Mortal Sin (39 page)

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Rafe didn’t want to believe it about his brother, but it was clear that Rico did. And considering that he’d kidnapped Moira and shot Rico? He’d killed before, but like this?

“Phineas has unconventional means, and can be violent,” Rafe said, “but burning witches at the stake? That’s barbaric.”

Rico didn’t say anything for a long minute. “Phineas is not the man you remember. Even when you almost joined Gabriel’s Sword, he had a line he would not cross. That line is no longer there. He’s spiraling out of control, resorting to any and all means to eradicate magic. Kidnapping Moira is one more bad act in a long line of bad acts.”

It was extreme, Rafe recognized, but still a far cry from murder.

Glenn said, “We called Father Benjamin. He’s sending the only two people he says he has.”

Father Benjamin was in his eighties, a retired priest who lived in the rectory of one of the oldest churches in Seattle. He’d been raised at St. Michael’s, then moved to the States to become a parish priest more than fifty years ago. He mostly worked with young priests and deacons who were sympathetic to St. Michael’s, but those priests hadn’t been raised at St. Michael’s.

There were not many left. When Father Benjamin died, there was no one to take his place. In some ways, Phineas had the right idea—find people sympathetic to the cause and train them, even if they weren’t from St. Michael’s. But the who and the how were crucial, and too often rogue groups like the Sword brought in dangerous people.

Perhaps, people who would burn witches at the stake.

They spent the next ten minutes in silence as Gail navigated around to the west side of a small island. The wind whipped around them, Rafe had to consciously put Moira out of his mind. Phineas would want her alive; he’d want to convert her to his way of thinking, so he’d likely treat her well. Would Moira play along? Put up a fight? Rafe stared at the water, the salt air on his tongue.

You’re not doing a good job of focusing on now.

Of course not—he feared for the woman he loved. But he had to be clear-headed, now and later. He took several deep breaths as Gail turned toward a small, broken dock on the northwest tip of the island.

Glenn jumped out and tied the boat to a pillar. “Watch your step,” he told them, then helped Rico out of the boat.

“This is the closest dock to the circle,” Gail said. “But we still have about a half mile walk.” She glanced at Rico’s leg.

“I’m okay,” he said.

Hardly, but Rafe didn’t comment.

Gail led the way down an overgrown path. Freshly broken branches marked the way. She spoke quietly. “I’m a teacher at the high school,” Gail said. “So many of these girls are recruited in high school. And for most, it’s innocuous, and by the time they get to college, they grow out of it or focus on simply leading good, clean lives, becoming stewards of the Earth as God has asked us to be. But sometimes, there’s a leader who is so charismatic, that she pulls in more girls, and a charismatic leader who leans to dark magic can bring them all into the darkness.”

Her eyes teared, but her voice remained steady. “Rose Abernathy was one of those leaders. I knew from the minute she walked into my classroom as a freshman that she was different. I have been tracking her and the girls who follow her. They’ve been playing with dark magic for two years, but until last month, it was small stuff. I worked on the other girls, counseling them, trying to explain the dangers of what they were doing. It was one of these girls I befriended who came to me about the demon. Glenn and I tried to stop it, but we were too late. We watched, horrified, as Rose and her coven contained a demon for nearly ten minutes. Rose had summoned the demon for information, and as you know, once you take knowledge from the Underworld, there’s no going back. I’ve followed her every day. On Friday, she came to the island alone and I confronted her.”

Glenn cleared his throat. “Gail—”

“I know you’re angry with me, Glenn, but it had to be done! But she was… unrepentant. I couldn’t deviate her from her path. I talked to the other girls, one on one, and they wavered, but in the end, they all ended up here.”

Glenn said, “Yesterday, Gail tried to stop it. But they’d put some sort of spell on the island. Gail became disorientated and physically ill. She was sick all night.”

“I should have found a way,” she said. “I could have saved them.”

“Or,” Glenn said, his jaw tight, “you could have been killed with them.”

“I called in sick this morning,” Gail said, “and came out here first thing in the morning. I thought perhaps they’d gotten ill and couldn’t get off the island. I brought medicine and holy water and protections against the dark arts.

“And I found them.”

“I told you not to go alone,” Glenn said quietly, his voice filled with emotion.

“I drank the tea you made that counteracts the herbs in whatever spell they used.”

“I’m not feeling anything now,” Rafe said.

“Whatever it was, it’s gone. Probably when they died. Or perhaps, a spell broken by their killers.”

Rafe smelled the burned flesh before he saw the bodies. His stomach revolted, but he pushed forward with the other.

But nothing prepared him for what he saw when they turned onto the clearing.

Five stakes in the five points of the pentagram that the coven had marked before their ritual. Five bodies tied to the five stakes. They’d been burned to near-skeletons, unrecognizable as anything but burned human beings. The bodies had the worst damage, charred and still smouldering. But the heads still had flesh, red and sinewy, mouths opened in terror, an eternal grimace.

“We had a thick fog late last night,” Gail said, her voice choked with tears. “That’s why they weren’t completely burned.”

“It can take hours,” Rico said quietly. “And someone would have had to stay to keep the fires going. I suspect whoever did this started the fires and left.”

Rafe didn’t say anything. He stared at the circle, walked around it. The symbols had been disturbed in the fight. A dark stain curved like a snake through the center. This was a big circle for a coven of five. The symbols he could identify appeared to be those used in a demon trap. This coven had intended to summon a demon, once again.

Five demons. One for each member.

Rafe frowned. How did he know that? His head began to pound, so he focused on the information as it came, not trying to dig it out of his memory

The size of the circle… the white candles instead of black… the pentagram… the symbols… where’s the goat? They sacrificed a goat to bring forth these particular demons. They had a favor to ask… favors from the Underworld require more than animal blood… They require a soul.

“The girls wanted something and were willing to sacrifice their souls to achieve it,” Rafe said.

“How do you know that?” Glenn asked.

Rafe caught Rico’s eye. His former trainer had the same question.

Rafe couldn’t think about how Rico would perceive this new ability of his—but the information was there, and he would use it if it helped.

But the circle was broken, the demons were freed.

Rafe saw that the dark stain in the Earth migrated out of the circle. He followed the stain into the trees and saw the three crosses, freshly carved in the pine. Each cross had been stained red. Blood.

Moira’s blood.

A rank, sulfuric stench that could only come from the pits of Hell hit him and he fell to his knees. Beneath him, the soil was freshly turned. All plant life within a thirty foot radius was dead. Several small rodents lay dead nearby.

He didn’t need to dig up the soil to know what had happened.

“Rico,” he said, slowly rising from the ground.

“A grave,” Rico said.

“A grave for demons.”

“Demons can’t be killed,” Glenn said. “They can only be sent back to Hell or trapped.”

“They can be killed,” Rafe said. “I witnessed Moira kill a Cerebus. It bit her and died. It didn’t go back to Hell. It lay dead in front of us.”

Glenn turned from Rafe to Rico. “Is this true?”

Rico didn’t confirm or deny. “I don’t know that I fully believed it,” he said, but his eyes stared at the grave, then at the bloody crosses in the trees.

“Believe it,” Rafe said. “Phineas was testing Moira’s blood. He heard what Moira’s blood could do, but he would need to see it himself. He killed these demons and then burned the coven and buried the demons here.”

“Dear Lord,” Glenn said, and added a prayer.

Rafe said, “We have to go now. They’re going to kill her.”

“He needs her alive; Moira will be no good to him dead.”

“Don’t you see?” Rafe spun around and grabbed Rico by the arms. “Fiona will know exactly what happened here. She’ll know he has Moira, and she’ll go after her. We have to get to her first.”

The truth crossed Rico’s face. He turned to Glenn and Gail. “You need to destroy those demon carcasses and consecrate this ground.”

“We should call the authorities.”

“No,” Rico said. “That will draw attention to you. Someone else will find these bodies.”

Gail sniffed. “It’s the beginning of the summer season. They’ll be found.”

“And no one can know we were here.”

Gail said, “I’ll go back with you and wait for the people Father Benjamin sent. I’ll make sure they know what you said.”

“And I’ll take you to where Phineas and his people are staying,” Glenn said.

They started back in silence. There was nothing to say.

Rafe glanced back one last time, burning this tragedy into his mind. So much death. So much pain and suffering. Had Phineas brought Moira here? Had he made her fight? If she could fight, she would have disappeared, hidden on the island. Given him and Rico a sign. Something.

Or had Phineas simply taken her blood and armed his people with her strength? What had he thought when the demons crumbled in front of him? What had he be been thinking when he tied those girls to the stakes and burned their bodies? How could he have done it? It was cold-blooded murder. Not in self-defense. Not for any reason except hate and anger.

Rico touched his shoulder. “Rafe, we need to go. Glenn will take us to where Phineas has been hiding. We’ll get Moira back.”

“Phineas has gone crazy,” Rafe said to Rico. His eyes burned. The overwhelming sorrow at what his brother had become. The fear for what Moira had to endure. And the anger, burning a hole in his heart.

He pictured Anthony at the mission, hitting him, the anger turning so dark that Wrath had a weapon in his friend. If Rafe didn’t purge his own rage at his brother, he would end up like Anthony. He would succumb to the forces of Hell.

He took a deep breath and turned from the wreckage.

Moira didn’t know how long she slept in the basement. She found a fresh sandwich on a small table near the bottom of the stairs, but didn’t remember hearing anyone come down to deliver it. She wondered if they’d doped her up with the orange juice. Nothing too strong, just something to make her sleep. Fortunately, when she woke up, she felt much better. Stronger.

Still, she wasn’t one hundred percent. She stretched, jogged in place, did jumping jacks until she was out of breath—far less of a workout than she normally did. Nope, definitely not in prime fighting shape. But she needed to keep up her strength. She ate what they provided and felt better.

She didn’t like being locked up, but the basement was large and well-lit, so she didn’t have the feelings of claustrophobia she normally had when confined. She could at least think and figure out a way to get out of here.

She was more angry than anything else. And a little scared. Phineas had used her blood to kill demons and destroy a coven. Fiona would
know.
She’d know because she had her finger on the pulse of all active covens powerful enough to summon a demon. It wasn’t something that would go unnoticed. Phineas had certainly put himself on Fiona’s radar if he hadn’t been before.

Fiona knew about Moira’s blood. Maybe the threat wasn’t coming from a traitor at Olivet, but the witch in Phineas’s organization. What if the hidden witch had given Phineas the information about Moira’s blood in an effort to have Phineas’s group locate and kidnap her? With all the precautions that Moira and Rafe had taken in Santa Louisa, Fiona couldn’t get to her there, but by drawing her out—by killing John—Phineas had the opportunity to snatch her.

Maybe that’s why the blood was “wasted”—because the witch wanted to keep Moira weak but alive. Taking a little blood every day would do that.

The door upstairs opened. Phineas came down the stairs. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, Moira.”

“So have I.”

“I want you to be part of my team, but I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t trust you, either.”

He nodded once. “I have cameras in every room. My security is outstanding. You can’t escape. But you should have free reign of the house. I don’t want you to be in prison.”

“I am in prison.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way.”

“You’re all heart.”

“Or you can remain locked down here for the rest of your life.”

He was serious.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I’m tired and irritable and couldn’t even do twenty jumping jacks without getting winded. Yeah, I’m mad at you. But I’m not going to run.”

First chance you get, bolt.

He motioned for her to go before him up the stairs.

When she stepped into the kitchen, she was relieved. Maybe the basement had been making her tense and nervous. She really hated being trapped.

“Do you have something to eat? That sandwich didn’t fill me up.” And she needed to rebuild her strength.

“Of course,” Phineas said. “We’ll have an early lunch, so you can meet everyone. You’ll see we’re not wild-eyed fanatics, but concerned and devout true believers. Just like Rico Cortese. Walk around, get the lay of the land so-to-speak—of course, I can’t have you leaving the property. I have someone monitoring the cameras, and we’re fairly remote—you won’t get far if you do happen to get outside.