Mortal Sin by Allison Brennan

stepped out of the building and finally felt like she could breathe freely again.
    “The good news,” she said, trying to look on the bright side when bright sides were few and far between, “this isn’t the handiwork of a demon or magic. But the dagger is—the dagger… ” Her voice trailed off. Maybe there was a demon, but not one of the Seven. Not her bailiwick. “The dagger is trouble. Anthony can find out exactly what kind of trouble. That’s what he does. This is right up his alley.”
    “I’ll call him. He’ll meet us here—and I’ll ask Hank to pick up Lily and then you. Is that okay?”
    “Sure,” Moira said. “So what if I’m a little late to Olivet? Rico only threatened to throw me in a dungeon for the rest of my life.”
    Skye stared at Moira as she walked down the alley and leaned against Skye’s truck, hugging herself against the cold. Against the fear.
    Skye wasn’t entirely certain Moira was joking about the dungeon.

 
     

CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    Rafe looked around the too clean, too bright, too sterile room that was the Santa Louisa morgue. The drain in the middle of the floor and the three stainless steel tables unnerved him. “Can I just say I don’t want to be here?” Rafe said.
    “No one does, but they don’t usually complain about it,” Rod Fielding said.
    “Why are we here? You’re not going to cut me open.” He was half-joking.
    “I’m waiting until a friend of mine gets on duty at the hospital so I can sneak you in for an MRI.”
    Rafe didn’t want to go to the hospital. He hadn’t liked them before his coma, now they really creeped him out. Yesterday when he and Moira searched the area where he’d been kept in a coma, he had a borderline panic attack. He could only tolerate the endeavor because Moira had been with him.
    “I’m fine,” he insisted.
    “Bullshit.”
    Rod sat at his desk and motioned for Rafe sit a chair next to him. The desk was devoid of clutter. An inbox and an outbox housed files, all neat and organized. A phone. A computer. The keyboard stored neatly on a tray under the desk.
    “I’m here because Moira trusts you.”
    “Then you need to trust me.”
    “I do.”
    Rafe was squeamish. Rod was one of the few people who knew just about everything since the Seven had been released from Hell. He’d developed a theory about how the demons infected their victims, at least how, biologically, the sins affected the human body. He was working on a cure, or an immunization, something to stop people from dying.
    But it was all just a theory, and until they had more answers, they couldn’t be certain how the demons infected their victims or how their victims were killed or cured. After Rafe’s battle with Lust ten weeks ago, he knew what happened to the souls. The demons retained and controlled them. They were trapped, painfully. In a brutal attack, Lust had thrown all the souls it had collected at Rafe, and he’d collapsed from the physical assault. He’d managed to disperse them, sending them out , but he didn’t know where they’d gone, if they’d gone to Heaven or Hell or Purgatory or were stuck in the astral plane. He couldn’t spend the time or energy figuring it out because that would have given any of them a better opportunity to possess him or someone else.
    Rafe didn’t like how Rod was looking at him. Assessing him. But he didn’t know exactly why it made him nervous. Rafe forced himself to sit straight and keep a blank face. He needed to stay calm. Rod was a friend. He was safe here. As safe as he could be anywhere.
    “Tell me exactly what’s been happening. And don’t lie. Moira already told me about the migraines.” He paused. “And the memories.”
    “Then you know everything.” He wished Moira hadn’t said anything. They’d kept the worst of it from Anthony and Skye, downplaying the frequency and the intensity.
    “What happened today?” Rod asked.
    He hesitated before he answered. Moira trusted Rod, and Moira was worried.