Carnal Sin

by Allison Brennan

  He stepped back and stared at her. She prayed he wasn’t trying to come up with a lie. Then he said, “It wasn’t a vision.”

  “Then what was it?”

  “A memory. And not mine.” He leaned against the desk and crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Remember when I told you about the memories I had about Father Tucci and Father Salazar? Anthony thought they had something to do with what Dr. Bertram was doing to me in the hospital while he kept me in the coma.”

  “Of course I remember.” It was through those memories that Rafe had unlocked the key to defeating the demon Envy. They had also nearly killed him.

  “This was similar to those memories. When Fiona held me captive, they wanted information from me. I don’t think they realized that I have the memories of those who were murdered at Santa Louisa.”

  Moira didn’t know what to say. What Rafe was suggesting sounded impossible … yet she herself had seen the death imprint of Craig Monroe. “Like a death imprint?” she conjectured.

  “When you told me about what happened in the alley, I began to wonder if the same thing could have happened at the mission. The priests had been drugged and were hallucinating. Their most horrible memories became very real to them, as if they were living through their worst trauma over again. They tried hard to purge the evil thoughts from their minds, unable to live day-to-day with the frightening images. The coven wanted to drive them to murder, and the way to do that was forcing the priests at Santa Louisa to relive over and over the evil acts they had witnessed, the violence that sent them for help in the first place. And if they were reliving that violence while I was there in the chapel—I don’t know, it sounds crazy, but … as soon as we opened the door last night, I smelled something familiar that I couldn’t identify, and I had the flash—a memory. It was like I was Samuel Ackerman. He never told anyone what awful thing happened to him in his past that brought him to Santa Louisa, but now I know. I know the truth.” His voice hitched.

  She stepped toward him, put her hand on his chest, felt his heart beating much too fast.

  “It was awful—I can’t—”

  “Rafe, please tell me. Don’t keep it bottled up inside. Isn’t that why those poor men suffered? Because they suppressed everything until it drove them insane, with the help of witchcraft.”

  Rafe closed his eyes, not wanting to tell Moira the truth. But didn’t she deserve it? And she was right. If he didn’t explain to someone, it would drive him off the edge. “Father Samuel was a parish priest here in Los Angeles.” Rather than fighting it, Rafe allowed himself to remember. It gushed forth from the deep recesses of his mind.

  “Samuel Ackerman called Susan his sister, but they weren’t blood-related. They were raised together in foster care and lost track of each other after Samuel turned eighteen and went to college. Susan came back into his life—he never knew why. At first, he was overjoyed at finding his foster sister and having a family. She had two daughters, and Samuel doted on them. Wanting a family was one of the reasons he’d turned to the Church. Sadly, when she attempted to steal consecrated hosts from his church, he discovered the truth about his sister: she was an occultist. He went to Susan’s house to confront her and witnessed a shocking ritual where his sister was engaged in black sex magic. A Luciferian rite, pure evil.” Rafe could see the orgy Susan and her coven had shared with a vile demon. But the demon gave them strength and power, and they grew hungry for more. The addiction to power was far deadlier than drugs. Rafe would try to block the abominable memories from his mind, but feared they would disturb him for the rest of his life. “Samuel saw the chalice and remembered hearing about such a thing from a very old priest at his seminary. It was like a tether for demons, what you call a psychic leash. He didn’t know what it was for, but knew it was important to Susan’s rituals. The next day he stole the chalice and went to visit William and Tessa Burns, a couple who had devoted themselves to learning about occult practices after their son disappeared with a coven.

  “They knew the chalice was evil, but they didn’t know what to do with it. They reached out to St. Michael’s for information, but before anyone was sent to retrieve the chalice, Susan managed to track Samuel down.

  “He refused to give her the chalice. She’d brought her coven with her, as well as her two daughters. Wendy and Nicole.”

  Moira drew in a sharp breath. “Donovan.”

  “Yes.”

  “So he gave her the chalice?”

  “Two of her coven offered themselves to be possessed by a succubus and an incubus. They tormented, raped, and tortured William and Tessa. When Samuel still refused to hand over the chalice, the succubus sucked out William’s soul and he died. Broken at last, Samuel relinquished the chalice to Susan.

  “But she had no intention of releasing Tessa Burns. She died as well.”

  Moira gasped at the brutality. “Dear God.”

  Rafe squeezed his eyes shut and Moira stepped into his arms, holding him close.

  “We must destroy the chalice, Moira,” Rafe said. “As soon as possible.”

  “I agree—but shouldn’t we talk to Anthony first? After all, the exorcism didn’t work. I don’t even think it was our exorcism that pulled the demon from that woman’s body. I think the demon did it on its own. If that’s true, how can we possibly trap it in the chalice?”

  “Perhaps we need to put the chalice inside the trap.”

  Moira frowned. This was getting dangerously close to magic. “Maybe. But I wouldn’t risk it without more information. Let’s call Anthony.”

  Rafe glanced at the clock. “I’ll call him.”

  An urgent knock on the door had Moira frowning. “A little early for housekeeping,” Rafe whispered, picking up his dagger.

  Moira walked to the door, with each step feeling a wave of magical energy on the other side. A witch. She looked through the peephole. A slender woman taller than Moira, with dark hair pulled haphazardly into a loose tie, fidgeted at the door. Her elegant features were tired and strained and she had a small, dark bruise on her cheek.

  “It’s a woman. She was in Jackson’s files. A witch. I feel it with every pore in my body.” She couldn’t remember her name, but knew this woman was bad news.

  Rafe had his dagger ready. Moira retrieved her own and held it out to ward off a spell. Then she relaxed, letting her senses absorb everything around her, every sound, every smell, every nearby emotion. Opening up her God-given senses without using magic to shield or protect her used to terrify her. Sometimes it still did. She felt the overwhelming sense of love and fear flowing off Rafe but consciously blocked him out, focusing on the other side of the door. There was fear there, too, but only one person.

  “She’s alone, and she’s scared,” Moira said and opened the door.

  TWENTY

  Ambition, cruelty, avarice, revenge, are all founded on lust.

  —MARQUIS DE SADE

  Moira let the witch into the hotel room and closed the door behind her. The brunette’s eyes went to the dagger in Moira’s hand, and Moira made no move to sheathe it.

  “Who are you and what do you want?” Moira said.

  “My name is Julie Schroeder. Please, I have no one else to turn to. I need your help.”

  “I don’t know you, and you’re a witch. That’s two big fat negatives against you.” But the name sounded familiar—Jackson had mentioned her last night, as part of Wendy’s coven.

  Julie’s eyes darted from Moira to Rafe, who pulled a black T-shirt—identical to the one Moira had ruined the night before while cleaning his wound—over his head. The witch was nervous and scared, but damn bold to confront them here.

  “You’re Moira O’Donnell,” Julie said as if that revelation was an answer. “You’re the only one who can reverse the spell.”

  “Stop right there. I don’t deal with spells, period. How the hell did you find us?”

  “I tried to find you through a traditional spell, but that didn’t work.”

  “Magic doesn’t wo
rk on me,” Moira said. It wasn’t quite true—Fiona had nearly killed her with magic two weeks ago. Still, Fiona had never been able to find Moira using her very powerful dark magic, so she very much doubted a young witch like Julie could.

  “So I used old-fashioned methods. I went through my boyfriend’s notes.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  “Grant. Detective Nelson? We were together last night. After what happened to Nadine.”

  “You’re screwing the detective?” Moira asked, stunned and worried. She’d sensed no magic in Grant Nelson. Had she missed something? Had he figured out a way to block his aura from her?

  “Grant and I—we have a relationship.”

  “Terrific!” Moira brushed by Julie and crossed to the window. She looked down into the parking lot, expecting to see a legion of witches outside her window ready to burn her at the stake. Or worse, take her to her mother.

  She wasn’t 100 percent confident that her finely tuned senses always worked the way they were supposed to, but she had never once been wrong about a witch or a demon.

  There was always a first time.

  Taking a chance, she turned to Julie and said, “Nelson isn’t a magician.”

  “No, of course not. My coven is female only.”

  “Right. Because you sacrifice male souls to a succubus. Very liberating of you.”

  “Please! Grant’s life is in danger. I wouldn’t come to you if I had any other option. Moira, you’re my only hope!”

  “Do I look like Obi-Wan Kenobi to you?”

  Rafe put his hand on Moira’s shoulder and squeezed. He said, “Julie, start at the beginning.”

  “Grant came to the club after Nadine died. I was supposed to take him to his place, but we went to my apartment instead. I told Wendy he insisted, but I really just wanted to save him. Wendy will kill me if she finds this out.”

  “And I care, why?” Moira asked.

  Rafe said, “Wait—why were you supposed to take him to his house?”

  “Because Wendy was going to send the succubus there. Wendy didn’t want any more problems at the club. We don’t have much time. The succubus can go after Grant anytime after sunset. I don’t want to lose him.”

  “Tell him,” Moira said. “Tell him he’s the target of a demon and see what he does.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Pot, meet kettle.”

  Rafe squeezed Moira’s shoulder again. Damn, that hurt.

  “Julie,” he said, using his calm, cool, collected—and very sexy—shrink voice, “we can protect Grant, but we need to know everything about the ritual Wendy used to summon the succubus.”

  Moira bit back an argument. She wasn’t going to help a witch, not unless Julie gave up using magic. But she couldn’t let Grant Nelson die because this witch had cursed him.

  Julie frowned. “I planned on sticking by him all day—but something has happened to him. I don’t know what … he’s not himself. I’m scared.”

  “Is he possessed?” Rafe asked.

  “No. Not like that. But he’s different. Last night we screwed like rabbits. That’s common, but Grant wasn’t the same. I don’t know how to explain it, but he was rough. Cruel and crude. Then this morning I saw a mark on his back and it scared me.”

  Moira felt sick to her stomach. She found her phone and scrolled through her photographs. “Did it look like that?” She showed Craig Monroe’s demon mark to Julie.

  “Y-yes,” Julie said. “That’s it. So you know what it is?”

  “Yes,” Moira said. She stared at Julie, trying to figure out whether she was telling the truth. “Don’t you?”

  She shook her head. “What is it?”

  “It’s a demon mark. You’re familiar with those, I assume.”

  Julie shrugged. “I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen one.”

  “Haven’t been a witch long, have you?”

  “What do you want from me? Are you going to reverse the spell and save Grant or not?”

  “Reverse what spell?”

  “Wendy’s. Our coven’s spell. I think when we brought Kali into our world, we must have done something wrong. Wendy wanted to strengthen the ritual, called on Kali to claim three men we’d cursed, and I think the changes she made did something. Nadine died. That shouldn’t happen!”

  Every vein in Moira’s body froze. Kali. She knew that demon—knew of it, at any rate. Old, evil, powerful. The ancient Jewish people had many nightmarish stories about Kali, under a variety of different names. Az, Lilith, you name it—this badass demon went back to the fall of Lucifer. The stories Moira had heard made the Brothers Grimm appear downright cheerful.

  If they summoned Kali, how did the demon Lust get into the mix?

  “You’re messing around with the darkest of supernatural forces. No wonder you lost control!”

  Julie recoiled from Moira’s outburst. Rafe grabbed her arm and pulled her to his side.

  “When did you perform the ritual?” Rafe asked. Moira tried to pull her arm loose from him, but he held on tight.

  “Tuesday night.”

  “Tuesday?” Rafe said. “Are you certain?”

  “Of course—Kali claimed Monroe on Wednesday, Erickson on Thursday, and Grant was supposed to be last night, but—”

  “Wait,” Moira said. She mentally ran through the timeline of what she knew. “Kent Galion died Friday.”

  “That had nothing to do with us. I swear to you, the ritual was Tuesday night. It’s a special feast for Kali; we do it the same feast day every year.”

  It didn’t make sense to Moira. Kent Galion died on Friday—and four days later the succubus was summoned? Yet Galion, Monroe, and Erickson all had the same demon mark.

  Julie continued. “We tried the men who’d betrayed us, and gave Kali a taste of their blood so she would know them.”

  Moira snapped, “You tried them? You’re the judge and jury and use a demon to execute them? You think you and your coven are demi-gods picking and choosing who should lose their soul?”

  Julie’s lip quivered, but she tilted her chin up and justified their actions. “Craig cheated on his girlfriend repeatedly. He was an asshole. Belinda worked at Velocity and found out she was pregnant. Craig dumped her and told her to get an abortion. She dropped out of college and quit her job. She wasn’t a witch! She was just a sweet girl who got used by a douche bag. He deserved it! I loved Belinda like a little sister and he destroyed her. She went home and her father kicked her out of the house. She was so upset, she felt so alone—” Julie looked at the ceiling and blinked back tears. “She died in a car accident. I don’t know if it was suicide or not. So yes, I picked Craig because of that.”

  Rafe pulled Moira back and asked, “What about George Erickson? From all accounts, he was a good guy.”

  “That was Pamela’s pick. Pam was furious because he was sleeping around.”

  “But they supposedly had an open marriage,” Moira said.

  Julie raised her eyebrow. “Open? You don’t know Pam. Pam gets what she wants, but George wasn’t allowed the same privileges. I felt bad about him because I liked him, but those are the rules. And Grant—” Her face clouded.

  “You wanted Grant dead,” Moira said flatly.

  “No! He was Wendy’s pick. I—I went along, because I was mad. I didn’t know he’d slept with Wendy during one of our off-again times. Grant sleeps around, I know that, but he wasn’t supposed to go after the girls I work with! Talk about humiliating … I found out he’d slept with four of them, and once back when we were still together. But …”

  “You think you love him,” Moira said. “You bitch. You’re jealous and you sold his soul to a demon? Do you know what happens when a demon claims a soul? Do you know the pain, the emptiness, that the victim feels as his soul is ripped from his body? Skinning him alive would have been more humane!”

  “Kent Galion died Friday,” Rafe said quietly.

  Moira took a deep breath. “I was thinking about that—but can we even belie
ve her?”

  “She’s telling the truth,” Rafe said. He stared at Julie.

  “I swear to you,” Julie said, “it was Tuesday. We had nothing to do with Kent. Wendy did not want him dead—Marcus is hugely suspicious of how she got half of Kent’s business without paying for it. When he gets back into town Wendy knows she’s gonna be on the hot seat.”

  “And,” Rafe continued, “Skye told us there was a dead woman found frozen in his house, who’d been missing since last Wednesday night.”

  Julie said, “Stephanie. She was a waitress at Velocity. But those deaths aren’t connected.”

  “They are,” Rafe said. “Galion had the same mark on his back that Monroe and Erickson had. The same mark that Detective Nelson has.”

  “It’s connected to Fiona,” Moira said. “Not Wendy’s ritual. It goes back to the Seven.” She asked Julie, “When did Nicole Donovan arrive?”

  Julie frowned. “Why does that matter?”

  Moira snapped, “Answer the question.”

  “Two weeks ago. It was late Saturday night; she showed up at Velocity. Surprised Wendy. They don’t get along, but Nicole moved in with her.”

  Moira said to Rafe, “What if she brought the demon Lust with her to Los Angeles? It’s the psychic leash—maybe the Seven are connected to the coven members. And the witches are immune because they were in the protective circle when the Seven Deadly Sins were released. That’s how Nicole could affect Hank Santos, but not be affected herself.”

  “A catalyst,” Rafe murmured. “Like Typhoid Mary.”

  Julie interrupted. “What are you talking about?”

  “Nicole didn’t tell you? She was part of Fiona O’Donnell’s coven that released the Seven Deadly Sins from hell. They’re not your friendly neighborhood demons; they’re big, bad, bold, and brazen.”

  “So Galion was affected before the ritual,” Rafe said. “Because he spent time at Velocity. The demon Lust would feed on a place like that—the sexual tension, the physical attractions. And the connection to Nicole Donovan keeps Lust in the vicinity.”