for information, but before anyone was sent to retrieve the chalice, Susan managed to track Samuel down.
“He refused to give her the chalice. She’d brought her coven with her, as well as her two daughters. Wendy and Nicole.”
Moira drew in a sharp breath. “Donovan.”
“Yes.”
“So he gave her the chalice?”
“Two of her coven offered themselves to be possessed by a succubus and an incubus. They tormented, raped, and tortured William and Tessa. When Samuel still refused to hand over the chalice, the succubus sucked out William’s soul and he died. Broken at last, Samuel relinquished the chalice to Susan.
“But she had no intention of releasing Tessa Burns. She died as well.”
Moira gasped at the brutality. “Dear God.”
Rafe squeezed his eyes shut and Moira stepped into his arms, holding him close.
“We must destroy the chalice, Moira,” Rafe said. “As soon as possible.”
“I agree-but shouldn’t we talk to Anthony first? After all, the exorcism didn’t work. I don’t even think it was our exorcism that pulled the demon from that woman’s body. I think the demon did it on its own. If that’s true, how can we possibly trap it in the chalice?”
“Perhaps we need to put the chalice inside the trap.”
Moira frowned. This was getting dangerously close to magic. “Maybe. But I wouldn’t risk it without more information. Let’s call Anthony.”
Rafe glanced at the clock. “I’ll call him.”
An urgent knock on the door had Moira frowning. “A little early for housekeeping,” Rafe whispered, picking up his dagger.
Moira walked to the door, with each step feeling a wave of magical energy on the other side. A witch. She looked through the peephole. A slender woman taller than Moira, with dark hair pulled haphazardly into a loose tie, fidgeted at the door. Her elegant features were tired and strained and she had a small, dark bruise on her cheek.
“It’s a woman. She was in Jackson’s files. A witch. I feel it with every pore in my body.” She couldn’t remember her name, but knew this woman was bad news.
Rafe had his dagger ready. Moira retrieved her own and held it out to ward off a spell. Then she relaxed, letting her senses absorb everything around her, every sound, every smell, every nearby emotion. Opening up her God-given senses without using magic to shield or protect her used to terrify her. Sometimes it still did. She felt the overwhelming sense of love and fear flowing off Rafe but consciously blocked him out, focusing on the other side of the door. There was fear there, too, but only one person.
“She’s alone, and she’s scared,” Moira said and opened the door.
TWENTY
Ambition, cruelty, avarice, revenge, are all founded on lust.
Moira let the witch into the hotel room and closed the door behind her. The brunette’s eyes went to the dagger in Moira’s hand, and Moira made no move to sheathe it.
“Who are you and what do you want?” Moira said.
“My name is Julie Schroeder. Please, I have no one else to turn to. I need your help.”
“I don’t know you, and you’re a witch. That’s two big fat negatives against you.” But the name sounded familiar-Jackson had mentioned her last night, as part of Wendy’s coven.
Julie’s eyes darted from Moira to Rafe, who pulled a black T-shirt-identical to the one Moira had ruined the night before while cleaning his wound-over his head. The witch was nervous and scared, but damn bold to confront them here.
“You’re Moira O’Donnell,” Julie said as if that revelation was an answer. “You’re the only one who can reverse the spell.”
“Stop right there. I don’t deal with spells, period. How the hell did you find us?”
“I tried to find you through a traditional spell, but that didn’t work.”
“Magic doesn’t work on me,” Moira said. It wasn’t quite true-Fiona had nearly killed her with magic two weeks ago. Still, Fiona had never been able to find Moira using her very powerful dark magic, so she very much doubted a young witch like Julie could.
“So I used old-fashioned methods. I went through my boyfriend’s notes.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Grant. Detective Nelson? We were together last night. After what happened to Nadine.”
“You’re screwing the detective?” Moira asked, stunned and worried. She’d sensed no magic in Grant Nelson. Had she missed something? Had he figured out a way to block his aura from her?
“Grant and I-we have a relationship.”
“Terrific!” Moira brushed by Julie and crossed to the window. She looked down into the parking lot, expecting to see a legion of witches outside her window ready to burn her at the stake. Or worse, take her to her mother.
She wasn’t 100 percent confident that her finely tuned senses always worked the way they were supposed to, but she had never once been wrong about a witch or a demon.
There was always a first time.
Taking a chance, she turned to Julie and said, “Nelson isn’t a magician.”
“No, of course not. My coven is female only.”
“Right. Because you sacrifice male souls to a succubus. Very liberating of you.”
“Please! Grant’s life is in danger. I wouldn’t come to you if I had any other option. Moira, you’re my only hope!”
“Do I look like Obi-Wan Kenobi to you?”
Rafe put his hand on Moira’s shoulder and squeezed. He said, “Julie, start at the beginning.”
“Grant came to the club after Nadine died. I was supposed to take him to his place, but we went to my apartment instead. I told Wendy he insisted, but I really just wanted to save him. Wendy will kill me if she finds this out.”
“And I care, why?” Moira asked.
Rafe said, “Wait-why were you supposed to take him to his house?”
“Because Wendy was going to send the succubus there. Wendy didn’t want any more problems at the club. We don’t have much time. The succubus can go after Grant anytime after sunset. I don’t want to lose him.”
“Tell him,” Moira said. “Tell him he’s the target of a demon and see what he does.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Pot, meet kettle.”
Rafe squeezed Moira’s shoulder again. Damn, that hurt.
“Julie,” he said, using his calm, cool, collected-and very sexy-shrink voice, “we can protect Grant, but we need to know everything about the ritual Wendy used to summon the succubus.”
Moira bit back an argument. She wasn’t going to help a witch, not unless Julie gave up using magic. But she couldn’t let Grant Nelson die because this witch had cursed him.
Julie frowned. “I planned on sticking by him all day-but something has happened to him. I don’t know what … he’s not himself. I’m scared.”
“Is he possessed?” Rafe asked.
“No. Not like that. But he’s different. Last night we screwed like rabbits. That’s common, but Grant wasn’t the same. I don’t know how to explain it, but he was rough. Cruel and crude. Then this morning I saw a mark on his
