“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 leaned 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?”
“Where did you hear that?”
“I read the police report.”
“Those aren’t public.”
“I know.” She held up an employee badge. “It helps when you work for the Board of Supervisors.”
“Nina—please. I’m in the middle of an interview.”
“Is it about this case?”
“I can’t tell you. You put yourself in the middle of it when you told me you had an affair with the deceased.”
She angrily got in Grant’s face. “Dammit, Nelson! Don’t blow me off. Did you look at the files I gave you? The orgies? The occult rituals? There isn’t just one person responsible, and you know it.”
Moira’s interest piqued. She sat up. Grant shot her a look. “You can leave, Ms. O’Donnell.”
“I don’t think I want to now,” she said.
Nina looked her up and down, then extended her hand. “Nina Hardwick, attorney for the Board of Supervisors.”
Moira shook her hand, sensing the energy that made up Nina Hardwick’s invisible aura. She wasn’t a witch. And now she had an ally.
“I’d like to hear about the orgies and occult rituals,” Moira said.
“No! This is a police investigation,” Grant snapped, losing his temper.
“But you said the case was closed,” Moira snapped back.
“Closed?” Nina said. “You closed it?”
“No! I didn’t.”
“But you said—” Moira countered.
“I was being sarcastic.”
“Then you still need my help,” Moira said.
“The time I call in a psychic to help me in an investigation is when I turn in my resignation.”
Nina stared at Moira, eyes wide. “You’re psychic?”
Moira couldn’t tell whether she was skeptical or in awe. “Not exactly; I sometimes have visions of past and current events.” She wasn’t even lying with that statement. She liked Nina Hardwick. The woman was tough as nails and she irritated Grant Nelson. “What files?” she asked.
“Where are my files, Grant?” Nina asked. “I want to show this girl, Miss O’Donnell?”
“Moira.”
“They’re part of a police investigation,” Grant said.
“Ah-ha! So the case isn’t closed.”
Grant stood up. “That’s it, both of you out of here or I’m putting you in custody for interfering with a police investigation. Nina—stay out of it. You, O’Donnell—don’t leave L.A. until you hear from me.”
Nina was going to argue, but Moira quickly said, “Thank you, Detective Nelson. You have my number.” She gave
Nina a sideways glance and the woman picked up on the hint.
Nina said to Grant, “You’d better tell me exactly what you find out about Pamela Erickson and this dead suspect or I swear, I’ll make your life hell.”
If he lives long enough, Moira thought.
TWENTY-TWO
Julie drove her sporty convertible to Wendy’s spacious house in the Hollywood Hills. She had never been so terrified in her life.
“Wendy doesn’t know,” she whispered to herself. She couldn’t know! Then why ask her to meet now?
Julie had done everything Wendy asked of her. She’d planted the hex bag. She’d lied to Moira O’Donnell because she wanted her on her side to save Grant, but the hex bag would let Julie find him anywhere—just like the one she’d planted on Nadine. She’d gotten Rachel Prince to drink the potion so the demon could possess her. She’d tracked Nadine when Wendy couldn’t reach her—how were they to know that the demon could release Nadine on its own? It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. Julie wondered whether Moira O’Donnell had done it. She didn’t believe for one minute that O’Donnell wasn’t a full-fledged practicing witch. If she wasn’t, why was she still alive? What she knew—what she could do with that knowledge—could damage covens across the globe. If she weren’t a powerful witch, she would have been killed.
Julie had done everything she’d been asked—everything except turn Grant over to the succubus—so why did she feel that Wendy was lying to her?
“We’re having a meeting at my house to discuss the problem of Moira O’Donnell and her boyfriend. Don’t be late.”
Julie was early. She parked in the driveway. Pam was already there. With Nadine dead, that left their coven with eight members. Nine was the perfect number; who was Wendy going to recruit? Julie didn’t see Nicole stepping up to take orders from her sister Wendy.
She took a deep breath and got out of her car. She walked around to the side of the house and down the outside stairs, to the bottom level. Glancing in through the window, she saw that the room was a mess, but there was a new circle cast on the main hardwood floor—not in front of the altar. She didn’t know how Cooper and O’Donnell had gotten out alive—other than by using magic. Moira O’Donnell had incredible powers. It was the only explanation.
Why had she denied it?
She opened the door. Wendy was on the far side of the room, with her sister Nicole and Pam Erickson.
“Julie,” Wendy said without turning. “I have someone for you to meet.”
Julie’s blood ran cold. She froze as her eyes fixed on the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen, standing naked in the center of the spirit trap.
The stranger’s golden hair flowed down her back in waves of silk moving as if blown by a gentle breeze, though there were no windows or doors open in the room. Creamy, flawless skin encased graceful arms, shapely legs, and full, round breasts. Her bright eyes, as exquisite and sharp as two amethyst crystals, locked on Julie. Though she smiled, the chill in Julie’s veins settled deep in her bones.
As the strangely beautiful woman moved to the edge of the circle, Julie noticed a naked man lying on his back. His eyes were open, his contorted face frozen in shock. His penis stood straight up, impossibly long and engorged. But he didn’t move. Was he dead?
It was Ike, their bartender at Velocity.
“Wh-why?” Julie asked. She wanted to be strong, but her knees shook and she couldn’t move.
Run, Julie, dammit, run!
“Our friend needed sustenance, since you kept her from the sacrifice. Ike has screwed every waitress in the club; he jumped at the chance to come to my place for an orgy.” She laughed.
“What are you talking about?” Wendy had always been unpredictable, but she was acting fool-crazy.
“You didn’t fool me. Grant was so freaked and tired last night you could have easily taken him to his place. But no, you took him to your apartment, where you set up a spirit trap to protect him.”
“I’ve always set up protections around my home! You know that.”
“Yes. I do. Which was why you were supposed to take him to his house.” She waved her hand as if swatting a gnat. “No matter.” Wendy rose and faced her. Her grin terrified Julie. “Our new, very powerful friend has taught me a lot since last night. We now have an understanding.” Wendy looked at the woman—the demon—with admiration and a palpable affection that turned Julie’s stomach.
“I saw you, Julie.” Wendy’s voice turned venomous. “You’re not the only one who can leave her body. I saw you leave the hotel. I watched, and then Moira O’Donnell came out. You’ve betrayed me. The only reason you’re not dead is because in your ignorance, in your stupidity, you inadvertently gave me the key. I will wrap Moira O’Donnell up in a pretty bow and deliver her to her mother, and Fiona will place me high in her coven.
“If you survive—I don’t think you will, but if you do—I will forgive you. Until then, our friend has many things to do. We’ve chosen you.”
There would be no reasoning with Wendy. Her eyes were bright, almost drugged, and her aura was shimmering with excitement. Raw terror propelled Julie toward the door. It would not open.
“Wendy, please!” she begged, her back flat against the wall as she fumbled in vain to turn the knob. She glanced at Nicole as she approached, Pam at her side. Nicole was not insane like her sister. In fact, her clear eyes told Julie that Nicole was smart and reasoned. “Nicole, don’t do this!” she pleaded, her panic readily apparent as her voice cracked. “Wendy is crazy, this makes no sense, don’t let her—”
“Crazy?” Wendy frowned, but her bright eyes betrayed her good humor. “That hurts. I don’t think I will forgive you.”
Pam and Nicole each grabbed one of Julie’s arms. They half dragged her to the spirit trap, and holding her still for the demon to inspect.
Like a deer trapped in headlights, Julie froze, enraptured by the woman’s—the demon’s—beauty. But when the stranger smiled, her breath reeked of death; and her hair wasn’t flowing with silk, it was moving on its own, each strand a living snake, impossibly thin but braiding with the others, reaching out for her.
This wasn’t a demon inside a human body. This was a demon incarnate, in full human shape.
The demon spoke, her voice deep and seductive. “Julie,” she cooed, “you should be afraid. Very afraid.”
Julie knew she was dead, no matter what happened, but if she was to have any chance at survival, she couldn’t let this demon touch her soul.
The guilt for all the men she’d participated in killing weighed heavily on her heart. She’d never considered that what she was doing was all that wrong until she saw what had happened to Nadine. The horrible way she’d died. Julie had tried to help her friend but couldn’t, and now she didn’t know how to save herself. Grant would die. There was no way Julie would be able to save him trapped in her own body with this vile creature!
She didn’t have time to think, and only one idea came to mind. Astral projection—temporarily removing her spirit from her body.
As the demon reached out for her, her spirit leapt silently from her body. She’d never been able to shift directly to the astral plane without a calming and purification ritual, but she’d been practicing, and had gotten faster and better and could survive longer on the astral plane—the invisible layer that enveloped this world, separating the living from the underworld and the heavens.
Her body collapsed between Pam and Nicole.
“She fainted,” Pam said.
“Too bad. I wanted to watch her soul being shredded, the traitorous bitch.” To the demon, Wendy said, “She’s yours.”
As a spirit, Julie watched from outside the house. Her unconscious body was drawn into the spirit trap by the demon’s psychic power, no hands touching her. She was placed next to Ike. He tried to stand, but couldn’t, and again lay still.
The demon lay on top of Julie’s body. For a brief moment, Julie thought the demon was having sex with her. But the house shook, and th
e demon turned to a thick, dark gray cloud that wrapped itself around Julie’s body. Ike screamed, unable to move, and Julie’s body rose from the floor. She smiled.
“I like this body,” the demon said. “It’s very comfortable.” She stripped and lay down on top of Ike.
“No, please,” Ike begged, his voice rough.
“Now I can finish what I started,” the demon in Julie’s body said as she kissed him.
Julie watched in horror as the demon raped Ike even as he screamed, even as he begged Wendy to help him. But Wendy just watched, a half-smile on her face.
The evil bitch. How could she be so cruel to Ike? Someone she’d known for years? What had happened to Wendy that made her so vicious?
Julie couldn’t stop the attack. She couldn’t stop the demon from sucking Ike’s soul out of his body. Julie watched in horror as the demon drew out a visible soul, a smoky gray mist, from Ike’s mouth. The creature breathed deeply, draining Ike’s life, an expression of ecstasy on her face as if on the brink of orgasm. Her entire body darkened and shimmered for a moment, then went back to looking like Julie, except for the darkly glowing aura surrounding her.
“I am satisfied,” it said. “Release me, and I will finish.”
Julie didn’t wait around for the demon to be let out of the trap. She didn’t know whether it would be able to see her or not, or what it would do to her if it did. Julie flew away, her spirit soaring over the valley, over the highways, but she didn’t know where to go.
All she knew was that she didn’t have much time. The longest she’d been without her body was half a day. She didn’t know if she’d survive beyond that.
And she didn’t know what would happen to her afterward.
There was only one person she could ask for help, and she didn’t know how to do it without a body.
But dammit, she’d find Moira O’Donnell.
TWENTY-THREE
Rafe stood outside the police station to talk to Anthony on his cell. He didn’t want anyone listening in on his conversation, though any eavesdropper would be more confused than worried.
It took him ten minutes to explain to Anthony what had happened since they’d arrived in Los Angeles yesterday morning. He concluded, “So you can see that we’re at an impasse. When we tried to exorcise the demon last night, it didn’t work.”
Carnal Sin Page 23