Allison Brennan - Original Sin

It took ten minutes to reach Ari’s house. As soon as Moira stepped on the property, she knew a witch lived here.

“Moira? Hey-Moira!”

Moira barely heard Skye’s voice when she turned into Ari Blair’s bedroom without being told which one was hers.

Magic, powerful magic, permeated every inch of space. The walls, the carpet, the clothing strewn across the desk chair … it was as if the room breathed magic.

The energy was strong, but young; powerful, but untrained. Moira sensed an inner goodness in the room, an aura of wanting to please. The aura of kindness. She wanted to weep for the poor girl who lived here, the betrayal she was about to face.

Ari Blair could have been her.

“Do you need to sit?” Skye asked from what seemed to be a great distance but was only feet away.

Moira shook her head and crossed the neat but cluttered room. She touched a book on the desk. A Wiccan spell book. Another was a Wiccan book of blessings, another about the elements in Wicca. All benign in the sense that they promoted the stated belief of witchcraft: do no harm . Most practitioners were well-intentioned but misguided people who were searching for truth, balance, and understanding.

They didn’t understand the dark underbelly of magic. That noble intentions were simply that: intentions. That do no harm was impossible when you messed around with supernatural forces. Ari had been used, her inner goodness and innocence and desire to learn more about herself and the world around her being twisted in order to pull energy from her.

“How did Ari’s boyfriend die?” Moira asked quietly.

“Possible brain aneurysm. He complained of a severe headache in the afternoon, then a few hours later collapsed and bled from the ears. He died en route to the hospital.”

“I feel fear. Here, in this room. Fear and magic. She’s definitely scared about something.”

Skye was looking at her strangely.

“What’s wrong?” Moira asked.

“You sound like Anthony.”

“Anthony is an empath. I’m not.”

Moira turned her back to Skye to avoid more questions. Together they searched the room. Moira flipped through the spellbooks one by one.

Skye said, “Jared was here.”

“How do you know?” Moira asked.

Skye held up two phones. “This is Jared’s cell phone.” She flipped it open to show a photo of Jared and Lily on the wallpaper. “I’ll bet this is Ari’s. They dumped the phones so no one could GPS them.”

“Dammit! What on earth was that kid thinking?”

“He’s worried about Lily, and he’s an eighteen-year-old boy. He thinks he’s invincible.”

“Idiot,” Moira mumbled. “We need to find them.”

“I will.” Skye looked through Ari’s closet while Moira continued going through her books and papers. Moira took the time to study what wasn’t as obvious. She noted that Ari was interested in vortexes-intersections of positive and negative energy. Important in balance theory, a yin-and-yang thing.

An idea popped into Moira’s head as she reviewed Ari’s books. She talked it out to get it straight. “Let’s say Ari had no idea what the ritual the other night was about. After, she’s terrified and thinks she needs to fix it. Her boyfriend dies. She’s panicking, and she comes up with an idea to stop it.”

“How?”

“I think she’s trying to undo the damage she helped create on the cliffs. Look-” She pointed to books on geography, spiritual vortexes, geometry, and ley lines. “This tells me she believes in intersecting points of power.”

“Points of power? What’s that?”

“Intersecting points of power. I’d love to explain it all to you, but we don’t have time. Ari is playing with fire. In a nutshell, she’s trying to set up a power center. It takes time-she needs to go to specific places the same distance apart, and each the same distance from the chosen power center. When each spot is aligned, it creates a one-way flow of energy, helping in complex rituals, especially for sole practitioners. Most covens have enough people to draw energy from, but individuals use the elements.”

“What can that do?”

“The more energy Ari can draw into her, the more powerful her magic. But she can’t possibly think she can reverse the ritual. She’ll get herself killed. And Jared. Dammit, as soon as she sets up the power center, she’s practically broadcasting her whereabouts to Fiona. Fiona’s power weakens when Ari draws energy to one spot.”

“Okay, assuming this is true, why can’t we do the same thing? Buy ourselves some time? Maybe lure Fiona into a trap?”

“Because the energy flow comes from magic, and only begins when the ritual starts. When that happens, you’re looking at battle magic, Fiona against Ari. Fiona will win, hands down, but not before more demons are released. Ari is drawing energy toward her-any demons, spirits, ghosts within the boundaries of the ley lines will be drawn to her center. She’s a novice. Even a practiced witch like Fiona wouldn’t attempt such a ritual without days of planning and preparation to protect her and her coven. Ari probably thinks she can either call on her own demon for vengeance or draw in the demons she released. But either way, she’s summoning the damn creatures. And now Jared is with her. It’s extremely dangerous. I have to find Ari. Stop her from making the same mistakes I did. I’m ready to go to Good-” She cleared her throat. “Starbucks. Actually, their tea isn’t half-bad. Not like a fresh-brewed pot, but for tea in a bag, tolerable.”

“You sound just like Anthony,” Skye said, not for the first time.

“Well, Italy and Ireland … we have a lot in common.”

“I’d never have imagined.” Skye turned around.

Moira gathered up Ari’s material on power points. She’d study Ari’s notes and try to figure out where she planned to set up this vortex.

“You can’t take-”

Damn, Moira thought she’d been discreet. She slid the material into her bag. “Take what?” She smiled and walked past Skye, relieved when the cop said nothing more.

Father Philip had listened attentively to Anthony’s recap of what he and Moira had learned, asking only a few questions for clarification, and now he sat quietly at the table, his expression contemplative.

Anthony grew impatient but remained silent.

At last the old priest spoke. “You said you have a photograph of the marks on the dead bodies?”

Anthony nodded, retrieved the photo, and slid it across the table to Father. “Moira said it’s a demon mark, except these people-other than Abby Weatherby-weren’t on the cliffs during the ritual.”

The old priest studied the instant picture and frowned. “Moira is right. I don’t see how this could happen-but then again, I’ve seen things during my eighty-three years that I couldn’t have imagined. The coven would have set up powerful protections for their members. Perhaps those in the circle were unaffected, but anyone who had contact with the demons after the ritual are affected.”

“But why would a demon possess them, then kill them? It doesn’t make sense, not with what we know about demons.”

“You’re right. We are truly facing the unknown here.” He paused, then added quietly, “Perhaps it’s the proximity. As the demons move through town they affect people they come in contact with.”

“I’ve read Franz Lieber’s notes,” Anthony said, pulling out the handwritten journal. “He believed the Conoscenza was destroyed.”

“We all did.” Father sighed and looked Anthony in the eye. “I learned yesterday that there have been secrets in the Order. Raphael was sent here to find the Conoscenza .”