Carnal Sin

mother-or her half sister-tossed her way so she could live to battle them again.

As she ran she realized she was heading north, toward the ruins two miles away where it had all started. Two weeks ago Fiona had cracked open the gates of Hell long enough to release the Seven Deadly Sins, incarnate demons who should never have been allowed to escape the bowels of the underworld.

Moira had been to the ruins only once after she’d found Rafe hiding in a nearby cabin, though she knew Anthony often ventured out here alone. But he didn’t see what she saw; he didn’t feel the evil slithering over every cell in his body like she did when she neared the ruins.

She felt as if she were drowning in evil, sinking lower and lower until demons could grab her soul and torture her until the end of time. It was enough to drive most people crazy. Maybe only the truly deranged would endlessly fight demons in a losing battle. Normal people-sane people-certainly didn’t seek out incarnate evil.

As Moira neared the ruins, she saw evergreen bushes that had turned black, and the cypress trees that dotted the central coast going from canopies of dark winter green to shriveled, leafless, gnarled wood. There were no birds chirping, no animals scurrying under the dead bushes. Three dead seagulls lay rotting near the edge of where the coven’s circle had been cast. Had they flown too close to the evil that still radiated from the ground? Were they thrown off course, or dragged down against their will?

Moira realized one thing about her visions: they almost always led her back here, to the ruins. She’d been fighting them for two weeks, but this morning’s vision had brought her here. There was something she could learn from the scorched earth.

While the residual dark magic had all but disappeared, due largely to Anthony’s daily prayers over this spot, evil remained. Here, the gateway to Hell could be opened without much effort. And not just here-there was a new gateway at the former Good Shepherd Church, courtesy of Matthew Walker. Santa Louisa was becoming a beacon for evil. Moira wouldn’t be surprised if some trickster demon changed the welcome sign on the highway:

WELCOME TO SATAN’S LOUISA

HOME OF THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS

All remnants of the coven’s circle were gone. No more hexagram, no more spells, no more candles or herbs. But Moira knew where the center had been and avoided it, as if she could be dragged down into the pit right then and there.

Here, the Seven Deadly Sins had been released from Hell and if not for Rafe, they would have been trapped in the arca, a flesh-and-blood person who Fiona was happy to sacrifice to the underworld for her own selfish plans for immortality. As long as Fiona O’Donnell lived forever, everyone else could die.

“I’ll find you, Fiona,” Moira whispered into the still fog. “I’ll find you and kill you.”

She breathed deeply, focusing all her senses the way Rico had taught her. Looking within and around, not calling on supernatural forces for answers, because the price was always higher than any human should have to pay; instead, she relaxed, Psalm 23 running quietly, automatically, through her mind. Natural forces surrounded her, trying to provide answers when Moira didn’t even know the right question to ask.

As I walk through the dark valley …

Of course she had plenty of questions. Where is Fiona? Where is her coven? Why can’t I find her?

Moira walked around the edge of where the circle had been, focusing all internal thought, her whole senses, into her vision from this morning. Her visions always related to Fiona. At least, until two weeks ago, they’d always led her to where Fiona had been.

Her mother must have been involved in whatever demonic ritual resulted in that dark-haired woman being possessed in her vision. While Moira’s visions scared her, they were invariably grounded in what was happening on Earth and she could use them to seek answers. The vision this morning felt more intense, as if she were a participant and not just an observer.

Could it be her visions were less about Fiona and more about the demons that Fiona brought forth? This morning she’d been looking through the eyes of the demon. She’d been terrified and tried to avoid seeing anything, but it was there in the back of her mind.

Do not be afraid.

She heard Father Philip’s quiet, deep voice as if the priest were standing beside her. She blinked back sudden tears. Father wouldn’t want her wallowing in self-pity and fear; he’d expect her to suck it up and do what needed to be done. Right now that meant analyzing her vision, focusing on what she’d seen but failed to process because of her fear.

She’d seen what the demon saw. The dark-haired woman. Where was she? In a business. There were other people around. No one Moira could see clearly, but she felt the voices-music-vibrating in the background. Voices … people … dancing … drinking. A club. A place where people went to see and be seen, to find a one-night stand when they lied to themselves that they were looking for true love.

Moira never lied to herself. She’d found her one true love and now he was dead. One-night stands had been all that had kept her physically connected to the rest of humanity, fortunate souls who didn’t live their lives wrapped in guilt and the terrifying knowledge of things Moira wished she’d never known. That monsters-demons-were real; that ghosts were lost souls and some were out for revenge; that magic came from Hell and no matter what your intentions, you had to pay the piper in blood. The piper’s name was Satan.

The hair on the back of her neck rose and her skin tingled. She might have believed it was a chill from standing still too long after running, but she knew better.

Someone was watching her. Approaching her. Getting closer.

She opened her eyes, pulled her knife from her pocket, and whirled around.

Rico Cortese grabbed her wrist as she was about to cut him. “I thought you’d forgotten everything I taught you.”

“I would have pulled back in time.” She hoped.

“I know.” The Olivet instructor assessed her with a half smile. “At least you’re still in one piece, kid.”

“So are you,” she replied.

He wore all black and looked more like a Mafia thug than a man of God. His dark Italian complexion was marred by a scar across his temple, and he was built like a Marine. Moira supposed it was to be expected, since Rico led St. Michael’s version of Special Forces. Not so much an army for God as an army against Satan.

Rico gave her a tight hug, then kissed her on the cheek. “It’s good to see you. I’ve been worried.”

“Like you said, I’m in one piece.”

She’d forgotten how much she loved Rico, even if she’d wanted to kill him-often-during training. He’d forced her to work harder, think deeper, and feel far too much, all to break her apart and mold her into a warrior. In the end, when she thought she’d been torn apart one too many times and would never be anything but a pawn in a game she didn’t understand, he showed her that she was stronger than she’d believed possible.

But it was hugely different, and ten times harder, being in the actual battle than training for a hypothetical one. People didn’t die during training, and now there were no second chances.

He stepped back and she asked, “How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t. I came here first so I could see the ruins firsthand.”

“And what are your conclusions?”

He looked around the cliffs. “I know you’re standing outside where the circle was cast by Fiona’s coven. I saw where the plants began to die. I know there were demons here-powerful demons-by the evidence. The corruption of the soil, the dead earth. But”-he stared at her gravely-“I don’t sense Hell. I don’t feel the heat or see the rivers of fire. I’m aware of the evil because of what I see-it’s overwhelming if you know the signs-but that is nothing compared to what you feel.”

“How do you know what I feel?” she whispered.

“Before he was killed, Father Philip told me everything. There are no secrets. All I have to do is look at you and see the fear in your eyes.”

Her hands clenched and unclenched as she shifted her weight from the right to the left foot. Rico watched her fidget, himself standing still as a statue. It always made her nervous how Rico saw deeper inside her than she wanted. “Fear is your worst enemy, Moira. You need to take control of your emotions.”

“I can’t.” She gritted her teeth. “You weren’t there.”

He hadn’t been talking about the ruins and neither was she. One mention of Father Philip and she was mentally transported back to their battle against the demon Envy.