Mortal Sin (48 page)

She handed Wicker her back-up gun and her keys. “Don’t shoot unless you have to.” She made sure her Taser was charged and operational. She had a plan, and if it worked, no one would die and Gonzalez wouldn’t even know what hit him.

Something
had to go right for a change, didn’t it?

“What am I supposed to do with the keys?”

“Keep the car idling, lights off. I’ll find a way to signal you when I’m coming out. Maybe my flashlight, if I can. Just keep a watch on the building. I don’t know what shape Juan will be in, and whether he’ll be able to walk this far.”

“I can do that.”

Skye left Wicker with her truck and ran quickly down the gravel drive. She heard her engine turn. The sound was loud in the still fog, but she hoped Gonzalez couldn’t hear from inside. She hoped this worked, that she could rescue Juan and save Anthony.

Skye was a cop. She never
hoped
for the best. She would do her job and do it right, rescue Juan, and take down a corrupt district attorney.
That
she could do.

She had her Taser in hand as she approached the old abandoned sugar factory.

Granite Sugar had been the primary employer for Santa Louisa from shortly after the Gold Rush until thirty years ago, when the family-owned business couldn’t compete with foreign imports and large, corporate sugar production. Skye had been born the year it shut down, and maybe that was why she was cynical by nature. It was as if the entire town had been hit a death blow. Population dropped nearly in half, and those who stayed were retired folks and young families who couldn’t afford to leave. Eventually, commuters who liked the quiet town and cheaper homes and didn’t mind driving an hour north or south moved in, and a few entrepreneurs had built hotels and spas for weekend getaways, which had become the bread-and-butter of their stagnant tourism industry, such as it was. A golf course on the north end of the county helped keep the revenue workable, but the town itself wasn’t growing. And all the trouble that had occurred over the last six months had taken its toll.

It had to end.

The factory was falling apart from the pressure of three decades of moist salt air and no maintenance. Tonight was a perfect example of what the metal and wood building had to endure. Even through her polyester uniform and heavy-duty jacket, Skye was chilled in the damp fog that drizzled around her. She ran all the way to the patrol car and crouched behind it. Gonzalez wasn’t there. His radio was on, but the volume was low. She could hear a voice issuing reports and dispatch sending out patrols, but not what was going on or where.

No sound was coming from the factory. From her survey twenty minutes ago, Juan was at a table in a small office along the northern wall. Gonzalez had been pacing outside the office, texting or playing games on his cell phone. She’d already walked around the entire structure—no security cameras, no traps. But if she came in through the main door, Gonzalez could easily draw on her. She needed to be closer to taze him. Her only choice was to sneak up on him.

Even though his radio was on low, he could still hear reports and calls through the mobile radio clipped to his shirt. Every uniformed deputy had one.

She called Zach Padilla. “I need you to call Deputy Gonzalez and pretend you’re in dispatch.”

“Okay. What do I say?”

“I don’t care—if he gets suspicious, pretend you’re new and you’re confused. Make it seem that he’s needed on a call, that his GPS has him closest patrol to a break-in off Highway 1, south of Rainer.”

“O-kay,” he said, skeptical.

“He won’t go. He’ll probably say he’s on his lunch break or taking a leak or something. But fake that you can’t really hear him, that his lapel mic is fuzzy. He’ll go to his vehicle to communicate. That’s all I need you to do.”

“I guess.”

“It’ll work.”

“For what?”

“My plan. Just do it now.” She hung up and waited.

Five minutes later, Gonzalez burst out of the main door of the sugar factory. “You fucking idiot! I’m already on a call, I can’t–what? I can’t hear you!” He opened the door to his vehicle and Skye emerged from behind. She fired her taser full-force into his back and he collapsed to his knees. She then disarmed him, all the while listening to Zach Padilla’s crackling voice over the radio.

She leaned over Gonzalez’s prone body and said over the radio, “All clear, partner.” Then she disabled the radio, found Gonzalez’s cell phone and pocketed it. Then she cuffed him and left him in the gravel next to his car.

“Ya-ya-ya—” he began.

“Save it,” she said and ran into the warehouse.

A man could be out on a jolt from a Taser from a few minutes to twenty minutes. She didn’t have time to spare. She ran into the room where Juan was being held.

“Juan,” she said. He slowly raised his head and stared at her as if he didn’t know who she was. He was more than a little pale. He looked like a cadaver.

“It’s me, Skye McPherson.” She walked over to the table and saw that he’d been writing in some odd foreign language in a notebook.

He didn’t speak, but nodded that he understood. At least that’s what she hoped. His ankle was cuffed to the chair leg, but fortunately, the keys were universal and Skye quickly got it undone.

She helped Juan up, but he reached for the notebook.

“We don’t have time.”

He pushed her away, then stumbled and fell to his knees. He grabbed at the notebook.

“All right, if you’ll come.” She picked up the notebook and slipped it under her waistband in her back. “Okay?”

He nodded, then whispered, “If they get it, we’re done.”

“Then let’s get out of here.”

It was slow going out of the warehouse because Juan could hardly walk. As soon as she got him outside, she pulled her flashlight from her belt and signaled for Charles to drive her truck here. At first she didn’t think he noticed it, so she did it again. And again.

A minute later, he drove along side them. “I thought you’d bailed on me,” Skye said, half-serious.

“I was talking to Jared on the phone. Anthony had a seizure. He’s stable, Jared thinks, but—”

Skye’s heart skipped a beat. Rod had warned her Anthony could die. Others had.

She put Juan in the backseat. Charles climbed out and got in the back with his patient, while Skye headed toward her house. “I need to check on him.”

To say good-bye. Because he’s dying.

“I can fix it,” Juan said in labored breaths.

“You’re too sick,” Charles said.

“Anthony. He saved me. I must. I must save him.”

“It could kill you,” Charles said.

“I’ve been dying for six months, Charles. This is one thing I can do.” He seemed to be getting a little stronger as he spoke, and Skye wondered if there was some spell he’d been under at the factory, or maybe he’d been drugged. Or both.

“Skye,” Juan said, “don’t give that notebook to anyone except Raphael.”

“Okay, when I see him again.”

Juan closed his eyes. “You will. Soon.”

Great, Skye thought, another psychic.

#

By the time Skye arrived at her house, Rod Fielding was there. Jared said, “I called him. I didn’t know who else to call.”

“What happened?” Skye asked the teenager.

“He just—I don’t know—started convulsing and screaming.”

“I just injected another sedative into the IV,” Rod said, “but I don’t know if that’s going to do anything. His heart rate is erratic, and I can’t keep it steady.” He glanced at Charles Wicker. “Can you help him?”

“I’m a psychiatrist,” Charles said.

Skye stared at the man she loved, then took his hand. “Anthony! Dammit, fight back! I need you. I can’t do this without you!” What if he died? One more victim in a war she barely understood?

Juan stumbled into the room. He immediately pulled the IV from Anthony’s arm.

“What the hell?” Rod exclaimed.

Juan ignored Rod and put one hand on the bed to steady himself. “Show me the mark,” Juan gasped.

Rod and Charles both turned Anthony to his side. The mark was on his neck, just below the collar.

Juan put his hand on the mark and in a commanding voice spoke in an odd language. He barked out orders, it seemed, but the rhythm was similar to the exorcism that she’d heard Rafe say. Only, she didn’t understand any of it.

When he removed his hand, the mark was gone. Skye stared in disbelief. Everyone in the room was silent.

“Let him go,” Juan said, his voice low and shaking. Charles and Rod eased Anthony back onto his back.

Juan took a crucifix from his pocket and placed it on Anthony’s forehead, then put his hand over it. He didn’t say anything for several minutes, though his mouth moved in silent prayer.

Suddenly, Anthony’s body convulsed and Juan collapsed and fell to the floor.

Rod and Charles went to Juan while Skye reached Anthony. He sat up, pale and sweating. “Skye.” He reached for her. He was panting, out of breath as if he’d run a marathon. “Skye.”

“I’m right here.”

“Juan—where is he?”

Rod checked Juan’s vitals. “I don’t have a pulse!”

Charles started CPR while Rod injected Juan with something. “We have to get him to the hospital,” Rod said. “He’s not breathing.”

“Anything?” Charles asked.

“Nothing. Dammit!” Rod hit the nightstand. The lamp fell and crashed to the floor.

Anthony struggled to get out of bed.

“Don’t,” Skye said.

“I must,” Anthony said. “He saved my life.”

“How do you know?”

Anthony didn’t say anything, but knelt stiffly on the floor next to Juan. Tears streamed down his face as he said a prayer Skye had only heard once before.

When Father Philip Zaccardi had died.

“We can save him!” Charles said. “Don’t give him Last Rites yet.”

Anthony finished, then said, “He took my sin. I don’t know how, but I felt him rip it from me. He sacrificed himself to save me.”

Skye was crying. All these months she’d thought the worse of Juan. She’d never fully believed… what? What hadn’t she believed? She’d seen it all with her own eyes! She’d watched her friend deteriorate, and yet she kept him at arms’ length.

She knelt beside Anthony and took his hand.

“He’s at peace,” Anthony said. “He’s finally at peace.”

“This isn’t right,” Charles said. “How—?”

Anthony said, “Everything is finally clear to me.”

“Juan should not have died,” Charles said.

Skye didn’t know what to think. Had Juan died so Anthony could live? What god would do such a thing? What god would require such a sacrifice?

Except, what Juan told her made sense now.

“He said he’s been dying for six months. I should have done more.” Skye didn’t know if she could forgive herself for all the things she thought… the times she’d stayed away. Except for the fact that Juan had looked at her with trust. That he’d gone with her, that he’d saved Anthony. He was far stronger than his body appeared.

Rod stared at Juan’s body as if he could read her mind. “The man shouldn’t have been walking. He’s dehydrated and emaciated. I don’t know what happened, but he was extremely ill.”

Anthony waved his arm, as if to dismiss it all. “Juan is a martyr. He fought a demon and won. He’s been fighting for us for the last three months, a fight he didn’t understand until now. A fight I didn’t understand until now.”

“How?” Skye said. “What did Juan do to you? Some sort of Vulcan mind-meld?”

He frowned at her. “I don’t know what that is, but when he cured me, we were together for a moment. Long enough for me to understand the truth.”

Definitely a Vulcan mind-meld, Skye thought.

“St. Michael’s has been betrayed,” Anthony said. “The battle is at hand. We must regroup at the mission, all of us together because the attack is coming tomorrow.” He looked from Juan’s body to Skye. “Where are Rafe and Moira?”

For the first time, Skye heard no thinly concealed anger in Anthony’s voice when he said “Moira.”

“I don’t know.”

“The mission? Their cabin?”

“They’re not here. Rafe left on Sunday night to bring Moira back after you collapsed, and he hasn’t returned. He hasn’t returned any of my calls.”

“They must return. Or the Seven will be unleashed.”

“They’ve already been unleashed.”

“No—they’ve been tethered to the coven. That’s why there hasn’t been world-wide violence and death.”

“It’s not exactly been peace on Earth,” Rod muttered.

Anthony rose from the floor. “We must get to the mission. The answer is in Dr. Lieber’s papers. I need to speak to Lily—she can see what’s supposed to be there, not what is there.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Anthony,” Skye said. “You’re hardly in a position to battle anyone. You need to rest.”

“There will be time enough to rest when this is done.”

“I need to call in Juan’s death.”

Anthony nodded. “I anointed him with oil. He’ll be protected from the spirits. He trusted you, Rod, therefore I trust you.”

“You’re not acting yourself,” Skye said.

Anthony turned to her. “I failed you.” He took her hands. “I hurt you by keeping secrets. I am truly sorry and beg for your forgiveness.”

“Anthony—”

“I understand if you can’t. I also failed Raphael, and I failed Moira. I saw—Juan showed me—the sacrifice Moira has made to turn her back on the curse that was placed on her. I have not been fair, my anger and fear gave Wrath a path inside. Never again.”

Charles spoke up. “You sound like Rafe. Do you know what Juan knew?”

Anthony shook his head. “Only why the coven wanted him, which answers many questions.”

“Don’t keep us in suspense,” Charles said. “Why did they take him?”

“It’s why they put Rafe in a coma. Rafe hasn’t told me the truth about his visions, but after Juan—I understand. Rafe has the memories of those priests. But it’s more than that. He has the memories of Jeremiah Hatch. He had information about the ritual that he shared with no one. That’s what they’ve been trying to get out of Rafe’s head when Bertrand put him in a coma. Because Ianax, the demon, was released through Hatch, Juan also had the information—and so much more. Everything Ianax knew was imprinted in Juan, but he didn’t know the language, he didn’t understand what he was hearing and seeing.”