Original Sin

Moira glanced at Rafe, who appeared to be sleeping in the passenger seat, though she didn’t think he was actually asleep. “He thinks someone at the hospital wants to kill him.”

“Tell him,” Rafe murmured without opening his eyes, “to check into the doctors.”

“Rafe wants you to check out the doctors at the hospital.”

“Let me talk to him.”

Moira said to Rafe, “Anthony wants to talk to you.”

Rafe sighed, took the phone.

Moira could hear Anthony’s voice clearly. “Rafe?”

“It’s me.”

“Thank God. I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Don’t talk to anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“Don’t trust Moira. Once a witch, always a witch. You know that.”

Moira’s eyes stung. Dammit, she would not shed a tear. Why did it bother her so much that Anthony was tainting her reputation with Rafe? Rafe was one of them, one of St. Michael’s Order; most of them hated her anyway. Why shouldn’t Rafe hate her too? It wasn’t as though what Anthony said wasn’t true. She had been a practicing witch, and like an alcoholic she would always be a witch. She could fall off the wagon anytime, anywhere.

Still holding the phone to his ear, Rafe took Moira’s hand. She whipped her head around, eyes wide, unable to keep the shock from her face. He was staring at her, his eyes so dark blue they looked black. A minute ago he was weak and could barely speak; now he seemed almost radiant with strength, as if it were glowing within and under his pale skin.

“Anthony, where’s the arca?” Rafe asked.

“I can’t get to her right now. We have a problem. Her mother is a witch. There were many signs at their house, which is at a crossroads. I don’t know where she’s keeping Lily, but I can’t get inside. She knew who I was.”

“I can,” Rafe said.

“No.”

“I’ll explain when you get here.” He snapped the phone closed before Anthony said anything more. “Anthony is single-minded. Don’t let him hurt you.”

“He hasn’t.”

Rafe squeezed her hand so hard it hurt. He glared at her. “Don’t lie to me, Moira. Ever. I have to know that I can trust you always.”

She didn’t know what to say. “Are you empathic?” she whispered.

He shook his head, his eyes wet with tears of pain.

“I need to get you inside,” she said.

He nodded, his jaw clenched.

“You need to let go of my hand.” He did, reluctantly. “Stay here, I’ll be right back,” she told him.

Rafe watched Moira run across the parking lot and into the hotel. Only when she was inside did he breathe easier.

Once a witch, always a witch.

Anthony believed in black and white, and Rafe loved him for it. They needed the moral compass that Anthony provided, the depth of knowledge and experience. His concrete faith. But something had happened to Rafe while he was in the hospital; that was the only explanation for what he was feeling, thinking, knowing. Never had he felt so lost or confused.

He feared he knew more than he should. When he stopped the Seven Deadly Sins from inhabiting the arca, he felt something … a power he couldn’t explain. He knew things he shouldn’t know, that he never remembered learning. He feared he was being used by someone … or something. What if it was witchcraft? What if he was a pawn between warring covens? He’d been out of his mind for more than two months, what if someone else had gotten in?

The things he remembered from the hospital …

Pain sliced through his head and all thought disappeared. He lay on the seat of the truck cab, praying to God to take the pain away.

The door opened. “You’re here.” Moira sounded both irritated and worried, but mostly relieved.

He instantly felt the pain subside enough that he could think. She was a lifeline. He held up his hand.

“I thought you’d done a stupid move and left,” she said, helping him from the truck.

“I need rest.”

“Glad you’re finally admitting it.” She put his arm around her shoulder, wrapped her right arm around his waist, supported him. She was seven or eight inches shorter than he was, skinny, but solid muscle. “We have a room. I wanted the first floor, but they were all booked. I don’t like it, but we’re on the second floor.”

“It’s okay for now.”

Why did he know that? He didn’t want to know the future. Seeking that knowledge was akin to buying a ticket to Hell. He didn’t want the future; he wanted to go back to before the murders, to before he’d fallen prey to seduction, to when he was safe at St. John’s.

Safe and hiding.

Hiding from his dreams. His nightmares. The nightmares that had come long before he arrived at Santa Louisa Mission.

Hiding from his fate.

NINETEEN

Calamities are of two kinds:

Misfortune to ourselves, and good fortune to others.

— AMBROSE BIERCE

Patience had never been her mother’s strong suit.

Serena tried to ignore Fiona’s pacing in the library, but it had begun to irritate her when Fiona asked, exasperated, “Is it ready?”

Serena frowned as she added the final ingredient to the glass bowl. She was at a delicate point in the spell; her mind needed to focus, as spells were as much willed as they were created. Fiona had incredible control over external forces, but it was the quiet concentration of spell casting that held true superiority.

Though some witches preferred wood or stone, Serena liked the conductive force of a perfectly formed, clear, pure glass bowl. Her peculiarities, as Fiona called them, had gained her the respect and awe of many. It was her magic that Fiona used to keep the other covens under her thumb. No one in their world doubted Serena’s ability. She had full command of the tools of her trade. Serena had taken magic to the next level, and beyond-a feat even her mother, on occasion, admired.

Not that Fiona would admit to anyone that Serena was as powerful as she was … or more powerful.

If you only knew what I could do, Mother.

“Serena!” Fiona snapped. “Answer me!”

Ever since Fiona’s Third Eye had been unable to locate Raphael Cooper, she’d grown increasingly irritable. Serena suspected it was more because Fiona needed to ask her for help, and Fiona did not like giving up control to any of them, even her own daughter.

Fiona had put herself in a trance and sent out her psychic “Third Eye”-an ability that worked most of the time. She tracked Rafe from the cliffs to a nearby abandoned cabin, but when she sent two of her men out to capture him, he wasn’t there. She’d been so certain, but she hadn’t allowed Serena to verify the information before impulsively acting on it.