Mortal Sin (5 page)

“I don’t know. That’s why I need you.”

Demon mark.

“The demon mark… one of the Seven?” Her voice cracked. She was excited and scared at the same time. Maybe she
should
learn patience.

“We believe so, but I need you to confirm. Come to Olivet, then we’ll head to Victoria, Canada.”

“I can meet you there.”

“No. Olivet first, then Victoria. And leave Rafe and Anthony in Santa Louisa.”

She hesitated. “We should all go. If this is one of the Seven, we need to have everyone ready to fight.”

“Follow my orders, Moira. There’s more to this than the hunt. Get your ass here by tomorrow morning or I’ll recall you and you’ll be staying here permanently.” He hung up.

Bastard.
She resisted the urge to throw her phone across the room.

She finished her coffee and wanted to leave, but she had to wait for Jared to take over babysitting Lily. Moira could knock her over with a feather, she was so wispy.

“Is something wrong?” Lily asked.

“What isn’t wrong?” But Moira had an idea… if Jared couldn’t keep his eyes on Lily at all times, maybe she would be safer under lock and key. Olivet could protect her. The thought of sending Lily there felt right, and for a moment Moira was relieved. One problem solved.

Three young women turned the corner and walked past Moira and Lily, then through the main doors of the coffee shop.

Her skin prickled.

Witches.

“Who are they?” Moira asked Lily.

“They graduated last year. They all went to college together in San Diego and came home for the summer. Maybe a week ago? The tall brunette is Brianne Graves. Her family—oh, God. They went to Good Shepherd with us. Her mom was friends with my mom, but her mom died. Are they—?”

“Yes,” Moira said. “At least one of them is. We need to go.” When Lily didn’t budge, Moira said, “Now.”

“You have to stop them!”

“From doing what? They have every right to be here. But we can leave. I need to protect you.”

“What if they hurt someone?”

“There’s no reason for them to hurt anyone, except to get to you. I’m responsible for you, and you alone.” She didn’t want to be responsible for anyone else. She didn’t even want to be responsible for Lily, but she’d promised Father Philip.

Moira rose and saw Jared across the street, in front of the tree-studded park that took up one square block in the middle of town. He raised his hand in greeting and started across the wide, quiet street. At the same time he stepped off the curb, Moira felt a spell whirling through the air, like a tornado. Dark and malevolent and wholly aimed at Jared Santos. She looked around, suspicious, but everyone was going about their business.

Everyone
except
the three girls who’d entered the coffee shop. The brunette, Brianne, flanked by the two blondes, stood in the window with identical half-smiles curving their lips as they stared at Jared.

Moira jumped up, accidentally knocking over her chair. “Stay!” she ordered Lily and ran toward Jared. She had no idea how to protect him, or even what was coming after him, but he was in grave danger.

Jared saw her running toward him and hesitated, worry clouding his face. Moira dropped her inner shields to get a better sense of what magic had been unleashed. She held out her hand, let the invisible spell touch her skin. And she knew.

A delivery truck turned the corner much too fast. Moira couldn’t analyze whether the driver lost control of the truck or himself, but the spell was sending that truck right at Jared.

He froze in the middle of the crosswalk. “Run!” she screamed, but he didn’t move. Then Moira felt the second spell running parallel with the other. A spell of confusion. It swirled around both of them, but seemed to bounce off her. She didn’t know why; she didn’t care to figure it out, but she had to get Jared to move. He was confused, uncertain what to do.

A scream from the coffee shop. Lily? A screech as another vehicle slammed on its brakes to avoid hitting the truck. Shouts from the park, warnings coming from all around.

Moira ran into the street, grabbed Jared by the arm, and shouted, “Move!”

She pulled but Jared seemed cemented to the ground. She pulled again and he took a step with her. Then another. Then they were both running. The truck came after them, as if it were possessed.

Great. Stephen King’s imagination comes to life, only instead of a classic car turned evil stalker, it’s a four-ton truck filled with baked goods.

They made it to the sidewalk, but still the truck roared toward them. Moira jumped over a low decorative metal fence. Jared followed, but tripped and fell heavily to the ground.

Without thinking, Moira pulled out her dagger and threw it at the truck. What the hell? Did she actually think she could stop the monster truck with a dagger?

Except it was iron, and if there was a spell at work, the iron might disperse it.

The knife hit the grill and stuck. The truck hit the hedge, then the fence, knocking it over without much effort.

But the truck slowed, then jerked to a stop. Jared was inches from the tires as he scrambled away on all fours.

Moira pulled her dagger from the grill. The driver jumped out. “Oh my God! My brakes, they wouldn’t work, then the steering went, and the horn, I couldn’t warn anyone. Are you okay?”

The driver touched her, out of concern (she hoped) and since her shields were already down, she let his emotions flow over her. He truly was panicked and scared. He was telling the truth.

The spell had controlled the truck, not the driver.

Those three witches were far more powerful than she wanted to believe. It would have been easier to put a sleeping spell on the driver, knock him out and make it look like an accident. This was… something far more violent and insidious.

“I’m just peachy,” she said, her heart still racing. She looked at Jared as he pulled himself up. Why did those witches want to kill him?

Her heart skipped a beat when she thought this might all be a distraction, just like what she, Anthony and Rafe had done yesterday at the hospital. Her head whipped around, searching for Lily. She saw her there, on the sidewalk, her hands covering her mouth as if she was trying to stop screaming.

Moira looked inside the front window of The Bean Bag. The angle of the sun prevented her from seeing through the windows, but she sensed that those three witches were still inside.

Watching.

Waiting.

Assessing.

Shit, shit, shit. She’d just exposed herself to the wrong people.

Sirens in the distance. Moira said to Jared, “Talk to the cops. I’m taking Lily someplace safe. I’ll let you know where.”

“What the hell was that?” Jared asked.

“A win-win test.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means if you’re dead, they win. If I save you, they win. Because now they know exactly how to draw me out and what I can do.”

It was because of
this
that for years Moira had made no personal attachments. After she killed Peter, she stayed away from people. She didn’t love, she didn’t hate, she couldn’t afford to care about anyone because her mother would know how to get to her. First she’d lost Peter. And then Father Philip when he came to Santa Louisa.

In the three months she’d been in Santa Louisa, she’d made friends—after years of keeping her distance from everyone. She’d made commitments, taken people like Lily and Jared under her protective wing. In doing so, she put a mark on them that made them fair game to her enemies.

And, worse, she’d fallen in love. Rafe was in danger because of her. Because she loved him.

The call from Rico summoning her to Olivet couldn’t have come at a better time. Leave Anthony, Rafe, and everyone else here—she’d take the target off their backs and take it with her to Canada.

Maybe she wouldn’t return. That might be the only way to protect the people she cared about.

The people she loved.

Rafe cleaned Moira’s wounds, controlling his anger. She’d risked her life, again. Always, she risked her life and it pained him. He couldn’t ask her to stop, but when she hurt, he hurt.

“I’m
fine
,” she insisted with a glance toward Anthony. “Just a couple of scrapes and bruises.”

“And a nasty cut on your forehead.”

Rafe kissed her lightly on the lips. “Humor me.” He kissed her as much for Moira as for Anthony. He wasn’t going to tolerate his life-long friend’s animosity toward the woman he loved. Anthony had to put the past where it belonged, because if he thought Rafe was going to chose Anthony’s friendship over Moira, he was very, very wrong.

They were gathered at the mission in one of the two finished rooms that hadn’t been destroyed by the fire six months ago. Anthony’s books and research were spread across the table, but not all of it. When Rafe walked in with Moira and Lily ten minutes ago, Anthony had taken two small books and put them in a cabinet. Rafe pretended not to notice, but he was growing suspicious. Anthony had been acting even more secretive than normal.

“There were three witches,” Moira said. “Well, at least one of them was a witch, but I suspect they’re a triad. They had that… chemistry. And the spell was powerful.”

“You mean they were working together to cast the spell?” Rafe asked.

“Exactly—they’re stronger together. If they’re a true triad, they have no real magic when they’re separated. Brianne Graves. Write it down, Anthony.”

Anthony frowned, but took out his notepad and wrote it down.

“Brianne was the brunette,” Lily said, speaking up for the first time since they’d arrived. She was sitting in the corner, her arms around her knees, watching them with wide eyes.

“My gut tells me that Brianne was the leader,” Moira said.

“Your gut is usually right,” Rafe said, then kissed her again. He could see that she was truly fine, but he wanted that connection with her, to remind her that he was here for her.

“This is a serious situation,” Anthony said.

“I’m not treating it as anything but,” Moira snapped.

“Who are the other two?” Anthony asked Lily.

“Um, Kimberly Halverson and Laura Corrigan,” Lily said. “They all graduated last year.”

“If they’re a triad, they’re dangerous—especially with what I witnessed today,” Moira said. “But they’re not the important thing. We have two other big problems. The first is Bertrand. Does Skye have any suspects? Any leads?”

“Not that she shared,” Anthony said. “I told her I spoke to him yesterday.”

“Good. It’s better to be upfront because she’s going to hear about it sooner or later. When did he die?”

“The autopsy isn’t complete. Sometime after he left the hospital yesterday.”

“Fortunately,” Rafe said, catching Moira’s eye, “we were all together working at the mission.”

Moira opened her mouth, then closed it. Good. She had to be on the same page. He didn’t believe Anthony had killed Bertrand, especially when they needed him alive to learn what he’d done to Rafe during his ten-week coma. But they’d parted ways with Anthony at the hospital, and Rafe had been with Moira all night. He hadn’t seen Anthony until this morning.

“I am not lying to Skye,” Anthony said. “I didn’t kill the man.”

“We have to,” Rafe said, “considering Skye’s election and what that might mean to any of the unsolved murders.” Not to mention that Anthony hadn’t made it a secret that he disliked Bertrand. Rafe couldn’t help but wonder if Bertrand’s murder was too convenient. Anthony had confronted him at the hospital; there could easily have been someone who’d seen or overheard them together, and casting suspicion on Anthony would cause Skye personal and professional grief.

Though Skye had closed the investigation into the murders of the priest after her only suspect died, Martin Truxel had pressed her to look at Rafe as an accomplice. Of course he hadn’t been, but Skye couldn’t very well explain to the D.A. that a coven of witches had been responsible.

Moira didn’t push him about the alibi he’d given Anthony. Instead, she said, “We have another issue. Lily’s daywalking, for lack of a better word. She found me on the cliffs today, two hours after she walked out of the school. But she didn’t remember how she got there or how she knew I was there.”

“Did you—?” Anthony began.

“Of course,” she said. “I checked her, her car, her locker, the Santos house, every place I could think of for any sign of external magic. Nada.”

“It sounds like what happened to me when I awoke from the coma,” Rafe said. Lily had pulled into herself. She was pale and skinny, but what worried Rafe the most was her haunted eyes. “I didn’t know how I got to the cliffs, or how I knew the ritual was taking place.” It still bothered him, not knowing what had happened to him during the coma. Not knowing why he knew things he’d never learned, languages he shouldn’t be able to speak, memories he hadn’t experienced.

But there would be time for contemplation later.

“We need to put a leash on her,” Moira said. “Jared and Hank haven’t been able to keep a close enough eye on her.”

“My mother came to the school today,” Lily said, speaking up again. “I ran from her. But she said something… ” Her voice trailed off.

“What? Specifically?” Anthony said.

“That I needed to prepare myself, that I was the
arca
.”

The
arca
, born and bred to house a demon. Not only
a
demon, but the Seven Deadly Sins. Her own mother had conceived her with the sole purpose of sacrificing her. Had the ritual on the cliffs continued, the Seven would have been contained within Lily’s body—the
arca
—in order to do Fiona’s bidding. Lily would certainly have died that night, and Rafe felt protective over the young girl. So did Moira. They all did.

“Father Philip baptized you,” Anthony said, his voice soft. Sometimes, Anthony could be truly kind and compassionate. He, too, understood what Lily had endured. She hadn’t even known what her mother had planned to do until she nearly died. “They can’t use you for the Seven, Lily.”