Original Sin

by Allison Brennan

  She had no idea why she’d intentionally antagonized Envy; she had no idea if he was the demon who’d lured Eve or was just making it up because that’s what demons do best: lie. But all she could think about was buying time, otherwise Rafe and Anthony would have no chance to get the tabernacle in place.

  The demon hissed in rage and pushed her aside with such force she flew across the room and hit a hutch. Glass broke around her, cutting her arms, and she fell to the ground.

  Get up! She couldn’t move. She tried to rise, but glass dug into her hand, cutting it open. She bit her tongue to not cry out as she rolled away from the glass and lay on her back looking at the ceiling. She couldn’t save them—what was she thinking? She was one human against a demon who could kill her without straining itself. It could have killed her then, thrown her farther, higher, harder … like Peter.

  Lily screamed. Moira forced herself to her feet, shook off her dizziness, and stepped forward.

  Envy was sniffing Lily, its tongue touching her flesh. It reached her mouth, shot the forked end in, and leapt backward, its form turning back into the hoofed creature. “You are contaminated!” it screamed. Envy spat onto the floor; steam rose where its black saliva fell.

  Moira ran over to Lily. The girl was shaking. Blood oozed from where Envy’s tongue had cut her skin. “Hold on,” she said, though she had no clue how they were going to get out of this.

  The coven members started chanting again. Serena held an oversized book with thick pages and began to read.

  The Conoscenza. Moira could destroy it now.

  Blood and fire.

  How could she destroy it with Father Philip and Lily here? Moira was prepared to die to destroy the book, but she wasn’t going to take innocent lives with her.

  As Serena read, the demon writhed, losing form. It was furious; anger was rolling off the creature, palpable, as it grew in rage and jealousy.

  “You think you’re better,” Envy growled. “I took your lives before, I can take them now!”

  Envy grew as it lost shape. It moved faster and faster in the circle. Furniture in the building began to shake.

  Serena read faster. Envy hovered over Lily, drawn to her in spite of her “contamination.” Moira looked around for a weapon, anything to fight with, though without form how could she kill Envy? Envy wrapped its form around Lily and she screamed.

  Father Philip began an exorcism prayer, reached out, his hands touching the demon. Envy hissed in agony and rapidly fled from Lily. It screamed at him, taking the form of a beast. “You can’t stop ME!”

  It exhaled and Father Philip was brought to his knees, his hands at his throat, his face turning red. The demon rushed him, drawing out Father’s breath.

  “NO! Let him go!” Moira screamed. She put herself between the demon and Father, but it didn’t stop. She glanced behind her. Father was convulsing as he fell to the floor. No, not him. Not Father.

  “Damn you all!” she screamed. “Avertet mala inimicis meis in veritate tua disperde illos! Voluntarie sacrificabo tibi confitebor nomini tuo Domine quoniam bonum!”

  Envy turned his attention to her.

  “Release him!” she commanded.

  “You have no power over me. You gave up your power,” it hissed. Father lay still. Too still.

  Why him? Why not me? Why the only good thing in my life, you take from me?

  Envy laughed, turning into dark smoke, washing over her. She was frozen, encased by Envy as it sought a way into her body.

  Then it pulled back, again took solid form. Showing off. Proving it was powerful. Proving it was in charge. Moira was inches away from its face as it stared at her. Envy opened its mouth and Moira saw the fangs, the maggots, as it came toward her.

  A commanding voice resonated through the room, overpowering the demon, the chanting, the rumbling.

  “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost,” Rafe shouted, “you are banished back to the lowest level of Hell.”

  Then he spoke in the same language that Serena had used.

  Moira turned from Envy to Rafe, stunned.

  Rafe knew the ancient language of demons! The language of the Conoscenza, the book of evil, the spells that focused on the destruction of all that was good in the world.

  How did he know it?

  Her heart broke when she realized that Rafe was using battle magic to counteract Serena’s spell, repeating the opposite of everything Serena said—Moira understood that not in the words, which she didn’t understand, but in the conflicting energy in the room. As the energy increased in strength, each kind battling the other, it was growing, expanding, practically visible to Moira, light and dark, hot and cold. Her senses were overloading and she could scarcely think.

  The pain in her head was so intense she fell to her knees, her hands on her ears, on the back of head, willing the agony to end.

  With the tabernacle in a sack on his back, Anthony couldn’t reach the roof. There was no place to climb up. He didn’t have the keys to Skye’s truck to drive it to the building to use as a ladder.

  “Dammit!”

  He ran around the corner and right into Tom Young.

  “You’re supposed to be dead.” Tom looked upset and scared. He pulled his gun. “You don’t get two chances.”

  Bright lights shone on the side of the building. When Tom glanced at them, Anthony kicked the gun from his hand. A shot went wild.

  Hank Santos jumped from the car. For a minute, Anthony feared he was on an Envy-induced rampage. If Hank stopped him, there was no way to trap Envy and Lily would be possessed. Father Philip, Rafe, Moira—they’d all die. He stood his ground.

  Jared got out from the passenger side. “Where’s Lily?”

  Anthony looked from Hank to Jared. “Are you both okay?”

  “Yes,” Jared said. “My father is fine.”

  Anthony didn’t know whether he could believe the kid, but he didn’t really have much choice now.

  “I need to get on the roof.”

  Jared looked at his father. “Dad?”

  “I have an idea.” Hank jumped back into his truck and drove it to the edge of the building.

  Anthony climbed up to the hood, then the roof, and with the sack on his back, he pulled himself up using the gutter.

  He ran along the flat roof to the ventilation access panel and prayed he wasn’t too late.

  Envy screamed and slithered to the edge of the circle. “Let me out!” it screamed to Serena. “I want that one!”

  Its tail stabbed toward Rafe. Rafe froze in his place, like a deer in the headlights. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t think. He only saw Envy. It stared at him, silently calling him.

  You have power. Power I want.

  Rafe fought the demon’s will. He couldn’t give in.

  You are mine. You were always mine.

  Rafe turned his head from the demon, tried to block the slick voice in his mind. He reminded himself that demons could get into his head, but they couldn’t read his thoughts or know his soul until he gave it to them or they stole it. He fought, but was weak. And getting even weaker.

  He saw Lily on the altar, tried to focus on saving her. He had done it before; what was fighting him now?

  Moira was on her knees, her hands over her head, in pain. He stepped toward her, and she looked up at him. “Stop,” she cried. “Stop.”

  He didn’t take another step. Her mouth opened and her eyes closed as she withstood another wave of pain.

  Who was doing this to her? He looked around the room, saw Matthew Walker—he knew him. Not the name, but the face. Rafe’s head ached as he tried to place how he knew the man.

  Fiona walked over to the edge of the circle and used her foot to rub out a small section of the trap.

  Moira screamed. “No! Fiona, don’t!”

  “He deserves to die.” Fiona stared at Moira. “You’ll be responsible for killing him. You brought him here; he’s your responsibility.”

  Rafe began a tradit
ional exorcism, buying more time for Anthony to get the tabernacle in place. The demon laughed, turned back into black smoke, and wrapped itself around the inside of the demon trap, blocking Rafe’s line of vision.

  Suddenly, a searing pain hit Rafe in the back. He thought he’d been hit by a bullet but realized as he fell to his knees that it was electricity, a magical bolt coming from Matthew Walker.

  Rafe kept the rite going, stumbling over the words as the spell Walker used sucked the air from his lungs. The more he inhaled, the less air he brought in. And the demon grew in size. Rafe cried out and saw Moira leap from the circle and tackle Walker with savage ferocity. Walker went down and Rafe regained his legs.

  Serena was practically screaming her spell, and Rafe seemed to be countering it. The words came to him—he didn’t know from where, he didn’t want to think about where, he just wanted to survive. To save Lily. To save Moira.

  Fiona was successful in breaching the spirit trap and she ran back to safety, a protective circle that she shared with her daughter Serena. But Envy didn’t want them, not yet. Envy wanted Rafe, and it slithered forward smiling, a hideous grin of death. It breathed his name.

  “Raaaphaeeelll.”

  Rafe reached behind his back and retrieved the dagger. He held it in front of him, expecting to be terrified, but instead experiencing complete calm. His eyesight sharpened, the pain from earlier attacks fading. He breathed fully, in and out, and stared Envy in the face.

  “Come here, you bastard.”

  Envy growled, lunging with a speed Rafe didn’t expect.

  As the demon rushed him, Rafe charged. All thought left his mind; all he could think of was stopping the demon. Stopping Envy from spreading its wickedness throughout the earth.

  He leapt, and slit the demon’s throat with the blessed dagger. The demon ripped off its own head and threw it across the room. The head turned into a thousand flies that buzzed all over, swarming.

  What had he done? Why had he slit the throat? He didn’t know what he was doing. He froze, uncertain, his head throbbing.

  The demon came for him, its head growing back, its eyes red and focused on him. Rafe stared. This was the end.

  Moira screamed. Walker had her pinned, but his magic failed as he grew enraged. The bastard had his hands around her throat. He would choke her to death, a good old-fashioned human murder.

  “I’ll kill you, Moira,” he said through clenched teeth. “And I will enjoy it.”

  Moira had no doubt that Walker wanted her dead, and no doubt that he would enjoy squeezing the life out of her.

  But Moira was not ready to die.

  Simultaneously, she kneed him in the balls and shot her arms up between his, aiming right for his eyes. He turned his head at the last minute, avoiding permanent damage, but he loosened his grip and Moira slammed his biceps to push his hands away from her neck. She caught her breath, head butted him—Shit! That hurts— and flipped him.

  Her backup dagger that Walker had seized earlier was in his pocket, and she pulled it out, unsheathed it, and ran to Rafe’s side.

  Envy towered over Rafe, turning to gas, ready to fuse with the man.

  “Don’t even think about it,” she said, and continued the exorcism where she’d left off.

  Envy turned to her, retaking shape, and backhanded her with its clawlike hand. She fell to the ground and spit out blood.

  Rafe rose from where he’d fallen and chopped off the demon’s arm. Baby snakes slithered out of the beast, winding their way rapidly around the room.

  The women in the coven began to scream as snakes crossed their feet, red and black, vile creatures. Moira feared if any escaped they’d create even more problems than they already had.

  Like they could have bigger issues than this!

  Rafe cut off the other limb, but the demon slammed him with its tail. He flew across the room and hit the wall.

  Moira couldn’t allow Rafe to die, not like Peter, not like the man she had once loved. “Damn you,” she said. “Veniat mors super illos: et descendant in infernum viventes!”

  She took her dagger and with all her strength brought it down on the rattle of the demon’s tail.

  Envy screeched, so loud, so violently, that Moira fell to the ground and put her hands to her ears. The witches covered their ears; some collapsed, as Envy tried to regain its strength.

  Serena held up the book and intoned a command. All the flies that swarmed, all the snakes that slithered, were drawn to the book.

  Serena called upon the living darkness, invoked names of demons that made Moira’s blood freeze, and all the vile creatures in the room turned and headed straight toward Lily.

  Moira fought the pain and crawled toward the girl on the altar. “Stop,” she tried to plead with her sister, but Serena either didn’t hear or didn’t care.

  “Rafe, help!” she cried as she stumbled.

  Lily screamed as the snakes slithered up the altar, wrapping themselves around her feet, her ankles, faster and faster, flies buzzing around her head.

  Rafe got up from the ground. He ran to Moira and grabbed her.

  “Trust me,” he said.

  She nodded, terrified, not knowing what he was going to do.

  He raised the dagger over her.

  “No,” she tried to say, but nothing came out.

  He cut her hand and held it over the torso of the demon that lay on the ground trying to regrow its limbs.

  Then he pressed her hand into one of the holes in the demon’s body.

  She screamed as pain surged through her body. Rafe seemed shocked by what he’d done and pulled her arm out, holding her.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said.

  She couldn’t see, the pain blinding white. She blinked, and it began to subside.

  All parts of Envy’s body pulled together into a dark gas and turned into a whirlpool, moving faster and faster.

  Moira watched as the demon fought being drawn up into the ventilation system. It fought a losing battle as it was drawn up to the ceiling, right into the tabernacle that Anthony had used to cap the vent.

  There was sudden complete silence. Moira breathed again.

  Fiona turned her magic on Moira as she said, “I will never underestimate you again.”

  Moira tried to stand, but Fiona had both hands on her head, just the tips of her fingers. She couldn’t move. She could scarcely breathe.

  “If you die now,” Fiona said, “it will be too soon. You will suffer. I will ensure that you suffer. If you love again, I will take him. If you trust again, I will ensure you will be betrayed. You have no one. You have nothing. You will find me and beg me to kill you. You do not know what pain is, Andra Moira.”

  Moira stared into Fiona’s blue eyes, as if she were looking into her own. Bottomless, deep, but Fiona’s were filled with the passion of hatred.

  The front doors burst open.

  “Police! Freeze!” Sheriff Skye McPherson and three cops rushed in, guns drawn.

  Fiona glared at Moira. “Remember this?” she said. “Enjoy the sweet memories!”

  Moira felt the spell invade her as Fiona’s eyes fluttered.

  “Freeze!” she heard, but saw nothing but the library at St. Michael’s seven years ago.

  She was there with Peter. In slow motion she watched as he was thrown across the room. She saw every frame individually, as Peter’s body fought, twisted, moved. The fear on his face. The fear and the pain and the look of the betrayed.

  She cried, but the malevolent vision would not stop. Again and again, Peter slammed against the wall, his eyes accusing her, death stealing him from her.

  Death would be better. Death would be better than this. Dear God, make it stop, make it stop.

  Peter’s body hit the wall again, this time slowly. Blood spattered inch by inch by inch. She could almost reach out and touch it.

  “Moira!”

  “Stop, stop! Make it stop, make it stop!”

  Holding her tight, Rafe spoke quietly. S
oothing. His words filled her mind, though she barely heard what he said. The memory grew fuzzy and faded. She began to cry and he held her, rocking her. She clutched him as if she were drowning.

  Chaos was all around her. Magic flew through the air, as the coven members tried to avoid arrest. Shouts and orders as Skye cuffed Elizabeth Ellis. “Secure the scene! Back door!”

  “Rafe—” She caught her breath. She had so many questions. What he’d done, what he’d said. But now, she was so tired and his embrace gave her blissful peace.

  “Your hand,” he said, holding it to his lips. The bleeding had stopped. She stared at the wound.

  “You’re in shock,” he said.

  “Lily?”

  Rafe looked over her head. “Anthony and Jared are with her.” Then his body tensed. He rose and put her on her feet. He took her hand and she saw what he saw.

  Father.

  They ran to the middle of the damned spirit trap. Father Philip lay on the floor.

  Moira knew he was dead, but she said, “He’s going to be okay, right? He’s going to be okay.” She knelt next to him, remembering what the demon had done to him. How he’d fallen, saving Lily.

  Father Philip’s eyes were partly open. His neck was bruised, his mouth open. Anthony checked for a pulse and breath, tears dropping on Father Philip’s body.

  “He’s okay,” Moira said. “He’s okay. He’s okay.”

  “He’s gone.”

  “No. No!” She held him. “Father, please. Please don’t leave me.”

  Rafe put his arm around her. Anthony took Father Philip’s hand and gave him Last Rites, his voice breaking.

  “Amen.”

  FORTY-ONE

  Fiona packed her things quickly, rage fueling her energy.

  “I hate them!”

  Matthew squeezed her shoulders. “It’s not over. We’ll confront them again. It’s inevitable.”

  “They trapped my demon! It’s mine!”

  Matthew tilted her chin up. “Sweetheart, we don’t have time to rant about Andra Moira or Raphael Cooper. All in due time. The police must know where we are. I sent Serena and Pennington to get the boat.”