Allison Brennan - Original Sin

The cliffs-the ruins of the destroyed house-terrified Moira even in daylight. Frightening images and thoughts flooded her mind whenever she went near the place.

She’d stood where evil radiated from the ground like heat from a furnace set on high.

Evil surrounded her. Evil didn’t float in the air, it was the air. The earth didn’t smell like earth, it reeked of the dead, of terror, of lost souls clawing through moldy dirt, desperate to escape their fate. She’d passed dead birds, rodents, a mutilated dog as she neared the center of the ruins on the cliffs. Her heart strained, told her to leave, but she looked down, and for a second that seemed to last forever, Moira saw a river of fire beneath the surface. She felt the heat rising. The soles of her feet burning, she ran .

That first night, in the dark, she’d hid among the cypress, waiting, the fear gnawing at her. She’d forced herself to stay, hoping-and fearing-her mother would appear.

Fiona hadn’t come. No one had. The following day, Moira had contacted Father Philip and told him what she’d learned. About the fire and the two deaths inside the house. That the house had been completely destroyed was frightening enough. Worse, Moira knew that portals like this could be opened only through human sacrifice.

Father asked her to stay on site and watch, to be diligent, and she had been. Or so she’d thought.

Fiona spoke, surrounded by energy so evil Moira began to shake. She could see nothing else, nothing but her mother’s flaming red hair, everything obscured by a smoky curtain that Moira couldn’t penetrate. Dark shapes took form within the curtain, whether human or demon she didn’t know. The gates of hell were open and Moira was too late .

Dammit, no! She couldn’t be too late. Father was certain Fiona wouldn’t act until the first of February, when the worlds were naturally closer. Moira had agreed, but they were wrong. It was happening now . How could she face her mother and whatever evil she had summoned and defeat it? Alone?

Yet how could she not?

She sensed beyond a shadow of a doubt that right now-at this very moment-Fiona was on those cliffs finishing what she’d started more than two months before. Two months? Fiona had been seeking immortality her entire forty-eight years, continuing the journey that started with the first covens assembled in ancient times. But Fiona was the first witch to come this close.

“Shit,” Moira muttered, “that’s going to go straight to her head.” She couldn’t let her succeed.

She slid from between the worn sheets, clothed in a blue T-shirt and black panties. She switched on the desk lamp, pulled on her jeans, then tossed her sweat-soaked T-shirt into a plastic bag.

How the fuck was she going to stop her mother? She had no backup, few tools, and too little information to go head to head against Fiona. Father Philip hadn’t figured out what the gateway would bring forth, and without that knowledge Moira might as well be sprinkling holy water on Satan himself. A mere sizzle within an apocalyptic inferno.

She couldn’t let Fiona go through with the ritual. It would end in murder. It always did.

The mark on her neck burned.

Moira snapped on a bra and pulled a black turtleneck over her head, then slid into the custom-made leather jacket Rico had given her. With special pockets for special things.

“I’m not a hunter,” she’d told him, holding the jacket as if it were on fire.

“No, you’re a huntress,” her trainer said. Rico pushed her chin up. “Despero caveat, mei amica. Despair lets them in. Despair means no hope, and there’s always hope.”

Anger fueled her fear, both volatile emotions that could be used against her. She didn’t know how to control them. That lack of control had screwed her big-time in the past, often enough to force her to pause now and breathe deeply. She remembered that there was more at stake tonight than her life.

If she failed, the covens would grow even stronger, more powerful, aided by demons at their side. St. Michael’s Order would be in great peril. One by one, Peter’s brothers-in-arms would die. Horribly. Violently. Painfully.

Move it, Moira. Stop feeling so damn sorry for yourself .

She grabbed her bag and opened the door.

Outside something-some one -moved.

She quickly stepped back into the shadows of her room as she sensed before she saw a person approaching through the dense fog. Her knife was in her hand before she knew it, sweat on her brow. Though she’d yet to do it alone, she knew how to stop a demon. It was extremely difficult outside of a controlled environment-like the monastery-to banish the demon and not kill the human being it possessed. And even then, survival of the victim or the exorcist was not assured. She wanted no more deaths on her conscience.

There was only so much that intensive training could do, even with Rico-the best instructor the Order had-in her corner. Experience trumped the classroom every time. But she had no choice at this point. Fiona was here because Moira had made a deadly mistake. A mistake she couldn’t make again.

She recognized the visitor. Jared Santos, eighteen, her sole friend in this country.

Shocked, Jared’s dark eyes went to her knife and she quickly pocketed it. “I didn’t know who you were.”

“So you pull a knife? This is Santa Louisa, not Detroit.”

She ignored his comment. He still didn’t understand what they were up against, but she’d needed someone who knew the locals and the area. Jared had been her lifeline for the last week, providing her with information and transportation. He didn’t completely believe what she told him, but he’d seen and heard enough that he hadn’t turned her in to the police. And considering his father was a deputy sheriff, that was a real good thing.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “You’re supposed to be watching Lily.”

“She’s gone.”

Moira’s nagging fear deepened. She knew where the girl had gone, but she didn’t know why. She had come to Santa Louisa because Jared had told her on the message board about several odd incidents he and his girlfriend Lily had uncovered about her cousin Abby’s new group of friends. The fire on the cliffs-occurring the same night as her vision more than two months before-sealed the deal. Everything Moira heard was stamped with the M.O. of an actively recruiting coven. That Abby had been overweight until recently and had few friends, outside of Lily, was another big flashing neon sign warning Moira.

“We have to find her. When did she leave? Why did you let her go?”

Jared began, “I didn’t-”

“I told you what was at stake!”

He ran his hands through his short buzzcut, a pained expression on his face. “I don’t know what happened.”

“You fell asleep.” Geez . She shouldn’t have trusted him.

“I don’t know. I–I didn’t mean to. My head’s foggy; I guess I haven’t been sleeping so good lately.”

Fiona or one of her minions must have cast a spell over Jared. Or drugged him. Something had enabled Lily to slip away. The girl was crazy, that’s all there was to it. Moira had told her what Abby and the others were up to, but Lily didn’t believe her. “I know it’s not safe, but-”

“There are no ‘buts,’ Lily! They are not playing games. They are deadly serious, and outsiders are not invited into their coven for a cup of tea. They are invited to be sacrificed.”

She’d gone too far revealing that detail. No one believed in human sacrifices because the evidence disappeared. Just because there were no publicly recorded cases of human sacrifices in America, that sure didn’t mean they didn’t happen. Moira knew for a fact they did.