Free Mortal Sin by Allison Brennan Page B

poltergeist. And she didn’t feel a ghostly presence. Still… there was a thinning of the layers, and with Bertrand being a magician, maybe he had found a way to attack from the netherworld. He’d been killed violently. He could still be here, his soul trapped, fighting the eternal fire.
    Her heart pounded in growing panic. She didn’t know, and not knowing was going to get them killed.
    Rafe moaned and she let out a long sigh in relief. “Rafe. Rafe, please wake up.”
    He tried to get up.
    “Stay put,” she said, holding his head down in her lap. “You fainted.” Or something.
    Skye opened drawers and found dishtowels. She dampened one and handed it to Moira, who wiped the blood from Rafe’s nose. “You’re bleeding.”
    “My head.”
    “Shh.” There didn’t seem to be fresh blood, but she didn’t want Rafe to get up too fast. “Skye called Dr. Fielding.”
    “I’m not dead.”
    “Ha ha. He’s the only one I trust.”
    “I’m okay.”
    “No you’re not!” She didn’t mean to yell at him, but he wasn’t okay. The headaches were getting worse. He’d never passed out before. “You—did you have a memory?” She didn’t know what else to call them.
    “Yes,” he said quietly, his eyes closed. He took her hand.
    “You did it, didn’t you? You forced it. You’re going to kill yourself. Or worse.”
    “Worse than suicide?”
    “Yes. There are worse things than death.” She would not allow him to joke about this. She put her forehead on his. “Dammit, Rafe, I need you.”
    He squeezed her hand. “We should talk.”
    “Let Rod examine you.”
    “He’s on his way,” Skye said. “Are you sure this wasn’t, you know…?” She still had a hard time saying “witchcraft,”but Moira knew exactly what she meant.
    “It wasn’t. There’s only mild residual magic here. Bertrand didn’t live his life as a magician. And there was very little when we checked at the hospital, though I didn’t expect there to be since Rafe has been up and around for nearly four months. I think Fiona must have used Bertrand’s knowledge of science and medicine more than his pathetic grasp of magic to keep Rafe in a coma.”
    “We still don’t know…” Skye began.
    “We do ,” Moira said. “Magic put him in a coma and science kept him there.”
    Skye walked away to talk to Hank, who was waiting outside, and Moira willed her heart rate to slow. This was what Rico had warned her about. Human connections. Caring about someone, about anyone , put them all in danger. She couldn’t think straight out of fear for Rafe. For them. They led dangerous lives; each day could be their last. Sure, every day could be anyone’s last day, but with them the odds increased. She’d accepted her fate long ago. Now, she had something to live for, and she was terrified she would lose it. Lose him.
    And fear would get her killed.
    Fear would get Rafe killed.
    She had too much to lose. A person like her, she needed to have nothing to lose or she couldn’t do her job.
    She couldn’t turn her emotions off like a damn faucet.
    Rafe pulled himself into a sitting position. “We have to talk, Moira, before you go to Montana.”
    “I know, you don’t want me to go.”
    “And I know you will.”
    “What happened here?”
    “Déjà vu. And then, well, I pushed the memory out.” He paused, looked at her. She’d cleaned most of the blood off his face, but it had stained his shirt and neck. She took the damp rag and rubbed his skin. He grabbed her wrist. “Moira. Stop.”
    She stared at him, her bottom lip quivering. She didn’t want to know. But she had to know.
    He said, “It was Jeremiah Hatch’s memory.”
    Jeremiah Hatch was the priest who started it all. He’d infiltrated the mission. Pretended to be tormented by the evil he’d seen, when the truth was he’d committed heinous acts of evil starting as a young teenager when he likely killed his parents. He’d planned the massacre with others in his coven—the coven