Original Sin

by Allison Brennan

  She left a voicemail for Jared; she assumed he was in class when he didn’t answer. She walked around the silent halls, hoping no one questioned her. The nice thing about Santa Louisa was that it was a smallish town with small-town mentalities. No metal detectors at the doors, no campus cops, no one particularly concerned about someone walking the halls between classes.

  But the downside of a small town was that everyone knew everyone, and Moira was a stranger. Worse, she didn’t know how far the tentacles of Fiona’s coven extended, and people she didn’t know might know her. She was always wary of Fiona’s human spies.

  She walked around the halls looking for any sign of witchcraft, or the lingering stench of sulphur that demons left in their wake. Slowly by the lockers, breathing deeply at each narrow vent, seeking the subtle aromas of herbs and plants that might tell her someone was practicing witchcraft—or was hexed. Moira didn’t know if they would be the next victims of the demon or if they were protected from what they’d brought forth. But each person was a possible lead for her to find Fiona.

  She’d passed by several lockers that were suspect, but one stood out as if it glowed with a big neon sign: witch.

  She glanced around. Heart racing, she took out her pick and popped the lock in less than three seconds, though it felt like three minutes.

  It was myrrh that she smelled, fresh and potent. On the inside of the locker was a symbol Moira knew well from her youth—it went with a spell for popularity. As if to reiterate the fact, she found a turquoise charm hanging in the back.

  She quickly went through the books. The locker belonged to Ari Blair, student body president. In notebooks were doodles of witchcraft tables, and another notebook was the beginning of her own grimoire.

  And there was an address book.

  The bell rang; Moira pocketed the address book and shut the locker, walking away with purpose, as if she belonged.

  No one stopped her, no one commented. She walked right out of the school, toward where she’d parked Jared’s truck.

  Shit!

  A sheriff’s car was parked in front of his truck and Hank Santos, Jared’s father, was looking in the windows. Moira turned and walked in the opposite direction. She didn’t know what was going on, but she wasn’t going to waste time finding out—or risk going to prison.

  But dammit, she needed a car! Maybe she could just wait a few minutes and he’d be gone.

  She found a place on the far side of the main school building where she could stand among the trees and still see Jared’s truck without being exposed. She went through Ari’s address book, hoping there was information she could use to find Fiona or Garret Pennington.

  THIRTY

  Serena was taking a huge risk showing up at Santa Louisa high school, but Nicole Donovan was hysterical and hysterical witches did stupid things. Like Elizabeth Ellis’s rant this morning to Fiona. Elizabeth was lucky to be alive and breathing. Nicole would be lucky to be alive by the end of the night.

  Nicole had third period free, so Serena waited until her students left the classroom before slipping in and locking the door behind her. She’d seen a police car out front. Probably not the sheriff, but Serena didn’t want to take too many chances. Skye McPherson was one of the few people who might be able to identify her—if she looked close enough.

  “Ari drove off with Jared Santos!” Nicole exclaimed in a loud whisper. “That can’t be good. We have to find her.”

  “That’s why you called and demanded that I come here?”

  “Yesterday Ari was on edge, and did you hear that her boyfriend died?”

  Serena hadn’t heard, but she acted nonchalant. In truth, she was concerned because the death was unusual. She hadn’t been able to decipher the entire Conoscenza but she knew the Seven behaved differently. Their coven was protected, but what about those they associated with?

  Instead, she told Nicole, “That doesn’t concern us.”

  “Yes it does! I heard that the sheriff brought Anthony Zaccardi to the morgue with her. Everyone is talking about Chris Kidd’s death. He collapsed, bleeding from both ears. The secretary died in a car crash going seventy miles an hour. The librarian committed suicide! No one knows what is happening, but now people are talking about the cliffs, about Abby, about strange things they’ve seen. We can’t keep this a secret! Someone’s going to find out and—”

  Serena laughed. “You think that the average person in Santa Louisa is going to believe that demons are on the loose? And why do you think they had anything to do with those deaths?”

  “They had to.”

  Serena wasn’t going to fuel Nicole’s panic, though she agreed. No one had successfully brought forth all seven of the Seven Deadly Sins at one time, and when a coven had summoned one of them, it was under tight control, and returned as soon as they completed the ritual. What Fiona had planned was far grander in scale, to not only summon the Seven, but to keep them trapped in the arca instead of sending them back to Hell. The possibilities were endless.

  “We have a plan, and we will succeed,” Serena said. “Tonight. Either you’re with us one hundred percent, without hesitation, without doubt, or you’re out.”

  And Nicole knew damn well what being out meant.

  “It’s on tonight? Where?”

  “You’ll know in time. But until then—keep your mouth shut.”

  “What if Cooper shows up again?”

  “He’ll be there.” Serena smiled. “He’s no longer a threat.”

  A knock on the door surprised both of them. “I have to get that,” Nicole said. “It’s open period, and I don’t want any rumors going around. There’re too many as it is.” Nicole walked to the door and unlocked it.

  Sheriff Skye McPherson stood there. “Ms. Donovan? Do you have a minute?”

  “Is this about Abby? Poor girl.”

  “No, it’s about your neighbor, Ned Nichols, if you have a minute.” Skye glanced at Serena and gave a slight, inquisitive nod. Serena responded in kind. She wasn’t going to speak. Some people remembered faces easier, some people remembered voices. And while Serena had changed her appearance back to her usual self, she couldn’t change her voice. Even though it had been more than two months, Serena wasn’t taking any chances.

  Nicole shook her head. “I heard about it on the news. It’s so hard to believe that he could do something like that.”

  Serena didn’t need to listen to this, nor did she want Skye McPherson to spend too much time studying her. She waved good-bye to Nicole, nodded to the sheriff, and walked out of the classroom as Skye asked Nicole when she’d last seen her neighbor.

  The halls were deserted. Serena was thankful she’d never had to suffer through school.

  She left the building by the side door, then started down the path to the sidewalk and toward her car.

  The crystal in her pocket vibrated and burned so hot she yelped out loud, stunned. She’d almost forgotten she’d brought the blood demon with her.

  Something was not right.

  Serena slowed her stride, moved off the sidewalk and into the trees that lined the road. She willed herself to be camouflaged, murmuring a concealment spell to surround her. The fog had lifted, but the gray sky cast odd light and dark shadows around her, as if the world were black-and-white.

  She pulled out the crystal, holding it carefully between her thumb and forefinger. It was glowing, pulsating. She’d never seen this happen before, and for a brief moment she thought that the demon was about to escape. That wouldn’t be good; he’d be one pissed-off demon. She needed to send him back before that happened. She could do it alone, and was about to begin the incantation when she saw movement from the corner of her eye.

  Someone was partially hidden in the grove of trees to her left. Waiting for a friend? Watching? The crystal in her hand vibrated faster. She ordered the demon to be still, and he did, shaking almost imperceptibly.

  A Catholic church loomed across the street, dark and empty. But it wasn’t the church that gave her
the feeling that something was afoot.

  The spell Serena cast around herself didn’t make her invisible—that was impossible—but it made it difficult for anyone to see her, a shadow, blending in with the trees, and as long as she didn’t move, barely breathed, she was de facto invisible.

  It was a woman, ten feet from her. A woman with long black hair.

  Moira.

  Her sister stood in the grove, watching the student parking lot. A police car was there and as Serena watched, it drove away. Moira continued to watch, but judging by her stance that had been what she was waiting for. She itched to move, always a bundle of energy.

  So much like Fiona. A virtual clone, only Moira didn’t need spells and magic and supernatural power to achieve that sleek neck and slender nose and those perfectly arched cheekbones. She didn’t need to choke spirits of their power to add shine to her hair, or depth to her eyes.

  Serena hated her and loved her and wanted to be with her and wanted to kill her.

  Moira had been the only thing in the coven’s way for so long, until Rafe Cooper. Moira had thwarted them, delayed them, jeopardized their lives. She had to die. Somehow, it was even worse because Moira didn’t realize what she was doing, or how dangerous she was to Fiona’s plans.

  Yet the one time Fiona had the chance to end it, she’d played her stupid mind games and Moira was still alive.

  Why did Moira deserve to live, anyway? After the pain Serena had suffered because that bitch wanted to be free.

  Fiona had always loved her sister more. As the chosen, the sacrifice, the one who would rule the realm between the here and the underworld. The one who could move between the two places as effortlessly as breathing.

  Moira had thrown it all away. She’d walked away as if none of it mattered! And she wanted to deny them the right to infinite knowledge, to share in the wealth of the worlds.

  Fiona hadn’t given Moira’s chosen position to Serena. She said she couldn’t, it wasn’t possible, but it was! It was possible! Serena had figured out how she could have everything that Moira had given up, as long as Moira was dead.

  You’re not free, you’ll never be free, and I will kill you.

  Moira sensed someone watching her as she stepped toward Jared’s truck. She stopped, discreetly slid the address book into her pocket, and listened.

  A distant dog was barking; a closer dog responded with a higher-pitched yelp.

  Distant voices. Movement. A door slamming shut.

  Right here, right now, someone other than she was breathing.

  Rico called it “mental muscle,” where instincts took over and the reaction to a threat came before conscious, coherent thought.

  That mental muscle saved Moira’s life.

  She hadn’t registered the movement when she faked right, then dove to the left, between two redwood trees, as a charge of energy hit the ground where she’d been. She fell into a somersault and jumped up ready, dagger in hand.

  A strawberry blonde, taller than Moira. Slender. Willowy. Pale.

  So familiar, the laugh a memory from the past. Of green and salt air and clover and lavender fields. Of tea and dark beer and freedom.

  Of youth and innocence.

  Of hope.

  Moira shouldn’t have been surprised to see Serena—she’d already gone head-to-head with Fiona—but she was nonetheless startled by her sister’s presence.

  “Serena.” She cleared her throat.

  Serena grinned. “You’re nervous.”

  “I’m not nervous. You don’t scare me.” Not like Fiona.

  Serena wrinkled her nose and said mockingly, “You should be scared. If I’d trapped you in a jail cell, you wouldn’t have lived.”

  Moira’s heart nearly broke. She remembered Serena as a little girl, so sweet, so perfect. Moira had practically raised her during the years they lived in Kilrush before Moira knew about Fiona’s plans for her, before she realized that the magic she used hurt people.

  But she hadn’t seen Serena since she’d escaped from her mother and found Father Philip. Serena had just turned thirteen when she helped Moira run away the last time.

  Moira hadn’t forgiven herself for lying to Serena that day, but she had to—Serena wasn’t going to leave the coven. She was too needy, too attached. Moira had given her a chance, two days before she planned on leaving, a small test. Shared a “secret” to see whether Serena would tell Fiona. Serena had failed, revealing the false secret, and Moira accepted that her sister would never leave Fiona.

  “It’s not too late for you to turn away from the coven. Leave Fiona.” Moira was buying time. She doubted Serena was of the mind-set right now to leave. If only Serena would listen and believe the consequences!

  Serena shook her head. “You had everything. You could have walked between the worlds—”

  “It was a fucking lie and you bought into it.”

  “I’ve been there. It’s no lie.”

  “End it now. Tell me where Rafe is and I’ll get him. Fiona won’t have to know you told me anything. We can stop this. Serena. The demons you released are killing people! You don’t have control, but you can help stop the insanity.”

  “We didn’t release the demons. Rafe did. He interfered. We would have had them under control and he loosed them. Now, we will get them back. You saw the message. We want her.”

  “I’m not giving you Lily.”

  “Yes you will.”

  Moira watched her hands. There was something shimmering, shiny, almost seductive, that Serena was playing with in her palm. Moira felt energy building in the still air, the magic growing as Serena was silently working a spell. Her sister had indeed developed as Fiona wanted—into a strong, powerful magician.

  Serena said, “Rafe has caused severe damage to our movement, and Fiona is punishing him. Because you stole our arca.”

  Serena was trying to twist Moira’s heart and make her feel guilty. Moira forced herself to stay calm and put Rafe—and what Fiona was doing to him—out of her mind. “I don’t want to hurt you, Serena. Walk away now—”

  Serena laughed, and her hands seemed to shimmer with a faint orange glow.

  “You hurt me? You have no power. You gave up your power. But me?”

  She turned her palms toward Moira. A bolt of energy, almost unseen, a sliver of brightness, came forth. Moira put up her dagger as a shield in reflex, but was too late. The energy hit her chest and Moira was thrown back ten feet, right on her ass.

  Moira was stunned, but no more so than Serena, who seemed to be uncertain how she’d performed that magic.

  Moira knew how Serena had done it. Her sister had somehow tapped into a stream of power from the underworld. An open gate … were the gates still open? Few witches could channel such energy directly from their body—they generally used crystals and rituals to generate that kind of charge. Serena had done it at will.

  Serena put her hands up again, an odd smile on her face, but this time Moira was prepared. She held out her dagger and repelled the energy into the closest tree. Her addiction bubbled to the surface, the overwhelming desire to use her dormant magic returning. This morning in Skye’s house, she had felt it; it was stronger now, as if each small taste made her craving grow.

  Serena glared at her. “I will kill you!”

  Moira realized that it wasn’t a craving to use magic, it was a reflex. She remembered the pain of Fiona’s attack in the jail, how she had battled it internally, not with an exchange of magic. She’d survived. Maybe next time she wouldn’t, but there was hope for her without turning to supernatural forces.

  She held her dagger as if it were her lifeline.

  Serena laughed. “I’m not possessed. I’m not a demon. Your religious symbols and amulets don’t scare me.” She stepped forward. “You have to believe for them to work. You don’t.”

  “I do!” Moira bit her tongue, furious with herself that she’d allowed Serena to goad her into defending herself.

  “You don’t!” Serena’s palms went up a
nd Moira turned the dagger to repel the energy shock, using the power of the relics and her internal hope.

  The dagger burned in her hands and she cried out, but held tight as the sacred blade reflected the energy safely away.

  Serena tried again, but whatever energy she had drawn in was extinguished. And worse for the witch, she was drained. Moira could see it in her stance, the way she swayed like a drunk, in her eyes, in her voice.

  Moira said, “Walk away, Serena. Leave Fiona.”

  “She needs me.” Her voice was small, almost childlike.

  “All the more reason to run away while you can. She’ll weaken if you leave. I can stop her. You can’t let this go on! You can’t continue to play with human lives like we’re game pieces. We’re flesh-and-blood people, just like you.”

  Serena attempted to gather more energy, but the attempt pained her, bringing her to her knees, and she struggled for breath.

  “I loved you, Moira,” Serena whispered, and Moira remembered the little girl she’d raised when Fiona went off on her extended trips. So beautiful, so fair, so quiet, so smart. Sweetly Serena, Moira used to say.

  “I love you, Serena.”

  “Don’t talk of love! You don’t know anything!” Serena reached into her pocket and Moira raised her dagger.

  Serena threw something small, a crystal smaller than a Ping-Pong ball, on the ground, while saying, “In the name of your master Baal, in the name of your master Baltach, I command thee Prziel to steal Andra Moira’s soul!”

  The small ball of glass shattered on the sidewalk. A thick liquid poured from it, the consistency of pooled blood, moving, growing, into a being, a person, a …

  Demon.

  With a deformed, horned human head and the body of a goat, the demon took shape and continued to grow.

  Moira froze. She’d faced possessed people, but never an incarnate demon.

  She’d never faced a pure, soulless spirit.

  “Mine!” the demon hissed. “Mmmmiiiiinnnnee!”

  Her fear was absolute and instant, but she couldn’t allow fear to win. Her soul was at stake, eternal pain and suffering, and it was time to accept her fate, here, now.