The excitement quickly ended.
“Today, you begin your final journey here on earth,” Fiona said, beaming at Moira, proud of her. But Moira didn’t like what her mother was saying.
“I don’t understand.”
“You will be able to walk between the worlds at will. You will be able to control spirits with a command, initiate requests from every coven on earth.”
“I still-”
“You will understand!” Fiona was losing her temper and Moira shut up. She couldn’t face Fiona’s wrath, not on this day.
She was treated like a princess, and even Serena, her eleven-year-old half-sister, was excited for her. “You’re going to be a goddess. Forever.”
But Moira was skeptical. Mediator? Goddess? Walking between the worlds? It sounded like she was to be a spirit herself, a ghost, trapped into slavery, doing the bidding of whatever witch summoned her …
Then that night …
Moira would never forget the screams of the two men who were stabbed in the chest with a glowing dagger.
Her mother’s fury when she didn’t drink their blood.
The chaos when her refusal caused the demons they’d trapped to break their restraints and torture those whose protective shields were weak. Fiona had then used all her power to send them back to Hell. Moira helped out of fear more than rage.
“You will comply!” Fiona said, coming at her with a dagger dripping with human blood. “You are here because I made you. You will serve me or you will burn!”
Moira ran, tossing spells out almost without thought, stopping those who tried to capture her … she didn’t even know where she was until she ran out, saw signs in French, and wondered how she’d been ignorant for so long. She hadn’t even remembered the journey! Had she been drugged? Under a spell?
She ran, hid, ran again, covered herself with protective spells and shields and anything she could think of. Anything and everything except calling forth a demon to do her bidding.
This was so wrong, people dying-how could Fiona have killed those men? For her? So she could be a slave?
That was the first night she’d ever been alone. But Fiona soon found and punished her. Afterward, Moira played the good daughter as long as she could. She learned as much as she could to fight her mother, to stop her, studying Fiona’s enemies, particularly St. Michael’s Order, a much hated group.
And then at last, she escaped. And this time, she knew enough to keep her whereabouts hidden from her mother.
She had heard about Father Philip of St. Michael’s, and that he might be able to help her, but had no information about where he lived or what he could do for her. She tried to find him by leaving coded messages at every Catholic church she entered, not knowing whom to trust. After more than a year, she started finding messages from Father Philip when she went to the churches, in the middle of the night, to steal holy water. Slowly, he told her of many atrocities her mother had committed over the years, awful things in which Moira had unknowingly participated. Horrified, she worked to undo the damage they’d caused, righting wrongs, hiding from Fiona while seeking more information from the elusive Father Philip.
She didn’t realize until later that St. Michael’s Order had been trying to find her. Or that until she escaped her mother, they would have killed her to stop Fiona. To stop her from becoming the Mediator. And she still didn’t fully understand what being the Mediator meant!
After two years of running and despair, the holy man arranged to meet her at dawn, in a small church in rural Italy.
She knew him the moment she laid eyes on him.
“Father Philip?”
He nodded, then crossed the stone floor, the rising sun streaming through ancient stained-glass windows. Father Philip was older than she’d thought, with trimmed silver hair and wire-rimmed glasses, but he was spry, stood straight, but was still several inches shorter than she. “Child, at last. We’ve been looking for you.”
She frowned. The notes they’d left for her over the years had been pretty clear: they did not want to have anything to do with her personally, but they would feed her information.
“But the messages you left for me-”
“That was Pietro. You will meet him. He insisted that we test you, to make sure you weren’t setting a trap. This is the first time I’ve stepped outside our sanctuary in many years. There are some who-” He stopped, put his hands on her shoulders. “Some people who want to hurt me. Like your mother.”
She became suddenly scared and confused, and started trembling, sitting down heavily.
“Moira, what is it?”
What if this was a trap … for her?
When she didn’t answer, he said, “I will show you something that may give you a modicum of peace.”
He removed his clerical collar, then pulled back the neck of his shirt far enough to show her his upper right breast.
On his tan skin was the tattooed symbol of St. Michael’s Order that she’d seen in one of the ancient books she’d found during her search. The sword of St. Michael the Archangel slaying the serpent, an elaborate triangle behind it to represent the Holy Trinity.
“You are strong, child,” Father Philip told her, replacing his collar, “with a well-formed conscience. Your heart is pure; your quest has come with a price and a reward.”
“I don’t understand-”
“Join us. Let me teach you the ways of St. Michael’s. The decision is yours.” He sat on the pew. “Or continue running from Fiona.”
She shook her head. “I–I’m so lost. I didn’t know what she was doing.”
“The road you have chosen is not easy. But it is your path. I can’t walk it for you. Believe me when I tell you that every man at St. Michael’s would walk in your shoes if they could. But you are unique, Moira. And in time, you will understand that. Until then, I’m here to help you. I can teach you to avoid or confront obstacles on your path. I can give you the tools to survive. Though in the end, I cannot take your place.” He gently touched her face, his eyes watering. “I would if I could, my dear.”
Her lip quivered. “I’m so tired.”
“You are not alone, Moira.”
“She has to be stopped, but I am so scared.”
“God tells us, ‘Do not be afraid.’ But there are many things that are fearsome. There are good reasons to be afraid, and while we can be confident in our eternal life, we may be terrified on earth. We have a sacred duty to save as many souls as we can. Fiona and her kind have turned so many souls black. Hardened their hearts, devoted them to serving her and covens like hers, seeking answers where there are only dark lies. Come with me, and we can help.”
“I’m cursed.” She pulled down her turtleneck, revealing the mark of the demon on the side of her neck. “I’m theirs.” Her voice choked.
“No, you are not.”
“You can help me?”
“I will help you, and you will stop her. You are stronger than you know. But first, from this moment forward, you must promise me no more magic. It’s your magic that is leaving a trail for Fiona to follow. It’s why she’s close.”
“But it’ll leave me unprotected! I can’t, it’s-”
“Even magic used for good leads to evil. Never forget that.”
