“Raphael Cooper!” Moira hit him, her voice a harsh and worried whisper.
Rafe shook his head, his eyes still seeing the violence of his vision. Samuel Ackerman had been murdered at Santa Louisa de los Padres Mission three months ago. Why was this important-why did he remember this now?
“Rafe, please!”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, still trying to rid his head of the horrific images. He still heard the screams of William Burns as he was sacrificed.
“Listen,” she whispered.
He remained silent. They stood outside the doors. There was no movement; there were no sounds from above except for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the entryway.
Moira frowned and her hand tightened around her dagger.
He mouthed, “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, uncertain, but Rafe trusted Moira’s instincts. He motioned to leave, but she shook her head again and pushed open the door.
Rafe shined his flashlight into the space. He found a light switch that had a dimmer, and put the overhead light on at the lowest possible setting.
It was a long room, three times the size of the one at the base of the landing. One wall was windows with three sliding glass doors. The scent of incense was stronger, as well as the smell of fresh candle wax. Candles sat on every available surface, both black and white, and in the center, under a spirit trap painted in black on the ceiling, was a hexagram with a solitary black candle in each of the six triangles. It looked much too similar to the trap Fiona’s coven had used to summon the Seven.
There was enough space for a couple dozen people to move about. Comfortable furniture, both contemporary and feminine, was strategically placed to provide conversation and optimal viewing. The windows looked out on the brilliantly lit Los Angeles Valley.
Moira took in the room quickly, then her gaze locked on the double doors on the far side of the room.
“Mo-”
She cut him off and whispered so low he almost didn’t hear her. “There’s a demon in there.”
Rafe’s blood froze. “Let’s go.”
She shook her head. “This is it. We trap it now and take it with us.”
“I’ve never known a demon to go quietly.”
“Tell Jackson to get in here. We’ll lock the doors and hold them off as long as we can.”
“Moira-”
“Rafe, we cannot let it go!” She bit her lip, glancing at the door, her eyes narrowed.
She was right, but Rafe hadn’t been expecting to face the demon tonight.
“I’ll tell Jackson.” Rafe stepped back through the doors.
Moira started across the room. She relaxed her senses, letting them feel the magic and evil that filled the room. She calmed her breathing, and focused on the demon behind those doors.
From the moment she’d entered the house, she’d known something was off. As she walked down the stairs, her apprehension grew. But as soon as she stepped through the doors into this chamber, she smelled it. Hell. There was a portal to the underworld right here.
The demon Envy had been able to change form at will-from human to beast, and every combination. They had all nearly died trying to contain it. She feared the demon Lust would be the same, except that it had been trapped by Wendy. That meant it was weaker. It couldn’t take different forms. She hoped.
A possessed human had increased strength as well as the demons’ ability to violently move people and objects with their will. But in a spirit trap, the demon would be largely impotent. This truly was their best opportunity to stop it, and while Moira didn’t relish facing Wendy or Nicole Donovan, she’d do what she had to in order to leave with the demon.
She glanced over her shoulder. Where were Rafe and Jackson? She was already across the chamber at the door, which led, she expected, to the demon. Her heart quickened with fear that someone had seen Rafe. But he would have alerted her, wouldn’t he? He would have made noise, bumped something.
Then Rafe stepped through the chamber door with Jackson, who closed it quietly behind him and locked it.
“I don’t like this idea,” Rafe said.
“It’s our only option.” She held up three fingers, two, then one.
Moira opened the door. Candlelight flickered in the windowless room. The demon possessed the body of a mysterious and beautiful woman, was dressed in the Velocity uniform. She hissed at her. “I’ve been waiting for you, Moira.”
Moira hadn’t expected the familiarity, though why was she surprised? In a different form, the demon had also known Moira in the alley.
Rafe started an exorcism rite in Aramaic. Moira didn’t know it by heart; Aramaic didn’t come easily to her. The demon flinched, and Moira checked the security of the demon trap. It appeared sound. Moira glanced around the room. This was where Wendy cast her darkest spells. Her asthame-the dagger a witch used in rituals-was properly stored on the altar. Other tools and herbs were aligned as well.
And the chalice was on a special shelf above the altar, surrounded by black candles. It was a golden chalice about ten inches tall, the top a black glass sphere. The bottom of the chalice had a thick, curved lip, just like in the picture Jackson had showed them earlier. Two jars of blood were at either end of the altar. Moira concentrated on one of the jars, unable to sense through the thick glass whether it was human or not.
The beautiful demon hissed at the exorcism, and Rafe’s voice rose. Moira skirted the spirit trap, which covered half the small room. She reached the altar and picked up the chalice.
It was ice-cold in her hands, and it weighed at least five pounds. There were demonic symbols carved around the edges, but Moira didn’t have time to decipher the hieroglyphics. On the base was a sigil etched into the gold, a female demon who looked like a cross between Medusa and a serpent.
The demon screamed as Rafe invoked the names of God. As Rafe continued, the chalice warmed in Moira’s hands.
“The rite is working,” Moira said to Rafe.
Footsteps from upstairs told them that Wendy was now awake. Moira went to the door and called to Jackson
