Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness. Ephesians 5:11

“Hiya hon!” The bell above the door rang as Lorraine walked in, her chipper voice opposing the tired eyes scanning the shelves for a moment as she approached the desk. 

“I don’t suppose you’ve got any Aspen Soda at all? We were just driving by and I had a real craving.” Her eyes moved back to the window, watching her husband pop the hood of their car with rolled sleeves, before turning back to the staff member. 

Lorraine’s nose gave a slight wrinkle when he swore, never the biggest fan of the more BIBLICAL comments people liked to use, the blasphemy so ingrained in American culture. But she would never comment, it was perfectly his right to say it. 

The offer of stew was met with another gracious smile, her trusting nature coming out without a second thought. 

“That would be wonderful. My husband has the tendency to get a little CRANKY if he hasn’t eaten in a while, bless his soul.” And likewise, she certainly would not say no to some real food, happy to avoid the unending list of preservatives and sugars packed into bright packaging. 

 She twirled the rosary draping from her wrist around her fingers as she spoke, picking up a orange can from the fridge with interest. 

LIKE MOTHER LIKE DAUGHTER

Her hands gripped tightly to her husbands and Drew’s, eyes open to unfocused, staring past the ring of people in this séance of sorts and focusing on the entirely different world she was seeing. Her body may be at the table, but her spirit was in the vision, apparitional form was wandering the castle and guided by a force in her chest to approach the chapel doors in an attempt to find what she was seeking. 

Azrael. The name rings bells, but not enough of one to place. 

But there is comfort to be found in the words, that she has no need to feel afraid of the company, even if her gut twisted uncomfortably at the very idea. 

She knew enough of the bad things in this world to know they would not waste time trying to assure you they were anything but ROTTEN.

“Azrael,” It was repeated in a soft tone, trying hard to memorise the name on sight, if only to know she had control of the power that came with it, just as she had with Valak.                                                        A name was a defence, and not one she would                                                                                                    ever take lightly again. 

“Hiya hon!” The bell above the door rang as Lorraine walked in, her chipper voice opposing the tired eyes scanning the shelves for a moment as she approached the desk. 

“I don’t suppose you’ve got any Aspen Soda at all? We were just driving by and I had a real craving.” Her eyes moved back to the window, watching her husband pop the hood of their car with rolled sleeves, before turning back to the staff member. 

“A few hours?” Lorraine looked back towards Wyatt, before her eyes fell to the candy bars on display, not looking at the labels so much as simply finding something to look at. “Oh dear, we really are off the main road, aren’t we? I told him to turn left!” It wasn’t anger in her tone, more a fond exasperation - driving with Ed was hardly a TRIAL, listening to the radio and getting to just talk. If anything, she enjoyed it more than most, even after all this time she still loved her husband and spending time with him as much as the day she married him.

Her eyes turned to the drinks cabinet, kneeling down on the shop floor to look through the cans. 

“It’s a lovely shop.” Lorraine’s comment was GENUINE as she glanced around at the antiquities. She had only popped in to fill time - she always seemed to arrive FAR too early to pick Judy up from school - but found herself transfixed with the items around her. 

One hand, rosary wrapped and pale, stayed close to her chest, and the other skimmed along the display table, careful not to TOUCH for fear of seeing more than she wished. 

Lorraine found herself incredibly thankful for the glove. 

She had been carrying her gift for her entire adult life, it had been company in childhood too, yet she had still not found a polite way to avoid shaking a hand when it was offered. A glove alleviated that, and allowed her to shake with a gentle grip, giving Mina a smile. 

“Lorraine.” No last name, no extra context - she didn’t want to be Mrs Warren today, she didn’t want to be cooky or a weirdo or anything other than a person, as best as she could pull such a thing off. 

“ hey ! come in, come in.  don’t mind the mess - i'm just sorting through the donations for the boot sale.  lotsa bric-a-brac which i'm not entirely convinced we’ll shift. unless you know anyone in the market for a ceramic porcupine-shaped ashtray? ”

Oh, how the times changed! 

“Ah - as a mother, I will say I understand how quickly cookies can disappear from a baking tray.” Lorraine’s voice remained kind as she tried her best to politely ignore the clutter, hands moving to lift her skirt above her ankles as she made her way over the bag to follow the priest. 

Then he swears, and Lorraine’s eyes dart up in shock.

                                                         She had never met a priest with such foul language! 

But she covered it quickly, plastering on a smile as he turned back to her. 

Her hands gripped tightly to her husbands and Drew’s, eyes open to unfocused, staring past the ring of people in this séance of sorts and focusing on the entirely different world she was seeing. Her body may be at the table, but her spirit was in the vision, apparitional form was wandering the castle and guided by a force in her chest to approach the chapel doors in an attempt to find what she was seeking. 

Lorraine knew what felt WRONG, what felt unholy and unapproachable, but she didn’t have full control over her actions in a form like this. No ability to snap back to reality or run away - only to FOLLOW. 

                                                                          To listen to instruction like a good girl and sit,                                                                                   perching on the other end of the pew. 

"Ed, remember me. She tried to turn you against me, because she thinks our love is our weakness. But it’s not. It’s not. It’s our strength."

“If you believe in ghosts and demons, what makes curses so different?” Lorraine didn’t UNDERSTAND the way people picked and chose what they would believe in, like it was a customisable option instead of the blatant truth vs misinformation.

If the devil existed, then he had to have followers - and if people followed the devil, why not believe they would call upon him in malicious ways?

Lorraine shuffled her hand back into her sleeve, using the fabric as a barrier between skin and paper as she opened the old pages, not yet willing to establish a connection with whoever started the curse. Not again.

“All I know is the last kid who touched this scratched out his own eyes, and I don’t want that happening to anybody else.” Even the thought made her feel SICK, the flashing images of bloody hands that she couldn’t shake, and she swallowed back a lump in her throat. 

God, she had MISSED having an assistant. Especially now, with Ed still out of commission and on a mild form of bedrest until his heart recovered.

-

She was glad the professor didn’t offer a hand to shake, or worse, try to hug her too like had Richard. Instead Lorraine kept a pleasant smile on her face and her hands firmly in front of her, resting with the rosary wrapped around pale fingers as she followed behind.