tried to kick out of the hold, but he wasn’t strong enough to break free.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Jude set a gentle hand on Cope’s arm.
Nodding briefly at his husband, Cope strode to Father Musgrave, lying prone on the floor. “How does it feel to be overpowered? How does it feel to be held down, scared out of your wits?” Cope took a deep breath. There was so much more he wanted to say to Musgrave. There were so many more punishments he wanted to rain down on the man’s head, but he knew full well if he acted on his rage, he would be no better than Musgrave.
Cope turned to smile at Jude. He was the one man who’d always loved him unconditionally. He would never be the man he was today without his husband. He knelt beside Ronan who had Musgrave’s arms pinned behind his back. He set a hand on Musgrave’s sweaty forehead. “I melt your ice-cold heart with angel fire. The truth you’ll see and not the mire. As this ice melts, the truth will appear, bringing closer all that you fear. To the pits of hell, I send your soul. For eternity into that dark hole!” The wind howling through the hall grew louder, as the flames in the hearth grew brighter.
Musgrave screamed. The sound was filled with pain and rage. He redoubled his efforts to get away from the men holding him down. Cope had no doubt the man knew exactly what fate awaited him.
Yelping, Ronan and Fitzgibbon jerked away from Musgrave. Their fingers were red and beginning to blister, as if they’d been burned.
Jude grabbed Cope, pulling him back from the writhing screaming mess that was Father Radcliffe Musgrave.
“No! No! Revenge! I’ll have my revenge!” Musgrave roared.
“Go to hell!” Cope’s eyes slipped shut. His hands shot forward, as if he were pushing something unseen out of his way.
Musgrave screamed one final time, the sound rising to an ear-splitting crescendo before slowly fading away. The fire in the hearth blew out and with it the gale force winds blowing through the house. Cope fell to his knees.
“Jesus, Cope, are you okay?” Grabbing his husband, Jude gave him a little shake.
“I’m fine.” Cope managed a smile, as if consigning spirits to the pit of hell was something he did on a daily basis.
“Is everyone else okay?” Jude turned from Cope to Ronan, who was standing off to his right.
“I don’t know what the fuck just happened,” Ronan held his hands in front of him, turning them over and back again. His skin was pristine, all signs of the burns on his fingers were gone. “But I was sure both hands were burned, probably second degree.”
“Mine too.” Fitzgibbon held his hands up to Cope. “Not only are the burns gone, but so is the scar on my right index finger from when I cut myself with a kitchen knife over a year ago.”
“Angel fire protects the innocent and harms the wicked.” Cope shrugged. He walked back to Peg Waller who was still wrapped in Cisco Jackson’s arms. She looked none the worse for wear now that her black eye was gone. “How are you feeling?”
“Unbelievably, I’m good as new too.” She held up her wrists which had been bruised to a deep purple and were now healed. “How is that possible? If being gay is the sin, how did the Angel fire heal any of us?” Peg looked completely stunned.
Cope helped Peg to her feet. “The fire healed us because being gay isn’t a sin.” Cope turned to smile at his friends. “Frightened men like Musgrave tell parishioners we’re sinners because we’ve given him the power to get away with it. So-called men of God saying the words doesn’t make them true.”
“What about Marc?” Peg asked, peering around Cope to look at her husband. “Is he dead?”
“No, just out cold. I’m sure he’ll come around in the next few minutes. Being possessed by an evil spirit takes a lot out of you.” Cope bit his lip to keep from laughing.
“When he wakes up, my men will be here to arrest him for the crimes he’s committed against you, Mrs. Waller.” Cisco had his phone in his hand.
“Uh, Chief? You might want to hold off on that phone call for a few minutes.” Jude pointed behind him where a small group of people were standing. Front and center was Geneva Beecher.
“How do we ever thank you for setting us free?” Geneva asked.
Cope walked