Allison Brennan - Carnal Sin

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 in the front room, “Watch yourself! They’re coming!”

The demon said, “Moh-rah.”

“Shut up,” she told the demon, knowing better than to get in a conversation with a creature like this. “Hurry, Rafe!”

Rafe was sweating profusely as he increased the pace and intensity of the exorcism.

“Moh-rah, free me. You will join me and my master.”

“Fuck you.”

A crash against the first set of doors told Moira their time was running out.

“Rafe!”

“Free me,” the demon said. “Free me.”

Moira suddenly feared they were doing something wrong. The demon flinched, but wasn’t in obvious distress, nor was it even close to leaving the woman’s body. Exorcisms could be as short as five minutes or take days. With one of the Seven, it would more than likely take several days.

They barely had five minutes.

A crash in the front room shook the house. If anything happened to Jackson, what would she tell his daughter?

“We have to go, Rafe!”

Suddenly, the body inside the trap collapsed. The demon was partly freed. A hot swoosh of air tainted by the foul stench of Hell itself filled the space within the trap, floor to ceiling, the energy emanating from it enough to knock both her and Rafe down. The demon spun faster and faster, but it couldn’t get out.

Moira couldn’t understand how Rafe’s exorcism had worked that fast. But if the demon abandoned the female body on its own, why hadn’t it left Nadine earlier? What was going on here? Why wasn’t it trapped in the chalice? They were way over their heads with this one. For a moment, Moira doubted if they’d even get out of there alive.

“What are you doing?” Wendy cried, flinging open the doors into the small room. “Stop right now!”

Moira didn’t wait for Wendy to get her bearings. Tucking the chalice under her left arm as if she were running with a football, Moira charged at Wendy, punching her square in the stomach, then kneeing her in the nose as the witch doubled over.

Out of the corner of her eye Moira saw movement. She turned and pivoted, but it was too late. Nicole Donovan-the bitch of a witch from Fiona’s coven in Santa Louisa-slammed the butt of her asthame against Moira’s head. Moira’s quick reflexes minimized what could have been a killing blow, and she managed to keep hold of the chalice, but her eyesight blurred. She stumbled over Wendy as the witch tried to get up, falling to her knees.

Rafe kicked Nicole in the wrist and she dropped the knife. The demon roared from the trap, the woman’s unconscious body inside the trap with it being lifted to the ceiling. Suddenly the body dropped to the ground. Then it slowly rose again.

“Rafe, the demon is killing her!” Moira screamed.

Wendy crawled into the room and began chanting a spell. Moira knew it well: it was a binding spell to tame the demon.

Moira didn’t want to leave the poor possessed woman trapped with the demon, but she also didn’t know how to save her.

“Moira!” Rafe shouted. “Moira! Go!”

She hesitated, but didn’t see any way to reach the trapped waitress. Nicole charged Moira, and Rafe stopped the witch with a punch to the jaw.

Moira spotted Jackson trying to get up from the corner of the room. She ran over, helped him up, and handed him the chalice. “Come on, Jackson-we have to get out of here. Go-”

“Where’s Rafe?”

“I’ll get him, go!” she ordered the pastor.

She spun around, shook her head to clear it, and saw Nicole leap onto Rafe’s back. Nicole had her asthame back in hand, its polished blade reflecting the dim light. Rafe shook her off, but then Nicole slammed headfirst into his back, knocking him to the ground.

Moira ran over and grabbed Nicole’s wrist as she was about to plunge her knife into Rafe’s kidney. There was already blood on the knife-Moira’s chest heaved. “Rafe!” she cried out as she wrestled with Nicole.

“I’m okay!” He scrambled to his feet and freed the knife from Nicole’s grasp as Moira held her wrist down on the ground. Nicole bucked beneath her, and Moira kneed her in the stomach.

“You bitch!” Nicole gasped. “You’ll be sorry. When Fiona gets her hands on you, you’ll wish you were dead.”

“Where is she?” Moira pinned Nicole’s neck down with her arm, holding her body down with her right knee and her weight.

Nicole spat in her face. Moira pressed harder, cutting off her air supply. This bitch had watched Father Philip die at the hands of a demon she’d summoned. She didn’t deserve to live.

“Moira, we have to go-!”

Moira barely heard Rafe’s voice.

“Where is Fiona?” Moira shouted.

Nicole’s face reddened.

Rafe pulled Moira to her feet. “Stop, Moira! Now is not the time.”

Moira wanted to kill Nicole Donovan. Did that make her no better than her evil mother? Vengeance-it had driven her for so long. But was she a killer?

“Let’s go.” Rafe took her hand.

Wendy was consumed with controlling the demon, but the witch was strong and Moira felt the demon succumb. When the room began to fill with electricity, Moira didn’t notice at first.

She glanced at Nicole, who was on the ground, catching her breath, chanting a spell.

“Right behind you,” Moira said to Rafe, not wanting to find out what Nicole had up her sleeve.

They bounded up the stairs to the top floor and fled the house. Jackson was nowhere to be seen. “Dammit, I told him to get the hell out of Dodge! I knew we shouldn’t have brought him!” Moira didn’t want his death on her conscience. She didn’t want to lose anyone else.

A slight tremor beneath their feet had them both sprinting down the street.

A vehicle rushed toward them. It was Skye’s truck, Jackson at the wheel. They jumped into the backseat, tires squealing as Jackson hastened away.

“You got it!” Jackson said. “You really did. I put the chalice in the box.”

Victory was bittersweet. Moira slammed her fist on the seat in front of her. “We didn’t get the demon! That woman-”