Mortal Sin (35 page)

She’d survived on her own many times. She’d been held captive and escaped. Most recently when some wannabe bloodsuckers locked her in a basement. She’d gone a little batty—she didn’t like being locked up in the dark—but she’d managed. And she escaped and stopped the blood demon-worshipping bastards. Being locked up in an airy room with antique furniture was hardly a problem.

Before she attempted to pick the lock, she paused and listened. She might be alone in this room, but there were people in the house. Not too far off—maybe outside the door. Faint voices. A clink of dishware. Great, they’d chained her up and sat down to enjoy their dinner. Just peachy.

Moira didn’t have time on her side. She shook her head to clear it. It felt like her brain was still catching up with her head when she stopped. Her left arm ached as she reached over to work on the lock. A bandage was wrapped around her elbow, but her arm didn’t feel broken. Just sore and bruised. Had she been injured in the fight with the spirits and hadn’t noticed? Where she’d cut her left palm was also bandaged, with a regular square Band-Aid.

It took her a good five minutes to pick the lock, and she was exhausted when she was done. Five minutes! Even though it was a shackle, it had never taken her longer than sixty seconds to escape any lock.

She paused a minute to catch her breath and get her bearings. There were no spells, nothing magic in this room. Nothing supernatural that might physically drain her. Her stomach was empty, maybe she’d been knocked out longer than she thought. A day? Twenty-four hours? Possible.

She swung her legs over the end of the reclining chair and immediately became dizzy.

Damn, damn, damn!

This was why she didn’t do drugs. They messed with your head. They messed with your instincts. She needed water and food, but first she needed to get out of here.

She slowly rose to her feet, stumbled, and grabbed the chair. She stood there, hunched over, while her stomach threatened to puke, even though it was empty. It took her several minutes before she thought she could try walking again.

#

Phineas sat in the parlour and sipped a glass of Scotch. It had been a long, full day and night. He’d lost two good men. They weren’t dead, but they were both catatonic, and he’d had to leave them in Victoria. They didn’t have the people or resources to get them out. Maybe, they’d be able to return to the fold, but Phineas had to be wary. Something like this happens—like what happened in that old hotel basement—and it could warp your mind. He’d seen it before; he’d see it in the future.

He walked over to the window and looked out into the night. He hadn’t wanted to hurt Rico, but Phineas always did what had to be done. No regrets. Regrets could make the heartiest of hunters weak. He was hardly weak. Phineas has been the leader of Gabriel’s Sword for the last five years. Before that, he’d served under Paul Gallo, a great man who’d died for the cause they held dear. Both Phineas and Paul had been strong, had grown the Sword until they were bigger—better—than St. Michael’s. Surely they were more successful.

Nonetheless, Phineas didn’t like fighting with St. Michael’s. He kept his distance from them because, ultimately, they were his brothers. As long as they stayed out of his way, he would stay out of theirs. It wasn’t that they were on complete opposite sides; it was that they had a difference in opinion in how the battle should be fought and how it would be won. St. Michael’s was filled with reactionaries, which caused more problems for all of them. Gabriel’s Sword were visionaries. They were proactive in their fight to stop evil from destroying the world.

The ritual that had released the Seven Deadly Sins should never have happened in the first place. They should have taken out that coven long ago. They’d had the opportunity, but St. Michael’s wouldn’t think of it. Too many so-called innocents
may
have died to set the trap. Truth be told, far more innocents had died because St. Michael’s refused to make those hard decisions.

A thump from upstairs made Phineas smile. He expected no less from Moira O’Donnell.

He walked over to his computer and pressed a button to turn off the screen-saver. The security cameras were well-hidden; Moira wouldn’t have seen them.

She was already out of the shackles, unsteady but determined. Good. He liked that. She’d proven herself more than capable in the basement of the old hotel. And what she did in that chamber of horrors… Phineas was still wrapping his mind around it. He had never seen anything quite like it.

Which proved his entire point. That these were extremely dangerous times and getting darker. They needed a new way to approach the problem, and if people were hurt in the process, they were hurt in the process. Collateral damage in a war of biblical proportions? What other choice did they have? Roll over and die? Roll over and let evil reign?

Phineas would
never
roll over. He would die before he gave into the darkness.

Moira walked carefully around the room, looking for what, Phineast wasn’t certain. She was moving slow, trying to regain her strength. It would take more than a few minutes for her to recover. It might take a few hours, especially since they’d had to drug her and she wasn’t able to eat anything to keep her strength up. But she was resilient, he granted her that.

She inspected one of the vents, he noted. Maybe she would find the hidden cameras. She seemed satisfied with what she found—was she actually looking for protections? She was… interesting. Smart. She wanted to make sure the room was warded against demons and spirits.

If he had time for a relationship, it would be with someone like Moira O’Donnell. She intrigued him, and that was rare.

She went to the door and discovered it locked. He smiled.

“Sorry, Moira,” he said out loud.

He would give her a couple more minutes, then go up with fresh orange juice and fruit.

As he watched, she got down on her knees in front of the door. She had something in her hand, he couldn’t see what, and she picked the lock.

He was doubly impressed. She must have had a lock pick or bobby pin in her pocket they’d missed. That’s how she’d gotten out of the shackles as well. Very, very smart woman.

Moira looked out into the hall. Phineas changed cameras so he could follow her progress. She proceeded down the hall straight for the staircase. Waited, listened. Then she went down the stairs, holding the railing. She was definitely struggling a bit. Probably dizzy and light-headed.

He waited until she was almost to the front of the old mansion before he opened the parlour doors

“I can see why my brother loves you. You are resourceful, Ms. O’Donnell.”

She stared at him. She obviously had no idea who he was talking about.

He smiled. “You know me as Phineas. My full name is Phineas Joseph Cooper. I’m Raphael’s brother. His
real
brother.”

She had stepped back. She didn’t challenge him or question him. She was looking for escape, her eyes skirting right and left. He had to admire that. He truly hoped she would come around to his cause. He didn’t want to keep her locked up; he didn’t want her to be a prisoner. She’d been trained by Rico. She was good; he would make her great. She could some day soon be good enough to fight by his side.

“We have a lot to talk about,” he said and held out his hand as if it were an olive branch.

She stared at his hand, then looked him in the eye. She reached out faster than he expected, grabbed his wrist and spun around until his arm was behind him and his shoulder was in excruciating pain. He fell to his knees.

“I don’t care who the fuck you are,” she whispered in his ear. She kicked him in the back and he sprawled on the wood floor. She opened the front door, and as Phineas slowly pulled himself up, he watched her determined expression turn to surprise when she faced his three most trusted followers on the other side.

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way,” Phineas said. “If you give me a chance, I think you’ll agree that the only way to win this battle is with Gabriel’s Sword.”

#

Rafe sat in the corner of Rico’s hospital room and waited for Rico to wake up. He’d already been briefed by Kyle and Monsignor Brody Callahan. But what they told him didn’t help. In fact, the situation was worse than Rafe could have imagined.

He supposed it would have been worse if Fiona had gotten her hands on Moira, but Phineas was almost as bad.

Because Phineas had been one of them.

Phineas had been Rafe’s closest friend and comrade. Phineas was his brother, in spirit and in blood. Rafe had loved him and had almost joined Gabriel’s Sword because of the bond they shared. He’d been close, very close.

Two sides of the same coin, Phineas and Rico. Phineas had loved Rafe, had encouraged and supported him and trained him. Rico had hated Rafe because Rafe was so much like Phineas, and Rico had loved and encouraged and supported Phineas until he betrayed them and joined the Sword. Intuitively, Rafe understood that, but he’d suffered at the hands of Rico for Phineas’s betrayal. When Phineas left St. Michael’s, they’d lost a dozen of their best men. It had been a debilitating blow to the Order, and one of the reasons Rafe had left Sicily ten years ago for America. People looked at him as a traitor as well, even though he’d said no.

You should have known what Phineas was planning, Raphael.

You must have known. You were best friends. Inseparable.

How can we trust you, Raphael?

The doubts of the others had driven him away, and maybe Rafe had over-compensated since by working more, working harder, trying to be everything that Rico and Anthony and everyone else thought he could never be.

But ultimately, Rafe stayed with St. Michael’s because it was the right thing to do. He didn’t approve of Phineas’s methods. He just never thought Phineas would have taken Moira.

Maybe he should have realized it earlier.

Rico had been out of surgery for twelve hours, but he’d lost a lot of blood and the doctors had him sedated.

Rafe had no trust of doctors.

And he didn’t have any more time to wait.

Rafe walked over to the IV drip where the medicine flowed into Rico’s veins. He cut it off.

“Wake up, Rico.”

He didn’t know how long it would take, but he’d been watching his former trainer closely, and the man had been overcome with dreams—or nightmares—for the last hour. He wanted to wake up. And he had information that Rafe needed.

Rafe had done everything he could for now. He’d enlisted the help of Kyle, who was both a computer wizard and expert on spirits. Through hacking the surveillance feeds at all ports, they’d learned that Phineas had taken Moira back to the States by private boat, and had tracked them to an island between Victoria and Seattle. They didn’t know exactly which island, but they had a general area. Now that they had a picture of the boat itself, Kyle was working on locating it.

Rafe had no idea where they could be. He knew some of Gabriel’s Sword hideouts, but not all—and Phineas was too smart to take Moira to a known location. It must be a new place, one that Phineas had found and used after Rafe cut all ties with his brother.

It was clear that Phineas wanted Moira because he’d heard about the power of her blood. Someone had talked—or Phineas still had a mole inside at St. Michael’s. It wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe it wasn’t a traitor, just someone who hated Moira. Meaning, it was personal. Because of what happened to Peter or because Father Philip was no longer there to protect her…  Rafe didn’t know. And there were people at St. Michael’s who didn’t like the idea of a former witch, a
woman
, having a pivotal role in the coming battle. Many, like Anthony, still didn’t trust her.

Phineas would force her to fight. Or worse—hold her captive and drain her. Keep her weak by taking her blood. Phineas would do anything to win the war. Anything. It’s why Rafe could never join him because some transgressions couldn’t be undone. Some crimes couldn’t be forgiven. Some acts destroyed the soul.

If Phineas had gotten to Moira before Father Philip had found her or even after Peter died, she might have been turned. She had so much fear and anger and guilt built up, Gabriel’s Sword was right up her alley. Phineas recruited people just like her. He would have twisted her loyalty to Father Philip, convinced her that wrong was right and up was down until she was in so deep she couldn’t get out if she wanted.

Rafe had almost been there. He’d almost followed his brother out of trust and blind loyalty.

It’s why Rico had always distrusted him. Rico had pushed Rafe hard, harder than any of the others… because of Phineas. Rico must have thought Rafe would turn, too, and follow his brother down a darker path. He was punishing him for crimes he had never committed. Would never commit.

Rico’s eyes popped open. He looked scared for a minute, then he pushed himself up.

“Whoa,” Rafe said.

Rico grabbed Rafe’s wrist. “Why are you here?”

Rafe pulled his wrist from Rico. It wasn’t difficult; Rico was weak and confused. “You just had surgery. Bullet in the leg. Take it easy.”

Rico closed his eyes. “Water.”

Rafe handed him a cup of water that was next to the bed. Rico drank it. He slowly leaned back onto the pillow. “I can’t stay here,” he said. “Get me out.”

“I will. I want answers first.”

“Did you know what was going to happen?”

“That Phineas was here? No. I would never have let Moira come if I knew.”

Rico glared at him, skeptical. Accusing. Even after surgery, even in pain, Rico looked foreboding. That he even
thought
that Rafe would have set Moira up for Gabriel’s Sword was unfathomable.

“I heard everything from Kyle,” Rafe said. “I called. He answered your phone. You should have told me Phineas took Moira the minute it happened. You should have had Kyle call me if you couldn’t call. Do you really want her to die?”

“Phineas doesn’t want to kill her.”

“But he wants her blood. How did he know about it?”