Original Sin (33 page)

“Never heard of him. But Lamb of God is small; they often recruit outside their ranks. Most of our churches have small congregations in rural communities.”

He gave her two phone numbers and an address in San Diego—for Vance and Trina Lamb—and assured Skye that “Lamb” was their true last name.

“When did you leave Santa Louisa?” she asked.

“The first week of August. My mother collapsed and was admitted to the hospital. I drove up, and after talking to the doctors learned she had a brain tumor. They said she could live for a week or possibly a month. It’s been seven months, praise the Lord, but she’s still not out of the woods.”

“You haven’t been back since?”

“I returned for a few days to pack up my things, gave my last sermon on August ninth, told the congregation what happened, and asked them to pray for my mother. I contacted Lamb of God and informed them of my leave of absence, and they said they’d start searching for a replacement. Is this a new hire?”

“About five or six months ago, I believe. I don’t have those notes in front of me, but he was there at the end of the summer.”

“That’s odd. I spoke with Vance two weeks ago and he didn’t say anything to me.”

Odd indeed, Skye thought. She thanked the pastor and hung up, then called the number he’d given her.

A female voice answered.

“I’m Sheriff Skye McPherson in Santa Louisa, California. I’m calling to speak with Vance or Trina Lamb.”

“This is Trina Lamb. How may I help you?”

“I’m calling regarding Good Shepherd Church in Santa Louisa.”

“Yes?”

“I’m following up on your pastor, Garrett Pennington.”

“Good Shepherd has no pastor. Matthew Walker took a leave of absence, and we haven’t filled the position yet.”

“Mrs. Lamb, Garrett Pennington has been acting as the pastor of Good Shepherd since the end of August.”

“We don’t know any Garrett Pennington.”

“But Good Shepherd is your church?”

“In a manner of speaking. We don’t have the organization of the larger churches with mandates and funding. We supply material like prayer books and stock newsletters, and take care of organizational matters such as tax filings, in return for a percentage of the collection and fund-raising. Matthew really built the church up. When he took a leave of absence, he asked for us to find a replacement for him, but we’ve been unable to do so. We sent two candidates to the church council, and neither met with their approval.”

“Church council?”

“Yes, when Matthew left to care for his mother, three in his congregation volunteered to interview replacements. We sent up two, but they rejected them. They’ve been holding prayer services, but I fear unless Matthew returns they’ll wander away.”

“Who is on the council?”

“I don’t know all the members, but my contact is Elizabeth Ellis. Do you know her?”

Lily’s mother, who Anthony called a witch. “I know of her.”

Lamb’s voice became indignant. “I’m disturbed that someone would be pretending to be a man of the Lord.”

Skye sighed wearily.
You don’t know the half of it
.

Moira was relieved that Anthony hadn’t asked her
why
she was going to Santa Louisa High. She’d have to lie to him, and she didn’t like lying to him. He couldn’t read minds, but he was sharp, and even though she was a terrific liar—thanks to years of having to lie to her mother in order to save her own life—she wasn’t sure she could come up with a plausible excuse.

She left a voicemail for Jared; she assumed he was in class when he didn’t answer. She walked around the silent halls, hoping no one questioned her. The nice thing about Santa Louisa was that it was a smallish town with small-town mentalities. No metal detectors at the doors, no campus cops, no one particularly concerned about someone walking the halls between classes.

But the downside of a small town was that everyone knew everyone, and Moira was a stranger. Worse, she didn’t know how far the tentacles of Fiona’s coven extended, and people
she
didn’t know might know
her
. She was always wary of Fiona’s human spies.

She walked around the halls looking for any sign of witchcraft, or the lingering stench of sulphur that demons left in their wake. Slowly by the lockers, breathing deeply at each narrow vent, seeking the subtle aromas of herbs and plants that might tell her someone was practicing witchcraft—or was hexed. Moira didn’t know if they would be the next victims of the demon or if they were protected from what they’d brought forth. But each person was a possible lead for her to find Fiona.

She’d passed by several lockers that were suspect, but one stood out as if it glowed with a big neon sign:
witch
.

She glanced around. Heart racing, she took out her pick and popped the lock in less than three seconds, though it felt like three minutes.

It was myrrh that she smelled, fresh and potent. On the inside of the locker was a symbol Moira knew well from her youth—it went with a spell for popularity. As if to reiterate the fact, she found a turquoise charm hanging in the back.

She quickly went through the books. The locker belonged to Ari Blair, student body president. In notebooks were doodles of witchcraft tables, and another notebook was the beginning of her own
grimoire
.

And there was an address book.

The bell rang; Moira pocketed the address book and shut the locker, walking away with purpose, as if she belonged.

No one stopped her, no one commented. She walked right out of the school, toward where she’d parked Jared’s truck.

Shit!

A sheriff’s car was parked in front of his truck and Hank Santos, Jared’s father, was looking in the windows. Moira turned and walked in the opposite direction. She didn’t know what was going on, but she wasn’t going to waste time finding out—or risk going to prison.

But dammit, she needed a car! Maybe she could just wait a few minutes and he’d be gone.

She found a place on the far side of the main school building where she could stand among the trees and still see Jared’s truck without being exposed. She went through Ari’s address book, hoping there was information she could use to find Fiona or Garret Pennington.

THIRTY

Serena was taking a huge risk showing up at Santa Louisa high school, but Nicole Donovan was hysterical and hysterical witches did stupid things. Like Elizabeth Ellis’s rant this morning to Fiona. Elizabeth was lucky to be alive and breathing. Nicole would be lucky to be alive by the end of the night.

Nicole had third period free, so Serena waited until her students left the classroom before slipping in and locking the door behind her. She’d seen a police car out front. Probably not the sheriff, but Serena didn’t want to take too many chances. Skye McPherson was one of the few people who
might
be able to identify her—if she looked close enough.

“Ari drove off with Jared Santos!” Nicole exclaimed in a loud whisper. “That can’t be good. We have to find her.”

“That’s why you called and
demanded
that I come here?”

“Yesterday Ari was on edge, and did you hear that her boyfriend died?”

Serena hadn’t heard, but she acted nonchalant. In truth, she was concerned because the death was unusual. She hadn’t been able to decipher the entire
Conoscenza
but she knew the Seven behaved differently. Their coven was protected, but what about those they associated with?

Instead, she told Nicole, “That doesn’t concern us.”

“Yes it does! I heard that the sheriff brought
Anthony Zaccardi
to the morgue with her. Everyone is talking about Chris Kidd’s death. He collapsed, bleeding from both ears. The secretary died in a car crash going seventy miles an hour. The
librarian
committed suicide! No one knows what is happening, but now people are talking about the cliffs, about Abby, about strange things they’ve seen. We can’t keep this a secret! Someone’s going to find out and—”

Serena laughed. “You think that the average person in Santa Louisa is going to believe that demons are on the loose? And why do you think they had anything to do with those deaths?”

“They had to.”

Serena wasn’t going to fuel Nicole’s panic, though she agreed. No one had successfully brought forth all seven of the Seven Deadly Sins at one time, and when a coven had summoned one of them, it was under tight control, and returned as soon as they completed the ritual. What Fiona had planned was far grander in scale, to not only summon the Seven, but to keep them trapped in the
arca
instead of sending them back to Hell. The possibilities were endless.

“We have a plan, and we will succeed,” Serena said. “Tonight. Either you’re with us one hundred percent, without hesitation, without doubt, or you’re out.”

And Nicole knew damn well what being
out
meant.

“It’s on tonight? Where?”

“You’ll know in time. But until then—keep your mouth shut.”

“What if Cooper shows up again?”

“He’ll be there.” Serena smiled. “He’s no longer a threat.”

A knock on the door surprised both of them. “I have to get that,” Nicole said. “It’s open period, and I don’t want any rumors going around. There’re too many as it is.” Nicole walked to the door and unlocked it.

Sheriff Skye McPherson stood there. “Ms. Donovan? Do you have a minute?”

“Is this about Abby? Poor girl.”

“No, it’s about your neighbor, Ned Nichols, if you have a minute.” Skye glanced at Serena and gave a slight, inquisitive nod. Serena responded in kind. She wasn’t going to speak. Some people remembered faces easier, some people remembered voices. And while Serena had changed her appearance back to her usual self, she couldn’t change her voice. Even though it had been more than two months, Serena wasn’t taking any chances.

Nicole shook her head. “I heard about it on the news. It’s so hard to believe that he could do something like that.”

Serena didn’t need to listen to this, nor did she want Skye McPherson to spend too much time studying her. She waved good-bye to Nicole, nodded to the sheriff, and walked out of the classroom as Skye asked Nicole when she’d last seen her neighbor.

The halls were deserted. Serena was thankful she’d never had to suffer through school.

She left the building by the side door, then started down the path to the sidewalk and toward her car.

The crystal in her pocket vibrated and burned so hot she yelped out loud, stunned. She’d almost forgotten she’d brought the blood demon with her.

Something was not right.

Serena slowed her stride, moved off the sidewalk and into the trees that lined the road. She willed herself to be camouflaged, murmuring a concealment spell to surround her. The fog had lifted, but the gray sky cast odd light and dark shadows around her, as if the world were black-and-white.

She pulled out the crystal, holding it carefully between her thumb and forefinger. It was glowing, pulsating. She’d never seen this happen before, and for a brief moment she thought that the demon was about to escape. That wouldn’t be good; he’d be one pissed-off demon. She needed to send him back before that happened. She could do it alone, and was about to begin the incantation when she saw movement from the corner of her eye.

Someone was partially hidden in the grove of trees to her left. Waiting for a friend? Watching? The crystal in her hand vibrated faster. She ordered the demon to be still, and he did, shaking almost imperceptibly.

A Catholic church loomed across the street, dark and empty. But it wasn’t the church that gave her the feeling that something was afoot.

The spell Serena cast around herself didn’t make her invisible—that was impossible—but it made it difficult for anyone to see her, a shadow, blending in with the trees, and as long as she didn’t move, barely breathed, she was
de facto
invisible.

It was a woman, ten feet from her. A woman with long black hair.

Moira
.

Her sister stood in the grove, watching the student parking lot. A police car was there and as Serena watched, it drove away. Moira continued to watch, but judging by her stance that had been what she was waiting for. She itched to move, always a bundle of energy.

So much like Fiona. A virtual clone, only Moira didn’t need spells and magic and supernatural power to achieve that sleek neck and slender nose and those perfectly arched cheekbones. She didn’t need to choke spirits of their power to add shine to her hair, or depth to her eyes.

Serena hated her and loved her and wanted to be with her and wanted to kill her.

Moira had been the only thing in the coven’s way for so long, until Rafe Cooper. Moira had thwarted them, delayed them, jeopardized their lives. She had to die. Somehow, it was even worse because Moira didn’t realize what she was doing, or how dangerous she was to Fiona’s plans.

Yet the one time Fiona had the chance to end it, she’d played her stupid mind games and Moira was still alive.

Why did Moira deserve to live, anyway? After the pain Serena had suffered because that
bitch
wanted to be free.

Fiona had always loved her sister more. As the chosen, the sacrifice, the one who would rule the realm between the here and the underworld. The one who could move between the two places as effortlessly as breathing.

Moira had thrown it all away. She’d walked away as if none of it mattered! And she wanted to deny
them
the right to infinite knowledge, to share in the wealth of the worlds.

Fiona hadn’t given Moira’s chosen position to Serena. She said she couldn’t, it wasn’t possible, but it was! It was possible! Serena had figured out how she could have everything that Moira had given up, as long as Moira was dead.

You’re not free, you’ll never be free, and I will kill you
.

Moira sensed someone watching her as she stepped toward Jared’s truck. She stopped, discreetly slid the address book into her pocket, and listened.

A distant dog was barking; a closer dog responded with a higher-pitched yelp.