Chapter 39: SARAH'S SECOND VISIT
Sarah's car pulled into the Warren driveway at 10 AM on a cold March morning.
I watched from the study window, my packed bag waiting by the door, two days away from leaving for the most dangerous case of my life. The timing was terrible. The timing was perfect. Life rarely cared about convenience.
Lorraine appeared beside me, following my gaze.
"She's the journalist? The one from last summer?"
"She's more than a journalist now."
"I can see that." Lorraine's voice was gentle, knowing. "You care about her."
"Is it that obvious?"
"To anyone with eyes. Or psychic abilities." A small smile. "Go help her with her bag. Ed's finishing breakfast, and Judy's been asking about 'the pretty lady Paul knows' all morning."
I went.
Sarah looked different than she had in January—more confident, less uncertain. She wore a blue sweater that brought out her eyes and jeans that had seen actual fieldwork instead of just looking fashionable. When she saw me approaching, her face lit up in a way that made my chest tighten.
"You're really here," she said.
"You're really here. That's more surprising."
"I told you I wanted to know more about your world." She pulled a small overnight bag from her trunk. "Consider this my official application for a tour."
"The tour comes with some scary parts."
"I've seen scary. I can handle scary." She took my hand, squeezed it. "What I can't handle is not knowing what you're walking into. You said you have a case this weekend. A big one."
"The biggest I've ever faced."
"Then I need to meet your family properly before you leave. In case..." She stopped, didn't finish the sentence.
In case you don't come back.
"Come on," I said. "They're waiting for you."
The introductions went better than I'd feared.
Ed was politely cautious at first—another journalist, another potential threat to his family's privacy—but Sarah won him over within ten minutes. She asked smart questions about his work, listened carefully to his answers, and when he mentioned his father's Navy service, she shared stories about her own grandfather who'd served in Korea.
By the time breakfast was finished, Ed was showing her his case files like she was a new recruit.
Lorraine was harder to read. She watched Sarah with those psychic eyes, evaluating something deeper than words could express. When she finally spoke, it was with quiet certainty.
"You care about him."
Sarah didn't flinch from the directness. "I do."
"He's a good man, but this life... it's not easy. The things he faces, the dangers he walks into—they follow him home. They affect everyone around him."
"I know. I've seen some of it myself."
"And you're still here."
"I'm still here." Sarah met Lorraine's gaze directly. "I don't pretend to understand everything about Paul's world. But I understand that he needs people who support him, who don't run away when things get strange. If I can be one of those people..."
Lorraine studied her for a long moment. Then, slowly, she smiled.
"Maybe you can. That's rare." She touched Sarah's hand. "Welcome to our chaos."
Judy's approval was more immediate and enthusiastic.
"You're pretty," she announced, appearing in the kitchen doorway with the authority of an eight-year-old who'd already made up her mind. "Uncle Paul says you're smart too. Are you going to marry him?"
"Judy!" I felt heat rising in my cheeks.
"What? Mom says you should always ask important questions."
Sarah laughed—the first genuine laugh I'd heard from her since she arrived. "I don't know about marriage yet. We're still getting to know each other."
"That's okay. Mom and Dad knew each other for a while before they got married too." Judy considered this seriously. "But you should definitely keep him. He needs someone to take care of him when he's not fighting monsters."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Judy nodded, satisfied that adult matters had been properly addressed, and disappeared back into the house to continue whatever adventure she'd interrupted.
"She's something else," Sarah said.
"She's a Warren. They're all something else."
The afternoon passed too quickly.
I showed Sarah around the property—the house, the training barn, the artifact room that still made her pale when we approached it. She took notes in a small notebook, asked questions that showed she'd been doing her own research, and handled the strangeness with a calm that impressed me.
Ed pulled me aside while Sarah was talking to Lorraine about psychic phenomena.
"I like her," he said. "She's got spine."
"I thought you'd be more suspicious. Another journalist."
"She's not here to write a story. Anyone can see that." Ed studied me with knowing eyes. "She's here for you. And you... you're different around her. Lighter. More human."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Good. Definitely good." He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "We leave for Harrisville in two days. Whatever happens there, don't let the darkness steal this from you. People like us—we need anchors. Things worth fighting for beyond just the fight itself."
"You're giving me relationship advice?"
"I'm giving you survival advice. Lorraine is my anchor. Always has been. Without her, I'd have burned out years ago." He looked toward the window, where Sarah and Lorraine were visible on the porch. "Find your anchor, son. Hold onto it tight. The monsters try to take everything from us. Don't let them take this."
That night, I walked Sarah to her car.
The stars were bright overhead, the air cold enough to fog our breath. Inside the house, Lorraine was putting Judy to bed, and Ed was reviewing case files for our departure.
Two days. In two days, I'd face Bathsheba Sherman.
"I'm scared," I admitted. The words came out before I could stop them.
Sarah stopped walking, turned to face me. "Of the case?"
"Of everything. The case. What happens after. Whether I'm strong enough." I couldn't meet her eyes. "I've never said that out loud before."
"Then I'm honored you said it to me." She stepped closer, cupped my face in her hands. "Paul. Look at me."
I looked.
"You're going to face something terrible. I can see it in your eyes—you know exactly what's coming, and it terrifies you. But I've also seen how you handle terrible things. How you fight. How you protect people." She smiled softly. "You're going to survive this. And when you're done, you're going to come back to me."
"You sound sure."
"I am sure. Because I've decided you're worth waiting for, and I don't make decisions like that lightly."
She kissed me.
Not a quick peck on the cheek like before. A real kiss, deep and warm and full of promises neither of us could fully articulate. Her hands tangled in my hair. My arms wrapped around her waist. For a long moment, the darkness and the danger and the approaching nightmare faded away, replaced by something simpler and more precious.
When we finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, she smiled.
"Come back in one piece, Paul Franco."
"I'll try my best."
"Try harder than your best." She opened her car door, paused before getting in. "I'll be here when you're done. Whatever happens, whatever you face—I'll be here."
I watched her taillights disappear down the driveway, then stood in the cold for a long moment, letting the silence settle around me.
[FAITH RESONANCE: 118 (+3)]
[EMOTIONAL ANCHOR: ESTABLISHED]
[COMBAT READINESS: ENHANCED]
The system's notification felt clinical, reducing something profound to numbers and categories. But underneath the cold analysis, I understood what it meant.
Ed was right. Anchors mattered. People worth fighting for made you stronger, gave you reasons to survive when survival seemed impossible.
I had the Warrens. I had my calling. And now, maybe, I had Sarah too.
Judy caught me in the hallway before I reached my room.
She tugged my sleeve with the determined grip of a child who had something important to say.
"You should marry her."
"Judy, we've known each other for—"
"So? She's nice. She makes you smile. And she looked at you the way Mom looks at Dad." Judy fixed me with eyes that seemed too old for her age. "That's important, Uncle Paul. Mom says love is the strongest weapon against the darkness."
I crouched down to her level. "Your mom is very wise."
"I know. That's why you should listen to her." She hugged me suddenly, fiercely. "Don't die fighting the monster, okay? We need you here. Sarah needs you too."
"I'll do everything I can."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
She released me and padded back toward her room, satisfied that she'd done her duty as official Warren advisor on matters of the heart.
I packed my bag that night.
Equipment went in first: blessed knuckles, holy water, salt, crucifixes, everything I might need for a prolonged confrontation with a Tier 4 entity. Then the practical items: clothes, toiletries, the notebook Lorraine had given me filled with prayers and rituals.
I paused over a photo booth strip tucked into my wallet. Me and Sarah, taken in Hartford two weeks ago, both of us laughing at something I couldn't remember anymore. Stupid, probably. Inconsequential. But the joy on our faces was real.
I tucked the photo into my bag where I could see it.
Something to fight for.
[PREPARATION STATUS: COMPLETE]
[PERRON CASE: T-MINUS 48 HOURS]
The system's countdown felt like a heartbeat, steady and inexorable.
Somewhere in Rhode Island, Bathsheba Sherman was waiting. A family was suffering. And I was as ready as I'd ever be.
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