Original Sin

.

“Why are you showing me this?” Fiona asked her.

“Four dead. This guy Nichols lost it … violence, rage, lots of blood; it’ll draw the demons in.”

“We may have ghosts to contend with,” Fiona countered.

“May have ghosts. And if we do, I can handle them.”

Fiona considered the location. It would be private, and the spilled blood would be a lure. Though she was loath to admit it, Serena had exceptional control over her powers and could handle any spirits that interfered. Under normal circumstances, Fiona didn’t worry about ghosts because lost souls were easily sent to the underworld with a simple incantation. But with all her energy focused on the Seven, she could possibly leave herself vulnerable to a pathetic ghost, especially one who didn’t know it was dead-too often the case in sudden, violent deaths.

She smiled and spontaneously hugged her daughter. “Good idea, Serena. Now I think I’ll release some of this frustration with Garrett and get my beauty rest. You should do the same-you have bags under your eyes.”

Serena closed and locked the library doors behind Fiona and smirked. If she only knew that Garrett fooled around with others behind her back, Fiona would be livid. She expected her “men” to be loyal to her, even though she slept around when the mood struck her. But Serena wasn’t about to tell on him. She liked the lying minister. Not to screw around with, but as a kindred spirit. They were both good at deception.

She lay down on the chaise lounge and closed her eyes, incanting the spell that allowed her own psychic eye to see. She had never told Fiona that she’d developed the power, so Fiona had no reason to block her.

Serena’s mind tumbled and fell, stars swirling, until she felt disconnected from her body, connecting more firmly with the elements. The air, the fires, the winds, the waters-she was everywhere and she was nowhere.

This must be how omnipotence felt.

She watched Fiona and Garrett begin their sexual dance in Fiona’s chamber. Fiona was always in charge, always in control, even during sex. Serena grew tired of watching and left them alone, floating through Santa Louisa, watching, watching, watching.

Seeking … she looked for Moira, hoping that this time it would work, but it didn’t. It never did, but Serena had grown more powerful with the effort.

She searched for Rafe … his eyes. His touch. His mouth. She craved him like no other, wanted him back, her seduction complete only in the carnal sense. Yes, he’d made love to her, but he didn’t love her, not like she did him.

Moira’s blood protects him.

Anger bubbled and boiled as Serena realized Rafe was physically close to Moira.

The thought, the mere idea, that Rafe and Moira were working together angered her so much that her psychic eye returned to her too quickly. Serena’s head ached with a migraine so sudden and fierce that she couldn’t get up if she wanted to.

But she had an idea that would lead them to Rafe, if he was still with Moira. And if that were the case, they could take both of them. It would require time and extensive energy on her part, but she realized that she could see all of Santa Louisa except where Moira and Rafe were. She’d find them through the process of elimination as soon as she regained her strength.

TWENTY-THREE

Skye watched the coffee drip steadily into the pot while Anthony treated Moira’s injuries.

She should have taken Rafe Cooper to the hospital, or into custody. Yet she’d let Anthony talk her out of it. She hadn’t protested much-it was two in the morning and she’d been up for twenty-four hours straight. Why was she making coffee? Honestly, no amount of caffeine would keep her awake at this point.

She’d called dispatch and learned about the false fire alarm at the hotel and calls of shots fired, but no witnesses came forward with information that helped. Two deputies were on scene but hadn’t found a shooter. And when Rafe told them the story of jumping off the balcony and running for the truck, he’d left something out. She didn’t know what, but he wasn’t telling the complete truth. He skimmed over the story, and every time she had a question Anthony put his hand on hers, asking a question of his own that had nothing to do with the crime at hand.

So Skye had started the coffee, duty and love coming head-to-head. She should have resigned after the massacre.

She and Anthony had lied about what happened at the fire on the cliffs. No one would believe that Juan Martinez had been possessed and tried to kill her. Not only had she written a false report about how Deputy Reiner died, she’d enlisted Rod Fielding’s help in covering up details that would have opened even more questions for which no one would believe the answers. She should have quit, but she didn’t because she loved Santa Louisa. This was the only home she’d ever known. Her father had been born and raised here, had died in the forest he loved so well. She’d be lost anywhere else. But even more important, she had to protect her people. Not just Anthony, but the innocent citizens who didn’t know that demons were alive and thriving in their town, a threat to their lives and their loved ones. That there were people who played around with demons, who wanted to control and use them for specific purposes Skye would never understand.

Anthony came up beside her and rinsed bloody towels in the sink. Pink water swirled down the drain.

“I’m sorry, Skye. I know this puts you in a difficult situation.”

“Don’t,” she said, squeezing her eyes closed. “I understand. But I need some answers soon.”

“We both do.”

Skye glanced at where Moira and Rafe sat on the couch. A white bandage was wrapped around her upper shoulder-there’d been no bullet, but a large-caliber round had taken a nice chunk out of her arm and she’d lost a bit of blood. The cut on her head was sealed with a butterfly bandage, adding to the bruises she’d sustained earlier in jail.

But it was the thin cut on her neck that had disturbed Skye more than the other injuries. The two-inch wound had already started to heal by the time they walked into Skye’s house, but the mark was proof that someone human had attacked her.

She brought the pot of coffee over to the table on a tray with mugs, milk, and sugar. “It’s not tea, but it’s hot and caffeinated,” she said when they stared at it.

Rafe said, “I acquired a taste for coffee after moving to the States.” He poured himself a mug and added a hefty dose of milk.

Moira said, “May I have some water?”

Anthony went to get her a water bottle from the refrigerator and Skye sat on the chair across from them. She didn’t know how to start.

“This day has been hell,” Skye began.

Moira grinned, a raw laugh coming out of her throat as she took the water from Anthony. “You could say that.” She drank heavily.

Anthony sat on the armrest of Skye’s chair, put one hand on her shoulder and squeezed. She wanted to touch him but didn’t move. She said to Rafe, “Tell me why you won’t go to the hospital.”

“They did something to me there. I don’t know what, but I wasn’t in a coma. I have memories … but I can’t focus on them. I had vivid dreams-I’m still having them.” He looked at Anthony. “Do you know Father Isa Tucci?”

“His name, not personally. He was killed at the mission.”

“I know why he was at the mission.” A pained expression crossed his face. “It was because of a snake,” he said.

“A snake?” Anthony glanced at Moira. What did they know, what did they share, that Skye didn’t understand? She felt such the outsider.

“What’s important about a snake?” she asked.