of vision.
Suddenly, a searing pain hit Rafe in the back. He thought he’d been hit by a bullet but realized as he fell to his knees that it was electricity, a magical bolt coming from Matthew Walker.
Rafe kept the rite going, stumbling over the words as the spell Walker used sucked the air from his lungs. The more he inhaled, the less air he brought in. And the demon grew in size. Rafe cried out and saw Moira leap from the circle and tackle Walker with savage ferocity. Walker went down and Rafe regained his legs.
Serena was practically screaming her spell, and Rafe seemed to be countering it. The words came to him-he didn’t know from where, he didn’t want to think about where, he just wanted to survive. To save Lily. To save Moira.
Fiona was successful in breaching the spirit trap and she ran back to safety, a protective circle that she shared with her daughter Serena. But Envy didn’t want them, not yet. Envy wanted Rafe, and it slithered forward smiling, a hideous grin of death. It breathed his name.
Rafe reached behind his back and retrieved the dagger. He held it in front of him, expecting to be terrified, but instead experiencing complete calm. His eyesight sharpened, the pain from earlier attacks fading. He breathed fully, in and out, and stared Envy in the face.
“Come here, you bastard.”
Envy growled, lunging with a speed Rafe didn’t expect.
As the demon rushed him, Rafe charged. All thought left his mind; all he could think of was stopping the demon. Stopping Envy from spreading its wickedness throughout the earth.
He leapt, and slit the demon’s throat with the blessed dagger. The demon ripped off its own head and threw it across the room. The head turned into a thousand flies that buzzed all over, swarming.
What had he done? Why had he slit the throat? He didn’t know what he was doing. He froze, uncertain, his head throbbing.
The demon came for him, its head growing back, its eyes red and focused on him. Rafe stared. This was the end.
Moira screamed. Walker had her pinned, but his magic failed as he grew enraged. The bastard had his hands around her throat. He would choke her to death, a good old-fashioned
“I’ll kill you, Moira,” he said through clenched teeth. “And I will enjoy it.”
Moira had no doubt that Walker wanted her dead, and no doubt that he would enjoy squeezing the life out of her.
But Moira was not ready to die.
Simultaneously, she kneed him in the balls and shot her arms up between his, aiming right for his eyes. He turned his head at the last minute, avoiding permanent damage, but he loosened his grip and Moira slammed his biceps to push his hands away from her neck. She caught her breath, head butted him-
Her backup dagger that Walker had seized earlier was in his pocket, and she pulled it out, unsheathed it, and ran to Rafe’s side.
Envy towered over Rafe, turning to gas, ready to fuse with the man.
“Don’t even think about it,” she said, and continued the exorcism where she’d left off.
Envy turned to her, retaking shape, and backhanded her with its clawlike hand. She fell to the ground and spit out blood.
Rafe rose from where he’d fallen and chopped off the demon’s arm. Baby snakes slithered out of the beast, winding their way rapidly around the room.
The women in the coven began to scream as snakes crossed their feet, red and black, vile creatures. Moira feared if any escaped they’d create even more problems than they already had.
Rafe cut off the other limb, but the demon slammed him with its tail. He flew across the room and hit the wall.
Moira couldn’t allow Rafe to die, not like Peter, not like the man she had once loved. “Damn you,” she said.
She took her dagger and with all her strength brought it down on the rattle of the demon’s tail.
Envy screeched, so loud, so violently, that Moira fell to the ground and put her hands to her ears. The witches covered their ears; some collapsed, as Envy tried to regain its strength.
Serena held up the book and intoned a command. All the flies that swarmed, all the snakes that slithered, were drawn to the book.
Serena called upon the living darkness, invoked names of demons that made Moira’s blood freeze, and all the vile creatures in the room turned and headed straight toward Lily.
Moira fought the pain and crawled toward the girl on the altar. “Stop,” she tried to plead with her sister, but Serena either didn’t hear or didn’t care.
“Rafe, help!” she cried as she stumbled.
Lily screamed as the snakes slithered up the altar, wrapping themselves around her feet, her ankles, faster and faster, flies buzzing around her head.
Rafe got up from the ground. He ran to Moira and grabbed her.
“Trust me,” he said.
She nodded, terrified, not knowing what he was going to do.
He raised the dagger over her.
“No,” she tried to say, but nothing came out.
He cut her hand and held it over the torso of the demon that lay on the ground trying to regrow its limbs.
Then he pressed her hand into one of the holes in the demon’s body.
She screamed as pain surged through her body. Rafe seemed shocked by what he’d done and pulled her arm out, holding her.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said.
She couldn’t see, the pain blinding white. She blinked, and it began to subside.
All parts of Envy’s body pulled together into a dark gas and turned into a whirlpool, moving faster and faster.
Moira watched as the demon fought being drawn up into the ventilation system. It fought a losing battle as it was drawn up to the ceiling, right into the tabernacle that Anthony had used to cap the vent.
There was sudden complete silence. Moira breathed again.
Fiona turned her magic on Moira as she said, “I will never underestimate you again.”
Moira tried to stand, but Fiona had both hands on her head, just the tips of her fingers. She couldn’t move. She could scarcely breathe.
“If you die now,” Fiona said, “it will be too soon. You will suffer. I will ensure that you suffer. If you love again, I will take him. If you trust again, I will ensure you will be betrayed. You have no one. You have nothing. You will find me and beg me to kill you. You do not know what pain is, Andra Moira.”
Moira stared into Fiona’s blue eyes, as if she were looking into her own. Bottomless, deep, but Fiona’s were filled with the passion of hatred.
The front doors burst open.
“Police! Freeze!” Sheriff Skye McPherson and three cops rushed in, guns drawn.
Fiona glared at Moira. “Remember this?” she said. “Enjoy the sweet memories!”
Moira felt the spell invade her as Fiona’s eyes fluttered.
“Freeze!” she heard, but saw nothing but the library at St. Michael’s seven years ago.
She was there with Peter. In slow motion she watched as he was thrown across the room. She saw every frame individually, as Peter’s body fought, twisted, moved. The fear on his face. The fear and the pain and the look of the betrayed.
She cried, but the malevolent vision would not stop. Again and again, Peter slammed against the wall, his eyes accusing her, death stealing him from her.
