two weeks ago.”
“Ask Sheriff McPherson,” Moira added.
Detective Nelson stood. “Wait here,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t tip them off!” Moira said.
He looked at her squarely. “I have no intention of doing any such thing, but I’m going to verify your accusation.”
As soon as he left, Moira said, “Do you feel something?”
“No-but I can tell you do.”
“I don’t know exactly what, but I think someone is in the process of casting a spell. It’s not a full ritual-too subtle-but it’s definitely here.”
Moira went back to Wendy Donovan’s locker. She picked the lock in five seconds and Rafe said, “What are you doing?”
“We’re leaving, but I need to know where I can find her.”
“We should call Skye, get her over here to straighten this out. I don’t want you going back to jail.”
Moira closed her eyes and said, “I think-it feels to me like the spell is aimed at Detective Nelson.” She looked at Rafe. “What if that’s what they’re doing? Trying to get him to put us in jail? Right where Fiona can get at me?”
Panic rose and she swallowed uneasily.
“Okay, let’s get out of here. He’s not going to be happy if we walk out but I don’t see another option.”
“Better we walk than if he finds our weapons.” She frowned, reaching into her pocket. “My-”
“I have your dagger.” Rafe slipped it from his pocket to her. She breathed in relief. “But he saw your gun. Didn’t say anything; maybe he thought you’re legal because you work with Skye.”
“He knows I’m not a cop. I’d rather take my chances out there than here. But I want to see what’s in the witch’s locker. Maybe she knows where Fiona is.”
She looked through all Wendy’s things. “No wallet, nothing! We need to find out where she lives. Maybe Nicole is there, hiding out-dammit, she needs to answer for what she did! How do we find her? Follow her when she gets off work?”
“We should talk to Jackson Moreno.”
Moira froze. She closed Wendy’s locker. Jackson Moreno-she had tried to forget about him and his family. She’d been so arrogant, so damn stupid back then. When she thought she could save everyone. When she thought everyone wanted to be saved.
“No,” she said emphatically. “We don’t need him. Besides, he won’t want to help me.”
“Jackson knows more about witches in Los Angeles than anyone else.”
“I know, but-”
“He has supplies; he’s supported St. Michael’s for years.”
“He’s not one of us.”
“Technically, neither are you!”
Moira bit the inside of her bottom lip. It was true, but she expected comments like that from Anthony, not from Rafe. It hurt, reminding her that she was still alone.
“I’m sorry,” Rafe said immediately, his voice full of remorse. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. It’s obvious you have issues with Moreno. But Father Philip trusted him. What about you? Do you not trust him?”
She shook her head. “It’s not that,” she said softly. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in the past, and there’re some people I don’t want to see again. But you’re right-Jackson will know everything there is to know about Wendy Donovan, or know where to get the information.” She held up a small book.
“What’s that?”
“Wendy’s spell book. It seems to be notes and ideas, not her primary
She suddenly jumped, her neck ice-cold.
“What’s wrong?”
“We have to leave now. Detective Nelson is returning. I can’t go back to jail, Rafe.”
“I’m not letting anyone take you anywhere.” He grabbed her hand and they ran out the back door.
Rico stepped into the sanctuary of Olivet, but he didn’t feel the relief he normally experienced when he arrived at the place he called home in the foothills outside Missoula. They were close enough to the city that winter posed only an inconvenience, while many other places in Montana were completely cut off.
Olivet itself was a virtual fortress, with four connected L-shaped buildings surrounding a courtyard that blossomed breathtakingly in the spring and summer. When Moira had first arrived at Olivet, for her original assessment six years ago, she’d come in May, and the only time he’d seen peace cross her face was when she walked through the lush gardens in the courtyard.
Lodging was in the main building, along with their classrooms. The other buildings were off-limits to most people. But it was the deceptively small structure in the back, connected through underground tunnels that extended deep into the mountainside, where Rico brought the tabernacle.
Tobias-one of a set of triplets left at the doors of St. Michael’s as infants twenty-eight years ago-was waiting for Rico when he arrived. He and his identical brothers Darius and Joseph had unusual gifts that made them indispensible to the Order. Rico did not like the term “psychic,” for it felt unholy, but it was the closest to the truth. The triplets could communicate and share information with one another telepathically, which was an invaluable gift when you needed information immediately and there was no access to phone or computers. More so, the triplets could almost see out of their brothers’ eyes. Rico had done extensive testing on the brothers to make sure there was no evil at the core of their gift, and he’d even brought Moira in and had her scour for magic or demonic energy that might be too subtle for Rico to recognize the signs. But it appeared that the gifts were truly heavenly-or at least, natural and not satanic. Sometimes it was hard to discern, but gifts came from within, while magic- witchcraft-came from casting spells and calling on supernatural forces.
Darius and Joseph were on assignment, but Tobias was here, keeping guard. “The storm has worsened,” Tobias said.
“Yes, but I need to go out again.” Rico placed the iron box on the table. Inside was Envy, contained in the tabernacle.
“I’ll secure the beast.”
“Thank you.”
Tobias lifted the heavy chest with ease and took it to the vault.
Rico walked down the wide hall to the small lab. He sat at a sterile table and removed a vial of Moira’s blood. One blood sample he’d hidden at the mission; another he’d placed in the box with Envy. He wasn’t certain why-he was guided by instinct. But if his theory was correct, if there was something in Moira’s blood that killed or harmed demons, then the presence of her blood might keep the demon under better control.
Rico had been asked to obtain only one sample for testing, but he’d learned that being prepared was akin to staying alive.
A ringing phone interrupted these thoughts. He answered it with a generic “Hello.”
“It’s Cardinal DeLucca. Rico?”
“Yes, Cardinal.”
“Is it done?”
“The demon is in the vault.”
“And did you get the sample?”
“Yes.” His stomach felt unusually tight and uncomfortable. Moira had looked at him with such intense betrayal that guilt flooded him even now. He’d done many difficult things in his life in the battle against evil, but every action was required to save a soul. Something as simple as drawing Moira’s blood shouldn’t elicit such turmoil and doubt.
He did not doubt. His faith was what made him strong.
“Have you tested it yet?”
“No.”
“You should have done it as soon as you landed.”
