Deliver Us From Evil Part 11

Skye's inhibitions were down. When he saved her on the cliff, her emotions went from one extreme to the other. Despair to joy to relief to pa.s.sion. He didn't stop her. They made love, but it wasn't Skye. It was the drugs. Guilt and nausea swept over him. He knew something had been wrong, but he'd ignored his instincts. He accepted her offering like a dying man would water.

"Skye?"

"Just leave me alone."

"You're still under the influence."

"How do you know? Did you drug my coffee? You could have followed me home, drugged my coffee while I slept, then waited for me to hurt myself so you could ride to the rescue. So that I would trust you." She spat out the word as if it were a curse.

"That's paranoia talking, Skye," Anthony said calmly, taking a step toward her. "That's the drug."

"Bulls.h.i.+t. That's deductive reasoning." She rubbed both temples with her fingers, a pained expression crossing her face.

"Come here."

She stared at him, doubting. He stepped forward, took her wrists, lowered her hands, and led her to the couch.

Her living room was spa.r.s.e and functional, like the rest of the house. He sat on one end of the couch, pulled Skye down next to him.

"Close your eyes, Skye," he said.

Skye felt so out of balance, but here, sitting with Anthony, she was regaining her footing. Her bottom lip trembled. Slowly, she closed her eyes.

His thumbs pressed her temples and his fingers grasped the back of her head. For a fleeting second she pictured Spock performing the mind meld, but as soon as Anthony started rubbing, his fingers moving in firm circles, all thought ceased and she relaxed for the first time since walking into the mission ma.s.sacre twenty-four hours ago.

The pain faded, from sharp and burning to dull and throbbing. She relaxed and sighed in relief.

"Turn around and put your head in my lap."

His deep, European voice sounded far away, as smooth as b.u.t.ter, as exotic as a tropical rain forest.

She lay on her back, Anthony turning to a forty-five-degree angle on the couch to hold her head and shoulders comfortably. He continued to ma.s.sage her temples, moving down to her cheeks, behind her ears, and her body gave up all its tension from sleep deprivation and drugs.

"Do you really believe in everything out there?" Skye asked, keeping her eyes closed.

"You mean in demons?"

"Demons and Heaven and h.e.l.l and everything in between."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I've seen the gates of h.e.l.l. I've felt the presence of evil. It's real. I can't conjure up a spirit to prove it to you, I can only tell you that you had a visitor, you smelled him, you sensed him, but you're only thinking with your head, not listening with your heart. You want a logical explanation, but there isn't one."

He paused, and she opened her eyes. His eyes held hers, strong, deep, fathomless. She whispered, "And?"

He leaned down, kissed her forehead. "I'm asking you to trust me."

Skye didn't know what to think anymore. Anthony was so ethereal and real at the same time. One minute she had everything sorted in her mind, knew exactly what she needed to do; the next, she wanted to place her entire faith in a man. In this man.

She'd never fully trusted anyone but herself. Even then, she doubted. Worried over her decisions. But always, she had her reasoning. It had gotten her this far in her life and career, how could she place her trust in someone else now? That would be like turning her back on herself, on the very thing that had kept her sane and whole during years of loneliness.

What would she have if she listened to Anthony? She'd be just like her mother, wanting to believe in fantasy because real life didn't satisfy her.

As if he could read her mind, he said, "You can't live in the past. Your mother hurt you, and then she died and you couldn't tell her how much she hurt you. It's easier to be angry with her and G.o.d than it is to acknowledge you miss her, that she killed your trust."

She closed her eyes, trying to trap the tears that came, but they slid out the corners. Anthony brushed them away with his thumbs.

"It's the drugs," she said, not wanting to admit that after twenty years she still ached for her mother.

"It's your heart, and it's okay."

His lips touched hers so lightly, so tenderly. Her heart skipped a beat. This quiet intimacy, the emotion, was difficult for Skye. She choked back a sob.

Anthony pulled her into his lap and held her, rubbing her back, his chin on her head. She could stay here in his arms forever.

"My mother abandoned me," Anthony finally said. "And while I knew it was for a higher purpose-that I had a calling-there were times, especially at night, especially when I was young, when I cursed G.o.d for giving me this life. For forcing my mother to sacrifice me. But in the end, it had been her choice."

"You never had a real family," Skye said, feeling a kins.h.i.+p with Anthony she didn't expect to have.

"We were a family, but I missed-we all missed-having a mother. Skye, I know how betrayed and hurt you feel. But you are strong, beautiful, smart. It's your mother who lost out on knowing what an incredible woman you have become."

She tilted her face to Anthony and said, "You're a miracle worker. My headache is gone." She spontaneously kissed him, then turned away. Almost embarra.s.sed. But this felt-right.

"I need to talk to Rod about the fire, follow up with my detective about the housekeeper-"

"Let me drive you. Just until we know the drug is out of your system."

She felt herself-more herself now than she had for a long time-but she nodded.

Her cell phone rang, and she jumped up, popped the phone from its charger, and said, "Sheriff McPherson."

"Skye, it's Rod Fielding."

She glanced at her watch. "I thought we weren't meeting for another hour."

"After you called about the fire, I came back to the morgue. I've had a guard posted outside all night."

"You think someone is going to come after the bodies?"

"Possibly. But now I have a larger concern."

"What?"

"I ran the tox screen myself. Twice. These men were drugged."

"Drugged? So they couldn't fight back?"

"I don't think so. I think they were drugged to become aggressive, and it's been happening for a long time. Months, up until two weeks ago. But I'm checking their blood for more possibilities."

Two weeks. The same time the housekeeper was fired.

"How can you tell?"

"Hair samples. It's not a routine screening, but after the fire I decided to test for a wider range of narcotics, hallucinogens, and heavy metals."

"Test for mercury poisoning."

"Mercury? That would explain my findings. How did you know?"

"I'll explain when I get there. What about Cooper?"

"The hospital drew his blood, he had no alcohol or recreational drugs, but I'll need to broaden the panel. Now that I know what I'm looking for, it won't take long."

"Good."

"There's one more thing. I think I know what happened."

Finally, answers based on hard physical evidence. "What?"

"You need to come down and see for yourself. You won't believe me if I tell you over the phone."

CHAPTER TEN.

ON THE WAY to the sheriff's department, Anthony asked Skye about the conversation he'd overheard between her and Dr. Fielding.

"They were drugged?"

"Apparently it had been happening for months and ended two weeks ago. The same time as your friend fired the housekeeper."

"Housekeeper?"

"Corinne Davies. Know her?"

Anthony shook his head. "Do you know anything about her background?"

"Not much. Detective Martinez is working on it. She came from Oregon highly recommended from the diocese up there. The bishop was ticked off that Cooper fired her, but apparently has no control over the workings of the mission. She's on vacation."

Corinne Davies. "I can make some calls," Anthony suggested. "Someone in the church might feel more comfortable talking to me than the police."

Skye didn't say anything for a moment, and Anthony wondered if she was going to tell him to stay out of the investigation. Instead, she surprised him and said, "I'd appreciate that. Anything about her history, complaints, background. She has a daughter, Lisa, but there's no father in the picture. I don't even have his name."

She'd taken a step toward trusting him. Anthony was elated.

"What happened to the journal, Anthony? How did"- she paused-"the killer erase all those pages?"

She couldn't say demon. But asking for his advice was a huge step. "I think Rafe used blessed ink."

"Excuse me?"

"When the demon touched it, the ink disappeared."

"Disappearing ink."

By her cool tone, he was losing her. He changed tactics, using a cop's logic. "Rafe must have written something the killer doesn't want us to know," Anthony suggested. "Maybe evidence of who had been drugging the priests."

"Why wouldn't he have just called the police?"

"Maybe he didn't have proof. Maybe he didn't think you'd believe him." But Rafe had suspected something super-natural, that's why he'd called Anthony in the first place.

In light of the evidence of the men being drugged, everything made sense. Their odd behavior. Rafe's unease, but unable to explain why. Why hadn't Anthony seen it? He hadn't expected the trio of humans. He'd been looking at demons only, not at the ritual of summoning one. He'd bypa.s.sed the process of elimination and looked only at the obvious. Had his personal arrogance jeopardized Rafe and killed the others?

Whatever Rafe had sensed that spurred his call to Anthony was the beginning of the ritual to bring Ianax from h.e.l.l. And perhaps, in light of the long-term drugging, one of the priests had been concerned and asked Rafe to come to the mission in the first place.

"Why did he write it in Latin?" she asked. "To keep the information from the priests?"

"They all knew Latin," Anthony said. "The only reason to write in that language would be to keep the information from laypeople. Those who have reason to be at the mission. Repairmen, housekeepers, deliverymen."

Skye asked, "Do you know a Dr. Wicker?"

Anthony couldn't lie. "Yes."

"And?"

"What do you want to know?"

"You want to help, right?"

"You know I do."

"Then why were all these priests seeing a shrink?"

"I explained that to you. They've all witnessed evil." Anthony remembered the conversation he'd had with Rafe right before he left Italy.