Original Sin

She’d tried to live according to Father Philip’s rules. He taught her everything about St. Michael’s Order. And her knowledge of Fiona and covens would help them stop the evildoers. Father Philip and his order had been floundering ever since Fiona began to unite the independent covens. Moira’s unique position gave them intelligence they’d never had before.

She wanted to help, and did. But it felt … passive. It became increasingly difficult to follow Father Philip’s rules. She wanted to be out of the walls of St. Michael’s, out tracking Fiona herself! But Father said she was unsafe outside the monastery’s walls. She’d traded fear and hunger for security in a beautiful sanctuary that too often felt like prison. And then there was Peter …

Together, they’d begun to use magic to undo the damage that Fiona had done. As a team, they were so powerful, and they were doing good! They had great successes, though even those they kept secret. Rico and the others believed that it was their own handiwork, while Peter and Moira were aiding them from afar. They were …

… leading Fiona right to them. It was the magic that revealed Moira’s location, the magic that led Fiona to St. Michael’s, and no amount of protection could shield Moira from her own arrogance.

Fiona found her, sent a demon to possess her, and with her own hands Moira had killed the one man she loved.

SIX

Oh mama, I’m in fear for my life from the long arm of the law

Lawman has put an end to my running

and I’m so far from my home.

— STYX, “Renegade”

Moira had to steer well clear of any self-pity, especially now when Anthony had the opportunity to chip away at her carefully constructed shields. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Skye McPherson approaching Anthony, who was standing near the edge of the cliffs. Skye and Anthony talked, and Moira knew damn well what Anthony would say about her.

Moira turned on her flashlight and shined it on the ground, looking for more clues.

It was obvious-at least to her-that there had been a full, protective circle here. Anthony knew how to read the signs and symbols, how to trace their magical supplies. As a demonologist, he might even know which demons had been summoned. But most of the symbols were obscured. Some attempt had been made at collecting the supplies-she saw only two candles, yet the wax in the dirt indicated many more. Something violent had wreaked havoc here. Maybe she could piece it all together and somehow discover Fiona’s weak spot.

If only it weren’t just about her, Moira wouldn’t hesitate to use magic to find and destroy her mother, even knowing that she herself would likely die and her soul would be lost. What did Moira have to live for but regret?

But she couldn’t risk innocents. Lily, or Jared, or even that bastard Anthony Zaccardi. She’d told Father Philip she couldn’t bring Anthony in because she didn’t want to risk his life, and while on the surface it sounded altruistic, it was purely selfish. She didn’t care if Anthony was dead or alive, as long as he was dead through natural means. Then his eternal fate was between him and the Big Guy. But witches? Possession? Hell? She couldn’t suffer through that again.

You’re pathetic. Get over it already.

Good going, Mo. Practice that tough love on yourself; maybe you’ll believe it one of these days.

Moira walked along the perimeter of what had been the outer circle and suddenly spotted something. She stopped, squatted, and inspected the earth.

There had been a double circle, and the remnants of a hexagram. But this hexagram had crossed the inner circle and touched the outer circle. Generally, the hexagram was constrained by the inner circle. She hadn’t seen one of these before, but she knew the triangles at the tips of the hexagram within the double circle were for specific, ancient rituals. They were not well known, not practiced by most covens because most covens were novices working basic spells that did nothing but add to the fissure between the underworld and humans.

For Moira’s entire life, her mother had been obsessed with finding the Conoscenza. Everything that she and Peter had uncovered years ago told them that the Conoscenza, the Book of Knowledge, the key to finding the Tree of Life, was gone forever. What if they’d been wrong? What if Fiona had found it? How in the world had her mother even read and understood it? It wasn’t written in a known language; it was so foreign, so old, that it was rumored to have first been written in the generation after the fall of man, by fallen angels and the humans they seduced into rebellion.

The two types of demons-fallen angels and lost souls-had one thing in common: they wanted out of Hell. Lost souls were dangerous, but they needed a body to possess. They were weaker than fallen angels, more susceptible to traditional exorcism rites, vulnerable to certain weapons such as iron.

Fallen angels, they were spirits. They were a whole other breed of demon-deadly, dangerous, and wholly evil. They didn’t need a human host, though they could take one easily if they wanted. God put them in Hell for a reason, and dammit, they should stay in Hell!

The Conoscenza gave these dangerous incorporeal creatures an opportunity to escape. Humans, playing with matches and lighting the eternal fire. Manipulating demons with magic took extreme power and fine control, which few witches possessed. It would be far too easy for the demons to break free of restraint and gain the freedom they desperately wanted.

Fiona had been so certain the evil book still existed. She had lusted for it, obsessed over it.

If it existed, great, untold evils would be unleashed on unsuspecting humans. There would literally be Hell on earth until the End Times.

Heat rose from the ground, dark fog swirled around and around and Moira nearly screamed. But Skye and Anthony were still talking off to the side, and they didn’t see anything, didn’t feel the heat that saturated Moira. Sweat rolled down the back of her neck, her skin burned, and in the dark she saw the eye of evil itself, staring at her, marking her. Beneath her feet the river of fire returned, its flames reaching out for her. Her mouth opened in a silent scream …

… then it disappeared. She fell to her knees, caught her breath, and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she stood over Hell itself.

“Moira?”

She jumped up and whirled around, fists on the rise until she realized that it was McPherson, who had approached so quietly that Moira questioned her own instincts, her training, her will to live.

“Sorry.” Skye assessed Moira and frowned. “Are you all right? Are you sick?”

She must look like crap for the sheriff to sound so concerned. “Fine.” Her voice was rough. She cleared her throat. “I’m fine. So what are you doing now? Did you call Jared Santos, verify that everything I told you is the truth?”

Skye didn’t answer her question directly. “The crime scene team is on its way; I need to ask you to leave. I shouldn’t have let you stay here in the first place. I’ve just been used to letting Anthony help …” Her voice trailed off as she glanced over at Anthony, who was inspecting something on the ground.

“I understand,” Moira said even though she didn’t. Anthony aiding the police?

But Moira could learn nothing more here. She needed to make sure Lily was safe, find out if Jared had found her. She pulled out her cell phone and texted Jared:

When you find Lily take her to my motel room. Tell no one. Do not let her out of your sight. Call me!

She sent it, then deleted all her messages with three quick strokes, just in case the cop wanted to look.

Skye looked at her suspiciously. “You and Anthony have a history.”