Carnal Sin sds-2

by Allison Brennan

  Julie was incensed. “How can you save Grant if you won’t reverse the spell?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Moira answered.

  “I can’t believe this.” Julie sank down on the edge of the bed, holding her head in her hands. “Grant’s going to die.”

  “Not if I can help it. He may not be a saint, but he doesn’t deserve to die or lose his soul. He had no part in this except he pissed off a couple of jealous witches. Honestly, you don’t deserve him.”

  “I love him!”

  “Funny way of showing it.”

  Rafe touched her on the arm. “Moira, we need to go.”

  “We take everything with us,” Moira said. “If she could track us down, Wendy can, too. We’re not coming back.”

  “What are you going to do?” Julie asked.

  “First, find your boyfriend. Then, stick with him until the demon comes for his soul. Then-we’ll play it by ear.” She wasn’t about to share any of her ideas, however weak they were.

  “Let me explain something,” Moira said, crossing over to Julie and standing over her. “You are on the wrong side. I don’t care what you believe, what you think, or who you are, but you are toying with dark forces, and when you play with the powers of darkness, you lose. In the end, it’s Hell. We went to Wendy’s in the hopes of stopping the demon from possessing another person. Unfortunately, we lost that battle, but we gained the chalice. Nicole almost killed Rafe. To say I don’t like the Donovans is an understatement. The chalice must be destroyed.”

  “But that’s how she brings the succubus to us!”

  “You idiot! Even now you don’t admit that you were wrong. Only when the demon threatens someone you care about do you feel a tinge of remorse. I think if the demon does get to Grant first, you’ll feel bad for a day or two and then go back to your old ways.”

  “You’re wrong, I won’t-”

  Moira put her hand up. “Don’t lie-not to me, not to yourself. But I’ll tell you something: if we can’t save Grant, we can’t save any of you. In Wendy’s thirst for power or revenge or whatever stupid idea she had, she screwed up big-time because she got a badass demon, not the sweetly evil succubus she expected. And when the demon Lust is relieved of her imprisonment, who do you think she’s going to go after?”

  For the first time, Julie didn’t try to justify herself or argue. Moira let the dire reality of the situation sink in, then said, “I need one thing from you, other than to stay out of my way. I need to know who’s possessed.”

  “I don’t know! After what happened to Nadine, Wendy said she was going to find someone outside of our coven.”

  Rafe tensed, and Moira felt the anger that had been simmering at Julie’s revelations start bubbling beneath his skin. “You gave the demon an innocent woman?”

  A flash of the night before: the poor possessed woman’s body rising to the ceiling and dropping with a sickening thud. It turned Moira’s stomach.

  Julie had the decency to avert her eyes and for the first time look sincerely guilty.

  Moira stepped forward and poked her in the chest. It felt good to get out her frustrations, so she poked her again. “Find out who it is and where she is, then call me. If you really want to save Grant’s life, I don’t want any surprises.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  Grant had slept like shit. As a result, his migraine was even worse now than it had been last night. When he’d woken up in Julie’s apartment, she was gone and the night was a blur. Unable to figure out what was wrong with him, he chalked it up to exhaustion and a bitch of a case-though deep down he suspsected something far different was the cause of his migraine and fuzzy memory.

  After leaving Julie’s he went home, showered, and changed, arriving at headquarters after eight, with an extra-large coffee, four aspirin, and a quart of milk.

  His partner was at work on the computer, but before checking in with him, Grant detoured into the break room, swallowing the aspirin down with half the quart of milk. He added milk to the coffee more to cool it down than for taste, and went back to his desk facing Jeff Johnston. Grant growled, “Tell me Cooper and O’Donnell are sitting in an interview room waiting for me.”

  “Haven’t seen them.”

  “I knew it. I should have put them both behind bars until I figure out what the fuck is going on at Velocity.”

  Johnston looked glum. “We got another problem. Nadine Anson’s suicide is all over the Internet.”

  “What?” Grant booted up his computer and Johnston said, “Over here; I’m already online.”

  Grant walked around to Johnston’s desk.

  “At least four people posted their cell phone videos on YouTube. Another blogged about it with a series of still pictures. The major networks posted the videos on their websites. I can’t believe you didn’t hear about it.”

  “It happened twelve hours ago; I had shitloads of paperwork and crashed after an eighteen-hour day. Didn’t think that an asshole or four would post a woman’s suicide for the fucking masses to enjoy.”

  Johnston clicked Play on one of the videos and Grant stared at the screen for the next minute and forty-nine seconds. The recording caught Nadine midscream as she pulled out a clump of hair.

  Johnston swore and said, “I can’t believe that jerk recorded this instead of trying to help her.”

  Grant’s anger went from hot to boiling. Someone could have saved Nadine’s life, but they’d done nothing except film her breakdown. Grant was generally a pessimist-two decades on the police force did that-but he still believed in the relative goodness of people who weren’t career criminals. Watching the video squashed that myth.

  People were bastards, all of them.

  Grant watched the video until Nadine stepped off the curb, then he averted his eyes. He didn’t want to see it again.

  “Wait,” Johnston said. He took the mouse and rewound the video ten seconds. “Grant, watch this.”

  “I don’t want-” He sighed and reluctantly looked. He didn’t see anything except Nadine fall and the bus that ran over her bump up and down. He heard the screams of the crowd, Moira’s cry from the sidelines.

  “There!” Johnston said.

  Grant said, “It’s just a reflection. Probably a flash.”

  Johnston rewound it again. “Look right next to the bus, before the ad for Disneyland.”

  Grant focused on the spot Johnston told him to. It was a flash, but … it looked like a woman stood there. A pale, dark-haired beauty. She was there for a second, then was gone.

  “No one could have been standing there,” Grant said. “There was a car right there a moment before. It’s probably a ghost image, left over from other tapes.”

  Johnston glanced at him. “Boy, you’re a dinosaur, Nelson. This is digital. Watch one more time,” Johnston said. “I’ll pause it.”

  “I don’t know what you think we’re going to get out of this,” Grant said, a sick feeling in his stomach.

  The woman looked familiar.

  An irritated, very Irish voice behind them said, “I can’t believe you’re watching that damn video.”

  Moira was beyond furious. What was the cop doing watching Nadine die like that? Like in a movie. It was sick.

  “Should I bring you some popcorn?” she added.

  Rafe had his hand on her back. Right. Watch the sarcasm. Maybe she was going too far, but she was ticked off.

  Grant turned around and said, “I’m conducting an investigation. Lay off.”

  Moira had been forced to watch variations of that video on the television in the hotel coffee shop until Rafe stood on a table and turned it off because the manager had refused to do so. Then the desk sergeant was watching the news when they arrived, and Moira had snapped at him, too. But even if Grant was just doing his job, the circus of the video still irritated her.

  Rafe rubbed the back of her neck and whispered in her ear, “Easy, my love.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him and narrowed her gaze to lecture him about how
to address her, but his half-smile told her he’d done it on purpose. Some of her anxiety drained away.

  Johnston said to Grant, “I took a snapshot of the image and used that image program thing to sharpen it.”

  Moira turned to where Grant’s partner was sitting at the computer and looked at the picture. The color drained from her face. She knew exactly what they were seeing.

  An astral projection of Julie Schroeder.

  “It looks like Julie,” Johnston said.

  “It’s a reflection or something,” Grant said. “Julie wasn’t there. We would have seen her. She couldn’t have been there.”

  Johnston shrugged. “You’re probably right. But it’s weird.”

  Moira wasn’t going to explain it to them. They wouldn’t believe her, for one thing, but the realization that Julie Schroeder had left her body and projected herself at the scene of Nadine’s breakdown changed everything. Dammit, Moira had known that Julie was lying about something! Why did this deception surprise her?

  She said, “I don’t know what you both are talking about, but I have places to go and people to see. So let’s get this over with.”

  She still hadn’t figured out how she and Rafe were going to save Grant’s ass, but the one thing she did believe after her bizarre encounter with Julie this morning was that the witch really didn’t want her boyfriend to die. Maybe Julie thought that if she killed Nadine she could break the spell. But that made no sense-the demon had already left Nadine before she died. It was the departure of the demon that sent Nadine over the edge.

  Maybe Julie hadn’t known the demon had jumped out of Nadine’s shell. Yet she had to have seen how Nadine was suffering, even if she’d been observing from the astral plane. Julie might not have been able to hear everything, but she’d have seen the physical violence Nadine had done to herself. Maybe she’d wanted to save her.

  Or she was following Grant. To protect him, expecting that the demon would be going after him next.

  One thing was clear: Moira couldn’t trust her. Worse, though, was that Moira had believed her when she said she didn’t want Grant to die. Normally, Moira was an expert at spotting the lies. Was Julie playing both sides? Trying to save Grant Nelson while turning Moira over to Fiona?

  “Let’s go to the interview room,” Grant said.

  “Here’s fine. Nothing formal. I’m helping you. You obviously watched the video-you have Nadine’s confession and it’s clear we both tried to help her. You have the marks to prove it.” She pointed to the Band-Aid on his face. Then she gestured to the bruise on her cheek. “So do I.”

  The plan Moira and Rafe had come up with on the drive over no longer seemed like all that hot an idea. Moira was going to suggest that she tag along with Grant while he finished his interviews, giving him her assessment of “the cult” while keeping an eye on him. Rafe was going to contact Anthony about the chalice and whether it could be used to trap the demon Lust, and if so, how they could keep that wench trapped.

  “Take a seat,” Grant finally said, rubbing his temples.

  “Headache?” Moira asked.

  “I didn’t get much sleep last night.” Grant scowled at his partner. “Stop it with that damn video. Either finish up the paperwork or listen.” He turned to Moira and Rafe.

  “First,” Grant said, “I typed up the statement you gave yesterday. You’ll need to read and sign it.”

  “Of course.”

  “What I want to know is why did Nadine say to you, ‘I know you.’ Had you ever met her before yesterday?”

  “No,” Moira said. She didn’t know why Nadine had said that, though it likely meant that Nadine-even within her possession-still remembered everything. Which means that she’d seen Moira in the alley. Demons could impart memories and information to their human victims, if they were powerful enough and had a reason. The demon Lust was certainly powerful enough, but why would it share anything with Nadine about Moira?

  “You’re sure about that.”

  “I’m not answering questions twice. Why did she tell you that she hated you?”

  Grant just shook his head. “I’ll be the cop.”

  “Fine.” Moira bit her thumbnail, pretending to be disinterested, but she watched Grant closely. She knew he had the mark on his back only because Julie had told her. She wanted to verify it, but she could hardly demand that he strip. And she remembered that when Deputy Hank Santos had been affected by Envy and unconsciously battling the demonic virus, he had a badass headache, as Grant Nelson obviously did now. Still, a killer migraine wasn’t proof positive of a demonic infection.

  “Yesterday,” Grant said with a long sigh. “What happened in the alley?”

  “I told you.”

  “You lied to me. Sheriff McPherson promised that you’d tell me the truth. Dammit, I want the truth!”

  “Can you handle the truth?” Moira asked. Rafe put a hand on her back and squeezed. She shrugged it off. She’d dealt with people like Grant Nelson before.

  “Try me.”

  “I saw Nadine kill Craig Monroe in the alley.”

  Grant stared at her in disbelief. In a low voice he said, “You were a witness and didn’t come forward? Do you know that’s a crime? Accessory after the fact?”

  “I wasn’t actually here Wednesday night. I saw her do it yesterday afternoon.”

  “Don’t fuck with me, O’Donnell!” He slammed his palm on the desk.

  “I’m kind of psychic,” she said. The psychic excuse sounded good, as most people would at least consider the possibility. Why people more readily believed in psychics than demons, Moira didn’t know.

  “Psychic,” Grant said flatly.

  “I saw his death imprint.”

  Grant put his head in his hands. “I don’t fucking believe this.”

  “You asked.”

  “I should put you in jail, but I honestly don’t have the energy.”

  “I can prove it.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Nadine gave him oral sex. I’m sure they took some sort of sample or whatever it is they do. Since Nadine is dead, can’t you compare her DNA to whatever you found on Monroe’s body?”

  Jeff Johnston coughed.

  “Nadine could have told you,” Grant said.

  “Right. I told you I never met her before yesterday on the sidewalk.”

  “Of course you could be lying.”

  “I’m trying to help you! I know Skye got a copy of the coroner’s report; you want me to call her? See if there was female DNA on Monroe’s dick?”

  “That’s how you know. Sheriff McPherson told you.”

  “Skye didn’t tell me shit. She left yesterday because she had to deal with a crisis back in Santa Louisa. I honestly don’t care if you believe me. You’re the one who wanted me to come down and play nice.”

  Grant rubbed the back of his neck. “For the sake of argument, let’s say you are psychic and you saw Nadine kill Craig Monroe … how?”

  “That I don’t know.” She ripped his soul from his body and ate it. “Her back was to me in the vision. But I know what she was wearing-a red dress. With a high neck but backless.”

  Grant froze. He knew that dress; Moira saw it in his stunned expression.

  Rafe whispered in Moira’s ear, “Anthony’s calling me back on my cell.”

  She nodded. Rafe excused himself and walked down the hall.

  “Where’s he going?” Johnston asked.

  “Phone call,” Moira said. “We’re not under arrest; we can talk on the phone, right?”

  “And how did you get hurt? You had a big welt on the back of your head.”

  “What I saw caused me to faint,” Moira lied smoothly. “I hit my head. The bricks in that alley are uneven. And hard as a rock.”

  Grant leaned forward. He had an expression on his face that Moira couldn’t read. It was almost … admiration. “Moira,” he said quietly, “you don’t impress me as a girl with a weak stomach. Fainting?” He shook his head.

  She leane
d back and stared at him tight-lipped.

  “Okay,” he said, “you can leave. But stay in L.A. Until I know what’s going on at Velocity, I need you where I can find you. Because you’re lying to me, and it’s pissing me off.”

  “I can help you, Detective.”

  “With this cult. Right.”

  Moira fumed. “Yes, with this cult. I don’t really care if you believe me or not, but let’s look at the facts. Three men are dead. Kent Galion, Craig Monroe, and George Erickson. They all had the cult mark on their backs. Nadine confessed in front of dozens of people that she killed them. You’ll find her DNA on Monroe’s body, and you already found her prints all over Erickson’s bedroom. She obviously lost it yesterday and had a mental breakdown.”

  “The way you say it, the case is over. Suspect dead. Case closed.”

  Moira opened, then closed her mouth. That wasn’t what she wanted the detective to do, was it? Close the case?

  But maybe that would be good. Get him out of the picture so she and Rafe could find the demon, trap it, and de facto, Grant Nelson would no longer be infected.

  They had only one day. If the detective died, according to Julie Schroeder, the demon was supposed to head back to Hell. But if Rafe was right, if the demon fulfilled its obligation to Wendy’s coven, the psychic leash that bound it to the chalice-or to the coven-would break. Because they weren’t dealing with a succubus but Lust itself, who hadn’t arrived through the chalice, it couldn’t be used to send Lust to the underworld.

  Moira bit her lower lip. How could she keep an eye on the detective at the same time she tracked the demon?

  “I guess you’re right,” she said, acting dumbfounded. “Case over.”

  “It’s done, as far as you’re concerned.” Grant rubbed the back of his neck again. “I have details that need answers, and I’m going to find them-which is why you’re staying in L.A.”

  An attractive woman strode into the room, her eyes pinned on Grant. She wore tailored slacks and a blazer over her substantial hourglass figure. “Nelson, what is going on? I’ve been monitoring this case since I spoke to you yesterday morning and you didn’t tell me that you had a suspect and now she’s dead! Suicide?”