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“Some people spend Christmas Eve at home with their families,” Lorraine says, an hour into the car ride. Darkness swallows up cracked grey asphalt ahead of them. Outside the car there is silence, save for the rushing of the wind. Ed has been steadily breaking the speed limit for the past hour, hands white knuckled on the steering wheel, clutching it as tightly as he’d clutched his clumsy wooden cross. Inside the car has been silent too. Immediately after a job, successful or not, is the only time that Lorraine does not know Ed’s mind. Her skin is too busy to catch subtle sensations of his thoughts, tingling with adrenaline and the weight of fear— Her own, compounded by the fear of those around her, lingers long after the cause is gone. Lorraine turns towards the window. Dark branches claw across the muddy grey sky as forest opens onto expansive fields. Lorraine tries not to search each shadow for beady red eyes. They’re nearly an hour from home. If Ed keeps speeding, they’ll make it in time for midnight Mass. Sometimes Lorraine thinks these moments are the one thing about her that Ed doesn’t understand. During a job, Lorraine takes on everyone’s weight, bearing down under the myriad sensations. She lets all her filters go, attuned to every shift and breath and speck within the space. It is only with Lorraine’s finger on the so-called spiritual pulse that they would be able to save as many lives as they have. Coming down after holding herself so taut, at such high attention, often takes Lorraine the better part of a night. But it feels awful, like she’s drawing away from Ed after they’ve touched Hell and drawn each other back. Any comfort Lorraine needs, she ought to be able to find with him, shouldn’t she? But her heart is still pounding, half of her mind still stuck in that house, shadows streaming down the walls and a tiny child crying out for help in a voice that was not her own.“Of course,” Lorraine continues, “It’s thanks to us that that family can celebrate Christmas at all.”“Do you think we should’ve stayed?” Ed asks. They’d been invited, of course. Tear stained faces, adult and child, beamed up at them gratefully and offered anything they could scrounge up from the ruined, hollow house. Oranges, strands of lights, what few ornaments hadn’t been pulverized under running feet and clawing arms. Gracefully as always, the Warrens declined. “No, of course not. It was kind of them to offer, but we should be home for Judy. We have to get everything ready for Christmas morning.”“And we’re barely in time for Mass as it is,” Ed agrees. “What’s on your mind?”Lorraine knows better than not to answer, so she takes a moment to think. Her mind is still a swirling maelstrom of other people’s emotions, adrenaline high forcing her to fight against a threat that no longer exists. There are no demonic shadows, nothing clawing for control of her mind. She exhales long and heavy. It’s just her and Ed. “I’m still afraid,” she admits. “Just feeling the echoes. I’m worried about Judy, about Christmas… about going to Mass with bloodstains on my skirt.” An ironic laugh escapes as she hears her words out loud. Stiff, dark blood has dried in streaks down the plaid wool of her skirt, hardly noticeable within the folds but impossible for her to ignore. Is it wrong, she wonders? Bringing blood and echoes of mortal terror into a holiday service, a time when everything should be peaceful and bright? “Judy’s fine,” Ed begins. “Christmas will be fine too, honey. Better than fine. You know Judy’s going to adore the books you picked out for her.”“I hope so.”“As for Mass, I think the comfort of Christ’s birth is exactly what we need,” Ed continues. “He died for our sins, yes, but He was also born for us. And we’re doing God’s work, I believe He would also want to see us celebrate in His house.”“I hadn’t thought of it that way.”After days of seeing him grave and serious, Ed’s smile opens up his face. Lorraine reaches out to him, and they pass the rest of the drive holding onto each other. 🕯️🕯️🕯️ Color streams from every church window, staining the snow with green, red, and gold. Lorraine huddles close to Ed as they walk inside, following a stream of women wrapped in thick headscarves and men in snow caked boots. Shadows cluster around the high peaks of the stony ceiling but the altar is dripping with light, laden with candles that chase away any gloom. Each candle melts gently in a bed of greenery, speckled with bright red berries. At the center is a creche, each figurine carved in bent supplication, circled around a holy child.Ed guides Lorraine to a pew towards the front. As soon as she sinks into the familiar wood, surrounded by warm air, flickering light, and hushed chatter, Lorraine feels all urgency seep from her bones. Safety— Barely noticeable in its absence, but devastating in its return, because she realizes how far off it felt all along. Ed sits beside her and Lorraine leans against him, laying her head on his shoulder. Her whole body is suffused with the glow of the candles, slowly warming her from the outside in. Comfort is not a scarce resource; the safety she had to sacrifice and the fear she had to push aside in order to save others returns tenfold. She has given comfort, and now she also receives it.Lorraine doesn’t sit up until Mass begins. The ringing of the bells and voices raised in prayer allow her mind to drift. She rubs the warm beads of her rosary, exactly the temperature of her skin, one by one. Judy is likely to wake up by seven or eight tomorrow and come bounding into Ed and Lorraine’s room, all sleepy eyes and brilliant grin. She’s always been a good sleeper, but no ten year old is immune to Christmas. This year it was difficult shopping for gifts. Lorraine didn’t feel comfortable getting her a doll after Annabelle, and the more she thought about it, the less inclined she felt to buy anything that she and Ed have locked away. She doesn’t want Judy getting too comfortable with dolls or music boxes when very dangerous versions of those same items are kept in their house. Hopefully Judy will like the books Lorraine got her— She was lucky to find a beautiful hardcover set of the Narnia series. It’s one of Judy’s favorites, the one book series that she doesn’t read with her grandma, only Ed or Lorraine. Of course, due to their busy schedule, they haven’t gotten past the second book. But Lorraine has high hopes now that Judy will own the series.The voices of the choir jolt Lorraine fully back to wakefulness. She adjusts her stance and grabs her hymn book, singing along without raising her voice. Candles dance and flicker before her eyes as she focuses on Ed’s voice. He knows most hymns by heart and she catches him humming them around the house sometimes. Usually she doesn’t comment on it, except to ask him to sing louder. Ed’s voice is warm and honeyed, a light alto that fills Lorraine’s ears and warms her body. She could listen to him forever. By the time they sit down from singing, she’s mesmerized. She can’t help snuggling up against him again. Tomorrow morning will be Christmas… It isn’t just about presents, though, which Lorraine isn’t sure she truly understood as a child. Christmas is about family, safety, and Christ. Faith is vital to Lorraine’s everyday life, but tonight she understands the weight of the homily even more. Each one spreads through her mind, coloring a full picture of gratitude. The single sparkling star, the shepherds and kings, the confused but obedient parents, and of course, the powerful yet tiny child… Lorraine has all of them to thank for the gifts she can give others. Without Christ, Lorraine wouldn’t have been able to leave a family of five with tears on their cheeks but smiles on their faces, embracing a child who had almost been lost to them and knowing they were safe to celebrate Christ’s birth. It was only through Him that Lorraine and Ed had been able to save them. She is so, so lucky. Any lingering fear has dissipated, leaving her bones heavy with relief. Lorraine has encountered terrible things. Families, broken apart, unable to even speak with one another save for screaming. Children’s bodies, twisted in unnatural ways, bones breaking under the force of some senseless act of violence. Yet in a crowd full of heads bowed in worship, blanketed by the confident comfort of a man of God, it all seems far away and unreal. This is what’s real— The faith that has always saved her. It would do Lorraine good to remember this more. There will always be sacred places. Christmas Mass, with Ed strong and solid at her side, is the most sacred anyplace can be.“Lorraine. Darling, wake up.” A hand shaking her shoulder brings Lorraine up from the haze of her thoughts. At some point her eyes had closed, now she blinks them open in the dim light of sputtering candles. “Did I fall asleep?” She lifts a leadlined arm to rub at her face. Ed smiles down at her, brushing a curl away from her cheek. “Just a bit. I don’t think Father Elijah was too offended.” “Oh, no, I feel awful,” Lorraine says, bracing herself on the pew and hauling her tired body up. “Where is he? I should apologize.”“No, we should get you home,” Ed says, putting an arm around her shoulders. He guides her in the last straggling crowd down the aisle. “It’s okay to be tired, you know.”“I can be tired, but falling asleep in Mass?”“Did you dream?”“No, I was just thinking… thinking about God.”Ed rubs her arm, tugging her closer with a low chuckle. “See? You’re fine, honey. Let’s just get you to bed.” 🕯️🕯️🕯️ Lorraine peeks in on Judy before going to bed, but she’s fast asleep, her face tucked into the crook of her elbow and her dark hair spread across her pillow. The measured rise and fall of her chest is mesmerizing, but Lorraine tears herself away after a few breaths. Ed’s body heat has already warmed the sheets when she crawls in. He takes one look at her, laying her head gently on the pillow as though it may explode with sudden movement, and turns out the light.“Going to Mass was the right call, huh?” he says into the darkness. Lorraine smiles into her pillow.“Still can’t believe I fell asleep.”Ed’s laugh rings in her ears, as beautiful as the bells at Mass. “Barely. It was at the very end, and I didn’t have the heart to wake you.””You should’ve.”“You looked beautiful. Very peaceful.” Sheets rustle as Ed rolls over, then his arm curves along Lorraine’s waist. “And now you can sleep for real.”“I’m so lucky to have you. Ed.” Lorraine twists around, seeking him in the darkness. Their kiss is clumsy but soft. “I love you,” she whispers. “I love you too, Lorraine.”She spares a moment for thinking about the family they left. Three children who had been so terrified of their little sister, embracing her as the Warrens drove away. The house had been hardly decorated, dark in the neighborhood of glittering Christmas trees and spotlit crèches. When Lorraine had first stepped inside, she felt nothing but cold, as though it had been empty for many years and damp had encroached on the rosy wallpaper and heirloom china. Despite a family of five living there, Lorraine had felt nothing until they had blessed every corner of the house and chased out the demonic presence. They were only lucky it hadn’t dug deeper into the children. “They’re safe now,” Ed says, reading her thoughts in the way he always does. “And so are we.”“I know. Go to sleep, Ed.”“I’m thinking about them too,” he says. “You know it always lingers in my mind… Could we have done anything better?”Though Lorraine had wondered that on the car ride home, she’s confident now when she answers “No, honey. We saved them. Well, God did.”She can hear the smile in Ed’s voice. “We helped.”Sleep has drifted in, rising through her mind like fog from dewy grass, almost taking over when Ed says “Hey. Merry Christmas.”Too sleepy to even hear her voice out loud, she responds, “Merry Christmas, Ed.”