Original Sin

Someone was partially hidden in the grove of trees to her left. Waiting for a friend? Watching? The crystal in her hand vibrated faster. She ordered the demon to be still, and he did, shaking almost imperceptibly.

A Catholic church loomed across the street, dark and empty. But it wasn’t the church that gave her the feeling that something was afoot.

The spell Serena cast around herself didn’t make her invisible-that was impossible-but it made it difficult for anyone to see her, a shadow, blending in with the trees, and as long as she didn’t move, barely breathed, she was de facto invisible.

It was a woman, ten feet from her. A woman with long black hair.

Moira.

Her sister stood in the grove, watching the student parking lot. A police car was there and as Serena watched, it drove away. Moira continued to watch, but judging by her stance that had been what she was waiting for. She itched to move, always a bundle of energy.

So much like Fiona. A virtual clone, only Moira didn’t need spells and magic and supernatural power to achieve that sleek neck and slender nose and those perfectly arched cheekbones. She didn’t need to choke spirits of their power to add shine to her hair, or depth to her eyes.

Serena hated her and loved her and wanted to be with her and wanted to kill her.

Moira had been the only thing in the coven’s way for so long, until Rafe Cooper. Moira had thwarted them, delayed them, jeopardized their lives. She had to die. Somehow, it was even worse because Moira didn’t realize what she was doing, or how dangerous she was to Fiona’s plans.

Yet the one time Fiona had the chance to end it, she’d played her stupid mind games and Moira was still alive.

Why did Moira deserve to live, anyway? After the pain Serena had suffered because that bitch wanted to be free.

Fiona had always loved her sister more. As the chosen, the sacrifice, the one who would rule the realm between the here and the underworld. The one who could move between the two places as effortlessly as breathing.

Moira had thrown it all away. She’d walked away as if none of it mattered! And she wanted to deny them the right to infinite knowledge, to share in the wealth of the worlds.

Fiona hadn’t given Moira’s chosen position to Serena. She said she couldn’t, it wasn’t possible, but it was! It was possible! Serena had figured out how she could have everything that Moira had given up, as long as Moira was dead.

You’re not free, you’ll never be free, and I will kill you.

Moira sensed someone watching her as she stepped toward Jared’s truck. She stopped, discreetly slid the address book into her pocket, and listened.

A distant dog was barking; a closer dog responded with a higher-pitched yelp.

Distant voices. Movement. A door slamming shut.

Right here, right now, someone other than she was breathing.

Rico called it “mental muscle,” where instincts took over and the reaction to a threat came before conscious, coherent thought.

That mental muscle saved Moira’s life.

She hadn’t registered the movement when she faked right, then dove to the left, between two redwood trees, as a charge of energy hit the ground where she’d been. She fell into a somersault and jumped up ready, dagger in hand.

A strawberry blonde, taller than Moira. Slender. Willowy. Pale.

So familiar, the laugh a memory from the past. Of green and salt air and clover and lavender fields. Of tea and dark beer and freedom.

Of youth and innocence.

Of hope.

Moira shouldn’t have been surprised to see Serena-she’d already gone head-to-head with Fiona-but she was nonetheless startled by her sister’s presence.

“Serena.” She cleared her throat.

Serena grinned. “You’re nervous.”

“I’m not nervous. You don’t scare me.” Not like Fiona.

Serena wrinkled her nose and said mockingly, “You should be scared. If I’d trapped you in a jail cell, you wouldn’t have lived.”

Moira’s heart nearly broke. She remembered Serena as a little girl, so sweet, so perfect. Moira had practically raised her during the years they lived in Kilrush before Moira knew about Fiona’s plans for her, before she realized that the magic she used hurt people.

But she hadn’t seen Serena since she’d escaped from her mother and found Father Philip. Serena had just turned thirteen when she helped Moira run away the last time.

Moira hadn’t forgiven herself for lying to Serena that day, but she had to-Serena wasn’t going to leave the coven. She was too needy, too attached. Moira had given her a chance, two days before she planned on leaving, a small test. Shared a “secret” to see whether Serena would tell Fiona. Serena had failed, revealing the false secret, and Moira accepted that her sister would never leave Fiona.

“It’s not too late for you to turn away from the coven. Leave Fiona.” Moira was buying time. She doubted Serena was of the mind-set right now to leave. If only Serena would listen and believe the consequences!

Serena shook her head. “You had everything. You could have walked between the worlds-”

“It was a fucking lie and you bought into it.”

“I’ve been there. It’s no lie.”

“End it now. Tell me where Rafe is and I’ll get him. Fiona won’t have to know you told me anything. We can stop this. Serena. The demons you released are killing people! You don’t have control, but you can help stop the insanity.”

“We didn’t release the demons. Rafe did. He interfered. We would have had them under control and he loosed them. Now, we will get them back. You saw the message. We want her.”

“I’m not giving you Lily.”

“Yes you will.”

Moira watched her hands. There was something shimmering, shiny, almost seductive, that Serena was playing with in her palm. Moira felt energy building in the still air, the magic growing as Serena was silently working a spell. Her sister had indeed developed as Fiona wanted-into a strong, powerful magician.

Serena said, “Rafe has caused severe damage to our movement, and Fiona is punishing him. Because you stole our arca.”

Serena was trying to twist Moira’s heart and make her feel guilty. Moira forced herself to stay calm and put Rafe-and what Fiona was doing to him-out of her mind. “I don’t want to hurt you, Serena. Walk away now-”

Serena laughed, and her hands seemed to shimmer with a faint orange glow.

“You hurt me? You have no power. You gave up your power. But me?”

She turned her palms toward Moira. A bolt of energy, almost unseen, a sliver of brightness, came forth. Moira put up her dagger as a shield in reflex, but was too late. The energy hit her chest and Moira was thrown back ten feet, right on her ass.

Moira was stunned, but no more so than Serena, who seemed to be uncertain how she’d performed that magic.

Moira knew how Serena had done it. Her sister had somehow tapped into a stream of power from the underworld. An open gate … were the gates still open? Few witches could channel such energy directly from their body-they generally used crystals and rituals to generate that kind of charge. Serena had done it at will.

Serena put her hands up again, an odd smile on her face, but this time Moira was prepared. She held out her dagger and repelled the energy into the closest tree. Her addiction bubbled to the surface, the overwhelming desire to use her dormant magic returning. This morning in Skye’s house, she had felt it; it was stronger now, as if each small taste made her craving grow.

Serena glared at her. “I will kill you!”