"It's okay now," Claire repeated, with an echo of Jimmy's--no, Castiel's--eerie calm. "Castiel is hiding us again. We're safe now."
Amelia nodded and got out of the car, going around to take Claire's hand before leading her toward their porch. Lisa was sitting on the step, taking a last drag off her cigarette. Amelia had never seen her smoke before; she'd complained about Roger sneaking them.
Amelia stopped at the bottom of the steps, holding firmly to Claire's hand, and Lisa came down, hugging herself tightly. They stood for a long time facing each other in silence; Amelia stared at Lisa's eyes--bloodshot around brown, not that horrible inky black that Amelia had seen now from outside and in.
Lisa looked down first. "The police--I told them, those men--"
"That's fine," Amelia said. "That was right."
Lisa nodded. She was shivering. "What do we do now? That--that thing, that--"
"We keep our heads down," Amelia said. She couldn't say where the knowledge came from: the thing that had been inside her, or that long last look she'd shared with something even more terrifying, now inside her husband.
"Don't say its name. And don't pray."