Mortal Sin (37 page)

“Basically, do what I want or I’ll take my toys and go away?”

“They never listened!” Phineas exclaimed. He rose from his seat and turned from her.

Phineas was a man of passion and anger. He believed he was right, his eyes lighting up talking about Gabriel’s Sword. He believed in what they did. And there was no doubt he was right about St. Michael’s—they believed in the old ways, and sometimes the old ways didn’t work against an evil that knew no bounds.

But Gabriel’s Sword was a rogue group that used violence as the answer for all situations. They killed people to stop them. St. Michael’s killed as a last resort. Instead, the Order focused on destroying the ability to summon evil. Protecting ancient artifacts, exorcising demons, breaking up covens. Yes… killing if necessary. St. Michael’s acted like a scalpel, cutting out only the affected part. Gabriel’s Sword was an anvil, crushing everyone in its path.

There were many, many practicing witches who didn’t realize the damage they were doing. Many whose motives were pure. They could be handled by simply watching and making sure they didn’t go dark. It was the dark magic covens, those who knew exactly what they were doing, those who killed and sacrificed others, that they needed to work together to stop.

But Gabriel’s Sword didn’t understand the meaning of the word finesse.

She watched Phineas as he paced, calming himself down. She said, “St. Michael’s isn’t perfect. But some of your actions—they’re questionable.”

“I understand how it appears to outsiders. But I’ve been following your
career
for a long, long time. Your methods are also
questionable
at times.”

She looked down. She didn’t want to let him know that he was getting under her skin. She’d done many things she wasn’t proud of. Many things she wished she could change. But she was trying hard not to live in the past, not to live with regrets even though she’d done many, many things she regretted.

“Look—what do you really need? My help with a job? Fine. I’ll help you, of my own free will, if you let me walk when we’re done.”

Phineas sat back down and assessed her. He leaned back and smiled. “You would, too. Even after I shot Rico.”

“Yes. I mean what I say. I wouldn’t like doing it because I detest blackmail. I’d definitely watch my ass in the future so you couldn’t put another bullet in people to blackmail me into cooperating, but I would do it this one time. Because if you need my help so badly that you would go to such extremes, you must be facing a bad ass coven or demon. Maybe one of the Seven.”

He leaned forward and smiled. “I really appreciate the offer, but I’m going to have to turn you down. This isn’t a one-time job. I need you on my team. Permanently.”

She shook her head. “No can do. I have my own battles to wage. As you well know.”

A tall, skinny young man walked in. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen. He leaned over and whispered something to Phineas, then walked out.

Phineas stared at her, his eyes alight with joy and wonder. “The test was more than a little successful.”

She had to ask. “What test?”

“Your blood really is poison to demons. I didn’t really believe it until now.”

“You took
my blood?”

“What do you think that bandage is for?”

She stared at the white bandage around her elbow. She pulled it off and saw the small bruise and red mark where they’d drawn her blood.

They’d taken her blood. Just milked her like a fucking
cow.
How much? Was that why she’d been so dizzy? Was that why she had no energy to fight?

“You fucking bastard.”

He winced. “You should watch your language.”

“Fuck you.”

She’d made him mad. She smiled. “Really, how can you be a hunter if a few bad words turn you into a prick?”

Phineas wasn’t amused.

“I’m giving you the opportunity to join something special. St. Michael’s Order has never accepted you.”

“I never wanted to be accepted.”

“You’re either lying to me, or you’re lying to yourself.” He stared at her as if he could read her mind. Then he nodded, as if answering his own question. “You’re lying to yourself. Rico would let you die if that served the Order. Most of them hate you. The Saint himself, Anthony Zaccardi, would have killed you after the debacle with Peter if Father Philip had allowed it. It helps you to think you don’t care, but you do. Very much.”

She would
not
let him inside. He had that unnerving way of looking at her that Rafe had. Like he could read her mind. But Phineas was not Rafe. She wasn’t even certain he was telling the truth about him and Rafe being actual
brothers.
She’d never heard of any such thing at St. Michael’s. Every man raised there had been abandoned as a boy. Rafe had been the oldest abandoned child, at four. Did that mean Phineas was his younger brother? An older brother who was there before Rafe? What mother would do that? Give two of her sons to St. Michael’s? Wasn’t one enough?

She wasn’t going to ask questions. She needed to regain her strength and find a way to get out of here.

Still… she saw the resemblance. More than a resemblance. The dark hair. The sharp green eyes. The bone structure. They were the same height and build. They were close to the same age—if they were brothers, she didn’t know who was older, Rafe or Phineas.

But she would
not
ask. No questions.

Don’t let Phineas see your curiosity.

Phineas leaned forward. “Rafe was supposed to join me. He would have made a great leader. People trust him. You could convince him I’m right. I suspect he would do anything for you.” He paused. “I want to be reunited with my brother. While your blood was of immediate use, it’s not the only reason I want you with me. You will bring Rafe.”

“I will never do anything for you. You shot Rico, drugged me, took my blood. Rafe will
never
trust you. You’re keeping me against my will! There is nothing you can do to me that hasn’t already been done. I will never stop planning my escape.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope, in time, when you see the good we’re doing, that you’ll change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

A woman walked into the room. Tall. Beautiful. Blond.

Moira stared at her. She was a witch.

She knew it with the certainty that she knew her name was Andra Moira O’Donnell. She knew it with the certainty that her hair was black and her eyes were blue. This blonde was a witch; Moira felt it in her bones.

The woman had no spells working. There was no outward sign that Moira was right. But Moira
knew
she was right.

The blonde leaned over and whispered something in Phineas’s ear. Phineas thanked her, and the blonde left the room.

“It seems my brother has taken Rico from the hospital. He acted quickly.” He seemed surprised that Rafe was already in Victoria. How close were they to Canada? Were they still in town? She had no idea where they were, other than they weren’t in a city. It was extremely quiet. Moist. The smell of salt water and pine trees. Near the coast, but not right on the water.

Moira stared at him with a deep hatred. “So when is my mother coming to get me?”

He looked genuinely surprised by the question. “I have no intention of turning you over to Fiona O’Donnell. She’ll kill you. You’re far more valuable to me alive.” He frowned. “Do you really think I’m that heartless?”

Moira didn’t know what to think, but instead of blurting out what she wanted to say, she cautiously asked, “Do you use witchcraft? You or anyone you work with?”

His eyes widened—he hadn’t expected the question. If he knew anything about her, he would know that she could detect witchcraft. “Of course not.”

He was telling the truth. She knew it with the same certainty that she knew the blonde was a witch.

“I don’t know what Rico has told you about me, but Gabriel’s Sword is pure. We believe in the cause, unlike St. Michael’s who believes in the status quo. Two centuries ago, St. Michael’s fought side by side with an elite group of demon hunters, the predecessor to Gabriel’s Sword, but they panicked. They closed off from the world, let the world suffer because they feared the battle. They would rather sit piously on their rock than
do
anything to stop the evil. They plan and read and pray, but they do not act when action is needed. Rico… once he was like me. Now, he’s a tool, just like the others. Passive. Fearful. We do not fear the battle. We are not afraid to die in the name of all that is right and just and godly.”

He was a true believer. And he was blind to the truth. Did he truly believe Rico did nothing? Didn’t he understand the delicate balance they had to maintain to avoid detection by Fiona and others like her? To stay out of prison and under the radar of the authorities?

Moira was in far more danger than Phineas would ever accept or believe.

“Do you know me?” she asked quietly. “I mean, do you know what I do?”

“You are a repentant witch who Rico trained to track and kill demons. Your blood is powerful. Some might say magical, but I would say that your choices combined with the curse your mother placed on you has allowed God to use you in our fight.”

Interesting, and maybe if she were in a more philosophical mood they could debate the finer points of escaping her curse. “Yes. But there’s more. I feel magic. That’s how I knew your partner Robert had sprung that trap. I sense spells. I see the energy, the light and the dark. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but I haven’t used magic, not even a tiny spell, since Peter Zaccardi died seven years ago. But I can tell you that there is something…
off
here, in your house.” She didn’t want to tip her hand. She didn’t know who the blonde was, or how close Phineas was to the woman. Or if the woman had Phineas under a spell. Moira didn’t feel a working spell, but she was still weak from the drugs and the blood loss. She didn’t trust her senses, not completely.

“You have no reason to trust me, Moira,” Phineas said, “but no harm will come to you as long as you’re under my watch.”

“I’m the only one I trust to protect my ass,” she said.

He gave her a curt nod. “Then I guess everything I have heard about you and my brother was a lie.”

She would
not
let him drag her into a conversation about Rafe. It was hard. Very hard.

Through clenched teeth she said, “Do not underestimate me.”

“I will never underestimate you, Moira.”

Once Rico was on board with him, Rafe easily extracted him from the hospital. Rafe wasn’t particularly concerned about repercussions—there might be law enforcement involved, but Rico had given false identification, and the chances they’d track him to Monsignor Callahan or to the states was slim. Having Kyle to assist was an added benefit. By the time they arrived at the rectory, it was late in the evening.

“You should not have taken him from the hospital,” Brody said as Rafe eased Rico onto the couch.

“I had no choice.” Rafe put Rico’s leg up. The man was in pain, but he had refused pain killers. Rafe didn’t blame him—pain killers made Rafe tired and slow.

“I will be fine,” Rico said. “I’m more ill from the medication than from the gun shot wound. It’s not the first time I’ve been shot.”

Kyle went to the kitchen and returned with water and crackers.

“A constable will be sent to investigate,” Brody said.

“Uncle? Um, Rico used a false ID.”

Brody crossed himself. “And you, Mr. Cooper?”

“You don’t want to know. We have to track Phineas and his people. Are they here, in town?”

Kyle shook his head. “Before Rico went into surgery, I did everything he said to find them. There’s no sign of them.”

“My sources,” Brody said, “told me they took a boat to Anacortes.”

“Washington?” Rafe said.

“It’s not difficult. The borders here are loose. There aren’t serious concerns about terrorism or immigration issues. A private boat would be given only a cursory glance.”

“Phineas has always been resourceful,” Rico said.

“I’ll go,” Rafe said.

“You’re not going alone.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“You don’t know Phineas like I do.”

“He’s my brother.”

“That’s the problem. And Moira is your lover. You will not be thinking clearly.”

Rafe bit back an angry reply. “I’m thinking very clearly.”

“We will leave first thing in the morning, Raphael. Do not challenge me on this.”

“You can hardly walk. You need to rest and get well, not hunt down Phineas.”

“The bullet went all the way through. The surgery was minor to sew up the holes. Like I said, it was the medication that made me ill. I will be better tomorrow. You need back-up.”

“You can’t back-up anyone!”

“You need to trust me. We won’t be going into this fight alone.”

Rafe didn’t know what to think. But the one thing that Rico had that Rafe didn’t was resources. Rico knew people. He had money. Connections. Safe houses.

“All right,” Rafe relented. “But you have to promise to stand back and let me handle the confrontation. I will convince Phineas that he’s gone too far.”

Rico didn’t comment on that, instead he said, “We’ll leave at six in the morning.”

“Kyle will take you,” Brody said.

“I can’t risk him again,” Rico said.

“It’s my choice,” Kyle said. “I totally handled myself at the hotel, and again with the doctors.”

“You have a truly blessed gift,” Rico said. “But you are untrained. And we won’t be encountering spirits. This is purely a human situation.”

Brody said, “Kyle, you are valuable to St. Michael’s. But Rico is right—you need to know where your talents lie. Let Rico and Raphael retrieve Moira. You stay here, continue on your path.”

Rico said, “Kyle, we would not have gotten out of the chamber unscathed without your help. You held your own—you did exactly what you were required to do. And now, I need you to stay here. Your secret may get out.”

“Secret? I don’t understand.”

“If the wrong people learn what you can do with spirits, your gift can be turned to serve dark magic. Stay put. Stay under the radar at least until this settles down.”