Carnal Sin (12 page)

As soon as he left, Moira said, "Do you feel something?"

"No--but I can tell you do."

"I don't know exactly what, but I think someone is in the process of casting a spell. It's not a full ritual--too subtle--but it's definitely here."

Moira went back to Wendy Donovan's locker. She picked the lock in five seconds and Rafe said, "What are you doing?"

"We're leaving, but I need to know where I can find her."

"We should call Skye, get her over here to straighten this out. I don't want you going back to jail."

Moira closed her eyes and said, "I think--it feels to me like the spell is aimed at Detective Nelson." She looked at Rafe. "What if that's what they're doing? Trying to get him to put us in jail? Right where Fiona can get at me?"

Panic rose and she swallowed uneasily.

"Okay, let's get out of here. He's not going to be happy if we walk out but I don't see another option."

"Better we walk than if he finds our weapons." She frowned, reaching into her pocket. "My--"

"I have your dagger." Rafe slipped it from his pocket to her. She breathed in relief. "But he saw your gun. Didn't say anything; maybe he thought you're legal because you work with Skye."

"He knows I'm not a cop. I'd rather take my chances out there than here. But I want to see what's in the witch's locker. Maybe she knows where Fiona is."

She looked through all Wendy's things. "No wallet, nothing! We need to find out where she lives. Maybe Nicole is there, hiding out--dammit, she needs to answer for what she did! How do we find her? Follow her when she gets off work?"

"We should talk to Jackson Moreno."

Moira froze. She closed Wendy's locker. Jackson Moreno--she had tried to forget about him and his family. She'd been so arrogant, so damn stupid back then. When she thought she could save everyone. When she thought everyone wanted to be saved.

"No," she said emphatically. "We don't need him. Besides, he won't want to help me."

"Jackson knows more about witches in Los Angeles than anyone else."

"I know, but--"

"He has supplies; he's supported St. Michael's for years."

"He's not one of us."

"Technically, neither are you!"

Moira bit the inside of her bottom lip. It was true, but she expected comments like that from Anthony, not from Rafe. It hurt, reminding her that she was still alone.

"I'm sorry," Rafe said immediately, his voice full of remorse. "You know I didn't mean it like that. It's obvious you have issues with Moreno. But Father Philip trusted him. What about you? Do you not trust him?"

She shook her head. "It's not that," she said softly. "I've made a lot of mistakes in the past, and there're some people I don't want to see again. But you're right--Jackson will know everything there is to know about Wendy Donovan, or know where to get the information." She held up a small book.

"What's that?"

"Wendy's spell book. It seems to be notes and ideas, not her primary
grimoire
. But it might help us figure out exactly what she's up to and how it connects to this demon."

She suddenly jumped, her neck ice-cold.

"What's wrong?"

"We have to leave now. Detective Nelson is returning. I can't go back to jail, Rafe."

"I'm not letting anyone take you anywhere." He grabbed her hand and they ran out the back door.

Rico stepped into the sanctuary of Olivet, but he didn't feel the relief he normally experienced when he arrived at the place he called home in the foothills outside Missoula. They were close enough to the city that winter posed only an inconvenience, while many other places in Montana were completely cut off.

Olivet itself was a virtual fortress, with four connected L-shaped buildings surrounding a courtyard that blossomed breathtakingly in the spring and summer. When Moira had first arrived at Olivet, for her original assessment six years ago, she'd come in May, and the only time he'd seen peace cross her face was when she walked through the lush gardens in the courtyard.

Lodging was in the main building, along with their classrooms. The other buildings were off-limits to most people. But it was the deceptively small structure in the back, connected through underground tunnels that extended deep into the mountainside, where Rico brought the tabernacle.

Tobias--one of a set of triplets left at the doors of St. Michael's as infants twenty-eight years ago--was waiting for Rico when he arrived. He and his identical brothers Darius and Joseph had unusual gifts that made them indispensible to the Order. Rico did not like the term "psychic," for it felt unholy, but it was the closest to the truth. The triplets could communicate and share information with one another telepathically, which was an invaluable gift when you needed information immediately and there was no access to phone or computers. More so, the triplets could almost see out of their brothers' eyes. Rico had done extensive testing on the brothers to make sure there was no evil at the core of their gift, and he'd even brought Moira in and had her scour for magic or demonic energy that might be too subtle for Rico to recognize the signs. But it appeared that the gifts were truly heavenly--or at least, natural and not satanic. Sometimes it was hard to discern, but gifts came from within, while magic--witchcraft--came from casting spells and calling on supernatural forces.

Darius and Joseph were on assignment, but Tobias was here, keeping guard. "The storm has worsened," Tobias said.

"Yes, but I need to go out again." Rico placed the iron box on the table. Inside was Envy, contained in the tabernacle.

"I'll secure the beast."

"Thank you."

Tobias lifted the heavy chest with ease and took it to the vault.

Rico walked down the wide hall to the small lab. He sat at a sterile table and removed a vial of Moira's blood. One blood sample he'd hidden at the mission; another he'd placed in the box with Envy. He wasn't certain why--he was guided by instinct. But if his theory was correct, if there was something in Moira's blood that killed or harmed demons, then the presence of her blood might keep the demon under better control.

Rico had been asked to obtain only one sample for testing, but he'd learned that being prepared was akin to staying alive.

A ringing phone interrupted these thoughts. He answered it with a generic "Hello."

"It's Cardinal DeLucca. Rico?"

"Yes, Cardinal."

"Is it done?"

"The demon is in the vault."

"And did you get the sample?"

"Yes." His stomach felt unusually tight and uncomfortable. Moira had looked at him with such intense betrayal that guilt flooded him even now. He'd done many difficult things in his life in the battle against evil, but every action was required to save a soul. Something as simple as drawing Moira's blood shouldn't elicit such turmoil and doubt.

He did not doubt. His faith was what made him strong.

"Have you tested it yet?"

"No."

"You should have done it as soon as you landed."

"I had to secure the demon first."

"Of course." The cardinal sounded impatient, but Rico wasn't surprised. That the Seven Deadly Sins were on the earth threatened all of them. And with their recent losses ... including Father Philip ... Rico's chest hitched. Philip had been their rock. The human cornerstone of St. Michael's Order. Now the others looked to him for guidance, and he felt ill-prepared to be anything but the warrior that he was. Philip had been the leader; he'd been the one who led the counsel and who, in his silence, commanded the most respect.

If it weren't for Father Philip, Moira would have been executed long ago.

"Anthony is on his way," Rico said. "He'll be landing in Italy just after noon, your time." Which was only about nine hours from now. Which meant it was past midnight for the cardinal. "You're up late, Cardinal."

"I won't be able to rest until I know the results."

He sighed. "I'll call you within the hour."

He rose, retrieved a syringe from supplies, and drew out half the blood in the vial. He then stored the remainder in a refrigerator, capped the syringe, and left.

Tobias was dressed for the cold. Rico hadn't asked him to join him in this assignment, but Tobias knew he was needed. "You had no choice, Rico," Tobias said.

He nodded. "Let's do it quickly."

While Rico had been traveling today, Tobias had located a possessed human. The man was restrained in a demon trap in another building on the far side of the compound. Now they would see if Moira's blood was what they suspected: poison to demons.

If they were right, then all the other research they'd discovered over the years would be validated. If her blood was poison, the words of the Unknown Martyr would be fulfilled: that only blood that could kill a demon could forever destroy the
Conoscenza
. Exactly as they had believed for so long.

They would have a powerful weapon in Moira against the demons that walked on earth; though the Seven could be sent back to Hell, there were others. The battle wouldn't be over until Judgment Day. Moira's blood would be in demand by everyone in the Order. They would bleed her to save the world, and Rico would be the one to force her to comply. He knew her well enough to know that she'd never agree to be locked here in Olivet for the rest of her life, a prisoner. But they couldn't let her roam. If the covens knew the power of her blood they would kill her, or use her in far more painful and hideous ways to control the demons they summoned. Renegade groups--unaffiliated with St. Michael's but whom they had worked with from time to time--would want her for their own plans, many of which went against the creed of St. Michael's:
Protect the innocent
.

Many in St. Michael's had died protecting the innocent lambs of God, but the men of St. Michael's were preordained to this call. And others had joined them from the outside. Like Moira.

You're in love with her
.

Raphael's accusation had contained more truth than Rico had known until the words were spoken.

But love didn't matter when at stake was the fate of humanity.

TWELVE

Moira bit her thumbnail as Rafe turned into Moreno's church, Grace Harvest, near the Warner Bros. studio. Four years and it hadn't changed. The trees had grown a bit, and there was a new one growing near the main doors. Long ago, GH had been a Catholic church and it still had the simple Spanish mission facade with tile roofs and mission-style arches, but the stained glass had long ago been replaced by clear windows, and the crucifix replaced with three empty crosses.

GH was an independent church and while Moreno, with his charisma and personal wealth, could have grown the ministry into a powerhouse, he'd chosen to keep it of modest size and scope.

"Are you going to tell me what your problem is with Moreno?" Rafe asked her as he parked in the empty lot near the main church entrance.

She supposed she didn't really have a choice. "Do you know him?" she asked

"Only by reputation. He's an authority on witchcraft and has been tracking the dark magic covens, particularly in the western United States. Anthony and Father Philip worked with him many times over the years."

"You know his oldest daughter disappeared with a coven four years ago."

Rafe nodded. "It's what prompted him to devote so much of his time to St. Michael's and give sanctuary to those who wanted to leave covens."

"I'm responsible for Courtney's fall."

"You." He stared at her, his dark blue eyes black with anger. "And Courtney had nothing to do with it? You have an inflated ego. You, alone, chased her into practicing black magic."

"No, but--" She clenched her fists. "I know what you're doing, and you weren't there!"

"You're always so damn hard on yourself, Moira!" Rafe snapped, running a hand through his dark hair. It fell back over his left eye. He reminded her of an Irish barkeep--hair a little too long, eyes a little too bright, and sex appeal far too potent for her to resist.

But she
would
resist.

Just think of all the people you hurt over the years, Moira. Do you want Rafe to be one of them?

That was enough to throw a wet blanket on her libido.

"I fucked up, Rafe."

"You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, taking the blame for all the bad choices that other people make. Dammit, why not just take the blame for Eve? After all, she took a bite of the damn apple in the first place. But that was probably your fault, too--I'm sure you could figure out a way to feel guilty about the fall of man."

Moira grabbed the vehicle's door handle and opened it. Taking her arm, Rafe pulled her back inside the truck. She glared at him, pulling her arm free.

Rafe gently touched the side of her face. His hands shook just enough that Moira realized he was still upset with her. But the look on his face had softened as he ran the back of his hand up and down her cheek.

The silence between them unnerved her. She swallowed.

"There's no use holding off the inevitable," she muttered, glancing at Moreno's church.

He took her hand and kissed it. "Let's go."

The church was unlocked, but empty. They walked around the building to Jackson Moreno's small, well-kept home. A twenty-year-old Mercedes was parked in the driveway. Jackson had the same car four years ago.

Rafe knocked on the door and Jackson answered at once. "I saw you approach," he said with a glance at Rafe, his eyes focused on Moira.

She couldn't read his expression. Jackson Moreno was conservatively handsome, in his mid-forties, with light brown hair graying at the temples. He was as tall as Rafe, trim, and wore pressed beige slacks and a crisp button-down light-blue business shirt without a tie, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

Moira bit the inside of her cheek, remembering that she'd seen this man cry when his daughter disappeared.

"Moira." He was surprised to see them, his gray eyes inquisitive.

"Hello, Pastor Moreno. I--we're sorry to just drop in." She cleared her throat. "This is Rafe Cooper, he's with St. Michael's."

"Cooper--Raphael Cooper." He nodded in recognition. "I've heard of you, of course. Please, come in." He opened the screen door. "And call me Jackson. I am so sorry about Father Philip. He was truly a good man."

"Thank you," Rafe said, stepping inside. Moira hesitated.

"I can't imagine that this is a social call, however. Let's go to my study."

Rafe took Moira's hand and forced her to follow Jackson through the house to his study in the back.

Nothing had changed, Moira realized. The church, the house, even Jackson Moreno himself. Time seemed to stand still, and she felt just like she had that last day four years ago before she went back to Olivet, after telling Jackson that his daughter had left for good: miserable, unworthy, and a failure.

Jackson's study was small, dark, and masculine. A modest desk seemed to disappear among three walls of stuffed bookshelves and stacks of files. It was an organized mess. A single window looked out onto the parking lot and the church beyond.

"May I bring you coffee? Tea?"

"We're okay, thank you," Moira said. "We don't have a lot of time."

Jackson motioned for them to sit on the small couch; he took the desk chair, turning it to face them.

"I can only imagine. I heard about what happened in Santa Louisa."

"Then you know we only trapped one of the demons," Rafe said.

"I don't know the details. St. Michael's Order is justifiably tight-lipped. I learned, of course, about Father Philip's death, and that the Seven Deadly Sins are out. I was contacted to keep my eyes and ears open."

"We're here because you know more about the local covens than anyone, and we have a crisis," Rafe said. "We have reason to believe that the demon Lust is in Los Angeles."

"Sadly appropriate. But how in the world did you figure it out? I haven't heard anything, and I have been listening closely."

Moira turned her phone to show an image of the mark from George Erickson's body. Jackson frowned and inspected the photo while Moira said, "This is a demon mark. It's highly detailed and unusual--similar marks were on those infected by Envy as well. Three bodies have shown up at the morgue with this mark, and all three have a connection to Velocity, a nightclub which--"

"Velocity?" Jackson's head shot up and he handed her phone back. "It's been all over the news, the gossip about Kent Galion. A shock. Are you saying he was possessed?"

Moira shook her head. "We don't think that the men who were marked were possessed, but that they were infected somehow by the demon."

"Infected? I don't understand."

"Most demons possess their victims, but the Seven Deadly Sins are incarnate," Rafe explained. "They can possess a human if they want, but they don't need to."

"And what do you mean by infect?"

Moira said, "When someone is in contact with the demon, they act on that sin."

Jackson looked skeptical. "Then why isn't everyone consumed by lust? Or greed? Or any of the other sins? Shouldn't we be hearing about an epidemic of violence?"

Rafe elaborated. "We all have a conscience," he began. "Some are better formed than others. We know little about the Seven, but we know a lot more about human nature. We sometimes call our weaknesses our personal demons. Some of us are naturally predisposed to envy, for example. We are unfathomably jealous of other people and what they have that we don't. Yet our conscience helps us battle our personal sin, keeps it in check, so we don't steal or hurt people because they have something that we want. But the same person who is envious may not have a problem with lust or laziness or pride."

Jackson nodded. "I understand. In my ministry, I counsel many people and most have a primary weakness. But that doesn't explain why there are only a few who have been affected."

"We don't understand exactly how the demon operates. If the demon needs to physically touch its victims, or how much freedom the demon has in the first place."

"Freedom?"

Moira said, "An ancient spell brought them to Earth. Rafe stopped the ritual, but they were already free. We don't know how they affect people specifically, but we just learned that one of the original witches in the coven that released them is here in L.A." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "Maybe the demons are tied somehow to the witches involved in the ritual. Or they don't have all their strength because the ritual was interrupted."

Rafe considered that. "I hadn't thought of it like that. You could be right."

"There's a lot we don't know," Moira said, frustrated. "What we do know is that when a person is marked, they're pretty much toast."

Rafe frowned. "That's not exactly right. When we capture the demon, its power over its victims is gone. They regain their conscience."

"So it appears," she said, explaining to Jackson. "We have proof that someone was infected in Santa Louisa and he seems fine now that Envy has been locked up."

Rafe continued, "The demon goes after the easy targets. A nightclub like Velocity is full of raging hormones. If Nicole somehow brought the demon with her to L.A., it would stay because feeding on those hormones, the physical attractions, would be easy."

"Hmm. Maybe." Moira squirmed. She really didn't care much for the whys and what-fors. She just wanted to stop the demon before anyone else died.

"And this is tied to Velocity?" Jackson asked.

"No doubt. We were at the club and I felt dark magic in the employee room. But it was Wendy Donovan's locker where it was the strongest."

Jackson couldn't hide his surprise, and Moira added softly, "My skills have improved; I don't make the same mistakes--"

He held up his hand to cut her off, and her heart skipped a beat. She wanted so badly to apologize for what happened with his daughter Courtney. Four years ago, she couldn't face him for more than the few minutes it took to tell him she'd failed. To see the pain and shock and rage on his face. The accusation that she was to blame. She couldn't beg for forgiveness then ... and now he wouldn't let her.

Jackson said, "Wendy Donovan is the high priestess of an all-female coven. Half the witches are employees at Velocity. She's also part-owner and runs the place. Her co-manager, Julie Schroeder, is also high up in the coven." He looked at them pointedly. "They're an Azabet coven."

Moira's stomach flipped.

"What does that mean?" Rafe asked.

Moira said, "They have a devotion to a succubus. Once a year they sacrifice an unfaithful man to such a demon, who steals his soul, resulting in his death."

"But there are three victims, not one," Rafe said.

"Perhaps they're working a more dangerous ritual," Moira said. "But if it's a succubus, maybe we're wrong about the demon Lust."

"It makes no sense," Rafe said. "The marks on the bodies were made by one of the Seven--they are far too similar to the marks we saw in Santa Louisa."

Moira stood and paced the small room. How could Jackson, or anyone, work in such tight quarters? "I don't know!" she exclaimed, her aggravation leaking out. "I only know that a succubus is summoned by a coven and in exchange for whatever the witches ask for, the succubus is given a soul."

"Then what happens?"

"The succubus goes back to Hell with a full stomach?" Moira threw her hands up. "Why do you think I know everything about demons? I've never called on a succubus, I've never--"

Rafe didn't move, but he caught her eye and she felt foolish. She stared at the wall. It happened to hold a picture of Jackson with Courtney and his younger daughter, Caroline. She averted her eyes, her face red with embarrassment.

Rafe said slowly, "Maybe Wendy Donovan's coven found a way to trap Lust, thus the marks on the bodies."

"That would explain what's happened," Jackson said. "Who were the victims? Kent Galion and ...?"

"A college student," Rafe said. "Craig Monroe died in the alley behind the club. Moira witnessed his death imprint, saw a demon draw out his soul."

Moira looked down, still not understanding what had happened in the alley.

"The third victim was a married man who died in his home after an apparent romantic interlude while his wife was out all night with her ex-husband, according to the police reports. He'd been at Velocity earlier that evening."

Jackson said, "I have information about Wendy's coven that I'm happy to share, but I must warn you that she is extremely dangerous."

"Aren't they all?" Moira said flippantly, glancing at Jackson.

"Perhaps. But Wendy is ... ruthless. Perhaps borderline psychopathic. At any rate, her background may prove helpful."

"Do you know where she lives?" Moira asked.

"Yes."

"That's all I need."

"I would be extremely cautious in handling Wendy," Jackson said, concerned. "I've heard a lot about her, some of the stories almost unbelievable. She's powerful and cruel."

Rafe said, "It's wise to be well prepared before acting. We should learn everything we can about her so we know how to handle the situation."

"I don't disagree, Rafe, but the longer we wait, the more power Wendy Donovan and her sister amass. If they really did find a way to trap the demon Lust--or if Lust is attracted to the coven because of their ties to the succubus--more people are going to get hurt." Moira wanted so much to take them both down. Especially Nicole, who had stood by and watched Envy kill Father Philip.

"We'll read the files and come up with a game plan, okay?"

She nodded reluctantly. People like Anthony and Jackson were researchers--she was a hunter. Yeah, she needed information, but more than that she needed to act. She hated being cooped up. She hated being in this tiny room.

Jackson said, "I'll be right back. I only know a few of their hierarchy, but I'm confident that my information is sound. I have it in my safe." He left the room.

Rafe said, "I told you it wouldn't be as bad as you thought."

"He has class. He's being gracious. I don't deserve it."

"Moira, if you keep beating yourself up like this Fiona will know exactly how to get to you. After she used my memories of the mission against me, I've been working hard to accept what happened, accept my blame, and move on. I can't be tortured like that again. I don't know if I could survive it."