Original Sin

“I know you,” it said.

Fiona cast the circle, but nothing was working the way it was supposed to. Her anger mounted as her coven grew wary. They were doubting her, she felt it in her pores, and that doubt, that mistrust, infuriated her nearly as much as the weak circle at the Rittenhouse furniture showroom.

She turned to Serena. “This isn’t working! We should have returned to the cliffs.”

Serena was upset, as she should be since her error had cost them valuable time.

“We leave. Regroup tomorrow night at the cliffs-”

“Wait,” Serena said.

Fiona despised being interrupted or contradicted, but she stopped just short of backhanding her daughter. Serena was in a half-trance, pulling information from the psychic energy in the region.

“It’s Ari,” said Serena. “Her magic. I told you she was stronger than you wanted to believe!” Serena put her hands up, trying to discern what Ari was up to. “She’s drawing energy to her location. She created a …” She closed her eyes, her fingers on her temples as if in pain, but Fiona pushed.

“What?” she demanded.

Garrett stepped over to her. “Fiona, let her be.”

She glared at Garrett. He was too soft on Serena. He stepped back from them, and Fiona turned back to her daughter. “Serena, what did Ari do?”

“A triangle. She is drawing in all energy within a perfect two-dimensional prism.”

“How can that little witch do it?”

Serena didn’t answer. Instead, she said, “All the energy is being directed toward Good Shepherd Church.”

“The fool!” Fiona paced. “She doesn’t know what she’s doing. Only the strongest of magicians should attempt even the most minor spells. All our work! She’s going to destroy it! Garrett, you and Nicole. Go.”

“I could do it faster,” Serena said.

“I need you here. We’ll work together to break the triangle.”

Serena stared at her, mouth open. “You’ve never said that before.”

“What?”

“That you needed me. That we are stronger together.”

Fiona frowned. “Of course I have.” Had she?

Serena shook her head. “Maybe you thought it, but I can’t read your mind.”

“That must be it.” Fiona touched her good daughter on the cheek. “I am hard on you, Serena, but that is necessary to make you strong. Let’s continue.”

Serena smiled. “Yes, Mother.”

Though Anthony wanted to leave Father Philip and Lily at the mission, where he felt it was safest, he worried that leaving them alone anywhere was just as dangerous as bringing them with him.

The tabernacle he needed was in a secure storage room of St. Francis de Sales in downtown Santa Louisa. Two years ago, the parish priest died of a heart attack. Since then there had been five priests assigned, all leaving for a variety of reasons, which now seemed odd. The priest with the longest duration was Father Isaac, who had come out of retirement to tend to the dwindling flock. Anthony had never before considered that witchcraft had been involved in keeping the sole Catholic church inert and inactive, but now it seemed the only logical reason-other than general human apathy.

It was after seven p.m. when Anthony arrived. The church was dark; the parish house next door had a single light in the living room. Father Isaac would retire for the night by eight. Anthony brought Father Philip and Lily with him to the door, not wanting to leave them alone in the car.

Father Isaac took several long minutes to reach the door. When he opened it, Anthony felt the waves of pain coming from the old man, who looked even older now than he had when Anthony arrived in town two months ago. “Are you well?” he asked.

“I’m old,” Isaac replied. “My suffering is less than many.”

“Father, this is Philip Zaccardi of St. Michael’s in Sicily.”

Isaac’s eyes widened as if he were meeting a saint. “Reverend,” he said with a deep nod. “It is truly an honor.”

Isaac had been a supporter of St. Michael’s efforts, but like most priests not affiliated with the Order, he remained quiet about it.

“Thank you,” Philip said humbly. “We are in need of a tabernacle.”

“The original from the mission,” Anthony clarified.

Isaac nodded. “Of course. It is in the vault.”

“We also need a eucharistic ceremony. Can you do it, or may I have permission?” Philip asked.

“Let’s share in the consecration.”

“We don’t have much time,” Philip said. “I baptized Lily earlier today. This will be her first Eucharist.”

Isaac smiled solemnly. “I know the prayers in my heart; let us proceed expeditiously. Anthony, you know how to get into the vault. I will begin preparation.”

Anthony pulled his phone from his pocket and frowned at the message from Moira. He pulled up the image she’d sent. As soon as it loaded, his heart froze.

“Father,” he said to Philip. “Moira found this.”

Father Philip crossed himself as he looked at the picture. “The Mark of Cain.”

Anthony stared. “So help us God.” He wasn’t surprised-Fiona’s coven had the power behind it to suggest they were in deep-but seeing the sigil was chilling. Covens who invoked Cain were vicious, ruthless, and unstoppable until death.

Lily looked at the photo and stifled a scream. Her hands flew to her neck as she swayed in terror. “No. No!”

Anthony caught the girl as she fainted.

THIRTY-FIVE

There were two ways-at least, two ways Moira knew about-to exorcise a demon while keeping the victim alive.

Moira didn’t have time for a traditional exorcism. Not only was Rafe still in grave danger, Ari’s ritual would have already attracted the attention of Fiona and her merry band of witches.

But stabbing Ari, though effective and fast acting, didn’t appeal to Moira, either.

Damn, damn, damn!

Moira started the exorcism rite, keeping her dagger firmly in hand.

“Deus, in nomine tuo salvum me fac, et virtute tua-”

The demon laughed, Ari’s voice deep and unnatural. “Andra Moira.”

She ignored his intimidations and continuted her invocation.

The demon twitched, but continued to taunt her. “You know me. We’re old friends.”

She would not listen to his lies.

The candles all relit simultaneously, and it was all she could do not to jump. Jared came out from under the stairs. “Is Ari going to be okay?”

“Get back!”

The demon was strong, and while he couldn’t break the spirit trap and attack her, he could summon dormant demons in the room. Some were residual spirits from past rituals; others were trapped in ritual objects on the black magic altar. The ground shook and several evil spirits wrenched themselves from the captivity.

“I can-” Jared began.

“Stand behind me!” Moira commanded Jared, then continued shouting the exorcism prayer while facing off three demons of uncertain shape moving toward her.

They were not unlike the earth demon that Elizabeth Ellis had summoned when she’d rescued Lily. Moira