Allison Brennan - Original Sin

The small ball of glass shattered on the sidewalk. A thick liquid poured from it, the consistency of pooled blood, moving, growing, into a being, a person, a …

Demon .

With a deformed, horned human head and the body of a goat, the demon took shape and continued to grow.

Moira froze. She’d faced possessed people, but never an incarnate demon.

She’d never faced a pure, soulless spirit.

“Mine!” the demon hissed. “Mmmmiiiiinnnnee!”

Her fear was absolute and instant, but she couldn’t allow fear to win. Her soul was at stake, eternal pain and suffering, and it was time to accept her fate, here, now.

She would not die without fighting back.

The demon was far more fearsome in appearance than in action. He staggered, weak, and didn’t seem to see her clearly. Moira could use that to her advantage.

He lunged at her, his body not quite fluid but moving fast and breezily, as if his corporeal form were made of thick gas. He had form, but he over-exerted himself in the failed attack and wavered before her eyes before solidifying again.

He was blind, sensing her through smell or instinct. He staggered, screaming in pain. She hadn’t touched him, only jumped away, into a controlled fall to bring herself back on her feet and ready to fight.

She pulled out what Rico called a poisoned dart: a three-inch iron barb that had been blessed and saturated in sacred oil and ash from Sunday palms.

“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, go back to the pit!”

It took all her willpower and control to stand her ground as the demon attacked again. She held the dart out and as soon as it pricked the demon’s corporeal shell, the creature screamed an agonizing bellow that Moira felt deep in her chest. She fell to her knees, unable to breathe, unable to move. The demon turned to dust, and a gust of hot air swooshed down and consumed the dust like a vacuum. It happened so fast, and Moira was in such pain, she wondered if she were delirious.

When she could finally look up, her sister was gone.

When Anthony and Lily arrived at the mission, he spotted an unfamiliar car. He pulled up close behind it and proceeded with caution.

Lily had slept during the drive up the mountain, and he let her continue to sleep while he inspected the intruder’s vehicle. Just as he noticed the car had a rental sticker in its back window, Father Philip stepped out of the mission’s only remaining structure.

“Anthony.”

He took long steps to reach the only father he’d ever known, and hugged him tight. “Father. It is good to see you.”

“And you, son.”

Anthony stepped back. “Why did you come here instead of Olivet? And without a bodyguard. It’s dangerous here.”

“We have much work to do, but not enough time. Where’s Moira?”

“Gathering information on where to find Rafe. The coven has taken him!”

“Anthony-we need to talk. Moira didn’t go after Rafe alone, did she?”

“We had to split up. She’s at Good Shepherd Church, a front for Pastor Garrett Pennington-one of Fiona’s magicians-hoping that there will be information there to help us find where they’re holding him.”

Father tensed, concern crossing his tired face. Anthony had always known Father was older than most of the elders, but now he appeared even older than his years, and it greatly worried him. “Who is her backup? She shouldn’t be alone.”

“We had no choice. I need to protect Lily Ellis, the young woman they called the arca . The coven wants to trade Rafe for both Lily and Moira.”

“They will never exchange him. Rafe’s too valuable to them. Come inside. Fill me in while we prepare.”

“We? You can’t be part of this! You will stay here, where it is safe. With Lily.” But Anthony didn’t know if Father Philip and Lily were safe anywhere, alone. He’d left Rafe in what he believed was a safe refuge, yet they had found him. No one was truly safe as long as Fiona O’Donnell was alive. He wished Rico could come, but he was battling evil elsewhere. Despair rushed Anthony. How could they possibly battle against a coven as large and powerful as Fiona’s with just him, an old priest, and Moira-who wasn’t even part of the Order? So far she had been more diligent and useful than he’d expected, but she’d also rushed off this morning without discussing it with him. Moira was a maverick. St. Michael’s couldn’t function with mavericks; it was their communication and planning and union that gave them the strength and intelligence to fight supernatural battles on earth without succumbing to the dark forces themselves. How could their pitifully small group possibly save Rafe and make sure Lily didn’t fall into their adversary’s hands?

Despondent over their options, Anthony gently woke Lily and carried her inside. There were two small rooms remaining at the mission, the small entrance and what long ago had been the caretaker’s office. He placed her on the cot in the corner, where he sometimes slept when he worked late and the weather was too poor to drive down the mountain.

Father Philip sat next to her and took her hand. “Lily,” he said, smiling. “My name is Philip.”

“Hi.” She swallowed nervously and blinked.

“You’ve been very brave.”

She shook her head. “I’m scared.”

“Being brave doesn’t mean you’re not afraid. I have a few questions for you.”

She glanced at Anthony. “You can trust Father Philip,” he told her. “I’ve known him all my life.”

Father Philip said, “I don’t blame you, Lily, for not trusting me, or Anthony. But-”

She shook her head and sat up on the cot, leaning against the stone wall. “I trust you. Moira told me the truth from the beginning, but I didn’t want to believe her. She told me I could trust Anthony, and I do. I’m okay-I just wish I understood what was going on. My mother-she’s a witch. I don’t understand, but I know what I saw.”

“Did you see your mother on the cliffs when Abby died?”

She shook her head. “But she was there! She told me she was; she knew what happened before I told her.” She looked from Father to Anthony and asked, “Is Jared okay? I haven’t seen or talked to him since yesterday morning, when his dad took me home. My mom took my cell phone, wouldn’t let me talk to him, or go on the computer. When I tried to leave, she locked me in the basement and said-” She paused and bit her lip nervously.

“What did she say?” Father Philip prompted.

“That I was here for a purpose and I should be proud. But Abby died, and my aunt came over last night and I heard them talking-”

“Your aunt? Abby’s mother?”

She nodded. “Aunt Darcy. She’s my mom’s cousin, but I always called her aunt. And she wasn’t crying or anything about Abby. She was actually mad! At me because I’d run away.”

Father nodded. “Abby, I’d like to baptize you. A Christian baptism. I need you to answer the questions I ask truthfully. You are of the age of consent, and if you lie, I can’t help you.”

“I already was baptized.”

Anthony asked, “By Garrett Pennington?”

“Y-yes. How did you know?”

“He’s not a minister.”

“But-I don’t understand.”

“He’s a witch, just like your mother, just like Fiona O’Donnell and the rest of the men and women you saw on the cliffs. He could not have given you a valid baptism,” Anthony explained. “And likely, you were baptized long ago to serve the underworld.”

“Lily,” Father said, “this is important. It’s to protect your soul. I don’t know what’s going to happen tonight, but a valid baptism removes the stain of original sin from your soul, the sin that Adam and Eve brought into the world.”