Allison Brennan - Carnal Sin

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.

“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.

Moira took his hand and kissed it. “And you did.”

“I don’t know.”

“How did you send them to the afterlife?”

Rafe hesitated, and this time Moira brought his hand to her lips. “It was another one of those memories,” he said. “I wonder, have I been speaking in tongues? So rare, but there’s nothing else to explain how I know the right exorcism at the right time. The languages-I’m okay with languages, but nothing like Anthony. Yet I spoke Aramaic like it was my native tongue, and I did not know what I was saying. I understood it in one way, but I wouldn’t be able to translate. I had control-it wasn’t a possession-but in some ways it happened on its own. I could stop it-but I couldn’t direct it.” He took a deep breath, then let it slowly out. “I’m not making sense.”

“You’re making about as much sense as my visions-especially what I saw yesterday.”

“I-” He hesitated. There was so much he wanted to tell her, but right now wasn’t the time. He couldn’t explain exactly what happened with Julie Schroeder, or how he fought her spirit after she took over his body. He couldn’t explain even how he got himself off the wall when the demon had him pinned. It was with another prayer, and not for the first time he was terrified. Of the unknown, of not knowing whether his words came from above … or below.

“Rafe?”

“I thank God that you’re alive,” he said, looking deep into Moira’s eyes. “That we’re alive.”

“Me, too.” She touched him again, as if to confirm his words.

He kissed her again, lightly, on her lips, her chin, her neck, back to her lips. He murmured, “My love,” before he realized he’d spoken.

“Where’s Nicole-?” he asked.

“Probably long gone. She wanted Wendy dead. I wonder how much of what happened tonight was partly Nicole’s doing.” Moira slowly rose to her feet.

“Don’t-”

“I have to. The font, Grant-there are going to be serious consequences. We’d better call Skye and clue her in.”

Rafe steadied Moira as they walked out of the sanctuary.

Jackson’s church was filthy, the pews half destroyed, the altar smashed. The only thing intact was the cross hanging from the ceiling.

Rafe and Moira approached the baptismal font cautiously. The glass had fused together and turned black. Moira’s heart quickened. “It’s in there.”

“But the chalice-”

“No-the demon is trapped in that glass ball.”

Jackson and Nina walked back in. “Jackson,” Moira said, “can you get that iron box you had for the chalice?”

“It’s in the sanctuary,” he said as he handed Nina the first-aid kit.

Teary-eyed, Nina looked from Moira to Rafe. “Thank you seems trite.”

“Don’t,” Moira said. “Thank you for your help.”

“Is-are-well, after everything I hate to ask, but …”

Rafe took Nina’s hand. “George’s last wish was for me to tell you he loved you and he’ll be watching to make sure you’re happy.”

Moira’s head whipped around to Rafe. She stared at him, eyes questioning.

Rafe said quietly, “When the souls left, I had a sense of their final thoughts.”

Nina said, “Grant, Jeff, and Julie are on the portico outside. Jackson called an ambulance. I don’t think Julie is going to make it.”

Jackson returned with the iron box. Moira found Rafe’s shirt stained with her blood. It was still damp. She wrapped it around the glass ball and carefully placed it in the box, leaving the shirt inside with it. Jackson added the melted chalice, then closed and locked it.

“Put it in your vault until Rico can retrieve it,” Moira said.

“Nina?” Jackson asked. “Could I ask you to get the doors for me?”

Nina handed Rafe the first-aid kit and left with Jackson, while Rafe and Moira went to the portico in the front of the church.

Grant was sitting on the ground, his back against the stucco, holding Julie in his arms. Tears streamed silently down his face. Jeff sat several feet away, his head between his knees. The neck of his shirt was covered in blood, and he had a nasty welt on the side of his face from where he’d hit the pew. But being unconscious probably saved his life.

“Where’s the ambulance?” Grant asked. “I called and called and it’s not here. She needs help.”