Carnal Sin

by Allison Brennan

  “And the chalice?”

  “Nearby, outside the trap.”

  Rafe could think of a half-dozen things that could go wrong. “I hope this works.”

  “I’ll be praying for you. As soon as possible, find Moira.”

  “I plan on it.” Rafe hung up. He wasn’t certain whether Anthony’s concern was for Moira’s ultimate safety or her value as a tool, and it made him uneasy.

  Rafe said to Jackson, “Put the chalice under the altar, to the side so Wendy won’t see it.”

  “Does Anthony have a plan?”

  “One plan. If Plan A doesn’t work, we’ll improvise.”

  Jeff was trying to talk to Grant. “I saw some things this afternoon that I can’t explain.”

  Grant strained, his lips curling. “They drugged you! It’s a hallucination!”

  Jeff glanced at Rafe. “Can’t you do something for him?”

  Rafe shook his head.

  Julie said, Please, Rafe! Let me talk to him.

  He mentally told her, “Feed me information. I’m not giving you control.”

  She was too weak to fight him, and reluctantly agreed.

  Rafe said to Grant, “Wendy was jealous because you kept going back to Julie. Wendy didn’t want you; she just didn’t want Julie to have you.”

  “You bastard, if you touched Julie I swear I’ll kill you—”

  “I haven’t hurt Julie, but Wendy gave her body to a demon. That demon has been around you—you’ve been infected. The symptoms of being infected? Headaches worse than any migraine you’ve ever had. An overwhelming urge to do things you know you shouldn’t, but you still want to. Need to. Julie came to my hotel room this morning. She had bruises on her arms from where you held her down. She said you weren’t acting yourself, then told us about the mark on your back. The same mark that’s on the backs of the demon’s victims lying in the morgue.” Recognition crossed Grant’s face. “You saw it with your own eyes,” Rafe added.

  “You son of a bitch!” Grant pulled and strained at his restraints.

  Jackson tried to calm him down. “Grant, it’s true. I know it’s hard to accept, but there are demons that walk the earth. Wendy is the head of a powerful coven—”

  “If I hear that word one more time!” Grant stared at the ceiling. Veins throbbed in his neck as sweat flowed down his back.

  “Detective Nelson,” Rafe said, “Julie is trying to save your life. Her spirit—her astral self—is right here with me. She knows you don’t believe in any of this. If it helps, she wants to remind you that she’s the only one who knows about your brother.”

  Rafe didn’t feel comfortable sharing the private information, but the comment had Grant frozen. Then he went off. “I don’t know who the fuck you are, but if you mention Brian I will beat your brains out! You know nothing about him! You’re not fit to be in the same room with him! I hate you!”

  Rafe’s compassion went out to Grant. He let the comments stand, not elaborating. Grant was losing his steam. Rafe didn’t want to beat the guy down, but he had to get him to at least comply.

  “We want to untie you, but you have to stay in the spirit trap,” Rafe said. “The demon wants you. It wants your soul. There is also the not-so-little problem of the mark on your back. Remember Galion? Everyone who is marked dies unless we trap the demon.”

  Grant had nothing more to say, but he glared at Jeff.

  “Hello!” A female voice rang out in the church.

  Rafe pivoted with his dagger out. It was Nina Hardwick.

  “What are you doing here, Nina?” Rafe asked, angry. They didn’t have time for this. Wendy was on her way.

  Nina frowned. “I tried Moira, but—” She stared at Grant. “What happened? What are you doing to him?” She ran toward Grant and Rafe intercepted her.

  “Nina.” He grabbed her arm and made her look at him. “You have to go.”

  “Why are you hurting him?”

  “I haven’t hurt him—he has the mark of the demon. He’s going to die if I can’t stop Wendy. And so will Moira.”

  Nina looked around. It was all too incredible; impossible to believe. “Where is Moira?”

  “Wendy kidnapped her. She set Grant up, but we found him first. He doesn’t understand what’s going on.”

  Grant said, “I understand perfectly well that you are a fucking loon and will be in prison for a long, long time.”

  Detective Jeff Johnston approached her. “Nina, Grant isn’t himself right now. He assaulted a cop after getting into a minor car accident. He’s lucky he wasn’t hauled to the station and placed on administrative leave. Something is wrong with him.”

  “Nina,” Rafe said, “you need to leave before Wendy gets here with the demon.”

  “I found the information you wanted.”

  For a minute, Rafe didn’t know what he’d asked for. Nina elaborated. “Wendy and Nicole’s background. Wendy was in and out of mental institutions for years. Their mother, Susan, was in foster care from the age of six. Susan’s parents were grossly abusive, and she was forcibly removed from their home. They went to prison, but not long enough if you ask me, and Susan was raised in a series of—”

  “I appreciate this, but now you need to leave.”

  “But—”

  “Please, Nina.”

  “Wendy killed her mother. No one prosecuted her because she had proof that her mother set her up to be raped repeatedly. Wendy was finally released for good when she was eighteen, and hasn’t had a problem with law enforcement since. Her records are sealed.”

  “How did you get them?” Jeff asked.

  Nina straightened her spine. “I have my sources. I don’t th—”

  Rafe smelled a hint of sulfur as soon as the demon stepped into the church.

  “Get behind me,” he ordered Nina while pushing her back.

  The demon—in Julie’s body—was flanked by Wendy and Pamela.

  Rafe caught Jackson’s eye and mouthed, Go! Now!

  Jackson hesitated. Dammit, he knew the plan! He didn’t have time to panic.

  Wendy said, “You lose, Raphael Cooper.”

  “Where’s Moira?” He hadn’t expected them to bring her, but he prayed she was still alive. They wanted her for Fiona, not themselves.

  “You think I’d bring her here? Give me Grant. He’s already marked. He’s ours.”

  The demon growled, “He’s mine.”

  Every door in the place slammed shut. They’d been sealed inside. No one could get in or out.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Another jolt of magically charged air hit Moira in the chest. Stunned, she stopped fighting against her restraints until she caught her breath. Nicole Donovan smirked down at Moira’s half-naked body.

  “You are pathetic. From what your mother told me, you used to have power. Where is it, Moira? Where’s your magic? It’s there somewhere, weak, unused, but magic is in your blood. You can’t escape. Why don’t you find it? I would have more fun in a fair battle.”

  Moira drew in a sharp breath, her lungs aching from having the wind knocked out of her repeatedly. “I can beat you without magic,” she whispered.

  Nicole laughed. Not the half-insane hysterical laugh of her deranged sister, Wendy, but an I-have-a-secret laugh, low and full of humor.

  The witch held up her hands and chanted a spell. Moira closed her eyes and used mental tricks Rico had taught her to battle the curse, repeating a Psalm in its original Hebrew. It must have been working, because Nicole stopped speaking. Moira slowly opened her eyes and was surprised that Nicole had knelt next to her, her asthame in hand.

  Trapped, Moira was not going to let this bitch see her panic. She said, “You won’t kill me. You don’t have the courage.”

  Nicole took the blade and broke the skin on Moira’s forearm, an inch long. Blood seeped quickly through the cut. Nicole grabbed her arm and squeezed. Moira bit back a cry as her arm exploded in pain. Nicole twisted her arm so Moira’s blood would drip into a small glass jar.

 
; “Fucking bitch,” Moira ground out through clenched teeth.

  “I already contacted Fiona. She’s waiting for you.”

  Panic bubbled in her chest, but Moira forced it down and said, “Why doesn’t she come for me herself? Too scared?”

  “I’ll tell her you said that.”

  Her mother was the one person she feared more than anything. Even more than demons. Demons didn’t play around; they were just bad. They were, in fact, predictable, and could be dispatched with exorcism prayers that differed from witchcraft in one fundamental way: they didn’t ask for favors. Sure, demons were fearsome—and Moira didn’t enjoy battling them. But Moira would rather face down the demon Lust than her mother.

  Because Fiona knew her greatest weakness. Fiona didn’t want to kill her. She wanted Moira to suffer for eternity.

  Your fear will kill you.

  Shut up! Moira wanted to strangle Rico for his pithy sayings and devout wisdom. Why shouldn’t she be afraid? Why shouldn’t she fear demons and her mother? Rico was a hunter; he’d never been hunted. Not the way she’d been. In life and in her nightmares, she’d been the prey. She’d died a thousand deaths in her mind, and still, she lived. She’d suffered the pain of others and still she survived. The mere mention of Fiona’s name, of what she was and what she’d done, was enough to grow panic in Moira’s soul.

  When Fiona imprisoned her, she’d play with Moira because that’s what her mother enjoyed. But the best way to hurt Moira was to take what she loved. To kill that which made her feel human. To destroy the only thing that gave her hope for a future.

  Rafe.

  No!

  She trusted that Rafe had a plan—though Lord knew she had no fucking idea what it was. She had to get out of here and get to the church before it was too late. She had far more important matters to concern herself with than when—or if—Nicole delivered her to Fiona.

  She didn’t have her daggers. Wendy had stripped her of her jacket, with her other tools hidden inside. But she had her mind.

  “So, Wendy left you to babysit me.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Nicole said smugly. “As soon as the demon takes Grant’s soul, she’ll take Wendy’s body—and her soul.”

  “That’s your brilliant plan? Kill a cop, then your deal with the demon is to give her your sister?”

  “Wendy thinks she and the demon have an understanding. She has no clue. Wendy will finally know what it feels like to be used and manipulated.”

  “Poor little baby sister Nicole. Manipulated by Wendy, manipulated by Fiona, a fucking doormat for anyone and every—”

  “Shut up, Moira. I know what you’re doing.”

  “What? I’m half naked and you have me tied up in a spirit trap waiting for a demon to come get me and deliver me to Fiona. You think I’m manipulating you? Are you that pathetic?”

  Moira continued to work at her binds and wished Nicole wasn’t so damn efficient with knots.

  Nicole paced. “You don’t know me.”

  “I know that you seduced Hank Santos to get information from the Sheriff’s Department and to keep an eye on Lily when her mother couldn’t. I know your mother was a bitch who killed two innocent people to get that damn chalice back. I—”

  Nicole whipped around. “What? You—who—I knew it!”

  “Knew that you’re a sociopath? No, that would be your sister. Hell, it runs in the entire Donovan family.”

  “You’re still a witch. You hide it well.”

  “No,” she said, “I’m not a witch; I don’t summon demons or cast spells. What I know comes from …” She looked pointedly at Nicole. “A higher authority.”

  Nicole burst out in laughter. “Oh! Oh!” She couldn’t talk, hysterical that Moira would imply that God had something to do with her abilities.

  At first, Moira was irritated at Nicole’s reaction—but then realized she could take advantage of Nicole’s funny bone. She wiggled around to sit up, her tied hands behind her. Tears ran down Nicole’s face, blurring her vision. Moira worked her binds frantically.

  “That’s. So. Wrong.” Nicole giggled and wiped her eyes.

  Moira was getting pissed. “Excuse me? You summon demons and you don’t believe in God?”

  “Oh, I’m sure He’s around … somewhere. But like He cares? And even if He does, what does that matter to me? The power I get from my contacts down under, it more than makes up for anything that might happen because some distant God is oh so sad.”

  Nicole stared at her, shaking her head, and added, “You can’t believe that anyone in the Heavens cares about you. After everything you’ve done.”

  Moira inwardly grimaced, swallowing bile-filled guilt. She’d hurt so many people … how could anyone forgive her? How could anyone love her?

  She closed her eyes and pictured Rafe, the man who had chiseled an opening into her hardened heart. The man who gave her the will to find a way to survive even after this battle was over. The man who gave her hope for tomorrow.

  How could Rafe love her?

  God has already forgiven you. But you haven’t forgiven yourself.

  Moira’s eyes shot open. Father Philip’s voice as clear as a bell—but he wasn’t here. She’d heard him, but he wasn’t here! He’d died, because he’d come to Santa Louisa to save her, to give them all a chance at fighting the evil Fiona had unleashed. She would not let him down.

  She worked her restraints.

  Nicole sighed. “I see what you’re doing, Moira, and it’s not going to work.”

  Nicole strode over to the spirit trap and reached down to tighten Moira’s binds.

  Moira leaned back then kicked Nicole in the chest and jumped up, her balance off because her hands were still bound. She twisted her arms as she stumbled back, the ropes falling to the floor.

  “I don’t want to kill you—”

  Nicole ran toward her, an asthame in hand. The ceremonial dagger was sharp as Nicole had proven when she cut Moira’s arm. Moira pivoted, but the tip of the dagger nicked her shoulder.

  Moira leapt out of the way and ran over to her jacket in the far corner. She didn’t have her daggers, but she had something up her sleeve—the devil’s cuff, a thin lead chain usually used to protect the possessed from hurting themselves during an exorcism. Moira could use it in other ways.

  Nicole hesitated, then laughed again, though a little less forcefully. “You think that can hurt me?”

  Nicole began an incantation. Considering the spirit trap had been laid out, Moira didn’t know what would be brought forth.

  “Where is Fiona?” Moira asked. She knew she should just run. Run and steal a car and hightail it to Jackson’s church. But she needed to know. “Where has she been hiding?”

  “Just wait a few hours and I’ll take you to see her, up close and personal.”

  The offer was tempting. Moira didn’t know where Fiona was hiding out, but Nicole did, or would find out. If Moira could figure out a plan that would enable her to get close to Fiona, close enough to put an end to this insanity—

  But now was not the time. Lives were at stake, and Rafe needed her.

  “Ominae ominae de—” Nicole began a summoning spell.

  Moira rushed Nicole, then faked right, spun around, the devil’s cuff extended like a whip. The thin wire sliced Nicole deep in the arm.

  The witch grabbed her bleeding wrist and cried out.

  “Fiona!” Moira shouted, cracking the devil’s cuff in the air. “Where is she?”

  “Fuck you!”

  Moira backhanded Nicole so hard she fell backward and hit the wall. She wanted to kill this woman. Nicole had stood there only feet from Father Philip, watched him suffer, watched him die. Father didn’t deserve it, but Nicole did. Dammit, she deserved to die!

  Moira couldn’t do it. Dear Lord, she wanted to, but to kill Nicole Donovan in cold blood would make her no better than any of them.

  Before she changed her mind, or Nicole recovered enough to work up a spell to stop her, Moira grabbed her th
ings and ran out.

  Rafe watched as Wendy led the way down the aisle. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Jackson round the corner behind the sanctuary. How was he going to get out of the church to finish sealing the trap?

  Grant stared at Julie as she sauntered over to him, her red gown swirling around her obviously naked body. “Julie! Thank God you’re okay.”

  “God?” Wendy sounded bemused. “How about thanking me?”

  Grant ignored her and said, “Julie, are you okay?”

  The demon in Julie’s body approached Rafe with long, languid strides. He could stop this now by stabbing the body with his blessed dagger, but Julie would die and he didn’t know if the demon Lust would be dragged back to Hell. Weaker demons, yes, but Lust? The Seven didn’t play by the same rules.

  But more important, the Order was forbidden to kill people, whether possessed or evil. Only God should have the power to decide who lives and who dies. Their charge, their sacred duty, was to stop the spread of demons on Earth—not to kill those who summoned them. Perhaps it would be more expedient to slaughter witches like Fiona and Wendy, but it would relegate St. Michael’s Order to the same Hell they were fighting.

  Everyone deserved the chance to repent.

  “Raphael,” the demon hissed in a low voice. She touched his cheek, her manicured nail drawing blood. Rafe showed no reaction to the pain. “Someday,” she added ominously.

  The demon then approached the spirit trap and frowned.

  “You put a barrier between me and mine,” she said. “Remove it!”

  Wendy strode down the aisle. Rafe stepped in front of her. “The demon can’t pass through the sacred chrism.”

  Grant pleaded, “Julie, I’m so sorry about last night; I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I need help. Please forgive me.”

  Rafe! Julie cried in his head. Help him! He’s in pain.

  “You forget who I am!” Wendy said. “As it is above, it is below, I call on the power of Sammael for strength over my foes!”

  The demon said to Grant, “Of course I forgive you. All you need to say is you want me.”

  Rafe shouted, “Grant, don’t!” If he said yes, he was giving her his soul. The other men—they’d had sex with her. She’d asked and they agreed, not knowing what they were agreeing to. “Grant, say no!”