Mortal Sin (25 page)

Rafe said, “
In nomine Domini, mi Cristo, non habebis potestatem super corpus
.”

Rafe rose as he spoke and the demon fumed.

“You can’t kill me.”

“Moira can.”

The demon sneered. “And she’s not here.”

“Not in the flesh.” He threw his dagger at the demon. The demon reached up and caught it in mid-air, a smile on his face. The smile quickly turned to agony as the dagger burned his hand and he dropped it to the ground. While he held his hand in pain, Rafe began the exorcism ritual.

He motioned for Violet to get everyone out while the demon was distracted. It might be their only chance.

“You’ll. Pay.
Raphael
.”

Rafe’s chest tightened as the demon attempted to squeeze him from the inside out. He continued the prayer.
“Insidias cogitat lingua tua quasi novacula acuta faciens dolum; dilexisti malum magis quam bonum mendacium magis quam loqui iustitiam semper; dilexisti omnia verba ad devorandum
—
”

The demon bellowed, a deep, gutteral roar that vibrated deep inside Rafe’s chest. The creature turned its anger toward Tom Williams, who was still handcuffed to the chair, his body slumped to one side. Williams began to convulse and Violet screamed. “Daddy! No!”

No one else would die tonight. He took out his gun, a small .22, and fired a special bullet into George Calvin’s back.

The bullet had been soaked in Moira’s blood.

The demon shrieked, a God-awful, inhuman sound. It tried to escape George’s body, but failed. The special bullet had weakened it, trapping it inside the body. He collapsed to the ground, cursing Rafe, saliva dripping out of his mouth, burning his flesh.

“Go!” Rafe ordered Violet. “Get everyone out!”

“My dad, please, something’s wrong with him.”

Rafe ran over to Tom Williams and quickly picked the handcuff lock. The deputy was disorientated and in pain. “He’s having a heart attack,” Rafe told Violet.

“Josh can’t walk!”

Rafe had to talk to the demon before it died and find out what the hell was going on. “I’ll get him out. Get your dad.”

While Violet helped her dad out of the chair and Rafe ran back to the demon. He writhed on the floor in agony.

“You. Will. Fail.”

“Why are you here?”

The demon laughed through its pain.

Rafe picked up his sacred dagger and pressed the tip against the demon’s chest. The demon hissed.

“Tell me, or the last moments of your existence will be filled with pain.”

“Watching. Waiting. Testing.”

“Why?”

The demon grimaced. “To. See.”

The demon was trying to pull out of George’s body, in an attempt to regenerate in someone else.

Rafe pressed the tip of the knife—a knife that had also been dipped in Moira’s blood—into the demon’s mouth. The demon gagged and convulsed.

The ground shook and Rafe fell to his ass. He scrambled away from the body as a dark circle opened in the floor. It wasn’t a hole, but a portal, and the demon’s spiritual carcass was pulled back into the void with a long, agonized squeal. An unseen force threw George’s body across the room, where it crumpled into the corner like a doll.

Reconnaissance. The demon was gathering information. On who? For what? Were the Seven themselves recruiting lessor demons? It seemed beneath them. But it wasn’t beneath Fiona and her coven. Yet it would take great power and magic to control a demon when the witch wasn’t in the same room. Was it even possible?

You know it is. Seven years ago, Fiona sent a demon from hundreds of miles away to possess Moira and kill Peter. They’ve been playing with these spells for a long time.

The demon wanted to see. To see the destruction? Or how they reacted to it? To see, perhaps, what St. Michael’s Order did? Or what he and Moira would do?

A throaty cough came from behind him. “Rafe.”

He turned. Josh was still on the floor, unable to move. His leg was twisted behind him at such an odd angle Rafe knew it was broken.

Rafe ran over to him and said, “You’ll be okay.”

“I saw.”

“It’s gone.”

“You did it.”

Josh was not in good shape. Internal bleeding and broken ribs, in addition to the broken leg. If Rafe tried to get him out, he’d kill him. He had to wait for the medics.

“This will buy you time,” Rafe said. He pulled out a small bottle of holy water from St. Michael’s. It wouldn’t cure Josh, but it would at least give him enough time so hopefully the doctors could patch him up.

Rafe lifted up Josh’s shirt and poured the water over his bruised chest. Josh sucked in his breath, as if it were his first breath in hours.

SWAT burst in. Rafe called for a medic, then leaned over and whispered in Josh’s ear, “You didn’t see anything.”

Skye ran in after the SWAT team and glared at Rafe. “I should arrest you. Deport you. Beat you to within an inch of your life.”

“I’m fine.”

“What the hell happened?”

“We were played.”

“One of the Seven?”

“Wrath. He’s here.”

“Here?” She pointed to the surrounded. “He did this?”

“No. But the people who started it were infected by Wrath. There was a lessor demon who caused this trouble.”

“Great. Now we have to deal with Wrath
and
his minions? Just fucking peachy,” Skye said and stomped away.

The water reminded Fiona O’Donnell of Ireland.

Fiona didn’t consider that she had a homeland; she’d spent most of her life travelling across the globe. But if she had a home, it would be the west coast of Ireland, the tall cliffs, the sharp boulders, the grey skies and blue ocean. The land was old, ancient. Beautiful, alluring, perfect… as she hoped to remain.

But time was running out.
Her
time was running out. She’d started the ritual and must complete it, or she’d lose everything she’d been working toward for more than thirty years. Since the day she conceived Moira and committed herself, and her daughter, to a path Moira needed to survive… but a path her own daughter, her own flesh and blood, had betrayed.

Fiona would not allow Moira to walk away from her destiny. Not when Fiona’s immortality—her very life—was at stake.

Her lover, Matthew, came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. He kissed her neck lightly, repetitively.

She sighed. “I’m so glad you’re home.” She and Matthew had lived apart more often than not out of necessity. But since she’d had him to herself for the last few months, she’d missed him more than usual. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought she was under a spell. “Is it done?”

“Yes.” He kissed her ear. “You’re sad.”

“It’s been ten weeks. We could have taken her a half dozen times.”

“Sweet Fiona, beautiful woman that I love, we agreed after we lost her in Los Angeles that patience was our friend.”

“Ten weeks,” she repeated, then leaned into Matthew. Fiona allowed herself the moment of luxury of being coddled by the man she loved. The only person who was her equal.

She brought her hands up to Matthew’s head, turned her face to kiss him. He kissed her lips, her hands. She opened her eyes and saw the fine lines, the wrinkles, the age in her fingers as they caressed his handsome face.

“No. No,” she whispered.

“What is wrong, dear love?”

“It’s happening.” Her hands. They showed her age. Her skin was failing her. Her body would soon follow. Time was running out. Her promises, she had to keep them!

“We have time.”

She pushed him away. “Do not lie to me, Matthew!”

“Never, Fiona.” He reached for her, but she backed off. She did not like being placated. She knew the risks when she was eighteen and conceived Moira. She knew the cost if Moira didn’t fulfill her destiny.

“I need the strength to fight her.” It was a double-edged sword. She was powerful because of the deal she’d made, but the greater her power, the faster she aged until she was an old hag.

Unless—
until
—Moira did her duty. Then Fiona would have it all. Youth. Power. Beauty.

Matthew said, “She is more vulnerable now than she ever has been.”

“I don’t believe you.”

How could Moira be vulnerable when they hadn’t pushed her into using her magic? How could she be vulnerable when she could kill demons? She didn’t realize the power she had in her blood. She didn’t know just how special she was. All because of Fiona! If not for Fiona, Moira would never have existed. Yet, she was far too close to destroying everything Fiona had sacrificed for.

“Her vulnerability is that she loves again.”

“That’s not enough.”

“
Yes.
” Matthew walked in front of her and took her hands. She wanted to fight him, but he soothed her, like warm brandy on a cold night. “She hurt you, she hurt Serena, and I will make her suffer for both sins. But not until we have what we need. We are closer than you think.”

She tilted her head. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Everything has happened as I set it in motion. The triad exposed her weakness. And just tonight, we learned our trap is about to spring shut.”

“You separated her from Raphael.”

Matthew nodded. “Moira is in Victoria. She will follow the bread crumbs right into our hands.”

“And the
arca?
” Fiona asked excitedly. Maybe all was not lost. “Do we have her?” That was one of the two reasons Matthew had been in Santa Louisa for the last two weeks. To get the
arca
.

Matthew’s face darkened and he looked away. “She’s gone. Elizabeth scared her. We can’t find her.”

“What do you mean? I told Elizabeth to stay away from the girl.”

“I have punished her. I suspect Moira sent the
arca
to either that witch hunter in Los Angeles or to Olivet. I contacted Nicole to follow up on the witch hunter. If the
arca
isn’t there, she’ll be in Olivet.”

“We’ve tried to breech Olivet and have failed,” Fiona said.

“You must trust me. I can get to Lily at any time.”

“I do, but Olivet! Dammit.”

“You have never sounded so defeated, even when we were in far worse predictaments.” Matthew rubbed her arms. “Tell me what is truly bothering you, love?”

“Time. I’m getting older. I don’t have the luxury of time, Matthew.”

“You will never be old.”

“Don’t lie to me!” She pushed him away. She crossed the vast room, tossing vases and books right and left with her magic as her fury rose. “I don’t have time! I need the
arca
, and I need my traitorous daughter. Everything else is just moving pieces on a chessboard. I need the checkmate
now.
”

“Fiona,” Matthew said, almost as if he were lecturing her, “we have everything else, and if you are rash, we’ll lose what ground we’ve gained.”

“Don’t threaten me, Matthew Walker!”

“I’m not. You have always trusted me, and we’ve always gotten what we needed. You need to trust me and our daughter.”

Serena. Her good daughter. The one who hadn’t betrayed her. The one who was growing more powerful by the day.

A niggle of doubt grew in the back of her mind. “Do you think Serena is becoming too powerful? Too reckless?”

“You should be proud of her,” Matthew said, slowly crossing the room to where Fiona stood in the middle. “She has learned from you. She is smart. She is loyal. The trap she set in Victoria is fail-proof.”

Matthew kissed her, then whispered, “You will have Moira in the dungeon in days, not weeks, my love.”

Fiona wanted to believe it, but
Andra Moira
had slipped through her hands far too many times. “I want to see Jezebel’s Blade.”

“I put it in the vault. It’s extremely powerful and dangerous.”

“Do you think I can not handle that kind of power? You did.”

A darkness crossed Matthew’s face.

“And it consumed me until I could fight it off.”

“Perhaps, dear lover, I am stronger than you.”

He grabbed her tightly by the arms. “Remember who I am.”

She was not scared. Instead, a thrill ran through her as she cast a spell and pain shot through Matthew’s spine, forcing him to his knees.

“Remember who
I am
, Matthew.”

He growled, lust and power in his eyes. This was a game for him, for her, and she relished it.

She smiled and beckoned him. “Take me if you can.”

He always could because she always let him.

Proving, once again, that she was the most powerful magician on Earth.

Moira didn’t want to admit that Rico had been right—but he was. She’d needed sleep in order to be at her best, and though she’d only gotten four hours down time, that was enough. Definitely better than the last few nights.

She loaded up on left-over lasagna at three-thirty in the morning when Rico came downstairs.

“I told you we’d leave at six,” he said.

She glanced at him—damp hair, dressed in black—and laughed. “Right. Because you and I do sleep
so
well. We need to be there before sunrise. It’s downtown. If shit happens, we don’t want innocents in the way.”

Rico cut a large serving of the lasagna and put it in the microwave, then helped himself to coffee. A minute later, he was sitting down across from her. “I found John’s journal. He thought someone was following him.”

“Par for the course,” she said.

“He thought there might have been two opposing factions because Serena and her group were acting odd.”