Allison Brennan - Original Sin

“Thank you,” Philip said humbly. “We are in need of a tabernacle.”

“The original from the mission,” Anthony clarified.

Isaac nodded. “Of course. It is in the vault.”

“We also need a eucharistic ceremony. Can you do it, or may I have permission?” Philip asked.

“Let’s share in the consecration.”

“We don’t have much time,” Philip said. “I baptized Lily earlier today. This will be her first Eucharist.”

Isaac smiled solemnly. “I know the prayers in my heart; let us proceed expeditiously. Anthony, you know how to get into the vault. I will begin preparation.”

Anthony pulled his phone from his pocket and frowned at the message from Moira. He pulled up the image she’d sent. As soon as it loaded, his heart froze.

“Father,” he said to Philip. “Moira found this.”

Father Philip crossed himself as he looked at the picture. “The Mark of Cain.”

Anthony stared. “So help us God.” He wasn’t surprised-Fiona’s coven had the power behind it to suggest they were in deep-but seeing the sigil was chilling. Covens who invoked Cain were vicious, ruthless, and unstoppable until death.

Lily looked at the photo and stifled a scream. Her hands flew to her neck as she swayed in terror. “No. No!”

Anthony caught the girl as she fainted.

There were two ways-at least, two ways Moira knew about-to exorcise a demon while keeping the victim alive.

Moira didn’t have time for a traditional exorcism. Not only was Rafe still in grave danger, Ari’s ritual would have already attracted the attention of Fiona and her merry band of witches.

But stabbing Ari, though effective and fast acting, didn’t appeal to Moira, either.

Damn, damn, damn!

Moira started the exorcism rite, keeping her dagger firmly in hand.

“Deus, in nomine tuo salvum me fac, et virtute tua-”

The demon laughed, Ari’s voice deep and unnatural. “Andra Moira.”

She ignored his intimidations and continuted her invocation.

The demon twitched, but continued to taunt her. “You know me. We’re old friends.”

She would not listen to his lies.

The candles all relit simultaneously, and it was all she could do not to jump. Jared came out from under the stairs. “Is Ari going to be okay?”

“Get back!”

The demon was strong, and while he couldn’t break the spirit trap and attack her, he could summon dormant demons in the room. Some were residual spirits from past rituals; others were trapped in ritual objects on the black magic altar. The ground shook and several evil spirits wrenched themselves from the captivity.

“I can-” Jared began.

“Stand behind me!” Moira commanded Jared, then continued shouting the exorcism prayer while facing off three demons of uncertain shape moving toward her.

They were not unlike the earth demon that Elizabeth Ellis had summoned when she’d rescued Lily. Moira tried the same prayer she’d used before, and one of the demons evaporated. The other two still came at her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a large, solid demon wrenching itself from the old, moldy brick walls. The building shook around her and Moira flashed on the image of killing the demon the same way Dorothy took out the Wicked Witch of the West, dropping this building on him. Except that she’d be under the house, too. She would have laughed but she had both her hands full-one with holy water, the other with her blessed dagger.

She flicked holy water onto the weak demons in front of her and both of them dissipated.

That seemed too easy.

Noise at the top of the stairs distracted her. A stranger was running toward them and Moira at first feared he was another witch. He stopped and stared at the destruction of the basement and the charging demon.

“Watch out!” the man cried.

Moira whirled around as a hoofed demon, looking much like a deformed mythological centaur, charged her.

This was no earth demon. It was a corporeal demon, no question about it. Straight from the pits of Hell and smelling as vile as a decomposing corpse on a summer day.

Moira backed up, reaching into one of her pockets and pulling out a vial of sacred chrism. She broke it across her blade, coating the iron with oil that was poison to demons. A sliver of glass from the vial cut her finger, but she pushed back the sharp pain, which was far less important than imminent death at the hands-hooves? — of an ancient demon.

The demon spoke a language she didn’t know, and she didn’t ask for a translation. It rushed her and she deliberately fell to the ground, to urge the demon to run over her. It reeked of rotting flesh and black magic, and she could scarcely breathe. She stabbed her arm out and into the underbelly of the demon, slicing its guts open with her oily dagger.

One hoof stomped her in the thigh and she screamed, but her voice couldn’t be heard over the agonized high-pitched cry of the tortured creature as it hit the wall. She jumped up, shaking out the pain, thankful her leg wasn’t broken, which would have been icing on the cake of this shitty day.

The demon centaur was bubbling ooze as it liquefied in front of her, steam rising from the remains. The ooze stunk worse than the demon itself.

Was it dead? Dead? As in no longer in existence in this world or the underworld? Impossible. Its form was dead; there was no way to annihilate a demon.

“Holy shit, what the fuck was that?” Jared asked.

The demon inside the trap was surprisingly silent.

“What did you do to … it?” the stranger asked.

She looked at her dagger almost as if she’d forgotten it was there. The demon’s blood-if it could be called blood-was black. It dripped from the oily knife until the knife was clean.

“Are you okay?” the stranger asked.

She turned to him, careful to keep a fair distance. He was in his forties, tall and attractive, with short, sandy hair and a solid, square jaw to match his solid, square shoulders. He wore a white button-down shirt and jeans.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“I should be asking you the same thing,” he said. “I’m Matthew Walker. This is my church. Or-it used to be.” He looked pained. “We need to get out of here.”

“You’re the pastor who left last summer?”

“Sheriff McPherson called me earlier today and told me someone was defrauding my congregation. I got here as fast as I could.”

The demon in Ari began to laugh.

“Let me help,” he said.

“You’re an exorcist?” she asked skeptically.

“No, but I’ve assisted in exorcisms.”

The demon continued to laugh, and Moira felt the energy building again.

“Matthew Walker,” the demon hissed.

Matthew jumped and began a prayer.

Moira continued her exorcism and Matthew said a parallel prayer in Greek. While she recognized the sound of the language, she didn’t understand most of it. But the dual exorcisms seemed to be working, faster than she expected. The demon stopped laughing almost instantly, and Ari’s body began to convulse. Within minutes, the demon screamed and left Ari’s body in a tornado of smoke. Ari collapsed.

The energy in the room had stabilized but not disappeared. “We have to destroy the altars Ari set up,” Moira said.

“I know where they are,” Jared said. “I’ll do it.”

“Be careful.”

“You mean you’re not coming with me?”

“I trust you. Just-later, we need to talk about you and this.” She gestured toward Ari.

“I’m sorry, Moira. I wanted to help.”

“I know you did,” she said, understanding Jared more than he knew. “Once the first altar is down, it breaks the vortex, so get to the easiest location first.”