Original Sin (39 page)

The demon twitched, but continued to taunt her. “You know me. We’re old friends.”

She would
not
listen to his lies.

The candles all relit simultaneously, and it was all she could do not to jump. Jared came out from under the stairs. “Is Ari going to be okay?”

“Get back!”

The demon was strong, and while he couldn’t break the spirit trap and attack her, he could summon dormant demons in the room. Some were residual spirits from past rituals; others were trapped in ritual objects on the black magic altar. The ground shook and several evil spirits wrenched themselves from the captivity.

“I can—” Jared began.

“Stand behind me!” Moira commanded Jared, then continued shouting the exorcism prayer while facing off three demons of uncertain shape moving toward her.

They were not unlike the earth demon that Elizabeth Ellis had summoned when she’d rescued Lily. Moira tried the same prayer she’d used before, and one of the demons evaporated. The other two still came at her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a large, solid demon wrenching itself from the old, moldy brick walls. The building shook around her and Moira flashed on the image of killing the demon the same way Dorothy took out the Wicked Witch of the West, dropping this building on him. Except that she’d be under the house, too. She would have laughed but she had both her hands full—one with holy water, the other with her blessed dagger.

She flicked holy water onto the weak demons in front of her and both of them dissipated.

That seemed too easy.

Noise at the top of the stairs distracted her. A stranger was running toward them and Moira at first feared he was another witch. He stopped and stared at the destruction of the basement and the charging demon.

“Watch out!” the man cried.

Moira whirled around as a hoofed demon, looking much like a deformed mythological centaur, charged her.

This was no earth demon. It was a corporeal demon, no question about it. Straight from the pits of Hell and smelling as vile as a decomposing corpse on a summer day.

Moira backed up, reaching into one of her pockets and pulling out a vial of sacred chrism. She broke it across her blade, coating the iron with oil that was poison to demons. A sliver of glass from the vial cut her finger, but she pushed back the sharp pain, which was far less important than imminent death at the hands—hooves?—of an ancient demon.

The demon spoke a language she didn’t know, and she didn’t ask for a translation. It rushed her and she deliberately fell to the ground, to urge the demon to run over her. It reeked of rotting flesh and black magic, and she could scarcely breathe. She stabbed her arm out and into the underbelly of the demon, slicing its guts open with her oily dagger.

One hoof stomped her in the thigh and she screamed, but her voice couldn’t be heard over the agonized high-pitched cry of the tortured creature as it hit the wall. She jumped up, shaking out the pain, thankful her leg wasn’t broken, which would have been icing on the cake of this shitty day.

The demon centaur was bubbling ooze as it liquefied in front of her, steam rising from the remains. The ooze stunk worse than the demon itself.

Was it dead?
Dead?
As in no longer in existence in this world
or
the underworld? Impossible. Its form was dead; there was no way to annihilate a demon.

“Holy shit, what the
fuck
was that?” Jared asked.

The demon inside the trap was surprisingly silent.

“What did you do to … it?” the stranger asked.

She looked at her dagger almost as if she’d forgotten it was there. The demon’s blood—if it could be called blood—was black. It dripped from the oily knife until the knife was clean.

“Are you okay?” the stranger asked.

She turned to him, careful to keep a fair distance. He was in his forties, tall and attractive, with short, sandy hair and a solid, square jaw to match his solid, square shoulders. He wore a white button-down shirt and jeans.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“I should be asking you the same thing,” he said. “I’m Matthew Walker. This is my church. Or—it used to be.” He looked pained. “We need to get out of here.”

“You’re the pastor who left last summer?”

“Sheriff McPherson called me earlier today and told me someone was defrauding my congregation. I got here as fast as I could.”

The demon in Ari began to laugh.

“Let me help,” he said.

“You’re an exorcist?” she asked skeptically.

“No, but I’ve assisted in exorcisms.”

The demon continued to laugh, and Moira felt the energy building again.

“Matthew Walker,” the demon hissed.

Matthew jumped and began a prayer.

Moira continued her exorcism and Matthew said a parallel prayer in Greek. While she recognized the sound of the language, she didn’t understand most of it. But the dual exorcisms seemed to be working, faster than she expected. The demon stopped laughing almost instantly, and Ari’s body began to convulse. Within minutes, the demon screamed and left Ari’s body in a tornado of smoke. Ari collapsed.

The energy in the room had stabilized but not disappeared. “We have to destroy the altars Ari set up,” Moira said.

“I know where they are,” Jared said. “I’ll do it.”

“Be careful.”

“You mean you’re not coming with me?”

“I trust you. Just—later, we need to talk about you and this.” She gestured toward Ari.

“I’m sorry, Moira. I wanted to help.”

“I know you did,” she said, understanding Jared more than he knew. “Once the first altar is down, it breaks the vortex, so get to the easiest location first.”

“Got it.” He started up the stairs.

Matthew walked over and felt Ari’s pulse. “She’s okay, but we should call a doctor.”

“Can you stay? I need—”

“Well, hello,” a voice bellowed from the top of the stairs. “I’m—surprised to see you both here.”

Garrett Pennington walked down the stairs, pushing Jared in front of him.

Matthew stepped in front of Moira in a protective gesture. It gave her the opportunity to quickly assess the situation. Pennington didn’t have a weapon in hand. That gave her the edge. Though a woman, she played dirty when warranted. And three against one? Was Pennington a fool? He had witchcraft on his side, but the numbers benefited the good guys this time.

“Who are you?” Matthew demanded.

Pennington raised his eyebrows and touched his chest mockingly.
“You
don’t know
me
?”

“Are you the bastard who did this”—Matthew waved his hand toward the altar—“to my church?”

“Church? If you want to call it that.”

Matthew stepped toward him, and Moira put her hand on his arm. “Watch it. He’s a witch. Or, I suppose, technically a
wizard
.”

“I prefer magician,” Pennington said.

“I prefer you get the hell out of my way,” Moira said.

“You’d be insane if you thought I’d let you walk out of here. Fiona will be thrilled to see you again.” He continued down the stairs, pushing Jared hard to the ground.

Moira said to Pennington, “Listen to me. We have a problem here. Ari created an energy vortex and it’s still here.”

“She’s unconscious,” Pennington said. “It’ll dissipate soon.”

“No, something else is drawing it in here and it’s probably something in your office or behind your altar, asshole, or she created a loop of some sort, because I
feel
it. If we don’t stop it, a hole is going to be punched into the underworld, and I don’t think Fiona wants to spend her time battling wayward demons celebrating newfound freedom when she’s trying so desperately to recapture the Seven.”

For a moment, Pennington waffled. “How do you know that will happen?”

“What good are you if you
don’t
know? Seriously, how do they train you guys? I’m not even using magic and I can feel the charge! Dammit, I’m not fucking with you! Call Fiona if you don’t believe me!”

“Let’s go, then.”

“We can’t leave her here,” Moira said, pointing to Ari.

“Why not? She created the problem in the first place. She should have to suffer the consequences.”

“I’m not leaving her.”

“Yes you are.”

Pennington made a move toward Moira, and he wasn’t using magic. Just brawn.

A street fight. Just what she was waiting for. Moira almost jumped for joy. She’d take this kind of physical battle any day over magic.

The fake preacher didn’t bluff well. He feigned right—it was so obvious that Moira anticipated his real move, countered effectively, and flipped him. He lay there on the floor twenty seconds after he’d made his first step.

Moira said to Jared, “Can you carry Ari?”

He nodded, ran over to the petite teen, and picked her up.

Pennington tried to stand, and Moira kicked him in the ribs. He began to cast a spell, but Moira hit him on the head with the butt of her dagger to shut him up. He tried to get to his feet, stumbled, and collapsed.

“Up the stairs!” she commanded Walker and Jared.

They ran up and outside, and suddenly Moira was face-to-face with a woman she’d never seen before. A witch, based on the protection spell Moira sensed surrounding her. But the witch knew her limitations, because she also held a gun in her hand.

“I don’t have time for this,” Moira said.

She was on the verge of attack when Jared said, “Ms. Donovan? What are you doing?”

Donovan?
Moira searched her memory and then realized she was the high school teacher.

“You’re the reason they all died,” Moira said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Donovan sneered.

“You were on the cliffs.” Out of the corner of her eye, she sensed more than saw Matthew Walker edging away from her and toward Donovan.

The woman rolled her eyes. “Apparently that’s not much of a secret anymore.”

She was the connection. Donovan and Ari Blair, but Donovan was the neighbor to the guy who killed his co-workers last night. Moira was finally beginning to make sense of how the demons were operating. All those on the cliffs must have become catalaysts for the demons. What about Lily? Rafe? Jared said, “You’re dating my dad! Was that all a lie?”

“We all do what we have to,” Donovan said.

“That’s why Hank Santos is marked,” Moira muttered.

“What?” Jared said, turning to her. “My dad? What happened to my dad?”

Shit, Moira, that was smart
. “Jared, we’re trying to find a solution, but we really have to get out of here. Now.”

Donovan said, “I’ve got other plans, and you’re all coming with me. No one is going to stop it this time.”

Matthew was only feet from Donovan, who was focused almost solely on Moira. No surprise; Fiona had probably offered a sweet reward for Moira’s heart in a box. To distract her away from Matthew, Moira said, “You know, Nicole—right? Nicole Donovan? It’s over. We know who you are, and no one at St. Michael’s is going to let you get away with imprisoning the Seven Deadly Sins—if every last one of us has to die to ensure it.”

“Good to know,” Donovan sneered.

Suddenly, with feline grace, Matthew leapt onto the woman and they tumbled to the ground. He grabbed her wrist and slammed it on the cement walkway. She screamed and cursed, and Moira ran over and grabbed the gun, aiming it at Donovan.

“Shut up or you get a bullet in the brain, and I don’t think you’re a good enough magician to stop it.”

Donovan screamed in frustration, and Matthew got up with the witch, holding her wrists.

Moira told Jared, “Take Ari with you. Get to one of her altars as fast as you can and break it apart. Destroy all three and then head to Skye’s house and stay there. If Ari gives you shit even after what she’s been through, tie her up, I don’t care. Just don’t let her do anything stupid.”

“My dad—”

“I’ll find a way to save him. I promise. He’s acting weird, but he hasn’t done anything wrong.”
Yet
. “Go.”

Jared carried Ari to her car and Moira breathed slightly easier. “Thanks for your help,” she told Matthew, who stood contemptuously next to a weepy Nicole Donovan. “If you want to call the police, tell them Pennington is a con artist, whatever you want. But you might not want to mention what happened here. No one would believe it.”

“You can say that again.”

Donovan started crying in frustration. “You can’t do this!”

Moira ignored her. “I have to go. They hurt a friend—” She stopped. Matthew had helped her, but he didn’t need to know details.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

“Fine.” She pulled out the papers to the property where she felt Rafe was most likely to be. She hoped and prayed that the ritual Donovan spoke of was nowhere near this place. She looked around for Jared’s truck. “Shit.”

“What?”

“I don’t have a car.”

“I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

“No—”

“Please. I would feel better. After tonight—I’ve never seen
a … a demon …
like that.”

“Neither have I.” Not the black ooze, anyway. “But this is going to be dangerous. These people don’t play nice, and they’ll condemn you just for helping me.”

“Just a ride. And maybe a little backup? You might think I’m a male chauvinist, especially since you can obviously take care of yourself.” He grinned, revealing boyish dimples that clashed charmingly with his square jaw. “But I don’t like the idea of you going off by yourself and fighting anyone, human or … not.” He lost his smile.

Moira didn’t want to accept his help, but she didn’t know how long it would take for Anthony to arrive if she called him for a ride. And Pennington wasn’t dead—he could come up those steps any minute. And the longer Moira waited, the more danger was not only to Rafe, but everyone in town.

“All right, thank you.” She glanced at Donovan. “Can you tie her up downstairs with Pennington?”

“Gladly.”

Matthew went down the stairs and Moira picked up his keys, which had fallen to the ground when he’d tackled Nicole Donovan. Moira sprinted across the church parking lot to Matthew’s car.