Original Sin by Allison Brennan Page A

while she may not be working with Fiona anymore, she had her own brand of magic, and it got Peter killed. I called Olivet tonight and learned that she was supposed to arrive there months ago but never showed. She’s a loose cannon—and I honestly don’t care what her motives are. You—”
    “Anthony,” Father snapped, interrupting him. “You’re wrong about Moira, and while she was supposed to return to Olivet, Rico knew her plans. But we haven’t time for this discussion now. Are you certain about the Seven?”
    Anthony hesitated, feeling like an admonished child. “Yes,” he replied. “I’m certain that’s who they were summoning, but I can’t say whether it worked, or why they need the Seven, or who specifically is behind it. This is bigger than anything I’ve dealt with. I need my books, I need to research.” He felt far more confident poring over ancient texts than battling demons face-to-face. He’d done it once to save Skye—he didn’t want to go through that horrible experience again.
    “Good, I’ll send you anything you need. But please, let Moira do her job.”
    “Job? What job?”
    “I can’t tell you over the phone.”
    Anthony froze. Father Philip was his mentor, had been since he was a small boy. They shared the same last name, because that was the way it was at the monastery with the orphans—one of the priests or monks “adopted” the child and was his primary caregiver. Father Philip had taken him … and Peter. Which was why Anthony didn’t understand Father’s acceptance of that witch, Moira O’Donnell.
    “Has this job been going on while she was supposed to be at Olivet?”
    “Longer. Anthony—I will explain when we are face-to-face. Or you can ask Moira herself.”
    “Neither will happen soon.”
    “It may be time for a council at Olivet.”
    Anthony couldn’t control the hurt he felt deep inside that Father had kept something as important as this from him for so long. But he said, “I understand.”
    “Anthony, I need to talk to Moira, where is she?”
    “Jail.”
    “You need to get her out as soon as possible! Anthony, she needs your protection.”
    “Protection?” He rubbed his jaw. “Hardly.”
    “Fiona will find her in jail! The police wouldn’t allow her to have any of her protective gear. You know that!”
    For a moment, Anthony felt a twinge of guilt.
    Father said quietly, “You and Peter were close. I understand. I loved Peter deeply. What happened was a grave mistake; it was hard on all of us. But you must forgive Moira. Both she and Peter were culpable, but in the end, it was Fiona and her demon who killed Peter, not Moira, and not Peter himself.” Father Philip’s voice deepened. “Anthony, you are very special. Exceptional and gifted by God. You are vital to our calling. But your weakness will be your destruction. If the Seven have been released, your anger will be used against you. You must pray for the strength to forgive.”
    Anthony felt the reprimand from thousands of miles away, even though Father hadn’t raised his voice. “Now, tell me, how long has she been unprotected?”
    Anthony swallowed a retort and said, “An hour.”
    “Don’t let Fiona find Moira. I will leave for Olivet tomorrow.”
    “You’re coming to America?”
    “I must. Promise me you will get Moira out of jail.”
    Anthony struggled, not wanting to obey. “Yes, Father, I will.”

EIGHT
    Philip Zaccardi packed light—he didn’t need much.
    The priest despised travel. He rarely left St. Michael’s. His fellow monks, the young men he trained, thought it was because he was fearful of flying. They were right about one thing: he was afraid. But it had nothing to do with airplanes.
    If Anthony knew the private revelation Philip had been entrusted with years ago, the young demonologist would insist he never leave the island. But Philip had told no one; it was a revelation meant only for him.
    The time had come. If he was right—and he believed he was—people