Original Sin (25 page)

“Some things are more important.”

“What about Rafe? I can’t take him there, too, and we need to stick together. If we spread out too thin, we weaken the team.” She glanced around the hotel room. Much nicer than what she was used to. “Maybe I can bring Lily here, but I don’t know how safe this place is.”

“You diligently protected—”

“It doesn’t matter how well I protected these rooms against witchcraft or demons; there are ways to get to him—and you—and me. And Lily. We’re
all
in danger; it’s just a matter of time. Fiona made that perfectly clear this morning. We can’t leave Rafe alone, so are you suggesting we bring him to Skye’s house as well? She’ll have to bring him in for questioning; he’s probably under suspicion for murder—”

“What?”

“Give it up, Anthony. I
know
Rafe didn’t hurt Abby, but people aren’t going to listen to our arguments without tossing us into a padded cell or prison, which is exactly where Fiona wants us. Where she can get to us.”

“Do not treat me like a novice, Moira. You have no idea what I’ve faced here since the murders at the mission. Antagonism. Hatred. Adoration and idol worship. Some people think I’m a religious nutcase, others think I’m a prophet, others are starting a cult. People have bowed at my feet and spit in my face. Skye has been under close scrutiny by the city council, and the fact that the daughter of the mayor is dead and there are occult overtones is going to make it much worse for Rafe. I know exactly how the town will respond when the truth comes out about Rafe, which is why I want to send him back to St. Michael’s. Except—”

He stopped mid-sentence. Moira was surprised at how much Anthony confided in her about what he’d gone through these last weeks. He had no intention of befriending her, but she understood him and what he’d been through more than anyone else could.

“Except we need Rafe here, in the middle of the battle,” she finished quietly. “Okay, truce. Please, Anthony, until we figure out exactly
what
has happened and how to track those seven demons, we need to be on the same side. We should wake Rafe; he needs to be part of the planning. In fact, I’d suggest you stay here with him and I’ll get Lily tonight. Can we take her to the mission? Is it safe?”

“Yes, but you can’t drive that road now. It’s extremely dangerous in the rain, and if someone—or
something
—is tracking you it would be far too easy to push you off the edge. I’ll check out the cliffs on my way home; you stay here with Rafe. I—”

“I won’t let anything happen to him,” she said. She looked at the door that separated her from Rafe. He was listening—the door was ajar, and she sensed him standing right on the other side.

Anthony stared at her and nodded. “I’ll return at dawn to talk to Rafe while you find Lily and take her to the mission.”

“That’s six hours,” she said.

“Like you said, we don’t have much time.”

Moira hesitated. She had no intention of waiting until dawn to grab Lily. But she’d have to take Rafe with her, and she didn’t want to jeopardize him.

Anthony said, “I still don’t trust you.”

“I know. And believe me, I hate that I
do
trust you.”

Rafe heard Moira approach the partially closed door.

“He’s gone,” Moira said. Rafe smiled. She’d known he was standing there, listening.

He opened the door and stepped through.

She looked him up and down. “Glad the clothes fit.”

Anthony had brought him jeans and a black cotton T-shirt. “They’re loose.”

“You lost weight while you were at the hospital ‘resort.’ I have some power bars here, water, not much else. Though we can raid the mini-fridge. It’s on Anthony’s tab.” She grinned.

Moira was a beautiful woman, he realized, classical Irish beauty. No makeup; smooth, creamy skin with a smattering of faint freckles on her nose; thick wavy black hair that shined under the light. Tall, lithe, and athletic, all movement and muscle. She wasn’t a woman to sit still, he noted. Even when she was standing, her hands were in her pockets, or running through her hair, or tapping, full of energy.

Beautiful for certain, but with sad eyes. Brilliant blue eyes, the color of the eastern sky just before dawn broke, so alluring he wanted to lose himself under her gaze.

He sat on the sofa and diverted his gaze. He shouldn’t be looking at Moira as he was, yearning for something he couldn’t have. He’d lost so much already because he’d lusted; he’d allowed himself to be seduced by a witch. He wouldn’t do it again.

He felt as if he knew things about Moira, things he couldn’t know, but every time he tried to concentrate, the memory—if that’s what it was—flitted away. He wanted to believe it was nothing, just a comfort he’d felt when he was with Moira from the moment she found him.

He knew it was more than that.

She was looking at him quizzically, but he didn’t have the answer he knew she wanted. Not yet. So he said, “I agree we need to find Lily. But I’m not staying here while you put yourself in harm’s way.”

She sat on the small table across from him. “You’re not a hundred percent.” She smiled, tried to make a joke. “Being in a coma can be tiring.”

He didn’t smile. He touched the side of her face where a bruise had formed, from her neck up to her cheek. “What happened? This is recent.”

“Fiona. My mother.” Moira glanced away, uncomfortable with his touch. He dropped his hand.

“The head of the coven.”

“Look, Rafe.” She rose, fidgeting, picked up her water bottle from the desk, and drank heavily. “Fiona is planning another ritual using Lily as bait for the Seven. So let’s get her, bring her back here, and take turns sleeping, okay? Two hours and I’ll be good.”

She tossed him a power bar and water bottle. “Eat up.” She opened her own and took a bite. “You need your strength,” she said with her mouth full.

He took a bite of the tasteless food. Chewed. Swallowed.

Moira was openly watching him, her enquiring expression curious and honest. Her strength moved him. Not just the physical strength he’d witnessed when she found him at the cabin and practically carried him back to the truck, or when she brought him to the hotel room, but her inner strength. Her character was so solid, so steadfast and resolute, that he trusted her. The odd sensation that they’d met before came and went again. He let it go, knowing that if he chased the memory, his headache would return.

Quietly, he confided in her. “I remember … things.”

She leaned against the desk, studying him with her sharp eyes. “Like what?”

“I’ve been thinking about this all day, all night. I heard what you said to Anthony, that his protections might have protected my hospital room, but not me. I was taken somewhere, Moira. Almost every night. It was in the hospital—I think I can find the room if I go back. There might be information there that can help me figure out what they did to me.”

Moira believed Rafe, believed everything he said and things he didn’t say. Rafe was both solid and ethereal, tough but yet vulnerable. He wasn’t intentionally being deceptive, yet in her heart she felt he was holding back—that while he wasn’t lying to her, he wasn’t telling her everything. She didn’t expect him to open up completely about what had happened to him at the mission and in the hospital, but she
did
expect him to lay out the important facts. The things that could get her and others killed. Or worse.

There were worse things than dying.

“Tell me what you’re hiding,” she said.

He tilted his head, bemused and surprised. It was an endearing gesture, and it took all her willpower not to simply look away to avoid it. She couldn’t be soft around him. Not because
he
would hurt her, but because if she relaxed with him, her senses might not be in tune with everything that was going on around them. If she let her guard down, evil would have a way in.

“How do you know I’m hiding anything, Moira?”

“I read people very well. It’s kept me alive for a long time.” Now she did look away, making the excuse that she needed more water. She picked up her bottle again, realized it was empty, and put it down. What she wouldn’t give for a pint of Guinness! Not the bottled crap they sold in America, but the perfectly drawn pint from an oak cask in her quiet hometown of Kilrush, Ireland.

But there was no going home, no drinking on the job, and her job was now 24/7.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said.

“You’re going to have to. Dammit, Rafe! My life is a damn open book; crack your spine a bit and cough it up. What is going on with you? Other than the fact that you were out of it for two months, what do you know?”

“That’s just it—I know things I shouldn’t! Things I don’t remember learning. I don’t know if they did something to me at the hospital, I don’t know if—” he stopped himself.

“If what?” she prompted.

“If I’m dangerous! I need answers. That’s why I need to go to the hospital. Answers are there. Please, believe me.”

As he stood, a wave of pain crossed his face, but he pushed forward, pacing slowly. She watched, leaning against the desk, resisting the urge to help or console him. Rafe had the same physical presence as most of the men from St. Michael’s. Calm on the outside but with energy rippling beneath the surface. The quiet intensity, the vibrancy of being
alive
and fighting, and part of a world most people didn’t know existed, let alone have any true understanding of what they faced daily.

He said, “When I stopped the ritual on the cliffs, I spoke in a language I do not know. I
knew
what they were doing even though I’ve never had more than a cursory study of demonology and witchcraft. I failed as a hunter, I failed as a seminarian, and I failed the men at the mission. What good am I if I can’t see evil when it’s right in front of me? I thought I found my calling here in Santa Louisa, but then my brothers were murdered. Mentally tortured and slaughtered like animals. Poisoned under my watch. Poisoned, because I was blinded—”

He cut himself off and put his hands on the wall, his back to her. A chill ran down her spine, but her voice was surprisingly calm when she asked, “Are you using magic?”

“No!” he shouted, turning to face her. His pale face was twisted in distress. “No,” he repeated. “Not on purpose. But I don’t know what I did, how I stopped them—maybe whatever Dr. Bertrand was doing to me turned me into one of them. What if I’m risking everyone? What if I’m the one who set the demons free?”

Now, Moira did cross the room. She put her hands on his shoulders and shook him. Though he had at least fifty pounds on her, he moved back and forth as if he were a leaf.

“Fiona and her coven are to blame. Not you. You can’t do that to yourself. Do you think that any of us are perfect? We
all
make mistakes. We
all
screw up big-time. If they did something to you, we’ll find out what and we’ll reverse it.”

“What if they’re using me? Using me for something I don’t even understand! I can’t fight against the unknown!”

“Well, I can tell you that you’re not possessed and you’re not under a spell. If you were cursed, we’d know it here, in this room.” She gestured toward the doors, windows, and vents she’d sealed. “So rule that out. I’m a witch, Rafe. I don’t use magic, but there’re some things I know because I was born this way. Conceived to be this way.” She spat out the last sentence, her anger getting the better of her. She took a deep breath. It was true that she could sense when someone was possessed or when witchcraft was in the air, but she wasn’t entirely convinced it was because she was born that way. Father Philip thought that after her possession seven years ago she was connected, somehow, to that other world. To her, it made her cursed. Father thought it might lead to victory. She hoped he was right.

“We’ll figure it out,” she repeated. “First, Lily. She’s in danger. Then, after Lily is safe, I’ll go to the hospital.”

“Not alone.”

“I’ve been alone most of my life, Rafe, and frankly, I like it that way. No one else gets hurt.”

Rafe watched her turn abruptly from him, mumbling an excuse as she stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

The pain in her voice was tangible, and Rafe wanted to take it away.

Moira was wrestling with something deep inside, as insidious as a snake, twisting her as it did him. A powerful urge to protect her washed through him, followed by a desire he knew he could never act on.

Only a moment later she stepped from the bathroom and said, “Ready?”

“Let me get my shoes.”

He stepped into the adjoining room and heard a card slide into the lock. He stopped.

Moira was right behind him. “What?”

Someone swore outside the door and moved away.

“Who was that?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” She was concerned, her voice tight. She walked over to the door, listened. “They’re gone.” She frowned. “No—someone is there. Voices.” She closed her eyes. Rafe slipped on the shoes Anthony had brought with the clothing.

“Moira—”

“Shh.”

She was listening so intently, Rafe wondered if she could hear his heart beating.

Suddenly she said, “They know we’re here. We need to get out of here.” She ran back to the main room and grabbed her bag.

He followed her. “But they can’t get in. It’s safer if we stay.”

She shook her head. “Sure, we’re just fine for a while, but those guys were human. They can walk right in and do whatever they damn well please. And I don’t want to kill anyone, okay?” She frowned. “We can’t go out the door; I don’t know how many there are and they might be waiting for us to leave. The key didn’t work because they’d cast a spell on it, and at least my protections worked long enough to keep them out. The balcony—hey!”

Before she could finish her sentence, the lights went out. The emergency lights flickered on, blue and low to the ground.

“We’re so fucked,” Moira said.

TWENTY-ONE

Years of living in motel rooms and cheap apartments had trained Moira to travel light and stay packed. She had everything she needed in her bag and slung it on her back.