Moira ran toward the font. The demon rose from the broken glass.
“Moira!” Rafe cried out, sounding as though he were far down a tunnel.
Rafe flexed his mind-he couldn’t explain it any other way-and pushed every soul through to the astral plane. As he crawled from the spirit trap, he said the closing prayer, sealing the split between their world and the spirit world.
Jackson helped him up. “What the hell was that?”
Rafe shook his head and stumbled toward Moira as she righted the font.
The demon grew into a monstrous-sized creature. Wendy laughed hysterically as she crawled away, insane or in shock. The demon took its claws and picked her up, squeezing her body until Rafe heard her back break.
Nina rushed from the sanctuary with two bottles of holy water. She screamed at the sight of the huge demon that continued to grow.
Rafe ordered Jackson, “Grab the chalice! Melt it! I’ll distract the demon.”
Jackson didn’t argue. Rafe, still weak from his ordeal with the spirits, stumbled over to Moira’s side.
She stared at the creature. “What’s Plan B?” she asked with a nervous laugh.
“I didn’t know we had a Plan A,” Rafe countered. He took her arm; she was bleeding profusely. “You’re losing blood.”
“I might have cut too deep.”
“Dammit, Moira.” He ripped off his shirt and wrapped it around Moira’s arm.
“No-” she said, pulling the shirt off.
“I’m not letting you bleed to death!”
“We have a bigger problem here,” she said. She stared at his black shirt as her blood darkened the fabric. “Take the shirt-hit the demon with it.”
Rafe unwrapped the shirt, wet with Moira’s blood, and rushed the demon. Its claws reached for him, and he dodged.
Moira ran in the other direction to distract the creature. She shouted an exorcism and the demon laughed, a low, sick rumble that terrified Rafe. The demon Envy was bad; this demon seemed to have even more power. A thought dawned on him: all those souls-what if the Seven grew more powerful the longer they were on Earth? A pit formed in his stomach. If they got any stronger, they’d never defeat all of them.
He slapped the demon with the bloody shirt. It hit and the demon cried out as if shot, shrinking away from Rafe. He slapped it again and again. The demon bellowed and reached out for Jackson, who had picked up the chalice.
Nina grabbed one of the bottles of holy water, took off the cap, and threw it at the demon. The demon flinched, but it was enough time for Jackson to get into the sanctuary with the chalice, pulling Nina with him.
“You will suffer, Raphael. You will know the truth and you will die forever!”
Moira watched in horror as Rafe was lifted off the ground by the demon, who’d grown to over twelve feet tall with snakes in its hair and black wings growing out of its back. Its clawlike hands were more like talons on a bird. It moved as if walking on air, the lower body still smoke, as if it couldn’t completely take shape. If this was its weakened state, they were as good as dead.
She ran to the two perfect halves of the glass ball. She picked them up and dropped them into the baptismal font. The demon flinched. This was its connection to the underworld. Wendy’s spell had bound it somehow to the chalice, and because it couldn’t fulfill its mission-Grant’s soul was still intact-it wasn’t completely free. Even though it had gained power, it was still tethered to the chalice.
Nina had dropped the other bottle of holy water. Moira grabbed it and poured the water into the font. The demon cried out and dropped Rafe.
Suddenly, the room became hot. So hot Moira felt her skin burn.
Rafe ran over and grabbed her. “Run!”
They ran into the sanctuary and Jackson closed the door. The heat in there was nearly unbearable, the oxygen being depleted.
The demon thundered and screamed shrilly. They covered their ears with their hands. It swirled around the church like a tornado, the eye drawing it back into the glass now sitting in the baptismal font.
And then, as fast as the air had heated, it cooled. The demon was gone, trapped in the font.
They didn’t move for several minutes.
Jackson opened the kiln. Inside, the fire had gone out. The chalice had melted completely into the mold. With gloved hands, he removed it.
He’d picked an appropriate mold. The chalice had become a cross.
THIRTY-FOUR
“What happened to the glass ball from the chalice?” Jackson asked.
“It’s in the baptismal font,” Moira said, her voice fading as she leaned against Rafe. He wrapped his arm around her. “Trapped in something pure and innocent. We’ll have to be careful transporting it-I don’t know how secure it is.”
Rafe frowned as he felt Moira’s arm, slick with blood. “Moira-you’re still bleeding.” There was only dim light in the sanctuary. “Dear God, you’re covered in blood.”
“You’re exaggerating.” Her voice was so weak, it pained him to listen to her. “Just take me home.”
“You need stitches.” Rafe laid Moira down on the floor, then ordered Jackson, “I need towels-bandages- anything.”
“My bag,” Moira said. “In the corner.”
Jackson retrieved her satchel and Rafe looked through it. He found a water bottle. “Holy water?”
“Drinking water,” she said.
“It’ll clean you up.”
“It looks worse than it is,” she said, but closed her eyes.
Rafe took a soft cloth and doused it in water, then gently wiped her arms. She was so pale. “Moira-don’t do that again.”
“I don’t remember half of it.”
But Rafe did. He remembered how she’d cut her arm and bled on the demon. How she’d smeared blood on him, on Nina, protecting everyone she could. And she would have continued to do it until she bled dry. The risk to her far greater than he’d realized-until now.
She had two deep cuts, both on her left arm. He bandaged them-she’d scar, no doubt. He kissed her forearm. “You really should get stitches.”
“I don’t want to go to the hospital.”
“I have a good first-aid kit in the house,” Jackson said. “I’ll get it.” He left the sanctuary. Nina walked out with him.
Alone at last, Rafe wanted to simply hold Moira. For just a moment, to put the night behind them. Moira started to get up, but Rafe pulled her down. “You need to rest.”
“I need to make sure the font is as secure as it can be.” She looked up at him, her expression worn and worried. “What happened with those spirits? You were under attack-I didn’t know what to do.” She reached for him and he took her hand and kissed it repeatedly.
“I’m okay.” He wasn’t, the last wishes of each soul weighing heavily on his heart. The guilt, the pain, the fear. He hoped they’d found peace on the other side, but he didn’t know any of their fates.
“Rafe, what really happened?”
“It went so fast. I tried to draw out the soul of George Erickson alone, but the demon threw all of them at me. Hundreds.”
“Hundreds?”
“It felt that way-I don’t know how many. They wanted me to help them …” His voice trailed off.
