Original Sin

the same as I’ve seen in two different sets of ruins, one in Ireland that is five hundred years old, and one in Italy that is nearly a thousand years old. There were more attempts, but we don’t know where or when. Every one has failed.”

A chill ran down Moira’s arms. “They probably failed too,” she said. “Look around, it’s chaos.”

“I don’t know,” Anthony said.

“The Seven?” Skye asked.

“The Seven Deadly Sins. If they’ve been freed, we have a supernatural war on our hands. And we are not prepared.”

It was the Conoscenza. Only the Book of Knowledge had the proper spell to release the Seven Deadly Sins from Hell. Fiona had found it.

Anthony stared at Moira. “Arrest her.”

“What?” Moira and Skye said together.

“Moira O’Donnell is a witch. She has the power to do this.”

“Bullshit! You damn well know I had nothing to do with any of this!”

“She’s here illegally,” he continued, facing Skye and ignoring Moira. “Olivet is a reclusive, all-male theological college similar to St. Michael’s, where I’m from. She couldn’t have legitimately gotten a student visa. I sent a friend of mine a message.” He glanced at Moira, triumphant, and Moira knew exactly what he was going to say. “They’ve been expecting her for months. She never showed.”

Skye said, “That’s an Immigration issue, Anthony. I don’t have grounds to arrest her unless she committed a crime.”

What Anthony said was true, she was supposed to return to Olivet after learning the deaths she’d investigated in upstate New York three months ago weren’t related to supernatural forces. But both Father Philip and Rico knew she was following her mother’s trail. They kept her involvement under wraps for a whole host of reasons, not least among them was the division she’d caused among the Order after Peter’s death.

But she wasn’t going to prison over their secret. “Call Rico Cortese,” she told Anthony. “If he didn’t tell anyone about my trip to Santa Louisa, I’m sure he had good reason. Need to know and all that-oh, I get it, you’re just pissed off that you weren’t in the loop.”

Anthony stepped forward and grabbed Moira’s wrists before she’d seen him move. Okay, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to bait him. “Rico picked the wrong witch to train,” he said under his breath, then added to Skye, “Left inside pocket. She has a knife.”

Skye’s face darkened. She reached where Anthony told her and extracted the knife. It was a dagger with a double-edged blade, in iron. The handle was gold, inlaid with the relics of saints. It had been Peter’s. She always carried it with her. She had little else from Peter.

“Any other weapons?” the sheriff asked angrily.

“Nothing that can hurt a human being,” Moria snapped. She glared at Anthony. He was trying to keep his face impassive, but he recognized the knife as well. The fury simmered inside him; she felt it rippling through his body. Moira almost didn’t blame him. She was angry with herself, too.

But she had never hated him more than she did right now. She couldn’t go to jail. If Fiona had failed, she’d try again. If she had Lily, she most certainly would restage the ritual as soon as physically possible-possibly as soon as tomorrow night. If she’d been successful, Moira had to undo the damage. How, she had no idea. But first, she needed to confirm exactly what happened here. If the Seven Deadly Sins were on earth, she had to figure out how to send them back to Hell and stop Fiona.

Skye searched Moira and pulled out salt, several vials of holy water, and a long, thin iron chain.

“A garrote?” Skye asked.

“A devil’s cuff.”

“Excuse me?”

Anthony explained. “A means of restraining a possessed human. It prevents the demon from escaping, and makes it easier to interrogate the beast without harm to the human.” He then added, “It doesn’t always work.”

Moira glared at him; Anthony stared her down. She bit back a sarcastic remark.

Skye looked torn. She asked Moira, “Why are you here?”

“I told you. I found the gateway and I had to stop her.”

“Who?”

Moira squirmed.

Anthony answered for her. “Fiona O’Donnell. Her mother.”

Two cars pulled up behind the sheriff’s truck. “That’s the crime scene team and coroner,” Skye said. She pocketed Moira’s passport. “I think it would be best if you came down to the station so we can talk, until I find Jared and Lily to corroborate your story.”

For a brief moment, Moira considered magic. She could find Fiona and hurt Anthony. Her urge to cause him pain for everything he’d said tonight and in the past scared her so deeply that her skin crawled and she felt physically ill.

Magic was evil, even if her purposes were noble. That Anthony had been able to even get her to consider it, just for that moment, pained her. She was worse than a drunk, worse than a drug addict. Magic was the greatest power, the greatest high on earth, and resulted in the steepest fall.

Anthony saw her internal battle and smiled cruelly.

“I knew you’d never change. I warned Peter, but he trusted you. Now he’s dead.”

She decked him.

SEVEN

Fiona strode through the secluded mansion on the outskirts of Santa Louisa, her footfalls echoing through the cavernous halls, a virtual electric storm in her wake. Serena had rarely seen her mother so furious. Though she’d been equally upset-and shocked-when Rafe Cooper walked into the middle of their ritual, she couldn’t help but feel a little gleeful that her mother’s lack of foresight had bit her in the ass.

“Why didn’t you know?” Fiona turned on Dr. Richard Bertrand when they reached the towering library in the back of the house. The property was owned by Good Shepherd Church, and Serena was usually amused knowing that the contributions to Pastor Garrett Pennington’s ostensibly Christian church were used to allow her and her mother to live in luxury.

“Richard!” Fiona shouted when he didn’t immediately answer her. She sent a pulse of energy toward the double doors, forcing them to slam shut, to emphasize her anger. Richard winced as if physically assaulted.

The doctor groveled. Typical, Serena thought. Few people had the backbone to stand up to Fiona. But Rafe had been his resposibility. Richard had ensured everyone that Rafe Cooper would never awaken. Richard would be lucky if he was alive at dawn.

“He shouldn’t have woken up,” Richard whined.

“Shouldn’t have? Richard, since when have you reduced yourself to ridiculous understatements?” Fiona turned to Serena. “And you were supposed to kill him months ago!”

Serena straightened her spine and kept her chin up. She wasn’t going to let her mother reinvent the past. “When Rafe Cooper went into the coma, you said he was more use to us alive than dead,” she retorted.

“He should have been dead that night!”

Fiona flung open the doors of her library with a flick of her wrist-a neat trick, but a parlor trick nonetheless. Serena had lived with her mother long enough to discern the difference between games and power. No doubt about it-Fiona controlled more otherworldly forces than any magician Serena had ever known, but she also enjoyed the bells and whistles that went along with power. There had been no need for half the games she’d played at the ruins. Had she forsaken the frills for expediency, they would have been done trapping the demons in the arca long before Rafe Cooper broke their circle.