Carnal Sin (26 page)

TWENTY-EIGHT

Grant was more than a little worried about Julie.

For a few minutes the jackhammer in his head slowed to a steady pounding. Maybe the aspirin he'd been popping finally kicked in. Or maybe it was just focusing on something other than his own problems.

Grant couldn't get the image of Nadine's tattoo out of his mind because it looked exactly like Julie's tat. It was uncommon, and exquisite. He remembered kissing the small of her back over and over, savoring the soft, unusually erotic spot.

For a detective, he realized he was an idiot. He didn't know much about Julie Schroeder or her friends. Everything Fern said made sense. Designer drugs. Julie had never seemed as though she'd been on drugs, at least when he was with her, but Grant also knew from his two years on Vice that major dealers rarely used, and never the heavy junk. They were in it for the money and power, not the drug high.

Grant could not believe that Julie was a drug dealer.

But he also realized that he hadn't asked her or Wendy the hard questions about Nadine. Why? Being tired was no excuse. Was he worried, maybe subconsciously, that Julie was involved with something illicit? Was he worried that she wasn't who he thought she was? Why did any of that matter when they were just off-again, on-again?

But it
did
matter. He cared deeply for Julie. Hell, he might even love her, but it was a warped kind of love wrapped in physical lust, not emotional need. Normal? Hell, no, but he wasn't normal. Never had been, not since he lost his virginity with his eighteen-year-old babysitter when he was fourteen. He'd told his twice-divorced mother he was too old for a babysitter, but when Sylvia Nelson went out of town on business, she refused to leave him alone overnight.

Little did she know what he did with Monica Jergens those nights. Monica had seduced him at the beginning--he'd been a mature kid, responsible for his little brother because of a busy single mom--but he'd also been a kid who liked video games and sports. But after the first time, Grant had never looked back at his childhood. Surprisingly, this fact now saddened him.

He drove down Sepulveda, where even now, the lunch hour on Saturday, hookers strolled. He wasn't a child anymore; he'd seen too much in life and on the job. These hookers were women who didn't care how hard he fucked or how long he took--they'd take it because they got paid to take it.

Grant slowed his sedan to a crawl. The hookers glanced over, but he looked like a cop and they moved on. He
was
a cop. He couldn't screw around with a hooker. He'd never paid for it before, so why would he now? Why did he have this overwhelming urge to fuck someone--anyone--without thought of the repercussions? His career was no small thing, and neither was his health.

All he could think about was sex. And it wasn't normal. He was a guy, he thought about sex many times a day, but not this constant barrage of images, these fantasies that wouldn't leave his mind. Fantasies he'd never lived out because they were illegal or because he'd never get a woman to agree.

Agree? Why ask? Just take what you want. Take it
.

He slammed on his brakes, almost running a red light and nearly hitting two teenagers in the crosswalk. Grant barely noticed when the shorter kid flipped him off; he was frozen and distraught. He'd never raped a woman in his life, never came close until last night, but that was Julie, his Julie. He hadn't raped her. He'd just ... been rough. Uncaring. He hadn't cared about whether she was comfortable or enjoying it, he just wanted to take. The idea that he was so close to finding it
acceptable
to force a woman made sweat bead on his brow, had his hands shaking.

He put his head down on the steering wheel. Something was wrong with him. He was sick. Maybe he had a fever and was hallucinating. That might explain his foul, perverted thoughts.

Cars honked behind him and he jumped, looked around. The light was green. He spurted through the intersection and pulled over to the side of the road, breathing heavily. He had to get it together. This sense of unease, of pain, the migraine, the visions of his first lover, of hookers, of Julie, of Moira O'Donnell--this wasn't him.

Grant rested his head back on his steering wheel and willed the pain to stop. His penis was still hard and uncomfortable; he squirmed in his seat, but that only made his migraine worse.

Home. He just had to go home and sleep this off ... whatever it was. He needed to meet Moira in ... the digits on his clock blurred. It was already two; he was late.

What if Julie was really in trouble? The idea that she'd die in a horrible, gruesome way, like Nadine, terrified him. He didn't want to lose her like that. He didn't want to watch her rip her hair out, falling apart in front of him, flailing about until being run over by a bus.

He called her. Maybe if he talked to her, she'd meet him at her place. He couldn't walk into the Palomar feeling like this.

On the third ring he almost hung up; then she answered. "Grant."

It wasn't Julie's voice. He frowned. "Who's this?"

"Wendy. Julie is really upset with you. She doesn't want to talk to you."

Acid burned in his stomach. He knew it. He'd hurt her, no matter what she'd said earlier.

"Please put her on. I need to talk to her."

"She's working. Leave her alone."

"Dammit, put her on the phone!"

Wendy hung up on him.
She hung up the damn phone!

But at least Grant knew Julie was at the club, so he could go talk to her in person.

His cop instincts told him something wasn't right about this--the close circle of people who were dead, the others involved with all of them. Except for George Erickson, though his wife knew Wendy Donovan. The pictures. Which made it all ...

His head exploded in another burst of pain. The evidence was all right here--he felt it, but he couldn't put it together.

He looked at his reflection in the rearview mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, as if he had been drinking all night. His face was haggard and pale, his light brown hair dark with perspiration.

His phone rang. It was Moira O'Donnell. He didn't want to talk to her, but dammit, he was supposed to have been at the Palomar five minutes ago.

"Nelson," he said.

"On your way?"

"I'm running late. We can do this tomorrow."

"I have information you need. Just ten minutes."

He didn't want to do this. "Fine," he agreed, "but I have a stop to make. It'll be another hour." He hung up before she could protest.

"First, I need to find Julie," he mumbled to himself.

Without looking, he started his car and abruptly turned into traffic. The horns of cars he nearly hit didn't faze him. With the thought of seeing Julie, his headache began to ease, from intolerable to simply excruciating.

Her astral projection invisibly resting in the passenger seat, Julie listened in horror as Grant believed what Wendy told him. That bitch was leading him into a trap, and using Julie's possessed body to do it! Julie had been trying to talk to Grant ever since he had gotten into his car--to communicate
somehow
without her body, without her voice--but he didn't hear her, he didn't feel her.

He was dying, his face hard and grim, unable to mask the pain. While Moira O'Donnell was waiting for him, he was playing right into Wendy's hands.

His cell phone was vibrating in the passenger seat, but Grant was either ignoring it or didn't notice. He was so focused on whatever dark thoughts filled his mind that Julie feared he'd crash, killing himself and others.

Julie used the intensity of her emotions to gather enough energy, then she pushed a directed pulse to move the cell phone. It flew across the seat and hit Grant in the arm.

"What the fuck?" he exclaimed as he swerved, corrected the car, then picked up the phone.

The simple telekinetic trick wore Julie down even more. After the ghosts at the morgue, and now using her limited energy reserve, she was growing weaker with each passing moment.

She didn't want to die, and she especially didn't want to die like Nadine.

Grant answered the phone on speaker. "Johnston?"

"Where the hell have you been? You haven't answered your phone for two hours."

Two hours? Julie frowned. Had that much time passed?

"I was at the morgue."

"You left at noon. It's nearly two-thirty. We have a problem."

"What?"

"I ran Moira O'Donnell's prints. The report came back. She's bad news."

"What did she do?"

"For starters, she's illegal. Her visa expired years ago. Her prints popped up in six open investigations of grand theft auto, and get this--Interpol has her passport flagged. If she attempts to fly to any European country, she's to be brought in for questioning."

"For what?"

"It doesn't say. She's a 'person of interest.'"

"Shit. I'm in the middle of something, but--don't put out an APB on her. Call that sheriff from Santa Louisa and see what she has to say. I'm meeting O'Donnell at the Palomar in an hour or so--I have to stop at Velocity first."

"I don't like this, Grant. Something is going on."

"Head to the Palomar and keep our friend company until I get there."

"Will do." Johnston paused. "Are you okay? You don't sound well."

"I'm fine," Grant snapped. "This has been a fucked week. Why is everyone asking if I'm okay? I have a migraine from hell and a girlfriend involved in God knows what and a new dead body every day, connected to the last dead body."

"Grant--"

"Just meet me at the Palomar, okay?"

"Alright. One hour."

Grant jammed the off button and tossed the phone on the backseat.

Julie knew he was going to die if he showed up at Velocity, but how could she tell him to go straight to the Palomar and meet with Moira?

At least now Julie knew where Moira was. But there was no way Moira could intercept Grant before he reached Velocity, where Wendy--and very likely the demon in Julie's body--waited for him.

How could she stop him? They were approaching the on-ramp to the Ventura freeway. Twenty minutes and he'd be at Velocity. Twenty minutes and his fate would be sealed.

Julie ascended from the car and flew above it, looking for anything she could control to stop Grant. She didn't want to hurt anyone, and she didn't have enough energy or control to steer his car off the road. Moving the cell phone had been difficult enough.

They were approaching a park where kids were playing baseball. The idea came instantly--when the kid at bat hit the ball, Julie sent out a pulse of energy that pushed the ball off its intended course. The velocity of the ball coupled with her energy directed it, and it slammed directly into the windshield of Grant's car.

He slammed on his brakes and skidded, hitting a parked car. Stopped. He wouldn't be driving to Velocity now. That bought her time.

With a final glance at the tortured man she loved, her spirit flew to Moira's hotel. By the time she arrived, she had almost no energy left. She felt her body trying to pull her back, the psychic leash strong. She used her remaining energy to stay rooted on the astral plane.

She had one chance to save Grant, and that was to lead Moira to him. Find some way to communicate. The effort would likely kill her.

And maybe, Julie conceded, she deserved it.

TWENTY-NINE

"Where could he be?"

Rafe watched Moira pace the main lobby of the Palomar Hotel while he sat on the couch, keeping an eye on the main doors. He didn't like this situation any more than Moira did.

"Sit down," Rafe said.

She stopped walking, but she didn't sit. "He set the original meeting for two; it's nearly three. We have less than three hours. Hardly enough time to put this together!"

"Calm. Down."

She sat. "I have a bad feeling."

"Is that your nerves or a true premonition?"

She stood. "I don't have premonitions!"

Rafe wondered but didn't comment. Moira wasn't receptive to considering that she might have psychic abilities. She even made excuses for her visions, blaming them on her past. And while it was possible that her upbringing had initiated her visions, it was equally possible they were God-given. Why Moira couldn't see that, Rafe didn't understand--but he was beginning to.

She tried calling Grant again, but hung up in frustration.

"We should go to Velocity," she said.

"He said he'd be an hour late."

Rafe watched outside as a familiar sedan drove into the roundabout, driven by a broad-shouldered black guy. Why was Detective Johnston here? A police car pulled up behind him, but the officer didn't get out.

"Go to the bathroom," he told Moira.

"What?" she asked, but she'd already started walking, glancing over her shoulder. "Shit," she mumbled and walked nonchalantly around the corner. Rafe discreetly observed where she went. She was hiding just out of sight, but within earshot.

Rafe kept his eyes on Johnston as the detective spoke briefly to the cop outside before entering the lobby.

"Mr. Cooper," he said as he approached, his eyes scanning the area.

"Detective. I thought Nelson was meeting us."

"He's on his way, had a stop to make down the street."

Down the street. Velocity?

"Why is he going to the club?"

"Police business," Johnston said, not realizing that Rafe was making a guess. "Where's your girlfriend?"

"Upstairs. I'll tell her you're here."

"I can go up with you," Johnston said.

"I'll text her."

"That's not necessary."

Rafe sent the message to Moira.
Grant is at Velocity. I'll meet you there. Be Careful!!! Something's up with the cops
.

"Already done," he said, pocketing his phone. "What's with the police officer?"

"Nothing." Johnston glanced around again, rocked almost imperceptibly on his heels. Rafe thought cops would make better liars.

Rafe! Help me!

Rafe glanced around. He could have sworn he'd heard a distant female voice. No one was paying him much attention. There were few people in this part of the lobby.

Rafe, please, it's me, Julie, help me
.

Julie? Where? He stepped back to get a better view of the hall, but didn't see the woman.

Johnston eyed him suspiciously. "Is something the matter, Mr. Cooper? You seem distracted."

"No, just tired." Rafe couldn't come up with a better excuse. The voice whispered again. It sounded like she was speaking directly in his ear.

They're going after Grant! Help me, Rafe, I'm dying. Moira is in trouble
.

Moira?

"Wait here," Rafe told the cop. "I'll check on Moira."

"I'll go with you."

Rafe whirled around, every muscle tight and ready to fight--or run. "What is it? What do you want with Moira?"

Johnston raised an eyebrow. "Do you know that her visa expired?"

Rafe grew more suspicious. "That's it?"

"No, that's just the beginning. How long have you known Ms. O'Donnell?"

Rafe's stomach sank. What did they have on Moira? What kind of record did she have? Some of St. Michael's men had to stay in hiding, take new identities, or remain at the sanctuary because they were tied to an alleged crime. With Moira's drive, Rafe wasn't surprised that something might have popped up in the criminal database.

"I've known her two weeks," Rafe said. But it was much longer, in his heart. He wasn't going to let this cop take her in for questioning.

Rafe, I'm fading. I need you
.

He didn't know what Julie's game was, but she knew something about Moira. He strained to listen, thinking of the YouTube video of Nadine Anson's death. The split-second image of Julie Schroeder near the bus. Moira had said her image was astral projection. But when your spirit left a living body, few people could see it except other spirits. How could he hear her but not see her?

"What do you want?" he said out loud.

Johnston stared at Rafe, his jacket parted to reveal his sidearm. "Are you talking to me?"

Rafe said, "I need to take a call." He put his phone to his ear and focused on Julie's voice.

"Okay, tell me what's going on." He stepped away from Johnston, acutely aware that the cop was scrutinizing him. He turned away and spoke softly to Julie. "Why's Moira in trouble?"

She's going to Velocity. I tried to get in her body to stop her, but I bounced off. I couldn't even get close enough to talk to her
.

"Where are you now?"

Right in front of you. I'm touching you
.

Rafe couldn't feel anything. He glanced at the hall mirror in front of him and saw only his worried expression--and Detective Johnston's sharp stare behind him.

Let me inside. Trust me, I won't stay. The demon has my body and it's almost too late. We have to get to Grant before Wendy finds him. Please, please, please!

"You know where he is?"

Wendy tricked Grant into thinking I was at Velocity, so I made his car crash. He's okay, but we have to hurry!

A trap at Velocity? Moira was walking right into it!

"Moira first." He kept his eyes on Johnston, who was inching closer to listen to Rafe's hushed conversation. The uniformed officer who was waiting outside had entered the lobby and was going up the stairs. Dammit, he needed to get rid of Grant Nelson's partner, get to Moira before Wendy did, and find Nelson before the demon.

No! Grant's in danger
.

So was Moira. And without her, their plan to save Julie's boyfriend wouldn't work.

"Mr. Cooper," Johnston said, "we need to talk now. Your girlfriend is in serious trouble, and I don't want to have to bring you in as well."

The detective didn't know the meaning of the word trouble. Rafe held up his finger to buy time and said to Julie, "What is Wendy's plan for Moira?"

"Cooper," Johnston warned.

Let me in and I'll share everything. Please. I don't want to die
.

Rafe hesitated. If Julie's physical body died, she wouldn't give up his body without a fight. Yet he didn't want her to die. Moira thought Julie had betrayed them and she didn't believe the witch, but maybe she'd been telling mostly the truth. He would know for certain if he allowed her spirit to share his body.

We have to hurry, but I can't do it alone. I tried. I can't. I'm fading, Rafe, I need you
.

Moira would be furious if he let Julie's spirit inside. So would Anthony and Rico and everyone else at St. Michael's. But what choice did he have? Julie had information about Wendy and the demon that they needed. More important, she knew where Grant was.

"All right. You can hitch a ride with me."

Rafe felt Julie's spirit touch him. Her fear wrapped around him--she was terrified. As he relaxed, she merged with his aura, then slipped inside his consciousness, but made no move to squash his thoughts or seize physical control.

She blended her thoughts with his, and for a minute he was disoriented and unsteady on his feet. She shared what had happened to her with him, dumping the memories in his mind as if he'd lived them. The demon Lust, taking her body. Killing Ike, the bartender. Wendy's plans to turn Moira over to Fiona.

Thank you
, she whispered from deep inside his mind.

Rafe wobbled on his feet. Johnston grabbed him before he fell. "Hey, do you need a doctor?"

"I'm okay."

"Why don't you sit here awhile? My officer is checking on Ms. O'Donnell. She seems to be taking a long time."

You have to get rid of him!
Julie demanded.

But Rafe might need a cop with him. He said to Johnston, "That was Moira--she said she's at Velocity."

Johnston couldn't hide his irritation and distrust. "What?"

"Your partner called her, said he was there and asked her to come down."

What are you doing!

Trust me
, he told her. Honestly? He didn't have a plan. He was winging it. But he wasn't going to leave Moira to face Wendy and Nicole Donovan without backup.

"I'll follow you," Johnston said. "Straight to Velocity."

"Yes, sir."

Rafe half walked, half ran to his truck. As he started the ignition, his phone vibrated.

It was a text from Moira.

Hurry. There's a spell working. If you have to bring the cop, bring him
.

"I'm already ahead of you, sweetheart."

Moira sensed magic as soon as she approached Velocity, but she couldn't discern what kind of spell was at work. She closed her eyes and focused on her sense of touch, lifting her arms slightly away from her body as if reaching out to a timid animal. The faint energy slithered up her hand, under her jacket, caressing her skin. It had taken her a long time to hone these skills, but she blocked out sight and sound, allowed the magic to touch her so she knew exactly what she faced. Her skin tightened, her heart rate quickened, and she could almost see the energy seductively reaching for her. Its tendrils wrapped around Velocity, rolling out of the club's foundation as an ocean wave stretches up the beach, its liquid reach long but losing potency with distance.

A powerful spell protected the club. She didn't know if there was a demon inside the building, but she had to assume Lust was here.

Cautiously, she walked around to the alleyway. She didn't see Grant Nelson's car, but she didn't know what he was driving today. Personal car or cop car. She pulled out her phone to text Rafe.

Hurry. There's a spell working. If you have to bring the cop, bring him
.

A dark breeze brushed over Moira's skin as she pressed
Send
. She closed her eyes and focused. Primal fear gripped her and refused to let her go as she suddenly felt a thousand eyes watching her. Whoever was inside knew of her arrival. The magic told them.

The heavy metal employee door leading into Velocity slammed open and Moira jumped to the side, pulling out her dagger, angry with herself for not sensing the spell earlier, before it revealed her. Nicole Donovan stepped from the doorway and said with thick sarcasm, "Moira O'Donnell. What a surprise."

"This round is over," Moira said. "We know how to trap Lust. Good guys two, bad witches zero. Now where's Grant Nelson?"

Nicole laughed. "You are so far behind us, Moira. You don't even know what demon you're battling."

"It's you who are out of step, Nicole. You brought Lust with you to L.A., and Lust is who you sacrificed Nadine Anson to. You of all people should know how powerful that bitch of a demon is! You summoned it."

"The Seven are spread far and wide," Nicole said with such confidence, Moira knew she believed the lie.

"Is that what Fiona told you? That you're protected from the Seven? That they won't hurt you? That there is no connection? That's bullshit. You are forever connected to the Seven Deadly Sins. You're a carrier of their demonic virus. Wherever you go, they will find you. Tell me where Fiona is and I'll stop this insanity."

For a split second, Nicole hesitated, considered what Moira said.

"Why don't you simply cast a spell and find her yourself?"

"Dammit, this isn't a game!"

"No one else believes you gave up magic, Moira. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. You're easy prey for someone like my sister. You cannot imagine what she has done, or what she will do."

Moira was not going to rise to the bait. "Give me Grant and I'll clean up your mess. If Lust takes his soul, it's freed from Wendy's spell. It will hurt more people, while you sit here and watch people you claim to care about die."

"There's your mistake, Moira. You presume that there are people
here
that I care about."

Nicole's plan suddenly became clear to Moira. She'd thought Nicole was a follower, one of the easily led. She was a lot more dangerous than Moira had assumed. "You want Wendy dead."

"I want what's mine. Give me the chalice and I won't turn Raphael over to Fiona."

"You can't touch him," Moira said, but fear rose in her chest. "You don't even know where he is."

"Fiona can get to Raphael whenever she wants. It's you that will solidify my position with her."

"We melted the chalice. It's gone."

Nicole shook her head. "You're a good liar, Moira, but I know you didn't because we're still in control of the succubus."

"You mean the demon Lust."

She shrugged. Too casually. She was too cocky, too confident. She had no weapon. What was going on? "The chalice, or you're going to die," Nicole demanded.

"No."

Every pore on her skin burned as if on fire as magic energy increased rapidly and she barely got her dagger up in time to block the surge. She could see the magic in the area, a shimmering of light and dark, magically charged air a fraction denser than the air surrounding it. No one else would be able to see it. Not Rafe. Not even most practicing witches. Why her, she didn't know, but this gift--or curse--enabled her to protect herself and others.

She pulled out her backup knife and like two swords, had the dagger and knife extended, reflecting magic only she could see; but even more than sight, she heard each jolt of energy clash against the sacred metal blades as it went off in every direction but at her. She didn't want to hurt Nicole, but the woman made her angry.

Nicole was using battle magic, not curses or lengthy rituals. Battle magic could be summoned quickly, but it had no lasting power. In order to have the time to work a more elaborate, dangerous spell, Nicole aimed to zap Moira and render her unable to defend herself.