Carnal Sin

was spreading his doubts to others, including Anthony. The cardinal had always supported Raphael’s rash decisions, so Rico had kept quiet. But now Moira was showing shades of Raphael’s influence.

Without her doing exactly what she was supposed to do, they would lose. All her training, all the time Rico spent working with her so she would have the mental and physical strength to do what now very much needed to be done, would be wasted.

He hadn’t enjoyed being the lead trainer. He had to break down his people to ensure that they could not be broken when in battle. It was grueling work. Rico survived only because he knew it was necessary to ensure the survival of the human race. Few people wanted to go to war. But in the battle between the underworld and humanity, the underworld would never stop coming for them. It was relentless. Vicious. Evil.

So Rico accepted his calling, but there were times he despised what he had to do. Such as when he had put Moira in a dungeon not unlike the one her mother had kept her in for nine days. Being physically trapped was Moira’s greatest fear. Rico had to put her in the same situation so she could learn to survive if it happened to her again.

God, how she had suffered! Rico had wanted to pull her out time and time again, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. And she was stronger for it. She had survived jail when trapped there two weeks ago. She was still claustrophobic, but she now had the tools to overcome it. She had to be able to survive anything Fiona or the demons put in her path.

There was more at stake here than their lives! That Raphael didn’t see and understand that was far more disturbing than anything the fool had done-or not done-to date. If Raphael corrupted Moira, turned her away from her mission, there would be chaos.

And all Rico had done to prepare her would be for naught.

“Would you like me to inspect your plane?” Anthony asked as he pulled up to the airstrip.

“I’ll do it,” Rico said. “You need to catch that plane to Italy, and you have a long drive to San Francisco.”

“I understand the importance of this trip, but the timing is very bad,” Anthony said.

Rico was in no mood to listen to anyone else question orders. That it was coming from Anthony-who had always been loyal and righteous-was especially disturbing. “Your personal life is inconsequential, Anthony. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

Anthony tensed. “I have not allowed my personal life to interfere with my mission.”

“Any personal life interferes. I hope you understand that when you are forced to make a choice.”

“You can’t be telling me I have to choose between Skye and St. Michael’s!”

“Not now. But you know as well as I do that the time will come when a choice is inevitable. Every one of us who has become … involved,” he emphasized, “has had to choose between the Order and their personal relationships. It’s never been pleasant, and usually it’s deadly.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Anthony said with anger. “Before he was killed, Peter was my brother.”

“Yes. Peter. He was not just your brother, he was a brother to us all. But your affection for him clouded your judgment then, just like your affection for Raphael is clouding your judgment now.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means exactly what I said. You are blind when it comes to Raphael. We don’t know what happened to him at the hospital, what those magicians might have done to him. What he’s doing now. If you stop and look at everything that has happened these last two weeks-objectively, not with rose-colored glasses-you’ll see that he is teetering on the edge. I don’t know which way he’s going to fall. But Raphael will fall, and he’ll take others with him.”

Anthony slammed his fist on the steering wheel. “It’s her fault!”

Rico’s gut twisted. He couldn’t share everything with Anthony-yet. But soon he’d have to know. For now, he said, “I understand why you have animosity toward Moira, but she’s essential to our mission. Without her, we can’t beat Fiona or destroy the Conoscenza.”

“She’s not that good.”

Rico disagreed, but arguing with Anthony on that point would be fruitless. “There are things we don’t fully know at this point, but the research is extensive and your meeting with Dr. Lieber is essential to filling the gaps in our knowledge.”

“What research? It would help if you kept me informed!”

“I would tell you everything I know, Anthony, except it would cloud your judgment. I don’t want you going into the meeting with any preconceived ideas. After Italy, you’ll fly to Olivet. We’ll meet and combine information. I still have some work to do but will have answers by the time you return to the States.”

“Does your ‘work’ have something to do with taking Moira’s blood?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

Anthony expected more from him, but Rico remained silent.

“I need to leave or I’ll miss my flight,” Anthony said after a moment.

“Be careful, Anthony. These are dangerous times.”

Rico retrieved the tabernacle and watched as Anthony drove away. Too fast. In anger.

Anthony’s anger had always been his weak spot.

Rico walked to his plane. He secured the demon in his hold, which he’d spiritually reinforced to prevent any possible escape. Still, flying alone with the demon tested even his steely resolve.

But he always did what was necessary, no matter what the risk or cost.

SIX

Moira had never been to a morgue before.

She’d seen dead people, but she hadn’t hung around to see what happened to the bodies after they died.

And she kinda, sorta-okay, absolutely-wished she did not know now.

Skye didn’t seem to have the same problem Moira had walking through rows of the dead in a very cold, very large, very sterile room in the Los Angeles County Morgue, following a petite black girl with a nose ring named Fern. Fern … something. Moira had been so floored by the atmosphere, she didn’t even remember the girl’s name. Fern called this cavernous room the crypt-just the name freaked Moira out. Dead people covered with sheets, gurneys stacked three high that could be summoned by the touch of a button.

“I want to be cremated,” Moira said suddenly.

Fern shot her a glance and a grin. “You’d still probably have to come through a place like this first.”

“Great.” She plastered a smile on her face, but it didn’t feel natural and Skye shot her an odd look. Somewhere between concern and surprise. Moira could practically hear Skye saying:

You nearly died facing down an incarnate demon, but a few dead people freak you out?

Moira didn’t know why she was getting the heebie-jeebies. She wasn’t normally skittish. But the hair on her arms rose, and she couldn’t stop thinking about the dungeon her mother had locked her in, the first time she’d tried to escape Fiona’s coven. It had been cold-not this cold, but cold enough. And the smell was similar-not the antiseptic, overly clean scent of the crypt, but the underlying, subtle scent of death. Of decomposing bodies. That they were in a room that could be easily locked, where they could be trapped with the dead, terrified her. Another type of prison. A place Fiona would love to keep her while she mentally tortured her.

“Moira.” Skye put a hand on her shoulder and Moira jumped.

“Fine. I’m fine.”

Skye didn’t believe her; who would? Moira was probably as pale as the corpses. She mentally closed down her senses-Rico would be pissed, but Moira didn’t want to feel any of the spirits that might be lingering. She was too jittery, like this morning when she came within inches of hurting Rafe after her vision. She didn’t think she would have-she’d been acting on what Rico called her mental muscle, instincts plus training that kept her alive.

But something was off here, and while it wasn’t magic, it creeped her out. So she’d turned her senses off, flipping a mental switch. Rico could go pound salt for all she cared. He’d stolen her blood,