Allison Brennan - Original Sin

“I’ll meet you at the cliffs.”

“I’m practically there.”

“Wait for me.”

“No, I can’t stay here. There’re … things still going on. The electric charge is high; I smell Hell. It’s right here. No way I’m staying. I’ll call you when I find him.”

“But-”

“I wanted to tell you what Lily told me, and because she said something else and I don’t know what it means. Fiona called her the arca . What the hell does that mean?”

“Is Lily still at the motel? I need to send Lily away, to protect her. She’s in grave danger.”

“She’s not there. Jared’s father, a cop, tracked them to my room and took them away. He said he was taking Lily home.”

“And you let him?”

“I wasn’t going to jail again, not that it matters to you.”

Anthony asked, “Where does Lily live?”

“Foxglove-1300. What does arca mean?”

“She’s a spirit trap.”

“What the fuck? Humans can’t trap demons.”

“Can you speak without swearing every other sentence?”

“Fuck, no,” she snapped.

Anthony supposed he’d walked into that one, and said, “She was dedicated for the purpose at her conception. You know something about that, don’t you?” He didn’t mean to be cruel, and almost took it back. But didn’t.

“Her mother … Anthony, Jared’s father took her home more than an hour ago. Her mother must be part of it.”

“I’ll get her,” Anthony said. “You find Rafe.” His stomach churned. He didn’t want to leave Rafe in Moira’s hands, but he didn’t see what choice he had. If the coven got hold of Lily, they might be able to re-create the ritual to reunite the Seven.

“I need a place for Rafe and me to stay. My motel room is no longer safe. What about your girlfriend’s place? Is there a friendly church around here?”

Anthony considered it but knew neither idea would work. “There’s a hotel on the coast, the Santa Louisa Coastal Inn. The owner is a friend of mine. I’ll call him and register a room. I’ll put the room under your name, and I’ll let him know you’ll be coming.”

“Why can’t-”

He knew what she was going to ask. “I want to talk to Rafe before the police.”

After hanging up with Moira, Anthony put Lily’s address into Skye’s GPS system, then called Father Philip, not caring how late it was in Italy. He was surprised that the Father had already left.

“When did Father leave for Olivet?” he asked.

“One moment,” the monk said. Moments later, Bishop Pietro Aretino came on the phone.

“Anthony,” Bishop Aretino said, “Philip isn’t going to Olivet. He’s on his way to Santa Louisa.”

“Why? He told me-”

The bishop interrupted. “He has his reasons. But he left before dawn, without his assigned escort.”

“What?” Dread filled Anthony. That Father Philip was leaving the sanctuary for Olivet was dangerous in itself, but that he would come here without a bodyguard was foolhardy. Both he and Father Philip knew that his life was in grave danger. He was on the inner council, was privy to information that few had. Information that the covens would love to have, and would be pleased to torture out of the old priest.

“We don’t know exactly when he left, and John is leaving now. We hope he can catch up with Philip before …”

“That’s not soon enough! We have a crisis here,” Anthony said. “The Seven Deadly Sins have been released.”

“You think Santa Louisa is the only major problem we’re facing?” Pietro admonished him. “Our ranks are thinner than ever. I’d send Rico, but he has to protect his people or we have no hope. You have more people in Santa Louisa to help than any of our other hot spots. Be careful, Anthony. God bless you.”

He needed all the blessings he could get. But the motto of St. Michael’s was God helps those who help themselves .

He had his work cut out for him. Finally off the treacherous mountain, Anthony sped up, and hoped that he wasn’t too late to save Lily Ellis, the arca .

Chris couldn’t find Ari after school, and several of her friends said she hadn’t come back after lunch. He tried her cell phone, but there was no answer. He wanted to explain that he’d talked to the sheriff because he was worried about Ari, not because he wanted to get her into any trouble.

“Hey, Kidd, you’re late,” his friend Travis said when Chris walked into the locker room.

He jerked his chin up. “Sec,” he said. He left another message for Ari, then grabbed his gym bag from his locker and jogged to where Travis was waiting by the door. They were the last two players to leave for the bus.

Travis Ehrlich was one of the few black guys at the central coast high school and they’d been friends since day one, when Travis moved to Santa Louisa in the seventh grade. Travis made varsity his freshman year, almost unheard of. He had NBA scouts watching him and a full ride to UCLA-a PAC-10 school-where he’d probably be a starter his freshman year.

Today all Chris could think about was how Travis had everything Chris wanted-and at the assembly, hadn’t Travis had been sniffing around Ari? Was that why Ari had left early?

He shook his head as the headache he’d had all day worsened.

“What’s up?” Travis asked. “You got your game on?”

“It’s on.”

“You look sick.”

Chris hit him good-naturedly in the arm. “Freak.”

Chris had a scholarship, just like Travis. Why was he beating himself up because Travis was going into PAC-10? Chris was happy with his deal.

Travis had a better deal. Prick .

“Chris?” Travis prompted.

He grinned. “Fooled ya.”

“Coach is pissed. Look at his face-it’s beet red.”

“Hot tamale, get a move on.” Chris slapped Travis on the back, and they ran toward the bus that would take them to the away game.

“Watch out!” Travis grabbed Chris by the shirt and pulled him out of the path of a classic bright-red Mustang speeding through the parking lot. It came within inches of running over his toes.

“What the fuck?” Chris said. “That’s Mr. Ayers’s car.”

“That wasn’t Mr. Ayers driving. It looked like Ms. Peterson.”

“Ms. Peterson? The librarian?” Chris stared after the Mustang as it took a corner too fast and too sharp, clipping a stop sign it didn’t even slow down for. “Shit.”

Travis shook his head as they boarded the bus. “I swear, everyone has been acting weird today.”

The Ellis house was at a crossroads-three roads coming together-signifying a place where deals were made. If that were the only sign, Anthony might not have given it a second thought. But there were more. Subtle, understood only by those familiar with magic.

Moira would know .

He pushed the vixen from his mind. He’d regretted his decision not to join Moira O’Donnell on the cliffs to search for Rafe. By his actions, he’d given her implicit sanction to take Rafe under her protective wing, and he feared her “protection” would get his brother killed.

Or worse.

Anthony walked up the Ellises’ front path of limestone edged with moss. The garden was full of herbs, plants, and flowers used in witchcraft, but more than that, they were arranged in specific ways to protect the house and its occupants from evil spirits. Some relatively innocent witches-those dabbling in witchcraft without evil intent-might protect their homes against accidents. But a supposed churchgoing Christian didn’t go to such elaborate lengths, preferring the traditional and effective crucifix.