Allison Brennan - Carnal Sin

“Of course I remember.” It was through those memories that Rafe had unlocked the key to defeating the demon Envy. They had also nearly killed him.

“This was similar to those memories. When Fiona held me captive, they wanted information from me. I don’t think they realized that I have the memories of those who were murdered at Santa Louisa.”

Moira didn’t know what to say. What Rafe was suggesting sounded impossible … yet she herself had seen the death imprint of Craig Monroe. “Like a death imprint?” she conjectured.

“When you told me about what happened in the alley, I began to wonder if the same thing could have happened at the mission. The priests had been drugged and were hallucinating. Their most horrible memories became very real to them, as if they were living through their worst trauma over again. They tried hard to purge the evil thoughts from their minds, unable to live day-to-day with the frightening images. The coven wanted to drive them to murder, and the way to do that was forcing the priests at Santa Louisa to relive over and over the evil acts they had witnessed, the violence that sent them for help in the first place. And if they were reliving that violence while I was there in the chapel-I don’t know, it sounds crazy, but … as soon as we opened the door last night, I smelled something familiar that I couldn’t identify, and I had the flash-a memory. It was like I was Samuel Ackerman. He never told anyone what awful thing happened to him in his past that brought him to Santa Louisa, but now I know. I know the truth.” His voice hitched.

She stepped toward him, put her hand on his chest, felt his heart beating much too fast.

“It was awful-I can’t-”

“Rafe, please tell me. Don’t keep it bottled up inside. Isn’t that why those poor men suffered? Because they suppressed everything until it drove them insane, with the help of witchcraft.”

Rafe closed his eyes, not wanting to tell Moira the truth. But didn’t she deserve it? And she was right. If he didn’t explain to someone, it would drive him off the edge. “Father Samuel was a parish priest here in Los Angeles.” Rather than fighting it, Rafe allowed himself to remember. It gushed forth from the deep recesses of his mind.

“Samuel Ackerman called Susan his sister, but they weren’t blood-related. They were raised together in foster care and lost track of each other after Samuel turned eighteen and went to college. Susan came back into his life-he never knew why. At first, he was overjoyed at finding his foster sister and having a family. She had two daughters, and Samuel doted on them. Wanting a family was one of the reasons he’d turned to the Church. Sadly, when she attempted to steal consecrated hosts from his church, he discovered the truth about his sister: she was an occultist. He went to Susan’s house to confront her and witnessed a shocking ritual where his sister was engaged in black sex magic. A Luciferian rite, pure evil.” Rafe could see the orgy Susan and her coven had shared with a vile demon. But the demon gave them strength and power, and they grew hungry for more. The addiction to power was far deadlier than drugs. Rafe would try to block the abominable memories from his mind, but feared they would disturb him for the rest of his life. “Samuel saw the chalice and remembered hearing about such a thing from a very old priest at his seminary. It was like a tether for demons, what you call a psychic leash. He didn’t know what it was for, but knew it was important to Susan’s rituals. The next day he stole the chalice and went to visit William and Tessa Burns, a couple who had devoted themselves to learning about occult practices after their son disappeared with a coven.

“They knew the chalice was evil, but they didn’t know what to do with it. They reached out to St. Michael’s 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.

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.