Original Sin (44 page)

Dad?
Moira’s disbelief must have registered on her face, because Serena said, “Why do you find that so hard to believe? Just because you didn’t know I knew my father? I’m good at secrets too.”

Walker laughed. “Sorry, Moira. Serena’s my daughter, but you aren’t. Can’t say I’m choked up about it.” His laughter ended abruptly, and he said to her in a low voice, “You’ve caused my women trouble and heartache for years, and now it’s time for you—and your friends—to pay for it.”

Moira assessed the situation. Matthew Walker had almost—but not quite—taken control from Fiona. Fiona hadn’t seemed to notice, and Moira would be shocked if she condoned it. Her mother was subservient to no one, man, woman, or demon. Yet she’d sighed in ecstasy when Walker took her in his arms and kissed her, playing the role of a love-struck woman. She loved no one but herself. No one.

Yet …
there was something different about Walker. And suddenly Moira feared him more than anyone else in the room.

“Fiona, dear, are you ready?” He waved his hands dramatically, then bowed, essentially giving her the floor. The three of them backed out of the circle.

Fiona beamed and began the incantation.

“I have called the Seven to Earth, I have called the Seven from Hell, through a Gateway I consecrated in the blood of the righteous. It is right and just that the Seven are to be contained in the
arca
that has been consecrated for them to live and walk on earth as they did in ages past.”

“As it is above, as it is below,” the women outside the circle shouted.

Serena lifted a chalice and spoke in an ancient language. The magical energy in the room instantly doubled. Moira felt it as a hot, electric wash over her skin.

“Father?” Moira asked. “What’s she saying?”

Walker said, “Quiet!” He lifted his hand, drew in energy, and threw it at her. It hit her like a bullet in her shoulder and she screamed. The magic painfully surged through her and she willed it to dissipate, mumbling in Hebrew.

Serena continued. The chanting responses of the coven increased in volume. Moira inspected her chain and the lock. It was old; if she had her lock picks she could get out of it in two seconds. A bobby pin would work, but she didn’t
have
a bobby pin or anything
like
a bobby pin. She had nothing—Walker had taken her jacket, every one of her weapons, even her medallion and crucifix.

The furniture shook, and she wondered why they weren’t concerned about the heavy pieces flying across the vast showroom and killing them.

She watched the faces of the coven members, saw that they were concentrating, focusing on keeping the ritual under control. Even Matthew Walker was no longer paying attention to her, but using powerful magic to keep the demonic elements at bay.

She slid her body closer to Father Philip. She heard him talking, but not to her. He spoke in Latin, and it took her a verse before she realized it was Psalm 54, a prayer of confidence while facing great peril and imminent death.

“Turn back the evil upon my foes; in your faithfulness destroy them.”

Lily was unmoving, in shock, staring at the ceiling. “Lily, help is coming,” she quietly told the girl. She prayed it was true. That Anthony and Rafe were able to get to the tabernacle and find a way inside and …
shit
. It was a lot of hopes and dreams and ifs. But other than them, who else was there? Skye was a cop, not an exorcist or demon hunter. Bullets would do nothing to a demon, but would certainly kill the victim.

“Father, what is Serena saying?”

He whispered, “Pure evil from the
Conoscenza.”

“What language?”

“The language of demons.” He looked at her. “Only you can destroy the
Conoscenza.”
Tears sprang to his eyes.

It dawned on her slowly why only she could destroy it. “Because I’m a witch,” she said in shock, her eyes burning. “Is that how you see me?”

“No, child, I only see you through eyes of love.”

An armoire fell over, and Moira jumped. She had to get out of these restraints. She could do nothing trapped like an animal.

She saw the broken glass from Father’s lenses. And the twisted wire frames.

She glanced around. The witches were all chanting and concentrating while Serena continued her summoning ritual. She scooted over inch by inch until she could reach the frames, then discreetly palmed them.

Father Philip saw what she was doing and helped shield her hands from the surrounding coven. As they huddled together, the air in the room heated and swirled around the demon trap.

Moira snapped off the side from the frame, still watching the coven. She carefully worked the shaft into the manacle lock. Dammit, it wasn’t as easy as she thought it would be.

Father continued his praying, and Lily moaned. “Moira,” she sobbed. “I feel something. Something is coming for me. Help me, please. Please. God, please!”

Her cuff opened. The movement was subtle, and rather than immediately jumping up, she started working on Father Philip’s restraints. “How do I destroy the
Conoscenza?”
she whispered. “Is it here?”

“Yes, but I haven’t seen it.”

“How?”

“Blood and fire.”

She shivered. “That sounds like something
they
would do.”

“You’re not sacrificing anyone, dear. But …”

Moira understand. “My blood. But why? Why mine and not Fiona’s?”

“Because magic can’t destroy it. I don’t have all the answers. But—it’s dangerous.” Father Philip’s shackle snapped open. He said, “The cardinal has answers.”

“Who? The cardinal? Which cardinal?”

Before he could respond, a black cloud rushed into the room through the vent above the circle and filled the double circle, swirling around and around the altar.

Moira had seen the strange and supernatural in her life, but never had she seen anything like this. Never had she felt raw evil as it brushed past her, hot, vile, reeking of decay. But it wasn’t the malevolent personality that terrified her. It was the intelligence within the creature that made her realize there was no way they could defeat it—not one of the Seven and certainly not all of them.

There was no way to survive. She wanted to curl up into a ball and pray to God to make death quick.

It was not just her soul on the line. Inaction was not an option.

Moira jumped up, shaking off the shackles she’d unlocked only moments ago. She kicked over every candle and threw each of the seven chalices outside of the circle. But it didn’t matter. It was too late.

The Demon Envy had arrived.

FORTY

I am about to take my last voyage, a great leap in the dark
.

—THOMAS HOBBES,
1679

Envy took form.

Moira stared, standing in front of Lily and Father Philip, protecting them with nothing because she had nothing to protect them with.

Envy was alternately hideous and beautiful. A man with long, golden hair turned into a hoofed creature standing on hind legs, horned and deformed. The changes were fluid, but the creature was corporeal. It had mass and body like the demon that had wrenched itself from the walls of Good Shepherd. But there was something different about this one. The eyes had intelligence. The demons she’d encountered before were driven by one thing: destruction. They acted purely on instinct.

Envy acted on forethought and intelligence.

It smiled at her.

Father recited a psalm; Moira knew it but couldn’t remember which one. Envy didn’t react to the invocation of God.

“Your words have no effect,” it hissed.

Envy’s voice was low, rumbling, loud. It echoed throughout the warehouse. That was when Moira first noticed the chanting had stopped. The coven watched those trapped in the circle with Envy. Moira didn’t dare take her eyes off the demon, but she felt fear all around her and it wasn’t coming from just those in the circle.

The damn coven
should
be scared. They would be next.

“I am the One,” Envy said.

“God is the One,” Moira spat out.

Envy growled.

Good going, piss off a demon while you’re trapped with it
.

“I am the one who gave you knowledge. I am the one who felled mankind. I am the one you should bow to.” Envy smiled as it changed form, its legs turning into a snake, a rattle at the end, its body a hairy chest, its head turning back to the golden-haired Fabio, now with fangs that dripped poison. It slithered on the floor, seven feet tall, growing and shrinking as it circled around the trap.

“You think you can keep me here?” it asked.

“Don’t blame me,” Moira said, circling the altar to keep herself between Lily and the demon. “It was them—the witches and wizards who want to trap you.”

“And
you?
”

It slithered toward her so fast she couldn’t help but scream, her shriek short as her breath was stolen from her. Envy’s breath reeked of dead flesh, sulphur, and maggots. Its narrow, forked tongue shot out, impossibly long, and touched her cheek, burning her skin.

Moira flinched from the demon’s touch. With courage she didn’t know she had, she said, “You have delusions of grandeur to think you were the serpent who spoke to Eve. You’re but one of seven; the serpent didn’t have to share his power.”

She had no idea why she’d intentionally antagonized Envy; she had no idea if he was the demon who’d lured Eve or was just making it up because that’s what demons do best: lie. But all she could think about was buying time, otherwise Rafe and Anthony would have no chance to get the tabernacle in place.

The demon hissed in rage and pushed her aside with such force she flew across the room and hit a hutch. Glass broke around her, cutting her arms, and she fell to the ground.

Get up!
She couldn’t move. She tried to rise, but glass dug into her hand, cutting it open. She bit her tongue to not cry out as she rolled away from the glass and lay on her back looking at the ceiling. She couldn’t save them—what was she thinking? She was one human against a demon who could kill her without straining itself. It could have killed her then, thrown her farther, higher, harder … like Peter.

Lily screamed. Moira forced herself to her feet, shook off her dizziness, and stepped forward.

Envy was sniffing Lily, its tongue touching her flesh. It reached her mouth, shot the forked end in, and leapt backward, its form turning back into the hoofed creature. “You are contaminated!” it screamed. Envy spat onto the floor; steam rose where its black saliva fell.

Moira ran over to Lily. The girl was shaking. Blood oozed from where Envy’s tongue had cut her skin. “Hold on,” she said, though she had no clue how they were going to get out of this.

The coven members started chanting again. Serena held an oversized book with thick pages and began to read.

The
Conoscenza
. Moira could destroy it now.

Blood and fire
.

How could she destroy it with Father Philip and Lily here? Moira was prepared to die to destroy the book, but she wasn’t going to take innocent lives with her.

As Serena read, the demon writhed, losing form. It was furious; anger was rolling off the creature, palpable, as it grew in rage and jealousy.

“You think you’re better,” Envy growled. “I took your lives before, I can take them now!”

Envy grew as it lost shape. It moved faster and faster in the circle. Furniture in the building began to shake.

Serena read faster. Envy hovered over Lily, drawn to her in spite of her “contamination.” Moira looked around for a weapon, anything to fight with, though without form how could she kill Envy? Envy wrapped its form around Lily and she screamed.

Father Philip began an exorcism prayer, reached out, his hands touching the demon. Envy hissed in agony and rapidly fled from Lily. It screamed at him, taking the form of a beast. “You can’t stop
ME!”

It exhaled and Father Philip was brought to his knees, his hands at his throat, his face turning red. The demon rushed him, drawing out Father’s breath.

“NO! Let him go!” Moira screamed. She put herself between the demon and Father, but it didn’t stop. She glanced behind her. Father was convulsing as he fell to the floor. No, not him. Not Father.

“Damn you all!” she screamed.
“Avertet mala inimicis meis in veritate tua disperde illos! Voluntarie sacrificabo tibi confitebor nomini tuo Domine quoniam bonum!”

Envy turned his attention to her.

“Release him!” she commanded.

“You have no power over me. You gave up your power,” it hissed. Father lay still. Too still.

Why him? Why not me? Why the only good thing in my life, you take from me?

Envy laughed, turning into dark smoke, washing over her. She was frozen, encased by Envy as it sought a way into her body.

Then it pulled back, again took solid form. Showing off. Proving it was powerful. Proving it was in charge. Moira was inches away from its face as it stared at her. Envy opened its mouth and Moira saw the fangs, the maggots, as it came toward her.

A commanding voice resonated through the room, overpowering the demon, the chanting, the rumbling.

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost,” Rafe shouted, “you are banished back to the lowest level of Hell.”

Then he spoke in the same language that Serena had used.

Moira turned from Envy to Rafe, stunned.

Rafe knew the ancient language of demons! The language of the
Conoscenza
, the book of evil, the spells that focused on the destruction of all that was good in the world.

How did he know it?

Her heart broke when she realized that Rafe was using battle magic to counteract Serena’s spell, repeating the opposite of everything Serena said—Moira understood that not in the words, which she didn’t understand, but in the conflicting energy in the room. As the energy increased in strength, each kind battling the other, it was growing, expanding, practically visible to Moira, light and dark, hot and cold. Her senses were overloading and she could scarcely think.