Carnal Sin sds-2

by Allison Brennan

  “Put it in your vault until Rico can retrieve it,” Moira said.

  “Nina?” Jackson asked. “Could I ask you to get the doors for me?”

  Nina handed Rafe the first-aid kit and left with Jackson, while Rafe and Moira went to the portico in the front of the church.

  Grant was sitting on the ground, his back against the stucco, holding Julie in his arms. Tears streamed silently down his face. Jeff sat several feet away, his head between his knees. The neck of his shirt was covered in blood, and he had a nasty welt on the side of his face from where he’d hit the pew. But being unconscious probably saved his life.

  “Where’s the ambulance?” Grant asked. “I called and called and it’s not here. She needs help.”

  Julie was pale, her aura nearly gone. She was dying.

  Moira knelt next to them. “You saved him, Julie. You helped save all of us.”

  Grant pushed Moira. “Leave her alone!”

  Julie’s eyes fluttered open. “Grant-” She swallowed. “Please.”

  “Don’t talk,” Grant told her.

  Julie touched his face with one shaky hand, but said to Moira, “Thank you. I understand better now-what you said this morning at the hotel. I–I’m so sorry for the pain I’ve caused. What I did was so wrong.”

  Moira wished she could do something. “Rafe-can you help her?” Moira pleaded.

  Rafe said, “I can give Julie last rites.”

  Moira kissed Julie’s hand, then stood and gave Rafe some room. She walked to the edge of the portico and wiped away tears.

  Rafe knelt next to Julie. “The ambulance will be here-I hear it.”

  Julie shook her head. “I-there’s a lot broken inside.”

  Rafe anointed her head with oil and prayed.

  “No! She’s not going to die! God, no!” Grant cried, holding Julie close.

  “Grant-” Julie coughed. “It’s okay.”

  “No, we’ll make this work. I promise. I love you, Julie. I love you! I’m so sorry for everything-please, let me make it up to you. Let me-”

  “Shh. Please, Grant. I’m dying. I want to do one thing to help someone.”

  “I can’t let you die.”

  Julie swallowed; her voice was weak. “I have a favor.”

  “Anything.”

  “There’s a girl at the morgue. She’s been there for years. They don’t know who she is-her name is Amy Carney. Find her family; let them bury her. Her family doesn’t know what happened to her, and the morgue doesn’t know who she is. She just wants them to know what happened.”

  Grant’s tears fell on Julie’s chest. He held her close. “Julie,” he sobbed.

  Rafe finished the last rites, then took her hand. “Rest in peace, Julie. God is a forgiving God.”

  “I hope so,” she said, a hint of fear in her eyes. She coughed and looked at Rafe, her eyes unfocused. “Thank you for letting me share your body. I explained everything to Grant; you and Moira should not have any problems.” She coughed again. “Come closer.”

  Her voice was so faint he nearly missed it. He leaned over, his ear to her mouth. She whispered, “I wasn’t the only one in there.”

  Moira slipped away to the far side of the church when she saw the ambulance pull into the parking lot. Cops would soon follow, and she wasn’t confident she wouldn’t be spending the night in jail. All she really wanted to do was go home.

  But she didn’t have a home. It hurt, an empty, hollow pit in the center of her chest. When she told Rafe she wanted to go home, she’d simply meant go with him, anywhere. Away. Because she didn’t have a place to call her own. She didn’t have much of anything that couldn’t fit in her backpack.

  Rafe had changed all that. She’d found a place with him that wasn’t a place at all, but a person. She’d found the one person on earth who wouldn’t judge her, doubt her, or use her. The one person who could love her unconditionally.

  Her heart skipped a beat. Love hadn’t been good to her. She didn’t know if she could do it again. Whether she could survive losing another part of herself.

  She’d never thought about, never looked for, a love like the one she’d had with Peter. He had saved her, loved her, cared for her. Yet-she’d been young. Naive. In many ways, foolish. But she had loved deeply. When Peter died violently at her hands, she no longer wanted to live. And had she been truly alive ever since? Or had she merely survived?

  Rafe wasn’t Peter. What she felt for Rafe wasn’t the pure, innocent love she’d had with Peter. It was deeper, far more terrifying because of its intensity. She couldn’t admit to these feelings, because she feared they would be used against her by her enemies. If Fiona knew … she could use Rafe against Moira. Another tool in her mother’s arsenal of weapons-the man she loved.

  A woeful moan escaped her throat and she swallowed it. It was her secret for now. She had to keep it buried deep. To protect herself. To protect Rafe.

  Moira saw Jackson and Nina go into his house. She followed, and caught up with them before he closed the door.

  “Come in.”

  “The paramedics are here. The police are soon to follow. We need to be on the same page.”

  Nina said, “I’ll help take care of any problems. I work for the Board of Supervisors-it might help.”

  “Skye originally told Grant she was investigating a cult,” Moira reminded Nina.

  Nina nodded. “Grant said something about drugs. I’ll make sure he’s with us on this. Wendy and Pam sure acted like they were high.”

  “One little thing-I shot Wendy in the leg with Grant’s gun.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m not a legal resident. And, um,” Moira looked sheepish, “I might be in the system for stealing cars. But,” she added quickly, “I always left them undamaged and with money for gas.”

  “Let’s see if we can keep your name out of it altogether, okay?”

  Nina left, and Jackson took the first-aid kit from Moira and took out the supplies.

  “Let’s get you fixed up here, since you’re being stubborn about the hospital,” he said.

  Moira let him clean her wound with antibacterial spray and seal it with medical glue before rebandaging it. She didn’t know how to bring up the subject she’d wanted to discuss, but finally said, “Jackson, did you take something from Wendy’s house?”

  He repacked the first-aid kit. “Why?”

  “Wendy thought I took something other than the chalice. I don’t know what, but you were alone for at least ten minutes. What did you take?”

  He let out his breath. “Names. Contacts. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to expand my information. You know how important it is to put the associations together, to be able to track these people through the country-”

  “You’re looking for Courtney.”

  Jackson’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t avert his gaze. “She’s my daughter.”

  “I’m afraid for you, Jackson.”

  “I’m not blind.”

  “About this, you are.”

  “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same.”

  “True. I don’t have a daughter. But Courtney was over eighteen.”

  “You don’t give up on your children just because they’re adults.”

  “Jackson-”

  “Don’t. You won’t understand. I’m not going to be rash. I need to know where she is.”

  His face was hard, but it was an act. He was hurting inside, and Moira couldn’t do anything to help him. So she let it go. At least for now.

  “Why don’t you stay here while I talk to the police?” Jackson said. “I’ll do everything I can to protect you and St. Michael’s.”

  “Thank you. And thank you for your help. I’m sorry about your church.”

  “It is replaceable.” He touched her lightly on the chin. “You are not.”

  Julie was dead by the time the paramedics took her from Grant’s arms. Grant seemed to be in shock. He didn’t speak to anyone, only stared straight ahead. Rafe looked around
for Moira, but as soon as the paramedics-followed by a cop car-pulled into the church parking lot, she’d disappeared.

  Rafe didn’t want to talk to anyone about what happened. He wished they’d had more time to come up with a believable story.

  Two uniformed officers approached. One spoke to the paramedics; the other approached Rafe, who was standing near the door.

  “Sir, what’s your name?”

  “Raphael Cooper.” He pulled out his wallet and identification.

  The officer looked at it, wrote down the information, and handed it back. “We need to remove you from the crime scene if you’re able,” he said.

  “Pastor Moreno’s house is across the parking lot.”

  “This is Jackson Moreno’s church?” the cop asked, recognizing the name.

  “Officer?”

  Nina Hardwick strode purposefully across the portico until she stood in front of the cop. She was a mess, just like all of them. There was blood on her white blouse and two buttons had popped off, revealing a very white stomach. The cop stared at her, as if trying to place her.

  “Yes?”

  “Nina Hardwick, staff counsel for Supervisor Vochek. I was here for this unfortunate tragedy, and I’m happy to answer any questions. Have you spoken with detectives Nelson and Johnston?”

  The officer looked at the two men sitting on the ground. A paramedic was looking each one over. Grant pushed the EMT aside. “Help me up,” he told the cop.

  “Sir-”

  “Detective Grant Nelson.” Grant held out his hand. The cop took it. Aided, Grant rose to his feet, his body beaten and pale. “Pacific Division. You remember Kent Galion died last week? I was investigating his death, and my partner and I uncovered a drug ring operating out of Velocity. It spiraled out of control today. We were caught unawares. Ambushed. The two dead women inside were high on something. The coroner has been looking into designer drugs, but-” Grant shook his head.

  “Is Pastor Moreno under investigation?” the cop asked.

  “Of course not,” Grant said. “He had some information for us. I wish I could share with you all the details, but right now it’s still an ongoing undercover operation and you’ll have to talk to my boss.”

  He glanced at Nina. Rafe watched the unspoken communication, and Nina excused herself.

  Rafe didn’t know whether Grant’s quick talking would get him out of trouble, but for now it had saved his and Moira’s hides.

  It was time for him to take Moira someplace to rest. They both needed sleep.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Forty-Eight Hours Later

  Anthony landed in Missoula, Montana, after traveling for more than sixteen hours. A thick blanket of snow covered the ground, eerily beautiful in the stunning moonlight. He watched out the window of the taxi that wound carefully through the mountains to Olivet.

  He was exhausted. More than anything, he wanted to hold Skye. If he’d gone straight to San Francisco, it would have been a short five-hour drive to Santa Louisa. He’d have been walking into Skye’s arms now, instead of facing Rico Cortese’s grim face.

  “Thank you for coming,” Rico said, taking Anthony’s coat and escorting him to a fire in the library.

  “I didn’t have a choice.” Anthony stood in front of the grand stone fireplace, the heat unable to melt the ice in his veins.

  “The cardinal said you found answers in Dr. Lieber’s papers.”

  Anthony turned and faced the hunter. “Don’t you find it suspicious that Dr. Lieber is dead?”

  Rico sat down slowly, indicating that Anthony do the same. Anthony remained standing. Rico said, “He was elderly and infirm. The trip could have worn him out.” Then he looked pointedly at Anthony. “Yes, I find it highly suspicious. But no one has been able to prove it. We must keep our information close.”

  Believing that someone had breached St. Michael’s fortress-or worse, that someone inside was responsible-deeply disturbed Anthony.

  “What did you find?” Rico asked quietly.

  Anthony looked back toward the fire. “Father Philip believed that Moira was the only one who could destroy the Conoscenza.”

  “Yes. The Book of the Unknown Martyr clearly states that only a repentant magician with the proper lineage can forever destroy the evil book, through ‘blood and fire.’”

  Rico continued. “I tested Moira’s blood. It is poison to demons. We know this is a sign.”

  Anthony slowly turned and sat across from Rico. “How do you know for certain?” he asked. “Could it be a trick?”

  “It is no trick. It was Moira’s blood that weakened the demon Envy in Santa Louisa. And you heard what happened in Los Angeles.”

  “In part. I spoke with Rafe right before I left St. Michael’s.”

  “When Moira’s blood touches the demon, it weakens the creature. Gives us time to trap or kill it. When I tested it on a demon-”

  “What?”

  “A possessed man. We confirmed it was a demonic possession. I injected Moira’s blood into him. The demon was instantly exorcised.”

  “Impossible.”

  Rico raised an eyebrow as if to say You doubt me?

  “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “Humanity was formed in blood. Sacrifice. Jesus was tortured and crucified, a sacrifice of blood and His human life to save the world.”

  “Moira is no Christ!”

  “No. But there is history. And Moira’s blood is from the proper lineage. She’s of Fiona, who is of the line of witches that dates back to the dawn of mankind, when the first humans forged an unholy alliance with fallen angels. And Moira is repentant-she has not used magic in seven years.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  Rico stared at him. “I am.”

  The truth was hard for Anthony to accept. “You mean we must kill her.”

  “No.” Rico stared him in the eye. “She must martyr herself.”

  Anthony closed his eyes. “Yes. That is what Dr. Lieber’s notes say.”

  Anthony handed Rico a copy of the key page. He already knew it by heart.

  The Book of Knowledge, known by most as the Conoscenza, was written in demon blood by the first magicians. It can be destroyed only by the blood of a repentant magician. Martyrdom is the only guarantee that the book will be destroyed, but if not possible, the blood must still flow, followed by fire. The blood will wash away the stain on the pages; the fire will destroy the paper made of human skin. Only then will humanity be safe from the spells therein.

  “You agree,” Rico said.

  “I don’t know. But-” He hesitated, handing Rico another page. “It seems destroying the Conoscenza is the only way to send the Seven Deadly Sins back to Hell.”

  Rico read the papers. “We don’t need to trap every demon to succeed. Destroy the book and they’ll be pulled back to the underworld.”

  “It should be easier to retrieve the book than to capture the Seven.”

  “I have many leads. In fact, I’ll be returning to Santa Louisa in ten days to bring Moira back to Olivet for additional training.” Rico looked pained, and turned away from Anthony. “She needs to be prepared for her fate,” he said softly.

  Anthony didn’t know what would happen, but he said, “I have a difficult time putting my life in the hands of a witch.”

  “Forgiveness, Anthony. You need to work on that.”

  Moira bolted upright in bed, her heart racing. She looked around the room, frantically searching for something familiar, something that told her where she was.

  “Moira.”

  Rafe took her hand and pulled her back down, kissing her. Rafe was familiar. They were back in Santa Louisa, but not at Skye’s. Lily was still there, and there wasn’t room for everyone at Skye’s house, so Moira and Rafe had checked into a hotel. They needed the time alone after what they’d faced in Los Angeles. They needed the time to just be together.

  Rafe held her close. “You had a nightmare.”

  “No, you did.”

&
nbsp; He held her face in his hands. “I wasn’t having a nightmare.”

  “I heard you cry out in your sleep.”

  Or had she? Had she dreamed Rafe was suffering? Dying? She touched him, hardly able to believe he was alive. She didn’t want to do this five more times, chasing after the sins that remained at large. She just wanted peace. She just wanted to live quietly. Alone, with Rafe.

  He kissed her softly. “I don’t remember what I was dreaming. For one more night, let’s put everything aside. Everything but us.”

  “Us?”

  “I love you, Moira. We’re going to find Fiona and stop her. I promise. And then you’ll be free. We’ll both be free.”

  He touched her cheek, made her look at him. It was dark, and he could barely see her face, but her eyes glistened in what little light filtered in from outside. “Where you were is not where you are now. Who you came from is not who you are. You know that, I don’t have to tell you, but sometimes you need to hear it. Whatever gifts you have, they’re good. It might not feel that way …” His voice trailed off as he thought about the memories he had. He pushed those thoughts aside as a dull ache in his head threatened to break out. “But without you, we’d be at a loss. We need you.”

  I need you.

  He swallowed, wanting to tell Moira exactly how he felt. He’d told her he loved her-and dear Lord, he did love her-but he feared if she knew how much he needed her-how she completed him, how she kept him sane, how she had saved his soul-she would run away. He refused to add any more weight to her load.

  I need you. I love you.

  Instead, he kissed her, smoothed the hair back from her damp forehead, erasing the remnants of whatever dark dream had her heart pounding. He could do this for her, every night. Hold her. Make love to her. Love her.

  “Rafe-”

  “Shh.”

  Moira sighed when Rafe silenced her with another kiss. Her nightmare faded as she let Rafe soothe her frayed nerves with his warm affection, the heat between them rising quickly. He made her forget the past and not think about the future; his touch told her they only had this day. Today was all that mattered. If tomorrow came, they would face it together.