, his voice trembling too. "I think this might be the real White Lady."
"What do you mean? Explain." Nick nervously shifted his position, shielding Dahlia behind him.
"You know there are legends about the 'White Lady' all over the country, right?" Sam pulled a glass bottle full of salt from his pocket and sprinkled a circle around them.
"So, strictly speaking, the 'White Lady' will never disappear completely. As long as the legends remain, she'll keep joining with the souls of unfortunate women, like a concept, perpetuating the legend."
"But Constance's soul should have disappeared with her children just now, shouldn't it?" Dean's voice trembled with tension as well.
"Yes, in theory, she should have gone dormant too, until another suitable soul appeared and joined with her again
to form a vengeful spirit, but now... hell, I don't know what's going on either!"
Sam kept his voice low as he rummaged through his pockets, pulling out a whole handful of things like a Bible and crucifixes.
While they stood at a loss, the "White Lady" opened the car door herself and stepped out. Nick was surprised