Allison Brennan - Original Sin

Her backup dagger that Walker had seized earlier was in his pocket, and she pulled it out, unsheathed it, and ran to Rafe’s side.

Envy towered over Rafe, turning to gas, ready to fuse with the man.

“Don’t even think about it,” she said, and continued the exorcism where she’d left off.

Envy turned to her, retaking shape, and backhanded her with its clawlike hand. She fell to the ground and spit out blood.

Rafe rose from where he’d fallen and chopped off the demon’s arm. Baby snakes slithered out of the beast, winding their way rapidly around the room.

The women in the coven began to scream as snakes crossed their feet, red and black, vile creatures. Moira feared if any escaped they’d create even more problems than they already had.

Like they could have bigger issues than this!

Rafe cut off the other limb, but the demon slammed him with its tail. He flew across the room and hit the wall.

Moira couldn’t allow Rafe to die, not like Peter, not like the man she had once loved. “Damn you,” she said. “Veniat mors super illos: et descendant in infernum viventes!”

She took her dagger and with all her strength brought it down on the rattle of the demon’s tail.

Envy screeched, so loud, so violently, that Moira fell to the ground and put her hands to her ears. The witches covered their ears; some collapsed, as Envy tried to regain its strength.

Serena held up the book and intoned a command. All the flies that swarmed, all the snakes that slithered, were drawn to the book.

Serena called upon the living darkness, invoked names of demons that made Moira’s blood freeze, and all the vile creatures in the room turned and headed straight toward Lily.

Moira fought the pain and crawled toward the girl on the altar. “Stop,” she tried to plead with her sister, but Serena either didn’t hear or didn’t care.

“Rafe, help!” she cried as she stumbled.

Lily screamed as the snakes slithered up the altar, wrapping themselves around her feet, her ankles, faster and faster, flies buzzing around her head.

Rafe got up from the ground. He ran to Moira and grabbed her.

“Trust me,” he said.

She nodded, terrified, not knowing what he was going to do.

He raised the dagger over her.

“No,” she tried to say, but nothing came out.

He cut her hand and held it over the torso of the demon that lay on the ground trying to regrow its limbs.

Then he pressed her hand into one of the holes in the demon’s body.

She screamed as pain surged through her body. Rafe seemed shocked by what he’d done and pulled her arm out, holding her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said.

She couldn’t see, the pain blinding white. She blinked, and it began to subside.

All parts of Envy’s body pulled together into a dark gas and turned into a whirlpool, moving faster and faster.

Moira watched as the demon fought being drawn up into the ventilation system. It fought a losing battle as it was drawn up to the ceiling, right into the tabernacle that Anthony had used to cap the vent.

There was sudden complete silence. Moira breathed again.

Fiona turned her magic on Moira as she said, “I will never underestimate you again.”

Moira tried to stand, but Fiona had both hands on her head, just the tips of her fingers. She couldn’t move. She could scarcely breathe.

“If you die now,” Fiona said, “it will be too soon. You will suffer. I will ensure that you suffer. If you love again, I will take him. If you trust again, I will ensure you will be betrayed. You have no one. You have nothing. You will find me and beg me to kill you. You do not know what pain is, Andra Moira.”

Moira stared into Fiona’s blue eyes, as if she were looking into her own. Bottomless, deep, but Fiona’s were filled with the passion of hatred.

The front doors burst open.

“Police! Freeze!” Sheriff Skye McPherson and three cops rushed in, guns drawn.

Fiona glared at Moira. “Remember this?” she said. “Enjoy the sweet memories!”

Moira felt the spell invade her as Fiona’s eyes fluttered.

“Freeze!” she heard, but saw nothing but the library at St. Michael’s seven years ago.

She was there with Peter. In slow motion she watched as he was thrown across the room. She saw every frame individually, as Peter’s body fought, twisted, moved. The fear on his face. The fear and the pain and the look of the betrayed.

She cried, but the malevolent vision would not stop. Again and again, Peter slammed against the wall, his eyes accusing her, death stealing him from her.

Death would be better. Death would be better than this. Dear God, make it stop, make it stop .

Peter’s body hit the wall again, this time slowly. Blood spattered inch by inch by inch. She could almost reach out and touch it.

“Moira!”

“Stop, stop! Make it stop, make it stop!”

Holding her tight, Rafe spoke quietly. Soothing. His words filled her mind, though she barely heard what he said. The memory grew fuzzy and faded. She began to cry and he held her, rocking her. She clutched him as if she were drowning.

Chaos was all around her. Magic flew through the air, as the coven members tried to avoid arrest. Shouts and orders as Skye cuffed Elizabeth Ellis. “Secure the scene! Back door!”

“Rafe-” She caught her breath. She had so many questions. What he’d done, what he’d said. But now, she was so tired and his embrace gave her blissful peace.

“Your hand,” he said, holding it to his lips. The bleeding had stopped. She stared at the wound.

“You’re in shock,” he said.

“Lily?”

Rafe looked over her head. “Anthony and Jared are with her.” Then his body tensed. He rose and put her on her feet. He took her hand and she saw what he saw.

Father .

They ran to the middle of the damned spirit trap. Father Philip lay on the floor.

Moira knew he was dead, but she said, “He’s going to be okay, right? He’s going to be okay.” She knelt next to him, remembering what the demon had done to him. How he’d fallen, saving Lily.

Father Philip’s eyes were partly open. His neck was bruised, his mouth open. Anthony checked for a pulse and breath, tears dropping on Father Philip’s body.

“He’s okay,” Moira said. “He’s okay. He’s okay.”

“He’s gone.”

“No. No!” She held him. “Father, please. Please don’t leave me.”

Rafe put his arm around her. Anthony took Father Philip’s hand and gave him Last Rites, his voice breaking.

“Amen.”

Fiona packed her things quickly, rage fueling her energy.

“I hate them!”

Matthew squeezed her shoulders. “It’s not over. We’ll confront them again. It’s inevitable.”

“They trapped my demon! It’s mine!”

Matthew tilted her chin up. “Sweetheart, we don’t have time to rant about Andra Moira or Raphael Cooper. All in due time. The police must know where we are. I sent Serena and Pennington to get the boat.”

“You should have let that idiot die in the fire.”

“I considered it. But he’s useful.”

Fiona reluctantly concurred. “We need a good plan to retrieve the tabernacle. I think they’ll store it at the mission, or at the church downtown.”

“You’re right, dear, but I have another plan.”

“Does it involve gutting Raphael and choking Moira with his intestines?”

“You are imaginative, dear, but I prefer subtlety. Rafe will soon remember how he knows me. He stared for a long time, but couldn’t place me.”

“Then you should never have left Santa Louisa. How I missed you!”

He kissed her. “I missed you too, darling.”