Carnal Sin

by Allison Brennan

  Missing Persons hadn’t taken Stephanie’s disappearance seriously until her roommate, a flight attendant, came home a week after Julie had last spoken to Stephanie and said her car was in the garage, she hadn’t fed her cat for days, and none of her clothing was missing. While Missing Persons was retracing her last steps, two neighbors came forward and stated that Stephanie was last seen in the passenger seat of a black Mercedes.

  Galion drove a 2009 Mercedes coupe.

  Because of Grant’s involvement with Galion’s case, Missing Persons contacted him after the body was found in Galion’s Glendale home.

  “It makes no sense,” Grant said as much to himself as to Johnston. “Why did Galion do this?”

  Johnston wasn’t so sure. “We don’t know he—”

  “Like hell we don’t! He attacked a waitress at Velocity last Friday. I wouldn’t have believed it except I saw it. So did Julie and the bouncer. Galion broke the girl’s arm.”

  After what Grant had witnessed, it wasn’t difficult to believe that Galion had killed Stephanie Frazier and stuffed her in his extra freezer.

  “Galion has a brother; maybe—”

  Grant knew where Johnston was going with the questions, but that didn’t mean he was right. Grant trusted his gut, and his gut told him all the evidence would point to Galion—Kent Galion, not Marcus—as being the killer. But he also knew they had to cover all the bases. “Work with Glendale PD on the case, check into the brother, anyone else who had access to the house. It’s not our case, but I want to know what they find.”

  “Roger that,” Johnston said. “And for what it’s worth? I think your instincts are right on the money. But it doesn’t hurt to rule out the brother.”

  Grant strode over to the head of the CSU. “How do you handle a frozen body?”

  Isabelle Juarez looked at him over the top of her reading glasses. “Since we can assume foul play—most people don’t accidentally die naked in a freezer,” she added sarcastically, “we’ll transport the freezer with the body intact to the coroner’s office and thaw her out there in a controlled environment in order to preserve potential evidence.”

  “How long does that take?”

  “We don’t want to warm her up too quickly because that’ll mess with time of death and bacterial evidence, so probably twenty-four hours. I’ll let you know.”

  “Any sign of assault?”

  “We haven’t processed the entire house,” she replied. “It’s been cleaned recently. But we’ll go over the house with a fine-toothed comb. I know you’ll need everything for a case like this.”

  “Our chief suspect’s dead. This is Kent Galion’s house. The victim’s been missing since Wednesday night, and I have witnesses who place her in the same make and model car as Galion’s.”

  Juarez nodded as she put the information together. “Right, I heard about that. Galion died in the alley behind Velocity. Attacked a waitress and was killed by a cop.”

  Grant bristled—he hadn’t killed Galion, he’d used proper force for the circumstances—but he felt no need to explain any of it to the CSU.

  “That makes this very interesting,” she continued, sticking her glasses in her pocket and pointing to one of her team to finish photographing the freezer.

  Interesting.

  Grant wouldn’t have used that word.

  Rafe wanted to talk with Moira, but he didn’t know where she’d gone. He took a few minutes to pack for their trip, and when he returned to the kitchen Rico was there alone. Rafe glanced out the back window and saw Anthony and Skye standing close together on the cliffs, far beyond the deck.

  He didn’t mince words. “What did Moira mean about her blood?”

  “She shouldn’t have said anything,” Rico said.

  Rafe glanced at Rico as he leaned against the kitchen counter. The man was the best damn trainer on the planet. He was also arrogant, cunning, and rigid. There were no gray areas with Rico, no weakness, no slacking. If you didn’t perform 100 percent every minute of every day, his criticism was wicked.

  “Spit it out, Rico. I know what you’re thinking.”

  Rico didn’t show agitation or surprise. “I doubt that.”

  “You don’t trust me. You still think I was somehow party to the priests’ murders at the mission.”

  Just saying it out loud caused the acid in Rafe’s stomach to bubble and burn. Guilt warred with the injustice of Rico’s silent accusations.

  “I know you would have given your life to save any one of those men.” Rico’s words stunned Rafe into silence. “However, you’re correct that I don’t trust you.”

  “What’s going on?” Rafe asked, though he wasn’t quite sure what he was asking. The pressure of the last two weeks—awakening from his drug-induced coma, saving the young Lily Ellis, stopping the coven, losing Father Philip, and then the rigorous physical therapy to regain his strength—weighed on him. Not to mention that while everyone else had had months to mourn the deaths of the twelve priests last November, in Rafe’s mind only two weeks had passed.

  “You could have been a brilliant theologian or demonologist, but you left St. Michael’s for St. John’s. You could have been a great priest, but you left St. John’s for Olivet. You could have been a top warrior, but you left Olivet to return to the seminary. Yet you never took your vows, leaving St. John’s for Santa Louisa de los Padres.” Rico assessed him. “How can I trust you? You have no direction, no true allegiance. It’s as if you’re waiting for something, unable to commit. At your age, that’s unacceptable.”

  Rafe’s blood boiled. “I am loyal to St. Michael’s.” Rico didn’t respond. “Dammit, Rico, how dare you doubt my devotion!”

  “Moira has never lied to me until today. She’s protecting you.”

  “Don’t be an idiot. Moira isn’t protecting me from you.”

  Moira lied to Rico? What had she said? Rafe had never asked her to keep any secrets, though they had skirted around some of their concerns about what happened to him in the hospital while he was in the coma. Was that what she didn’t want to tell Rico?

  “Then explain to me how you learned to stop the Conoscenza ritual. How you knew the language.”

  “I don’t know. The words just came to me.” Rico’s disapproval and doubt mirrored Rafe’s own heart, but he pushed it aside. He wished he knew how he’d been able to save Lily Ellis, the arca, the teenager who would have been sacrificed to house the Seven Deadly Sins in her body for Fiona and her coven to use at will. He’d just … known. And he hadn’t stopped the ritual; he’d only saved Lily and prevented the coven from trapping the demons. They’d been released into the world, and people were still probably dying because of it.

  He had some ideas about his knowledge, but those ideas terrified him. From his dreams—his nightmares—Rafe knew things he should not know. And sometimes he had the sense that he wasn’t quite himself anymore. But he couldn’t tell Rico any of this. Because deep down, while he never doubted Rico’s loyalty to the demon hunters he trained, he also knew that Rico was ruthless. Any members of the Order who showed signs of mental instability were sent back to Italy for “observation,” but they were really in a glorified prison. Even with all the screening and protection and training, some members snapped.

  “Anthony is protecting you, I understand,” Rico said. “You and Anthony have always been close, and I appreciate the support you’ve given each other over the years. So if Anthony is somewhat blind to what’s been going on, I can take his comments and report with a grain of salt. But Moira?” Rico slammed his palm on the counter, a rare physical burst of anger. “She’s never lied to me. But she did it fully knowing what she was doing. I know her better than she knows herself, and I will not tolerate her hedging.”

  “What are you going to do? Toss her in a dungeon?”

  Rafe was being flip, but Rico’s sharp reaction surprised him. “Don’t you dare suggest that I’m anything like her evil mother.”

  What did that mean? What had Fiona done to Moi
ra—and what did Rico know about it? Rico’s comment reminded Rafe that he didn’t know Moira as well as Rico did.

  “You’ve distracted Moira long enough,” Rico continued. “Stay away from her. She has a vital job to do and she can’t do it if her loyalties are torn.”

  “Is that the real reason you don’t want me going to Los Angeles?”

  “I can see right in front of me what’s going on,” Rico said. “Moira is preoccupied with your problems, your coma, your dreams. She’s worried and not fully focused on finding Fiona and Matthew Walker. She’s not focused on destroying the Conoscenza.”

  Rafe defended her. “She is consumed by her search for her mother!”

  Rico shook his head. “If she wavers, even a fraction, she’ll die before she gets a chance to complete her mission. And if that happens? There’s no one else. No one that we know of who can destroy the book.”

  “That’s all she is to you? A tool?”

  “Isn’t that all any of us are? That’s why you’ve been wandering, Raphael. You refuse to accept that you have a calling more important than yourself. Moira is not you. She’s accepted her charge, and she’s willing to do what it takes to stop evil on Earth.”

  “Even if she has to die.” Rafe realized why Moira would not acknowledge their intense, growing feelings for each other. She believed she would die. She was trying to protect herself, and him as well. But he didn’t want that kind of protection. “You weren’t there during the last battle. You have no idea how bravely Moira performed. Nothing can distract her from her goal; you trained her well.” Rafe sounded as bitter as he felt. But he would not let Moira die.

  “Yes I did,” Rico said with complete confidence. “But make no mistake, Raphael—her situation is extremely dangerous and any distractions will prove fatal. I don’t know what you did to ingratiate yourself with Moira, to get her to lie for you. I don’t want you going to Los Angeles. Stay away from her.”

  “Like hell I will. Moira and I are a good team. We worked together trapping Envy. You can even ask Anthony.”

  “Moira doesn’t need a partner.”

  “Doesn’t that go against everything you taught us at Olivet?”

  “I am Moira’s partner.”

  “You?” Rafe laughed. “From way up in Montana? I can see how well you protected her two weeks ago when Matthew Walker nearly killed her. Or from the Cerberus who attacked her. Or from the demon—”

  Rico pushed off from the counter and was only a foot away from Rafe, his jaw tight and his dark eyes narrow. “I will be there when it counts.”

  Rafe didn’t back down. “It counted then.”

  “Stay away from her.”

  “No.” Why was Rico so fixated on Rafe partnering with Moira? They had the same goal: stopping the Seven Deadly Sins. And no one else cared about Moira the way Rafe did. He didn’t want her to die. He wondered if Rico or Anthony felt the same.

  “I’ll have you recalled,” Rico threatened.

  “I dare you.”

  “The cardinal won’t protect you if he thinks you’re stopping Moira in any way from completing her mission.”

  Suddenly, everything came clear. Rico’s attitude, his efforts to keep Rafe from partnering with Moira. His harder-than-usual animosity. Before he could stop the words from spilling out, Rafe said, “You’re in love with her.”

  Rico’s eyes widened in shock. He hadn’t realized it, but Rafe saw it as clear as day. Rico was playing the dominant male, trying to chase Rafe away from Moira because he considered her his territory.

  Rafe wasn’t about to be chased away from anyone he cared about, especially Moira.

  Rico said in a low voice, “You’ve been lying to everyone, Raphael, and maybe you’re even lying to yourself. Anthony told me how you cut open Moira’s hand during the battle with Envy. You claimed it was because the demon at the witch’s house died after biting her, and you were taking a leap of faith. Good excuse, which Anthony bought hook, line, and sinker. But we both know there’s more to it than that.”

  Rico thought Rafe cut Moira as some sort of excuse? A cover for nefarious activity?

  “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Rico. What I told Anthony was the truth.”

  “The truth?” Rico said. “I don’t think you know the truth.”

  Rico was baiting him and Rafe tried not to jump.

  “You took Moira’s blood because you think it’s a weapon.”

  “Isn’t that what you used it for? None of us even suspected her blood might hold the answers.”

  “It was just a theory, I didn’t know it would work. We were all going to die. I had to do something.”

  “But you knew exactly what to do.”

  “That’s why you want her blood. You’re going to test my theory, try to hurt a demon with it.”

  “It’s not a theory if you’re using magic.”

  “I’m not going to tell you again that I’m not.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Go to Hell.”

  “You’re playing a dangerous game, Raphael.”

  “I’m not playing. I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

  “If anything happens to Moira under your watch, I will kill you,” Rico said. He strode toward the sliding glass door, but Rafe wasn’t letting him have the last word.

  “The same goes for you, Rico. And I’m betting that your plans for Moira have more to do with her dying than mine.”

  Rico hesitated a moment, then continued out the door without looking back.

  Rafe stared after him. You’re on notice, buddy.

  FIVE

  Rico and Anthony retrieved the tabernacle that housed the demon Envy from St. Francis de Sales Church, and Anthony drove Rico to the small Santa Louisa airfield where Rico had landed his private plane earlier that morning.

  Rico always kept his emotions under tight rein, which was why most people thought he was heartless. In many ways, he was; his vocation required it. He had no time for the pleasantries that were customary among people. Like Anthony and the others, he’d been abandoned as an infant at St. Michael’s doorstep and raised by the priests and monks in the fortress they called home. He’d been trained to be a warrior for God. He knew nothing else. He didn’t want to know anything else. His calling was clear, and he had never doubted it once in his thirty-seven years. Never.

  Which was why Raphael was able to get under his skin. Ex-hunter, ex-seminarian, the guy was full of doubt and questions. And he had the audacity to question Rico about the single most important, most dangerous battle they’d faced this century—which also could be the last. Raphael had never understood that he was a soldier, and soldiers take orders. Though he didn’t agree with them, Rico had accepted Raphael’s choices. Until now. Raphael was spreading his doubts to others, including Anthony. The cardinal had always supported Raphael’s rash decisions, so Rico had kept quiet. But now Moira was showing shades of Raphael’s influence.

  Without her doing exactly what she was supposed to do, they would lose. All her training, all the time Rico spent working with her so she would have the mental and physical strength to do what now very much needed to be done, would be wasted.

  He hadn’t enjoyed being the lead trainer. He had to break down his people to ensure that they could not be broken when in battle. It was grueling work. Rico survived only because he knew it was necessary to ensure the survival of the human race. Few people wanted to go to war. But in the battle between the underworld and humanity, the underworld would never stop coming for them. It was relentless. Vicious. Evil.

  So Rico accepted his calling, but there were times he despised what he had to do. Such as when he had put Moira in a dungeon not unlike the one her mother had kept her in for nine days. Being physically trapped was Moira’s greatest fear. Rico had to put her in the same situation so she could learn to survive if it happened to her again.

  God, how she had suffered! Rico had wanted to pull her out time and time again, but he didn’t
. He couldn’t. And she was stronger for it. She had survived jail when trapped there two weeks ago. She was still claustrophobic, but she now had the tools to overcome it. She had to be able to survive anything Fiona or the demons put in her path.

  There was more at stake here than their lives! That Raphael didn’t see and understand that was far more disturbing than anything the fool had done—or not done—to date. If Raphael corrupted Moira, turned her away from her mission, there would be chaos.

  And all Rico had done to prepare her would be for naught.

  “Would you like me to inspect your plane?” Anthony asked as he pulled up to the airstrip.

  “I’ll do it,” Rico said. “You need to catch that plane to Italy, and you have a long drive to San Francisco.”

  “I understand the importance of this trip, but the timing is very bad,” Anthony said.

  Rico was in no mood to listen to anyone else question orders. That it was coming from Anthony—who had always been loyal and righteous—was especially disturbing. “Your personal life is inconsequential, Anthony. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

  Anthony tensed. “I have not allowed my personal life to interfere with my mission.”

  “Any personal life interferes. I hope you understand that when you are forced to make a choice.”

  “You can’t be telling me I have to choose between Skye and St. Michael’s!”

  “Not now. But you know as well as I do that the time will come when a choice is inevitable. Every one of us who has become … involved,” he emphasized, “has had to choose between the Order and their personal relationships. It’s never been pleasant, and usually it’s deadly.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that,” Anthony said with anger. “Before he was killed, Peter was my brother.”

  “Yes. Peter. He was not just your brother, he was a brother to us all. But your affection for him clouded your judgment then, just like your affection for Raphael is clouding your judgment now.”

  “What does that mean?”