Read Her Moons Denouement (Fallen Angels Book 2) for Free Online

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    ‘Good?  Good! You are having a fucking laugh aren’t you?  It’s not good for these seven women.  It’s not good for their families.  It’s not good for the poor stupid bastard that blew his brains out making a point this morning!  It’s not good for the Catholic Church.  It’s not good for me having to sit here and look at your smug, sick sadistic face.  So no, it’s not good, not good for anyone!’ fumed Bentley, one fist clenched, the other white knuckled, wrapped around the coffee cup. 
    O’Driscoll simply stared at him, then looked toward the mirror, the smile on his face broadening as he looked at his own reflection, then at Bentley’s reflection.
    Bentley followed his gaze, perplexed as he saw the smile broaden.  ‘Something amusing you about this it there?’ he asked angrily.
    O’Driscoll looked from the reflection back to Bentley, glaring deep into the DI’s eyes, O’Driscoll’s gaze darting imperceptibly between the pupil, the iris, the white, from top to bottom and side to side continually, searching, his own expression becoming fixed, penetrating.  Bentley shifted in his seat uncomfortably under the intense gaze, feeling the sharp, mesmerising eyes burn into the skull, methodically delving and digging into the recesses of every crack in his countenance, drinking in knowledge of him. 
    ‘It’s not amusing DI Bentley,’ O’Driscoll began, his gaze not leaving Bentley’s eyes as he gently moved his upturned palms forward toward the DI.  ‘It’s an affirmation.  An acknowledgement that what we do, is his will.’ he finished, offering up the stigmata as a testament to the virtue of his suffering.
    ‘We?’ queried Bentley, the question coming out in a hoarse, dry gurgle, filled with the nervousness O’Driscoll’s continued probing stare was imbuing in him. ‘Was someone else involved in these atrocities?’
    ‘You see them as atrocities, we see them as deliverance.’ answered O’Driscoll, his eyes sparkling and his features glowing as he said the words.
    Anger invaded the hypnotic state that Bentley was succumbing to and he quickly grabbed a manila file, thrusting it down on the table in front of O’Driscoll, breaking the gaze as he looked at the name on the front. 
    ‘Shelly Crabtree, seventeen years old, a sixth form student.  Three weeks ago you put a plastic bag over her head and asphyxiated her to death while buggering her.  We have the photographs.  We have your confession signed in blood.  How the hell is that Deliverance.’ spat Bentley as he opened the folder, stabbing a finger into the photograph of O’Driscoll in front of the dead girl, glaring back up at the Archbishop.
    O’Driscoll’s gaze did not break from looking at Bentley as he answered.  ‘Shabnock.  He had possessed her since she was six.  He was a Mighty Marquis of Hell with fifty legions of demons under his command.  We captured him.  We freed hell, heaven and earth of his evil afflictions.’
    ‘Through exorcism?  What part of the rite of exorcism directs you to bugger the person possessed, to smother the person possessed and to kill the person possessed.  I’m pretty sure the rite of exorcism is meant to free the individual of the demon so they can live a happy life thereafter?’
    ‘And free the Demon into the world once more so they can spread their evil seed.  We lure them, we trap them, we capture them and we imprison them.’
    ‘So you do have an accomplice?  Someone who took these sick trophy photographs?’ pushed Bentley.
    O’Driscoll’s smile broadened as he once again looked toward the mirror, taking in his excitably grinning reflection. 
    ‘Shall we tell him?’  O’Driscoll asked of his reflection, then answered in the same breath, ‘We should tell him.  The world should know.’
    Bentley looked at O’Driscoll’s grinning visage in the mirror, then turned to DC Tait with a pained expression on his face.  He murmured under his breath. ‘Shit,