Ghostly Justice (Seven Deadly Sins, #2.5)(25)

She realized what Rex had done the night before. While she had a face-off with the fake Tessa, Rex had hypnotized her. It was subtle, and because she’d been so focused on the powerful woman, she hadn’t thought the weaker Rex could have gotten through to her.

She’d underestimated him because she hadn’t thought he was a threat. Her ego had defeated her.

You have to get out of this mess.

“Search her,” the woman behind the wheel said. It wasn’t blondie, it was a dark-haired witch.

They took both her knives, her gun, her holy water—which Rex tossed out the window—and the blessed oil, which he pocketed. He tossed her phone out the window. It shattered on the pavement.

Plan B.

She had no Plan B. She’d have to wing it.

“April, did you tell Gwen that we have her?”

April laughed and glanced at Moira in the rearview mirror. “She is extremely pleased.”

Rex put his arm around Moira’s shoulders, leaned over so his face was practically next to hers and whispered, “I haven’t seen a bounty so high before. You’re worth a lot dead, but a fortune alive.”

Moira butted her head hard against his. She winced, satisfied only in that Rex yelped in pain.

He grabbed her face with his hand and squeezed so hard she heard her jaw pop. “Do not forget you are worth something dead.”

She jerked her head out of his grip and stared out the window.

Once, she’d been a powerful witch. Trained in magic by her mother, Moira thought everything they did was contained in their own world. As a child, she didn’t know that most of what Fiona did was evil. That she’d been conceived in a black magic ritual, a daughter bred specifically to liaison between her mother’s growing coven and the underworld. She was to be sacrificed on her twenty-first birthday to become Fiona’s counterpart in Hell, walking the astral plane to facilitate her mother’s ascension as the head of all united covens, to give her mother direction to the tree of life.

That she’d turned her back on it, renounced her birthright, and ran away only angered her mother. The first time she escaped, Moira had been punished her so severely that even now, she was terrified of being underground. The second time, she’d begged to die.

But the third time...Father Philip found her, saved her, trained her.

She closed her eyes. Ten years ago she would have been able to destroy the three people in this car with little effort. That ability had nearly cost her her soul. She still didn’t know if she’d earned it back. All the damage her mother had done, all that she’d had Moira do as a child...before Moira knew that her actions had terrible consequences.

She couldn’t use magic now to save her life. And maybe that was the only thing that would save her soul.

April took the freeway north, then east. Two, three freeways. They drove for nearly an hour because of traffic.

Rafe and Grant had to know she was missing by now. Surely there’d be video surveillance. Someone got the plates of the car. Maybe the police were already following at a discreet distance.

Moira didn’t like cops. She had some legal issues of her own. But she’d rather risk the criminal justice system and deportation to Ireland than face Baphomet’s puppet, Gwen Simmons.

Finally they turned onto a road called Big Tujunga Canyon that wound through a valley in the mountains, then up a long, private driveway. So secluded that she could scream and no one would hear.

They stopped outside a pathetic house falling apart from disrepair. Magic, dark and evil, surrounded this place and threatened Moira specifically. It was like the spell had been created specifically for her. It was Gwen, the blonde from Defiance. Moira would recognize her magical signature anywhere now.

Rex yanked her out of the car. The ground was muddy from the overnight rain and her boots sank a half-inch. He pulled her hard. She lost her balance and fell in the mud.

He laughed. “Not so cocky now, bitch.”

He lifted her up and she shook her body like a dog, getting the worst of the mud and water off her face. The fake Tess Standler—Gwen Simmons—stepped out onto the porch and smiled widely at Moira. “I knew who you were the minute you walked into Defiance. You made it so easy, I thought I was wrong. Fortune has shined on me.”

She said to Rex, “Put her in the cellar until we’re ready. I don’t trust her, nor do I believe she won’t use magic.”



#



“Let’s do it again.” Rafe started down Alonzo Drive for the third time.

“Stop.” Grant didn’t follow him, but Rafe didn’t stop walking.

“Cooper!”

Rafe halted. Slowly, he turned around. “She’s here.”

Grant pointed to a house across the street. “You swore to me that house was where Amy Carney died. But a seventy-two year old widow lives there and doesn’t recognize any of the photos we showed her. What do you think a judge will say if I go to him requesting a warrant on the grounds that a ghost told me where she died?” Grant put his hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “We’ve knocked on every door and talked to every person we met and no one fits the description of either Gwen or Rex or anyone you recognized from Defiance. We need to think of something else.”

Rafe wasn’t leaving. He trusted the information from Amy. This was where she died.

The sun had set two hours ago, and still they were no closer to finding Moira or Tori Schaffer.