Ghostly Justice (Seven Deadly Sins, #2.5)(28)

Until Rafe.

Remembering she had something to live for, not just something to fight against, she focused on the narrow light and exercised. Push-ups. Sit-ups. Stretches. Lunges. Repeat.

She was desperately thirsty, but they hadn’t left her any water. The thirst made her stop exercising, though every five minutes—she counted them to keep her sanity in check—she stretched for a full minute. Then counted again.

She’d rather face a demon than the dark underground. It was a passive attack, and she couldn’t even fight back. She’d picked the locks of her handcuffs early on—they’d taken most of her tools, but had missed a few things including a safety pin in her pocket. That small victory was short lived as she listened to the people walk upstairs. New spells were cast as Gwen’s dark vampire coven prepared the house and the grounds for another sacrifice. Each spell Moira repelled away from her body, but the malevolence surrounding her wore her down as the sun disappeared. When there was no light, she pretended. She prayed. She swore.

She grew weaker as the dark forces around her increased. Without the thin ray of hope, despair spread.

Rafe would never find her. She’d walked right into the trap. Why had she answered the phone? Had they brainwashed her to do so? If she was so weak and stupid as to be brainwashed by an idiot cad like Rex Van Allen, then why was she even here? What could she offer to anyone? Sure, she could battle demons, but when she was defeated by a weak magician using common brainwashing techniques, what did her other skills matter?

She rocked in the corner and tried to pray, because there was nothing else she could do. But she’d never been on good terms with the Big Guy. He could stop this all if He wanted to. Oh, she’d heard all the reasons why he wouldn’t, but when people were dying, when innocent people were suffering...

A scream pierced her mind. At first, she thought she’d screamed, but it wasn’t her, it was coming from the house above.

The scream startled her out of her dark gloom and for a moment, her head was clear. It was as if she’d mentally flexed when she heard the girl suffer and sent all the negative energy that circled around her away.

She stood up and her muscles ached. How long had she been sitting in the corner feeling sorry for herself? Her body told her hours. She had no idea what time it was, but it was dark outside. Not quite complete dark. A very dim light showed her where the cellar door was, at an angle in the ground. She walked over and tripped over the bottom step. The light was from the full moon that was nearly directly above them.

The chanting began.

Tori Schaffer was going to die if Moira didn’t do something now.

At the top of her lungs, she began to recite the Lord’s Prayer. If anything, it would disrupt them enough that they would come down here to silence her.

She reached into her pocket for the solid metal handcuffs. The end that clasped closed was pointed enough to use as an effective weapon. If that failed, she could swing it with enough force to do some harm.

She continued, “Hallowed be thy name!”

The chanting stopped. Footsteps running. She kept it up, pleased that she’d screwed up their plans in some small way.

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done!”

It sounded like two people ran across the porch.

“Forgive us our trespasses! As we forgive those who trespass against us!”

Moira would forgive them as soon as she stopped them, she reasoned. All she wanted was to stop the Baphomet ritual and seal that portal from Hell. The fools playing with demons were to be pitied, stopped, and if possible tossed in jail. Let people like Grant deal with them, she had bigger fish to fry.

Someone was unlocking the cellar door. There was a flashlight, and Moira didn’t want to get be temporarily blinded, so she kept her back against the wall parallel the door, kept her mouth shut, the handcuffs ready.

The door swung open and a flashlight shined into the cellar.

“You’re a dead woman!” Rex shouted.

He had a gun in his hand. He first shined his light to the right, and Moira took the opportunity to use her arm to hit him on the backside of his knee. The force pushed him down the stairs. His gun and flashlight fell from his grasp.

Another man was coming down, but Moira went first for the gun. Rex reached it at the same time, and Moira took the handcuff hook and slammed the pointed end on his hand. He cried out in pain and she grabbed the gun.

It was her gun! She aimed at the man coming down the stairs and shot him in the calf. He fell forward.

Rex had no death wish—he lay prone on the ground. Moira didn’t trust him, however. She backed up the stairs and pulled the cellar door shut. They’d left the lock conveniently in the hook, so she locked them in and breathed in the fresh air while she looked around and gathered her bearings.

The chanting had resumed. Did they think she was dead?

She saw movement in her peripheral vision. She turned and aimed her gun at her would be attacker.

Rafe.

He grabbed her and held her tight. “Thank God, thank God,” he repeated.

“Perfect timing.”

“What just happened? I heard a gunshot.”

“I was locked in the cellar; now Rex and the bouncer are. Based on the sound of footsteps, there are four or five more in that house. I heard a girl scream—it must be Tori. They’ve already started.”

Grant ran up to them. He looked at Moira’s gun, but didn’t say anything.