Allison Brennan - Original Sin

He said, “When I stopped the ritual on the cliffs, I spoke in a language I do not know. I knew what they were doing even though I’ve never had more than a cursory study of demonology and witchcraft. I failed as a hunter, I failed as a seminarian, and I failed the men at the mission. What good am I if I can’t see evil when it’s right in front of me? I thought I found my calling here in Santa Louisa, but then my brothers were murdered. Mentally tortured and slaughtered like animals. Poisoned under my watch. Poisoned, because I was blinded-”

He cut himself off and put his hands on the wall, his back to her. A chill ran down her spine, but her voice was surprisingly calm when she asked, “Are you using magic?”

“No!” he shouted, turning to face her. His pale face was twisted in distress. “No,” he repeated. “Not on purpose. But I don’t know what I did, how I stopped them-maybe whatever Dr. Bertrand was doing to me turned me into one of them. What if I’m risking everyone? What if I’m the one who set the demons free?”

Now, Moira did cross the room. She put her hands on his shoulders and shook him. Though he had at least fifty pounds on her, he moved back and forth as if he were a leaf.

“Fiona and her coven are to blame. Not you. You can’t do that to yourself. Do you think that any of us are perfect? We all make mistakes. We all screw up big-time. If they did something to you, we’ll find out what and we’ll reverse it.”

“What if they’re using me? Using me for something I don’t even understand! I can’t fight against the unknown!”

“Well, I can tell you that you’re not possessed and you’re not under a spell. If you were cursed, we’d know it here, in this room.” She gestured toward the doors, windows, and vents she’d sealed. “So rule that out. I’m a witch, Rafe. I don’t use magic, but there’re some things I know because I was born this way. Conceived to be this way.” She spat out the last sentence, her anger getting the better of her. She took a deep breath. It was true that she could sense when someone was possessed or when witchcraft was in the air, but she wasn’t entirely convinced it was because she was born that way. Father Philip thought that after her possession seven years ago she was connected, somehow, to that other world. To her, it made her cursed. Father thought it might lead to victory. She hoped he was right.

“We’ll figure it out,” she repeated. “First, Lily. She’s in danger. Then, after Lily is safe, I’ll go to the hospital.”

“Not alone.”

“I’ve been alone most of my life, Rafe, and frankly, I like it that way. No one else gets hurt.”

Rafe watched her turn abruptly from him, mumbling an excuse as she stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

The pain in her voice was tangible, and Rafe wanted to take it away.

Moira was wrestling with something deep inside, as insidious as a snake, twisting her as it did him. A powerful urge to protect her washed through him, followed by a desire he knew he could never act on.

Only a moment later she stepped from the bathroom and said, “Ready?”

“Let me get my shoes.”

He stepped into the adjoining room and heard a card slide into the lock. He stopped.

Moira was right behind him. “What?”

Someone swore outside the door and moved away.

“Who was that?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” She was concerned, her voice tight. She walked over to the door, listened. “They’re gone.” She frowned. “No-someone is there. Voices.” She closed her eyes. Rafe slipped on the shoes Anthony had brought with the clothing.

“Moira-”

“Shh.”

She was listening so intently, Rafe wondered if she could hear his heart beating.

Suddenly she said, “They know we’re here. We need to get out of here.” She ran back to the main room and grabbed her bag.

He followed her. “But they can’t get in. It’s safer if we stay.”

She shook her head. “Sure, we’re just fine for a while, but those guys were human. They can walk right in and do whatever they damn well please. And I don’t want to kill anyone, okay?” She frowned. “We can’t go out the door; I don’t know how many there are and they might be waiting for us to leave. The key didn’t work because they’d cast a spell on it, and at least my protections worked long enough to keep them out. The balcony-hey!”

Before she could finish her sentence, the lights went out. The emergency lights flickered on, blue and low to the ground.

“We’re so fucked,” Moira said.

Years of living in motel rooms and cheap apartments had trained Moira to travel light and stay packed. She had everything she needed in her bag and slung it on her back.

“Stay out of sight,” she said.

Moira crossed to the balcony and, while squatting, slowly opened the door but not the drapes. So far so good. She heard people in the hallway, guests complaining or worried about the power outage. Also good. She said to Rafe, “Stay here, by the door, don’t go out. I have an idea.”

“What?”

“Chaos. That’s a strategy that usually works.”

She ran to the door and listened again, but there were at least a half dozen people chatting in the hallway and she couldn’t distinguish the voices of the men she’d heard outside Rafe’s door. She closed her eyes, picturing the hall as she’d seen it when they first came in. They were three rooms from the end. To the left was the main hallway, and at the far end, the elevators. To the right was the staircase. The bad guys would assume they’d go to the staircase since it was closer. She hoped.

But next to the staircase was the fire alarm.

Outside her door she heard the shrill voice of a woman. “I was drying my hair! My hair is going to frizz if I can’t dry it! Kenny, can’t you do something?”

Moira took that moment to open her door and step out. The woman jumped. “Watch where you’re going!”

By the time she finished her sentence, Moira had opened the small door of the alarm and set it off.

The clanging of the emergency bells and a piercing siren trilled through the hallway.

“What are you doing?” the woman demanded as Moira stepped back into her room, shut the door, and slid both the bolt and the chain.

A swirling red light in the corner of the room had gone on with the alarm, along with a mechanical voice informing them of a possible fire and to leave the building.

“Let’s go,” she said to Rafe. “Stay low.”

“Why’d you do that?”

“Ask questions later. We’re going to jump. It’s only about twelve feet.”

In case someone was watching the balcony, she didn’t want to be obvious. The power outage helped some, though the emergency lights didn’t.

“On three,” she said.

They counted together, then she pushed open the sliding glass door and without hesitating, they both ran to the far corner of the wide balcony. They jumped together, rolling to soften the fall, and then were up and running low toward the trees on the north side of the lot where she had parked Jared’s truck.

Moira kept pace with Rafe, who didn’t have all his strength back but was moving fast enough. She spotted Jared’s truck under a street light and turned in that direction, Rafe right behind her. The fire alarm faded in the distance, but she couldn’t hear any sirens. She glanced behind her and saw no one in pursuit, but she didn’t dare slow down.

She hadn’t told Rafe what she’d overheard in the hall, but he needed to know as soon as they were clear that he was in danger. The thugs hadn’t said a word about Moira but had mentioned Rafe by name.

Moira sprinted the last fifty feet so she could get the car open and started by the time Rafe got inside. Keys in hand, she clicked the unlock button and reached for the door at the same time that someone leaped out from between two cars in the next aisle. It happened so fast, while she was focused on who might be behind them, that the tall guy had an extra few seconds to grab her, and he slammed her head against the glass.