ENTANGLED (48 page)

Moira rested her hand on the tree trunk. A flash of the past came and went. She’d had these visions before, but they were related to the Seven Deadly Sins. This was different.

She stumbled and Rafe was suddenly at her side, holding her up. “Moira?” he said quietly.

“Nothing.” It wasn’t dark or evil, at least she didn’t think so. But she couldn’t dismiss the physical jolt she’d had.

“Can I get you some water?” Evelyn asked, concerned.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Really. Just a bit dizzy.”

“She doesn’t eat right,” Rafe said by way of explanation.

“If I can splash water on my face,” she suggested.

“We’ll go back to the office.”

“I can find my way. Rafe, why don’t you look at the cabins? Take some pictures for Lily. I’ll catch up with you.”

Rafe was more than a little concerned about Moira, but he couldn’t question her further in front of Evelyn, and the opportunity was perfect for her to search the main building for any information about Amy, Beth, or the staff at the camp.

He watched her walk away, then smiled at Evelyn. “She’ll be fine. She lives on energy bars.” That was, unfortunately, true. She never thought about eating, and when she did eat it was protein bars and fast food, whatever was easiest. He didn’t know how she’d survived without him.

“We can wait here for your wife,” she said.

“Let’s take a quick look at the cabins, then we’ll come back here.” It would be quick, because Moira would need to inspect them as well, for things he couldn’t sense or see.

“Certainly.” Evelyn talked about the history and activities of the camp, but Rafe was only half-listening.

Wife
. No one from St. Michael’s married. That he and Moira were together caused consternation among the Order. They knew what they faced. Getting married was forbidden. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t a priest, they were charged with fighting supernatural evil on earth to save souls from horrific pain and suffering. And until God flipped the switch and ended it all, they had a mandate.

He wanted to marry Moira. It would shake the foundation of St. Michael’s Order, but Rafe knew without a doubt that he was meant to be with Moira until they died. He had to convince her of it, and convince her to walk away from their job. If they survived the capture of all seven of the sins.

That, of course, was against the odds.

He realized that Evelyn was waiting for him to answer a question. He searched his subconscious memory for what they were discussing, then he saw several dead trees and plants. They surrounded one of the cabins used by the campers.

Evelyn followed his gaze. “The trees here inexplicitly died. Kenny didn’t understand what had happened, thought there was a disease, but couldn’t determine what could have killed so quickly—one week they were healthy, the next dead. We’re going to remove the trees; fortunately, the other plants are coming back.”

“Others?”

She gestured to the shrubs and perennial flowers that were growing near the cabin. “We thought we’d lose everything, that maybe it would spread to the other trees, or that there was a contaminant leak of some sort. We finally decided it was an act of God.” She crossed herself.

Rafe inspected the plants around the cabin that had new growth. They appeared black and rotted in the stems, but were sprouting new buds. The three trees nearest the cabin, however, looked as if they’d been set on fire at one time.

“Do you know plants?”

Rafe said, “A bit. I had a vegetable garden at one time.”

She smiled. “I have one behind the main building. Keeping the deer and rabbits from destroying it is a daily job.”

He returned the grin. “I had the same problem.” Over her shoulder he saw through the trees a clearing covered with blue and yellow flowers. It seemed odd so early in the season. “What’s over there?”

She looked. “Amazing, isn’t it? That building on the other side is our activities room and cafeteria. The flowers came up last summer. It used to be just dirt, but we’re not complaining.”

“May I go look?”

“Of course.

They walked over and Rafe answered questions about Lily. Fortunately, she was real, even though she wasn’t Moira’s sister, nor was she sixteen, so it made it easy to talk about her.

As soon as he squatted to look at the flowers, he knew exactly what was there. Bluebell and St. John’s Wort. Flowers used in truth spells. But why would there be a field of such flowers in the middle of nowhere? It was odd—but was it magical or natural?

Moira approached from behind them. “I thought I saw you over here.”

“Feeling better, honey?” Evelyn asked as a concerned grandmother might.

“Much, thank you.” She winked at Rafe, then noticed where they were standing. She stared, unable to keep the surprise from her face.

“Do you have any questions for Mrs. Masters?” Rafe asked Moira.

“No, not really.” She was still distracted, and stepped back, away from the flowers.

Rafe followed her lead, and soon they were walking back to the main cabin. Moira said, “Rafe, do you remember the girl Lily mentioned who came here last summer? Shoot, I can’t remember her name, but it was with a youth group in San Luis Obispo. They met when—oh! Elizabeth. She was here end of June.”

Evelyn nodded. “Of course, every year the Southern California Spiritual Coalition raises money to send forty-eight teenagers here for a week. Wonderful organization. I can get the youth director’s contact information for a reference.”

Moira pulled a small note pad from her pocket. “We have dinner plans, but if you could email it to me?” She wrote out her email address and handed it to Evelyn.

“Of course.”

“Thank you for your time,” Rafe said. They’d reached the car. “We truly appreciate it.”

“I hope to see your sister here.”

As soon as they drove away, Rafe said, “What happened?”

“I copied the files from the week Amy and Beth were here. Not only were they here at the same time, they shared a cabin.”

“There was one cabin where all the surrounding plants and trees were dead. Except the smaller shrubs had some new growth.”

“I saw that. I’ve seen it before. Black magic killed the plants—but not just black, demonic. The new growth must have come from the protective spells I felt that were centered around the willow tree.”

“Is that what caused the flowers that scared you so much?”

“I wasn’t scared. Shocked. Everything came together for me at that moment. Every truth of what happened.”

“I don’t understand.”

“When I touched the willow tree, I had a vision—it was a snapshot in time, like a super short movie, but it didn’t make sense until I saw the flowers.” Moira stopped for a moment, but Rafe let her think. Then she said slowly, “All the darkness came from that cabin. A truth spell, but very dark. All the girls were mandated to tell the truth—they couldn’t lie. There was also a control there—some sort of power of suggestion. That’s what I saw at the willow tree. I saw Amy sitting alone under the tree, in a trance. No one else was there, but I felt a wave of black magic pass around me. It was a command, and when Amy heard it, she whimpered. I saw it all in an instant, but it was overwhelming. That’s why I think Carmen focused on the willow tree for her protection spell.”

“Carmen? The other staff member?”

“I thought she might be the wannabe vamp, so I pulled her files. She wrote under her religious affiliation
Wiccan
. She has a room in the main house, so I checked it out. No black magic, but a
lot
of protective spells. She was spooked by something, but I don’t think she knew specifically what because she was covering all her bases. The problem is, she’s weakening the separation of the astral plane here.”

“What about the flowers?”

“Bluebells and St. John’s Wort are used in truth spells. I suspect that whoever is responsible cast a powerful truth spell over the camp, one that summoned Astaroth’s legion. Astaroth is the demon of spies, and the spell brought in invisible demons, creating a paper-thin line between our world and the underworld. The magician became a human truth detector, relying on these demon spies. The spell centered in the cabin shared by Amy and Beth, then spread throughout the camp. But it was cloaked. That’s why I couldn’t feel the specific spell at first.”

“So we’re dealing with an experienced, connected witch. She wanted the truth because she needed to be one-hundred percent certain the girls she targeted were virgins.”

“With that spell, she would know with certainty.”

“I still don’t understand where the flowers come in. Did she plant them?”

“No,” Moira said. “When Carmen felt the black magic, she didn’t know what it was—that’s why she cast every protective spell she could think of. In a truth ritual, the witch would need seeds from the flowers. They were everywhere, but only those east of the willow tree grew when Carmen cast the growth spell.”

“Why?”

Moira shrugged. “She either faced that way or the magician used that clearing for the original spell or that was the way the wind blew.”

“We’ll talk to Grant, give him the list I made, talk to the girls—make sure they stick close to home.”

Moira opened the folder on her lap. She’d copied the names and addresses of everyone in the cabin, but she’d also grabbed a picture from the files. “This is the photo of everyone in the cabin. Beth. Amy.” She pointed to the girls. “That leaves eight more girls plus the counselor.”

Rafe glanced at the photograph as he turned onto the main highway headed back to Los Angeles. He immediately recognized Amy. Her smile had been carefree. She’d been happy.

Her soul deserved to have peace. She needed justice. Rafe felt a fire he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

At ten o’clock that night, Rafe and Moira met Grant in the parking lot of their hotel. It wasn’t raining, but the night had turned cold and a damp mist clouded all the streetlights, casting a gloomy glow across the parking lot. Perfect for Rafe’s current mood.

He glanced at Moira as she slid into the cramped backseat of Grant’s sports car. He wished he’d convinced her to tone it down. She’d told him that they’d stand out more if they went in subtle, and she was probably right, but he didn’t like the way every man in the hotel lobby had turned and stared at her as she crossed the room. She was stunning and sexy.

As if reading his mind, Carter turned in the passenger seat to assess her. He grinned broadly. “Perfect.”

Rafe slammed the door shut and glared at him.

Moira smiled, her lips painted shiny blood red. “I know.”

After leaving the camp and sending Grant the information they’d uncovered, they’d shopped at vintage clothing stores so they could dress appropriately for a club like Defiance. Rafe wore all-black: slacks, a button-down shirt over a T-shirt and trench coat. He reluctantly agreed to let Moira put dark eye make-up around his eyes, which was popular in nocturnal clubs.

Moira wore a red and black lace bodice that pushed her perfect breasts both together and out, a long full black skirt with a slit so high up one side that her garter was visible. Her fishnet stockings ended in boots that went up to her knee. Rafe knew she had her knife concealed but readily accessible in her right boot.

She’d left her long, dark hair down her bare back, concealing her scars. It was naturally wavy, but she’d spent time putting even more curls in. It was her make-up that was the biggest surprise since she rarely wore any—the foundation, the smoky eyes, the dark red lipstick, the long eyelashes. He preferred the natural Moira. He understood why it was important they play the roles, and Moira was already acting the part, making him feel as if she were an imposter.

A black choker adorned with a cameo wrapped around her neck. The cameo was a blessed artifact they’d picked up from a friend of St. Michael’s Order. Inside was a relic of a saint. It wouldn’t protect them completely, but if there was a demon at Defiance, it would reveal itself in some way if close to Moira.

“This plan won’t work,” Rafe said as Grant drove.

“You want in, this is the way to get in,” Carter said. “You’re
both
perfect. Keep that brooding expression on your face and you’re a shoo-in.” He laughed, and even the sullen Grant cracked a smile, but Rafe didn’t see the humor in the situation.

Rafe considered that he might be jealous, but it wasn’t that—it was that he didn’t like what other people were thinking about Moira. He couldn’t read their minds, but he didn’t have to—the lust was on each man’s face when they looked at her. And Rafe saw how Carter couldn’t take his eyes off Moira. Grant, fortunately, was all business.

“I did a little surveillance,” Grant said. “I can park a block down, kitty corner to the club and keep my eye on the entrance. I’ll be on my radio, Carter has one as well. Small, concealable. I’ll hear everything that’s going on, so stick with Carter.”