Original Sin

make room for the large, elaborate ritual circle to recapture the Seven. In the center, Lily was tied to a raised altar.

Anger pulsed through Moira and she fought against her restraints, intentionally slamming the back of her head into Walker’s jaw. He grunted, but tightened his hold and pulled her close. “You’re making it worse. Look. We have another surprise for you.”

Fiona, dramatic as ever in a silvery velvet gown that flowed around her body like a waterfall, sashayed into the room, holding Father Philip’s hand. “Look who I found?” she said and laughed.

Father had a cut on his head and was unusually pale. He saw Moira, and sadness darkened his eyes.

“Father-” She blinked back tears of fear. She couldn’t give them fear. There was already too much fear in the room, and demons thrived on the emotion.

“Yes!” Fiona exclaimed. “You remember him.”

“Are you okay?” she asked him.

“Do what you have to,” he said cryptically.

“That’s enough chitchat,” Fiona said. “He’s just a little upset because poor Anthony died in a tragic fire.” She pretended to wipe a tear from her eye. “So sad.”

Though Moira ached at the pain in Father’s expression, she didn’t let on that Anthony survived the explosion. If they suspected, they’d go out and hunt him down, and he’d never get to the tabernacle in time.

Rafe had been outnumbered worse on the cliffs two nights ago, yet he had stopped them. It was possible.

Garrett Pennington stood to one side with two other men. He looked like he wanted to kill her, his handsome face bruised and bloodied from fighting her. It looked like she’d broken his nose as well. She hoped it healed crooked.

Several women stood around in filmy white gowns, including Nicole Donovan, the teacher, and Elizabeth Ellis, Lily’s mother. Others she didn’t know, men and women of all ages, from a teenager to a middle-age wizard. Eleven … twelve … no, fourteen she counted. Covens didn’t always operate with thirteen members, though many preferred to keep the group to less.

Moira felt all eyes on her, but someone was staring at her, trying to work a clandestine spell over her. Something Moira didn’t recognize but felt deep down to her soul. She strengthened her will and turned her head.

Serena stared across at her, her face emotionless. When Moira caught her eye, she smiled.

“Everyone’s here,” Fiona said, holding her and Father Philip’s joined hands up. “Let’s begin.” She smiled at Moira, then at Matthew Walker. “Darling,” she said, “I’ve missed you.”

Walker moved Moira into the center of the circle. Incense burned in seven chalices, set on the altar with Lily. The herbs weren’t protective incense that was burning outside the circle. These herbs attracted demons. These people are officially insane, Moira thought. They may attract one or more of the Seven Deadly Sins, but they were also going to draw in every wayward demon roaming the area. How could they control it? How could they possibly think this was going to work?

“You’re all nuts.”

Walker squeezed her arm. “I saw what you did. I will learn how you did it. That’s the only reason I didn’t kill you earlier.”

“Did what?” She had no idea what Walker was talking about.

He didn’t answer, but pushed her down.

Next to the altar were two steel balls attached to a chain and foot manacle. For a moment Moira thought they were made of iron, and that would offer some protection against spirits.

“They’re lead, dear, not iron,” Fiona said as she walked Father Philip into the circle. “I’m not stupid. Had you remembered that, you wouldn’t have tried to find me.”

“I didn’t try,” Moira said. “I succeeded. Funny, you were looking for me for seven years and never could figure out where I was, even with your dark magic and psychic eye. Maybe you’ve lost it, Cailleach.”

Fiona roughly pushed Father Philip down, and he stumbled and fell to his knees, his glasses falling off his face. Moira reached for him, her heart quickening for the old man. Walker pulled her back before she could touch him.

Fiona stepped on the old man’s spectacles, grinding the lenses into the cement floor with her spike heel. “He won’t need these where he’s going.”

Walker attached Father Philip to one lead ball, and Moira to the other. Then he pulled Fiona into his arms and kissed her deeply. “I’ve missed you far more than you’ve missed me, sweetheart,” he told her.

Serena stepped into the circle with them. Matthew turned to her and gave her a squeeze. “Hey, I’ve missed you too, kiddo. Staying away all these months was the hardest thing I’ve had to do.”

“Glad you’re back, Dad.” Serena smiled, then turned to Moira, gloating.

Dad? Moira’s disbelief must have registered on her face, because Serena said, “Why do you find that so hard to believe? Just because you didn’t know I knew my father? I’m good at secrets too.”

Walker laughed. “Sorry, Moira. Serena’s my daughter, but you aren’t. Can’t say I’m choked up about it.” His laughter ended abruptly, and he said to her in a low voice, “You’ve caused my women trouble and heartache for years, and now it’s time for you-and your friends-to pay for it.”

Moira assessed the situation. Matthew Walker had almost-but not quite-taken control from Fiona. Fiona hadn’t seemed to notice, and Moira would be shocked if she condoned it. Her mother was subservient to no one, man, woman, or demon. Yet she’d sighed in ecstasy when Walker took her in his arms and kissed her, playing the role of a love-struck woman. She loved no one but herself. No one.

Yet … there was something different about Walker. And suddenly Moira feared him more than anyone else in the room.

“Fiona, dear, are you ready?” He waved his hands dramatically, then bowed, essentially giving her the floor. The three of them backed out of the circle.

Fiona beamed and began the incantation.

“I have called the Seven to Earth, I have called the Seven from Hell, through a Gateway I consecrated in the blood of the righteous. It is right and just that the Seven are to be contained in the arca that has been consecrated for them to live and walk on earth as they did in ages past.”

“As it is above, as it is below,” the women outside the circle shouted.

Serena lifted a chalice and spoke in an ancient language. The magical energy in the room instantly doubled. Moira felt it as a hot, electric wash over her skin.

“Father?” Moira asked. “What’s she saying?”

Walker said, “Quiet!” He lifted his hand, drew in energy, and threw it at her. It hit her like a bullet in her shoulder and she screamed. The magic painfully surged through her and she willed it to dissipate, mumbling in Hebrew.

Serena continued. The chanting responses of the coven increased in volume. Moira inspected her chain and the lock. It was old; if she had her lock picks she could get out of it in two seconds. A bobby pin would work, but she didn’t have a bobby pin or anything like a bobby pin. She had nothing-Walker had taken her jacket, every one of her weapons, even her medallion and crucifix.

The furniture shook, and she wondered why they weren’t concerned about the heavy pieces flying across the vast showroom and killing them.

She watched the faces of the coven members, saw that they were concentrating, focusing on keeping the ritual under control. Even Matthew Walker was no longer paying attention to her, but using powerful magic to keep the demonic elements at bay.

She slid her body closer to Father Philip. She heard him talking, but not to her. He spoke in Latin, and it took her a verse before she realized it was Psalm 54, a prayer of confidence while facing great peril and imminent death.

“Turn back the evil upon my foes; in your faithfulness destroy them.”

Lily was unmoving, in shock, staring at the ceiling. “Lily, help is coming,” she quietly told the girl. She prayed it was true. That Anthony and Rafe were able to get to the tabernacle and find a way inside and …