It started with a child’s scream in Brookfield, Connecticut. I was there—Ed Warren—when the demon left David Glatzel and entered Arne Johnson. I saw it happen. And I felt it—my heart seizing as the darkness passed through me.

Now, a month later, I’m waking up in a hospital bed, wires taped to my chest, Lorraine holding my hand like she’s afraid I’ll vanish. The doctors say I had a heart attack. But I know what really happened.

Arne’s in jail. He killed his landlord—twenty-two stab wounds. Claims he wasn’t himself. Says the devil made him do it.

The court calls it a defense. I call it the truth.

Lorraine and I find a totem at the Glatzel house—witchcraft, not just possession. Then another in Danvers, Massachusetts. Same symbol. Same number of wounds. A girl named Katie Lincoln is dead. Her friend Jessica is missing.

Lorraine has a vision. Jessica jumped off a bridge after killing Katie, possessed to the end.

But something worse emerges—someone is directing this. A witch. A curse. And it’s not over.

We’re running out of time. The demon’s still out there. And it knows our names.