Ghostly Justice (Seven Deadly Sins, #2.5)(9)

He didn’t say anything. Moira sensed he was debating whether to lie, and she prayed he didn’t.

“She told me,” he said simply.

She couldn’t have heard right. “Told you.”

“At the morgue. I saw her ghost.”

“Seeing a ghost and having a friggin’ conversation with a ghost are two entirely different things.” Moira didn’t know what disturbed her more—that Rafe had a conversation with a ghost, or that he had waited hours before telling her. “Did you ask her who killed her? What ritual they used? What they did with her blood?”

Moira was shaking. Rafe didn’t answer her questions, and the silence made her angry. She’d much rather be mad than let the fear for Rafe’s soul consume her. She continued, her voice rising. “Do you know what happens when you start communicating with dead people? The line between the astral plane and our world thins. As if it wasn’t thin enough! It opens you up for possession. It’s because of Julie, isn’t it? Because you let her in! You’re risking your life, Rafe.”

Rafe pulled the truck over to the side of the mountain road, on a narrow turn-out. She opened the door, needing to walk it off. Her whole body was shaking.

Rafe grabbed her arm and pulled her back in. “What are—” then she saw that they were stopped on the edge of a drop-off. It wouldn’t kill her if she rolled down the hill, but it would be nearly impossible to get back up.

She closed the door. “Drive.”

“No.”

She faced him. His face was unreadable, and that bothered her, too. She was an open book, and he was keeping everything close to the vest. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Moira, can I please explain?”

“Talk.” She crossed her arms and stared at him.

Don’t lie to me, Rafe. Just don’t lie to me.

Rafe knew that Moira was more scared about his safety than angry. He didn’t know how to make her understand, but he had to try.

He took her hands in his, even though she tried to pull back. Her muscles were tense, her fear and worries simmering. Communicating with spirits was extremely dangerous, and while not expressly forbidden if the person didn’t intentionally seek out the ghost, it was certainly frowned on.

He didn’t want to lie to her, but how could he lie if he didn’t even know what the truth was? He didn’t know why he could have a conversation with Amy Carney, or why Moira hadn’t been able to see her at all. Ever since he woke up from his coma six weeks ago, he knew things he shouldn’t know. But he didn’t want to talk about that with Moira, not until he had more information about what exactly he did know and what happened to him while he was comatose.

But he didn’t have to tell her everything. He could be honest insofar as what had happened when they’d battled the demon Lust.

“I don’t know why I could talk to Amy’s ghost,” Rafe began. Moira tried to pull her hands back, but he held tight. “But I think I know when it started. Do you remember when Lust threw all the trapped souls at me?”

“Like I could forget,” she said. Her attempt at sarcasm was weak and her anger was fading. Rafe pushed on.

“What is a ghost except for a lost soul?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe a vengeful spirit or a cursed soul or even a demon—”

“Or simply wandering. Confused. Not all spirits are out to destroy living souls.”

She turned her head and pulled her hands sharply away. “I can’t believe what you’re saying.”

He grabbed her face and turned her back to face him. Now she was mad. “The world isn’t black and white, Moira. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

“We’re talking about risking your soul and your life!”

“They are at risk every day.” He ran his thumbs over her cheeks, his fingers entwined in her hair. “I sent those souls in the direction they were supposed to go. But they all spoke to me, dumping their memories, confessing their sins. I couldn’t control it. I had to open myself up, I had to let them—”

“Stop!” Moira hit him squarely on his chest. “You nearly died. Lust planned to kill you with that attack.”

He grabbed her wrists. “But it didn’t kill me.”

“It could have! It should have. Anyone else would have died or lost their mind.” She looked down.

Rafe understood what Moira feared. He feared it himself. Was he to be trusted? Were his new abilities at the command of Heaven or Hell? Was he unwittingly using magic on a deep, subconscious level that would ultimately put them both in even more danger? Already there were whispers about him at St. Michael’s. His former trainer had wanted to send him back to Italy for observation. But it would have been prison, and he would not be a prisoner.

“I don’t know how I knew what to do when Lust turned the souls toward me, but I did,” Rafe said. “I managed it. And that’s why I thought Amy Carney could talk with me. I didn’t seek her out. I didn’t go looking for her. She was there. She wants answers—her soul needs us to help her.”

“We did. Or, rather, Grant did. He identified her. She’ll be buried properly.”

“Someone has to help her find the way to where she’s supposed to be now.”

“Not you. Geez, Rafe, people have been dying for millennia, it can’t be that hard to see the light!”