Allison Brennan - Carnal Sin

“No, but-” She clenched her fists. “I know what you’re doing, and you weren’t there!”

“You’re always so damn hard on yourself, Moira!” Rafe snapped, running a hand through his dark hair. It fell back over his left eye. He reminded her of an Irish barkeep-hair a little too long, eyes a little too bright, and sex appeal far too potent for her to resist.

But she would resist.

Just think of all the people you hurt over the years, Moira. Do you want Rafe to be one of them?

That was enough to throw a wet blanket on her libido.

“I fucked up, Rafe.”

“You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, taking the blame for all the bad choices that other people make. Dammit, why not just take the blame for Eve? After all, she took a bite of the damn apple in the first place. But that was probably your fault, too-I’m sure you could figure out a way to feel guilty about the fall of man.”

Moira grabbed the vehicle’s door handle and opened it. Taking her arm, Rafe pulled her back inside the truck. She glared at him, pulling her arm free.

Rafe gently touched the side of her face. His hands shook just enough that Moira realized he was still upset with her. But the look on his face had softened as he ran the back of his hand up and down her cheek.

The silence between them unnerved her. She swallowed.

“There’s no use holding off the inevitable,” she muttered, glancing at Moreno’s church.

He took her hand and kissed it. “Let’s go.”

The church was unlocked, but empty. They walked around the building to Jackson Moreno’s small, well-kept home. A twenty-year-old Mercedes was parked in the driveway. Jackson had the same car four years ago.

Rafe knocked on the door and Jackson answered at once. “I saw you approach,” he said with a glance at Rafe, his eyes focused on Moira.

She couldn’t read his expression. Jackson Moreno was conservatively handsome, in his mid-forties, with light brown hair graying at the temples. He was as tall as Rafe, trim, and wore pressed beige slacks and a crisp button-down light-blue business shirt without a tie, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

Moira bit the inside of her cheek, remembering that she’d seen this man cry when his daughter disappeared.

“Moira.” He was surprised to see them, his gray eyes inquisitive.

“Hello, Pastor Moreno. I-we’re sorry to just drop in.” She cleared her throat. “This is Rafe Cooper, he’s with St. Michael’s.”

“Cooper-Raphael Cooper.” He nodded in recognition. “I’ve heard of you, of course. Please, come in.” He opened the screen door. “And call me Jackson. I am so sorry about Father Philip. He was truly a good man.”

“Thank you,” Rafe said, stepping inside. Moira hesitated.

“I can’t imagine that this is a social call, however. Let’s go to my study.”

Rafe took Moira’s hand and forced her to follow Jackson through the house to his study in the back.

Nothing had changed, Moira realized. The church, the house, even Jackson Moreno himself. Time seemed to stand still, and she felt just like she had that last day four years ago before she went back to Olivet, after telling Jackson that his daughter had left for good: miserable, unworthy, and a failure.

Jackson’s study was small, dark, and masculine. A modest desk seemed to disappear among three walls of stuffed bookshelves and stacks of files. It was an organized mess. A single window looked out onto the parking lot and the church beyond.

“May I bring you coffee? Tea?”

“We’re okay, thank you,” Moira said. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

Jackson motioned for them to sit on the small couch; he took the desk chair, turning it to face them.

“I can only imagine. I heard about what happened in Santa Louisa.”

“Then you know we only trapped one of the demons,” Rafe said.

“I don’t know the details. St. Michael’s Order is justifiably tight-lipped. I learned, of course, about Father Philip’s death, and that the Seven Deadly Sins are out. I was contacted to keep my eyes and ears open.”

“We’re here because you know more about the local covens than anyone, and we have a crisis,” Rafe said. “We have reason to believe that the demon Lust is in Los Angeles.”

“Sadly appropriate. But how in the world did you figure it out? I haven’t heard anything, and I have been listening closely.”

Moira turned her phone to show an image of the mark from George Erickson’s body. Jackson frowned and inspected the photo while Moira said, “This is a demon mark. It’s highly detailed and unusual-similar marks were on those infected by Envy as well. Three bodies have shown up at the morgue with this mark, and all three have a connection to Velocity, a nightclub which-”

“Velocity?” Jackson’s head shot up and he handed her phone back. “It’s been all over the news, the gossip about Kent Galion. A shock. Are you saying he was possessed?”

Moira shook her head. “We don’t think that the men who were marked were possessed, but that they were infected somehow by the demon.”

“Infected? I don’t understand.”

“Most demons possess their victims, but the Seven Deadly Sins are incarnate,” Rafe explained. “They can possess a human if they want, but they don’t need to.”

“And what do you mean by infect?”

Moira said, “When someone is in contact with the demon, they act on that sin.”

Jackson looked skeptical. “Then why isn’t everyone consumed by lust? Or greed? Or any of the other sins? Shouldn’t we be hearing about an epidemic of violence?”

Rafe elaborated. “We all have a conscience,” he began. “Some are better formed than others. We know little about the Seven, but we know a lot more about human nature. We sometimes call our weaknesses our personal demons. Some of us are naturally predisposed to envy, for example. We are unfathomably jealous of other people and what they have that we don’t. Yet our conscience helps us battle our personal sin, keeps it in check, so we don’t steal or hurt people because they have something that we want. But the same person who is envious may not have a problem with lust or laziness or pride.”

Jackson nodded. “I understand. In my ministry, I counsel many people and most have a primary weakness. But that doesn’t explain why there are only a few who have been affected.”

“We don’t understand exactly how the demon operates. If the demon needs to physically touch its victims, or how much freedom the demon has in the first place.”

“Freedom?”

Moira said, “An ancient spell brought them to Earth. Rafe stopped the ritual, but they were already free. We don’t know how they affect people specifically, but we just learned that one of the original witches in the coven that released them is here in L.A.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “Maybe the demons are tied somehow to the witches involved in the ritual. Or they don’t have all their strength because the ritual was interrupted.”

Rafe considered that. “I hadn’t thought of it like that. You could be right.”

“There’s a lot we don’t know,” Moira said, frustrated. “What we do know is that when a person is marked, they’re pretty much toast.”

Rafe frowned. “That’s not exactly right. When we capture the demon, its power over its victims is gone. They regain their conscience.”

“So it appears,” she said, explaining to Jackson. “We have proof that someone was infected in Santa Louisa and he seems fine now that Envy has been locked up.”

Rafe continued, “The demon goes after the easy targets. A nightclub like Velocity is full of raging hormones. If Nicole somehow brought the demon with her to L.A., it would stay because feeding on those hormones, the physical attractions, would be easy.”