Original Sin sds-1 Read online

  “Of course,” Dr. Bertrand said.

  She glanced at her watch. “Damn, I’m late.”

  She’d spoken on the phone to the high school principal earlier this morning about the death of Abby Weatherby, and had asked to address the entire school in an assembly before lunch. Someone there knew something, and dammit, she wanted to find out what had really happened out on the cliffs-supernatural or not.

  Anthony didn’t scare easily but when he’d learned more about the ritual that brought the Seven Deadly Sins forth, he was terrified for humanity.

  At his desk in one of the two rooms left standing at the mission, poring over ancient texts and other research materials, he paused and contemplated the worst that could happen. It was a situation as dire as it could be.

  Dr. Franz Lieber, a wheelchair-bound ninety-year-old theologian from Switzerland whom Anthony had met many years ago, had sent St. Michael’s a copy of all his notes. As far as Anthony knew, he had the only copy in his possession, the original still with Lieber, who was more reclusive than anyone Anthony had ever met.

  Lieber doubted whether the Conoscenza still existed, but he had written at the beginning of his notes on the book:

  There is very little information or rumor about the Conoscenza. The book itself is unnamed, given “Conoscenza” circa 1520 by Bishop Paulo Giovanni of St. Michael’s Order. Prior to then, it had been called both “The Book of Knowledge” and “The Book of Death,” depending on whether the speaker was a magician or one of the righteous.

  The Conoscenza was most likely destroyed in a deadly ritual in 1698 in France, where there was a powerful coven led by High Priestess Tara Rafferty and her common-law husband, Detrich Ehrenbach. Neither Rafferty, Ehrenbach, their coven membership, nor the six priests and demon hunters from St. Michael’s Order survived. Everything in the immediate area was destroyed-obliterated. To this day, some believe that those grounds are either haunted or cursed. No one lives on the desecrated site, all attempts to do so end in violence.

  Though Lieber didn’t believe that the Conoscenza still existed, he knew a lot about what was within its evil covers. It was a grimoire-a book of spells. These dark spells were specifically aimed at conjuring spirits, summoning demons, and controlling both.

  The origin of the book was in dispute. Some scholars felt it had been compiled over time with contributions from multiple generations of magicians, the spells evolving and gaining strength. Others believed that it had been written many thousands of years ago during the time of Moses in an ancient language that could not be understood without demonic guidance. And still others, including Father Philip, believed that the book had been written in demon blood only a few generations after the fall of man, in the language of the fallen angels, unreadable to all except the few who had been chosen by Satan himself.

  But it was certain, at least during Anthony’s five hours of intensive research, that the Conoscenza contained the ritual to unleash the Seven Deadly Sins into the world.

  And he’d yet to find any theorizing on how to send them back. Lieber opined:

  The one certainty we know, should the Seven be freed, is that, according to the legends, they will disperse, spread themselves far apart. Logic dictates that they would be stronger together, but in truth they gain their strength from psychic unions with humans. They cannot compete for the same person, for the victim would die without fueling the demon. This seems to be the antithesis of all we know and understand of the adage of strength in numbers, but for the Seven they are equals and cannot share the same space without devastating results for them and humans. They seek the weak and are lured by sin. Sin makes them stronger. Lust finds lust; greed finds greed. The longer they are free, the more powerful they become.

  The Seven are not demons who can be exorcised using traditional ritual exorcisms, because they do not need to possess a body to survive. They are spirits. They laugh in the face of the Faithful and do not obey orders of those who summon them. They are the Tricksters of Hell, Fallen Angels, among the highest order of angels who plummeted during the Great Battle. Woe to the world who sees the Seven on earth.

  Anthony learned two important things.

  The first was why Fiona’s ritual had taken place at the ruins on the cliffs. In a handwritten diary of an Olivet graduate nearly three hundred years ago, shortly after the book was thought destroyed, he read:

  Any place where the blood of the righteous is spilled in the battle of good and evil, heaven and hell, and where also a human being is sacrificed, weakens the protective barrier between earth and the netherworld. At such a place, with the proper ritual, training, desire, and power, a fearless magician can open a gate for demons to pass through. Some magicians believe that they can move freely between the demonic world and our own, a deadly proposition. Many things must align for all the elements to be in place for such a gate, and there are only a few known gateways over the last millennium, all of which have been sealed and consecrated. But there will be more. Magicians will continue to create these openings when possible, and the greater in number, the weaker the entire threshold. Some believe that a great battle on earth will ensue, spilling the blood of the righteous and leading to murder and desecration. The battle will weaken the barrier between earth and Hell until the End Times, allowing free movement of demons through the membrane. Chaos will reign. This will, some believe, be the signal of the Second Coming.

  Some will wait and watch and not impede the successes of magicians.

  Some, including this scholar, believe such a strategy sets up many for eternal death through inaction.

  Though none of the scholars Anthony read had specific knowledge of how the ritual worked, they all were in agreement that to summon the Seven at one time there was the need for not only a powerful magician, but two sacrifices: a vessel and an arca.

  The vessel, also called a “key” by Lieber, was a magician who used her powers combined with the others in the coven to draw out the Seven from Hell. Her death was a sacrifice necessary to bring them forth, as no one could survive such a violent spiritual assault. Her soul in exchange, according to Lieber, would have strength in the afterlife, which could be used by the coven as tenuous control over the Seven-in theory.

  Was Abby Weatherby the key? The means to draw out the Seven? It would appear so, but Anthony didn’t know enough about what powers she may have had. Everything he knew and understood about the afterlife put souls in two places: purgatory en route to Heaven. or firmly in Hell. There were hierarchies of angels and hierarchies of demons, but human souls with power in Hell? He had never heard such a thing, and it greatly disturbed him.

  If Abby was the key, that meant there had to be an arca.

  The girl Moira spoke of, Lily. The teenager who went to the cliffs to save her cousin, Abby.

  Anthony was poring over everything he could find about what the arca was-if in fact it was a person and not a thing-and how it was used. There were far fewer specifics about the arca than the key, but based on subtext he determined that the arca was a human ‘container’ that trapped the Seven.

  The arca must have been consecrated for the purpose. Arcas, like other warriors for the underworld, are conceived during rituals. Some believe such individuals, whether they know of their purpose or not, must be sacrificed by the just or the end result will be devastating for many, many innocent souls. Others believe such individuals can be saved. But as I live and breathe today, it remains the truth that none have been saved; once told of their position and potential for power, they grow in darkness. The allure of evil is great, and the lies of demons many.

  Moira O’Donnell.

  Anthony slowly shut the heavy book.

  None have been saved.

  Father Philip must have known the truth about Moira before Peter died. Moira had sought him out; they all knew she was a witch.

  Such individuals … must be sacrificed by the just …

  Anthony couldn’t kill Moira without cause. He wasn’t a cold-blooded murderer
, and one opinion in an old book didn’t provide adequate justification. There had to be another answer. He would find it. Not to save Moira, but to save them all.

  He frowned, staring at the stacks of faded books and papers spread across his desk at the mission. He knew enough of Moira’s past, how her mother had conceived her to serve as a liaison between the covens and the underworld, but what of the arca last night on the cliffs? If Lily Ellis was the arca, she was one of the unsaved.

  He refused to believe it. God didn’t work that way. Everyone could be saved.

  None have been saved.

  That didn’t mean they couldn’t be. He opened an old, thin tome about demon traps. The Seven were not traditional demons, and Anthony needed to better understand all types of spirit traps.

  His phone vibrated and he grabbed it, startled. It was Skye.

  “Working?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You have answers?”

  “I’m getting there. It’ll take a little more time.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “Skye? Are you there?”

  “Rafe Cooper left the hospital last night. Walked out, just after midnight. No one has seen him since.”

  Anthony rose from his chair. “You’re certain he left on his own? After ten weeks in a coma?”

  “I saw him leave on the security tape. He’s gone. I put an APB out on him, and need to get him back in the hospital for tests, and I have to talk to him about the mission murders. He’s our only living witness.”

  Anthony didn’t have to read between the lines. “And your only suspect.”

  “I believe you,” she said to the question he did not ask.

  “It does not sound that way.”

  “Dammit, Anthony, I know that not everything in this world can be explained with scientific logic. But I’m also the sheriff and I need to follow through on the investigation. Rafe’s disappearing act isn’t going to help his cause.”

  “I will look for him,” Anthony told Skye.

  “I still need to talk to him,” Skye said warily.

  “Of course.”

  “Be careful.”

  “You as well, mia amore.”

  “I’m going over to the high school to talk to Abby’s fellow students. I’m hoping that one of them will feel so damn guilty that she’s dead that they’ll spill the beans as to what really happened on the cliffs last night.”

  “We know what happened,” Anthony said.

  “We think we know what happened, but someone-someone human-was also responsible for Abby’s death. I want that person-those people-in jail. Someone must be punished, Anthony. Someone here on earth. God can have them after I’m done.”

  FOURTEEN

  Even before the Santa Louisa sheriff spoke to the general assembly at the beginning of their lunch break, there wasn’t a person at Santa Louisa High School who didn’t know that Abby Weatherby had died at the ruins on the cliffs. Everyone had a theory. Some rumors were true-that Abby was naked, for example. Others were false-like one that she’d killed herself. But as Chris Kidd sat in the last row of chairs in the auditorium and rubbed his sore neck, he knew some of what had really happened.

  His girlfriend, Ari Blair, had told him.

  He had mixed feelings about what she’d said, and he couldn’t help but think that Ari didn’t really remember what happened. She’d hedged, making him think she was lying when she caught up with him earlier at his locker between first and second period. She said she wasn’t drinking at the time of the incident, but might have been drugged. She also said that something “otherworldly” happened, which made him think that she’d been royally fucked up. He didn’t want Ari getting in trouble-she was a straight-A student, the student body president, and had offers from three top colleges around the country. But he told her she had to talk to the police, it was the right thing to do. She’d kissed him and run off to class, leaving Chris feeling oddly disconnected and worried.

  The principal walked onstage and called for everyone to quiet down. Still concerned about his girlfriend, Chris listened to Mr. Lawrence, hoping the Sheriff’s Department had answers that didn’t involve Ari.

  “I’m sure all of you know that Abigail Weatherby died last night on the cliffs near Cypress Point. There is a lot of misinformation going around, and Sheriff McPherson wanted to speak to the student body to put the rumors to rest.

  “There will be counselors on site during lunch, after school, and all day tomorrow if anyone here would like to speak with someone about this tragedy. Abby will be missed by many.”

  The blond sheriff walked briskly onstage, thanked the principal, and stood at the podium. Chris had forgotten the sheriff was a girl. She looked too young and too hot to be a cop.

  “Thank you,” she said, breathless and distracted. “I’m Sheriff Skye McPherson. I graduated from Santa Louisa High thirteen years ago, so I know you’re thinking what the heck is going on? So I’m going to tell you what I know, and ask for your help.

  “The circumstances of Abby Weatherby’s death are unclear. The Santa Louisa Medical Examiner and my office are right now processing evidence that will hopefully lead to the truth. The community deserves it, Abby’s parents deserve it.” She looked out into the audience, her expression stern.

  “Abby’s body was found last night on the cliffs outside of town. There was evidence at the scene that more than one person was on the cliffs at some point prior to, or up until, her death. We know that the cliffs are a popular gathering place for young people. How do we know this? Because most of the deputies in my office grew up here, too, and I’ve been told it’s a well-known make-out spot.”

  There were some giggles and nervous laughter, but the sheriff didn’t crack a smile.

  “At this point, we cannot definitely say whether Abby’s death was an accident or homicide.” She let that sink in, and there were additional murmurings.

  McPherson continued, “Perhaps Abby died accidentally-such as by a drug overdose or falling-or through a natural cause like an aneurysm. I can imagine how difficult it would be to witness an accidental death and not know what to do. Sometimes we might make a decision that is wrong, and then we don’t know how to make it right afterward.”

  She looked out over the audience carefully, from one side to the other.

  Any nervousness was gone, her voice forceful and commanding. “I want to know what happened to Abby Weatherby last night. I want to know the truth. And I know that at least one person in this room was with Abby last night.”

  Again, she paused, but cut off the murmurs with a firm announcement: “Every teacher has a set of my business cards. They will be left all over the school. Call me day or night and I will meet with you, I’ll talk to you, I’ll keep it confidential as much as I can. If you’re a witness to something other than an accident, I can and will protect you.

  “I need the truth. It’s what Abby and her family deserve.”

  The sheriff walked offstage and Chris looked around for Ari. She was on the far side of the gym.

  He and Ari had been exclusively dating for nearly two years. He didn’t know if he loved her, but he couldn’t stand the thought of any other guy dating her. And they all wanted to. She was gorgeous. Blond hair, blue eyes, big tits, and hot in her cheerleading uniform. He loved watching her when he was on the bench, or getting that short little skirt off her in the bed of his truck.

  Other guys wanted to do the same. Like his best bud, Travis. Was that Travis talking to her now? Chris started over to the corner, but the crush of students delayed him. By the time he got over there, she was gone.

  His head pounded and he squeezed his eyes shut. The image of Travis screwing Ari hit him, and he had a hard time getting rid of it. Travis wouldn’t do that to him. Ari wouldn’t. What was he thinking?

  Chris left the auditorium, the damp fog and steady drizzle feeling surprisingly good on his hot skin. He felt ill; he knew better than to work out and not eat. But when he’d heard the ne
ws about Abby, he couldn’t think about food. Now he was paying for it.

  He looked around. A few other students were talking outside, but most were in the cafeteria, where it was warm and dry.

  Where was Ari?

  Chris walked slowly around campus looking for her. When he walked out into the parking lot, he saw the sheriff getting into a cruiser. He hesitated, not wanting to get Ari in trouble, but she’d been shaking this morning. She couldn’t fake being that scared.

  He walked over to Sheriff McPherson. “Sheriff? Do you have a minute?”

  The cop nodded. “Why don’t you get in and stay dry?” She motioned to the passenger side.

  Chris did, and began. “I’m worried about my girlfriend.”

  Skye McPherson took notes as Chris told her everything Ari had said.

  Anthony locked his books and papers in his small office-one of the two rooms still standing at the mission-and drove as fast as he dared in the thickening drizzle. It was as if the air had expanded; every breath he took was cold and wet, filling him. The twenty-minute drive down the winding mountain road became thirty minutes, as the slick pavement prevented him from reaching the posted limit.

  He absolutely had to find Rafe before the police did. To prepare him for the inevitable questions, the accusations. Skye was only doing her job, and she would be fair, but Anthony had no idea what condition Rafe was in.

  His cell phone rang with an unfamiliar number showing. “Hello,” he answered curtly, keeping his eyes on the slick road.

  “It’s Moira. I’m heading out to the cliffs right now to find Raphael Cooper.”

  “What?” He slowed down, his attention now divided. “What do you know about Rafe?”

  “When I got back to my motel room, Lily filled me in. Everything we suspected about her adventures on the cliffs was true, except for one surprising fact. A guy in hospital scrubs walked up and created chaos during the ritual. Told Lily to get the hell out of Dodge, then disappeared. Lily identified him as Cooper when I showed her his picture.”