Mortal Sin (20 page)

“You saw something.”

“No.” But had she? “We need to check out where he died.”

“What did you see?” he demanded.

“A flash of something. Magic didn’t kill John, but something unnatural did.”

“A demon? Why wasn’t he marked?”

“I don’t know.” She walked back to John’s drawer and looked at him one last time before she closed it.

She then looked at the drawer above him, two over. There were sixteen drawers in the wall, eight on the bottom and eight on top. One of the drawers looked different to her, but she couldn’t explain why.

She found a step stool and put it in front of the top drawer one up and two over from John. She opened it.

A young man lay there. His body was marbled and discolored, slightly bloated. She didn’t need anyone to tell her that this was Chris, the student who had jumped off the bridge and drowned, the student with the demon mark. She could see part of it on the top of his shoulder; the rest travelled down his back. It wasn’t large, probably the size of a softball, but it was absolutely the mark of the Seven.

But he’d killed himself. He hadn’t killed anyone else, or acted on his greatest sin. There was another teenager in Santa Louisa who’d died of a brain aneurism—at least, that’s what Dr. Fielding had put down as cause of death—when he fought the impulses the demon had given him. What if Chris had done the same thing? Instead of acting on the base sin, what if he had killed himself to get rid of the urge? Why hadn’t there been a rash a violence in Victoria? In Santa Louisa, the first demon had only been around for a couple of days before bodies started dropping. They saw the results almost immediately.

The demon Lust had taken longer. And they’d been in the dark for nearly three months trying locate the other demons. Why? Did Fiona have some modicum of control over them? Were they weakened because two of them were imprisoned?

Moira wished she knew more. But Chris had met up with
someone
who had been on the cliffs during the release of the Seven Deadly Sins.

And her money was on Tiffany Truxel or Serena, Moira’s own sister.

“I need see where he jumped,” she said, closing the drawer.

She turned and saw Kyle in the doorway. “How did you know that was Chris?”

“My spidey sense,” she said and climbed down off the step stool. She walked over to him and said, “Dagger.”

He hesitated, then handed her a tagged knife.

The knife burned her skin and she almost dropped it. “Shit!”

She carried it over to the steel table and put it down. Her palms hurt, but there wasn’t a mark on her flesh.

“What happened?” Rico demanded.

She didn’t respond. She pulled holy water from her jacket and doused the blade with it. Steam rose. “Did you see that?” she asked.

“See what?”

“The steam.” But as she spoke, she knew only she could feel the fire and see the steam. Because of her curse. Because she was supposed to be the liaison with the Underworld.

She was halfway there.

Flatly, she said, “John stabbed a demon with the blade. He didn’t kill it. But it killed John, somehow. I don’t know how, but it did.”

“
How. Do. You. Know
!”

Rico was angry and terrified. He also would kill her if he thought she was using magic.

She turned to him and pushed at his chest. He didn’t budge. “You knew all along what I could do. That’s why you ordered me here. You wanted to see it for yourself. I’m not going to defend myself over and over and over again! I know what I know. Whether it’s a curse or a gift, I will use it to stop the Seven and my mother, or die trying. And I’ll know more if I go to the place where John died. So either kill me now, or let me do the job you trained me for.”

When he didn’t stab her, she turned her back on him and walked out of the crypt, then out of the morgue.

She needed to breathe again.

They left the morgue and Kyle drove them to his uncle’s rectory. The church was small and secluded, and Moira wondered if it was even an active parish. St. Michael’s had small, secluded churches all over the country where their “special” priests lived and worked—waiting, assisting, praying.

“Rico,” Monsignor Callahan said and took his hand. “I’m sorry you had to come under these tragic circumstances.”

“Monsignor,” Rico said. “Thank you for opening your home.”

“It’s your home as well. And this is Moira? A true honor to meet you.” He shook her hand and offered her a genuine smile, taking her by surprise.

Brody Callahan was older than Moira thought he’d be. And Kyle was much younger than she thought.

“Homework,” Father Brody said. “You have finals coming up in two weeks.”

Moira asked, “Finals? College?”

Kyle shook his head. “High school. I’m seventeen.”

“Seventeen?” Another kid in the middle of this battle? But wasn’t that what she’d done when she brought in Jared Santos four months ago?

“Go,” Brody said. “I’ll call you for dinner. It’ll be a little late.”

“I’ll make it, Uncle J.”

“It’s already in the oven. I was just late.” He waited until Kyle left the room, then said, “He’s a good kid, but he needs to finish school. I keep telling him that. Five weeks until he graduates. Then he wants to train at Olivet.”

“When he graduates, I will assess him,” Rico said. “He’s a smart kid. He might be better suited working with someone like Anthony Zaccardi. We have several universities around the world with programs Anthony can get him into.”

“He wants to be in the middle of the action,” Brody said wistfully. “I understand, but I fear for him.”

“He will be assessed like everyone.”

Brody nodded and turned to Moira. “Father Philip loved you dearly. We all miss him.”

Tears, unbidden, burned behind her lids. Would she ever be able to think of Father Philip without feeling heartbroken? Angry? “Yes,” she said, surprised that her voice cracked. She was usually so good at keeping her emotions in check. She said, “And now John’s gone. We have to stop these demons, because
they
won’t stop until they annihilate all of us. Kyle said John was having you both researching the Truxel genealogy. There’s a Truxel in Santa Louisa, maybe two. And I wouldn’t be surprised if they smack in the middle of this battle.”

Brody turned to Rico. “I am so sorry about John. I don’t know what happened—when he didn’t return two nights ago, I feared the worst.”

“You did everything right. We got here as fast as possible. Moira was in California.”

“Kyle said you knew that he was dead,” Brody said, perplexed.

“No,” Rico replied as Moira said, “Yes.”

Rico shot her a look. What? She was supposed to lie about Lily? She ground her teeth together.

“I had hoped we’d find him working undercover,” Rico said. “He’s good at that. We need to retrace his steps. I need to know where Serena is and why John was obsessed with the Point Ellice bridge.”

“I can’t help you with the first—she’s gone into hiding, though she is still in Victoria.”

“How do you know that?” Moira said. “If she’s gone into hiding, how do you know she’s still here?”

“Moira!” Rico snapped.

“It’s all right,” Brody said. “It’s a legitimate question.”

Moira resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at her trainer.

“It goes back to John’s obsession with the bridge, so let me start there,” he said. He motioned for them to sit at the small dining table. He then said, “Did Kyle tell you about the history of the Point Ellice Bridge?”

“Yes,” Rico said.

“And you and he sent a spirit from the bridge to wherever it was supposed to go,” Moira said. She was still skeptical about that, but didn’t say anything. She knew it was possible, and even a special cause among many in the Order, but she didn’t like it, particularly after what she and Rafe had been through in Los Angeles dealing with that ghost at the morgue.

Or, more accurately, Rafe talking to that ghost. It still made her nervous. The line between their world and the astral plane where spirits spent their time was delicate. Too easy to breech. Too easy to be sucked into their world. Too easy for them to walk into the real world and cause problems. That it had ended on an up-note didn’t mean it always would.

“We were asked by the family,” Brody explained. “And I am well aware of the dangers. Kyle is particularly sensitive to spirits, and I have to keep watch over him.”

“How sensitive?” Moira said.

“Now is not the time,” Rico said.

“It’s all right,” Brody said. To Moira, he said, “My youngest brother was Kyle’s father. He and his wife were killed when Kyle was three. For years, Kyle didn’t know they were dead because he could still see his parents. They were trapped—not because they wanted to be. It was a witch. Because of my work with St. Michael’s, a local coven targeted my family.”

Moira’s stomach dropped to her knees.
A witch.
Of course it was a witch.

“Since then, Kyle has seen ghosts. I’ve trained him properly. He knows not to engage, but he has a rare gift, an ability to help souls cross over. Here, in Victoria, it’s particularly useful because we have so many spirits trapped. It’s why witches like our island. The layer between here and there is thin.”

“It’s dangerous for him,” Moira said.

“He knows.”

“He’s a kid.”

“He’s young, but he’s not a child,” Brody said sadly. “John said Kyle’s been very helpful. He learned that Serena was staying under the renovated theater, The Playhouse, for several weeks.”

“That doesn’t sound like her,” Moira said. “She doesn’t like to hide.”

“She wasn’t, not the way you’re thinking. The theater is a hot spot, and John learned she was working a spell, trying to create a portal here. Because of the thin layer between worlds, it should have been easy, but apparently she had some problems. She moved the ritual to the building where John’s body was found, which is physically closer to the bridge. The tragedy of that day the Point Ellipse bridge collapsed still harbors deep sorrow. John stopped her, and she went into hiding. But he thought something else was going on in that building. Something she wanted. So he was spending too much time there alone.”

“You know how we work,” Rico said quietly. “We’re stretched thin.”

“I’m not judging, Rico.”

He wasn’t, but Rico was taking John’s death personally. Moira knew how that felt. She blamed herself for Father Philip. He should never have left the monastery. He would be alive if he’d stayed.

But Lily would have died.

Moira shook her head. The past was past. She had to put it aside.

“John didn’t share his theory with me. He shared more with Kyle because Kyle understands spirits. There was one unidentified body from the tragedy on the bridge, but no witnesses claimed to have seen her on the streetcar. No one knew who she was, and there has been a pervasive belief that she didn’t die on the bridge, but that her spirit had been called forth during a ritual. That she may have died the year before, a sacrifice. That her spirit caused the collapse.”

Moira leaned forward. “And?”

“The bridge was in disrepair. An inquest proved that the streetcar was grossly overweight. Too many people in too small a space, poor maintenance, tragedy.”

“
But
.” She heard it in what he didn’t say.

“An unidentified woman allegedly killed herself on the bridge exactly one year before the collapse. And John believed she didn’t kill herself, but was voluntarily sacrificed. Her name was Katherine Truxel.”

Moira tensed. She would have been sacrificed had Father Philip not saved her. Lily would have been as well. Lily’s cousin was a willing sacrifice, and so was Jeremiah Hatch, who was responsible—along with Serena—for poisoning and killing the priests at the mission.

“And Serena wants to tap into Katherine’s alleged power,” Moira said.

Brody nodded. “That was John’s theory.”

“And Serena killed him,” Moira said.

“We don’t know that,” Brody said. “She went under before he died.”

“She did. Whether directly or indirectly, whatever she was doing caused his death.”

John hadn’t died from magic, but there was something otherworldly surrounding him. He had battled a demon, had stabbed him, but demons were violent. A demon would have snapped his neck or broken every bone in his body. A demon wouldn’t have caused a relatively simple heart attack. Moira didn’t know if Rico had believed her, but it was clear to her that Serena had been successful—or partially successful—in whatever it was she was doing in that building. If it was a ghost, that would explain the lack of magic—and possibly the heart attack.

Moira pushed back from the table. “We need to go to that building. Now.”

“No,” Rico said.

She was stunned. “That’s the only way we can know what the fuck is going on!” She winced. She tried to control her mouth when around priests, but when she was upset her language turned colorful.

“Not tonight. We need more information. Then we’ll retrace John’s steps. Go to the theater. Go to the bridge. But we do not jump into the middle without information.”

“We have what we need to know.”

“You will follow my orders.”

“Yes, sir,” she snapped and walked out of the house, slamming the door shut behind her.

#

Rico watched her leave, both understanding Moira’s hostility, but angry she didn’t control it. He turned to the Monsignor. He’d known Brody Callahan half of his life. “I am sorry for that.”

Brody shook his head. “Do not apologize. She’s troubled. Anguished. But she will obey because she trusts you.”

“I don’t know that she does, not anymore.”

“Philip had great faith in her.”

“She’s changed since his death.” Moira had disobeyed him. She had lied to him. She hadn’t told him about Raphael’s issues. And she was sleeping with him.

Maybe that was what bothered him most of all. That she’d chosen to be intimate with Raphael, the one person she should never trust.

“I need to see John’s room.”

“Of course. You know where it is; you can stay there. I’ve prepared the downstairs guest room for Moira.” He looked at his watch. “I made lasagna. It’ll be done in twenty minutes.”