The basement of the Perron farmhouse had become a battlefield, the air thick and charged with a cold that chilled to the bone. Carolyn, possessed by Bathsheba, was tied to an old chair Cassian had found among the rubble, her wrists and ankles secured with ropes that Ed Warren had reinforced with tight knots. Christine and April, rescued from her grasp moments earlier, cried in a corner as Roger held them, his pale face reflecting a terror he could barely contain. Cassian, with his blessed dagger in one hand and his prayer book in the other, stood before Carolyn, his crucifix glowing faintly. Helen, Lorraine, and Ed surrounded him, each with a clear role in the impending confrontation.
Roger looked up, his voice trembling as he held his daughters.
"Cassian, what's wrong with Carolyn? That's not her. Can you get it out? Please, don't leave her like this."
Cassian didn't take his eyes off Carolyn, whose head hung to one side, an inhuman growl escaping her throat.
"It's Bathsheba, Roger, but there's something worse behind her—the Praetor Infernalis. She's tied down, and I'm exorcising her now. Ed, stay by my side; I want your voice in the prayers. Lorraine, find a strong memory to bring her back. Helen, prepare the circle."
Ed nodded, gripping his rosary tightly as he positioned himself next to Cassian.
"I've done this before, Cassian, but never with something this strong. Tell me what to recite, and I'll do it. I won't let it take Carolyn."
Lorraine knelt near Carolyn, her voice soft but urgent.
"Helen told me about the picnic at the lake, Roger. What happened that day? I need something to anchor her, something Bathsheba can't break."
Roger swallowed, tears filling his eyes.
"It was last summer. April gave Carolyn a flower, a daisy she found by the shore. Carolyn hugged her and said it was her treasure. We were all there, laughing… it was a perfect day."
Lorraine nodded, holding onto the memory as Helen spread Vatican salt in a circle around the chair.
"It's ready, Cassian," Helen said, lighting the candles with trembling hands. "This will contain it if it gets loose. Are you sure you can handle him?"
Cassian looked at the black liquid still bubbling on the floor, whispering the Perrons' names in an unsettling echo.
"I'm not sure, Helen, but I'll do it. Ed, start with me: Pater noster."
Both raised their voices, synchronized in a deep chant:
"Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum…"
The black liquid churned violently, and the Praetor Infernalis emerged, its giant form filling the basement: a mass of shadows with twisted horns, long arms like rotten branches, and flaming eyes that seemed to pierce the soul. Its laughter echoed, a sound that reverberated against the walls as it pointed at Carolyn.
"She's mine, exorcist… they all will be…"
Cassian stepped forward, raising his dagger and shouting:
"Vade retro, Satana! In nomine Domini, te expello!"
The demon swung a claw, but Cassian dodged, rolling to the side while slicing its ethereal arm with the dagger, the blade glowing as it sank into the infernal flesh. The Praetor roared, its limb falling to the ground in a pool of smoke, and Ed continued, his voice trembling but firm:
"Adveniat regnum tuum, fiat voluntas tua…"
Helen adjusted the circle, the candles burning brighter as the demon struck the edge, unable to cross it. Lorraine leaned toward Carolyn, her hands on her cheeks.
"Carolyn, listen to my voice. Remember April, the flower she gave you by the lake, the sun on your face, the laughter of your daughters. You're here, not with him!"
Carolyn convulsed, a guttural scream escaping as her eyes flickered between white and their natural color. The Praetor turned to Cassian, slamming him against the wall with a swipe of its remaining arm, but Cassian got up, his burning crucifix in hand.
"Spiritus immundus, ab isto loco discede!" he roared, his voice resonating with power as Ed supported him:
"Libera nos a malo!"
The demon staggered, its form trembling as the salt circle contained it. Lorraine shouted louder:
"Carolyn, you're their mother, fight for them!"
Carolyn gasped, her body relaxing as Bathsheba was ripped from her mind, a high-pitched shriek filling the air. Cassian advanced, driving his dagger into the Praetor's chest and reciting:
"Per crucem et sanguum Christi, te condemno!"
A burst of white light erupted from the crucifix, enveloping the demon in a blinding vortex. The Praetor fell to its knees, its laughter echoing even in defeat.
"He's already coming…" it hissed, its deep, mocking voice fading as it dissolved into the abyss, leaving only an echo that froze the blood.
Cassian panted, leaning against the wall as the black liquid evaporated.
"Who's coming?" he murmured, his mind racing. "Ed, did you hear it?"
Ed nodded, wiping sweat from his forehead.
"I heard it, Cassian. I don't know what it meant, but I don't like it. Is it… is it over?"
Cassian looked at Carolyn, who was crying in Lorraine's arms, finally free.
"For now, yes. Bathsheba's gone, and so is the Praetor. But that laugh… something else is waiting."
Helen extinguished the candles, her voice trembling.
"I recorded everything, Cassian. That thing said, 'he's already coming.' What do we do with that?"
Cassian sheathed his dagger, exhausted but alert.
"We report it to the Vatican, Helen. We need to prepare for a greater evil."
The Perrons climbed into the Jeep, hugging each other through tears of relief, as Cassian, Helen, Ed, and Lorraine returned to the motel to rest. Later, at the Warrens' house, Ed placed the Perrons' music box in their collection, a shelf filled with cursed objects. Lorraine watched him, her voice soft.
"Do you think we did the right thing, Ed? That thing…"
Ed sighed, closing the display case.
"We did what we could, Lorraine. Cassian expelled it, and you saved Carolyn. If something comes, we'll face it."
But as they left the room, the box opened on its own, its twisted melody echoing in the silence. A deep, grave laugh—distinct from the Praetor's—filled the air, suggesting that a fragment of its essence—or something worse—had been left behind. At the motel, Cassian sat beside Helen, who slept exhausted on the bed, his gaze lost in the darkness.
The echo of the laugh lingered in his mind, a foreboding of a terror yet to be revealed, as the night wrapped Harrisville in a fragile silence.