The Demon Trappers 3: Forgiven

by Jana Oliver

  ‘So tempting,’ she said, shaking her head. Except I’d aim for your knees. Your head’s too hard.

  The wedge on the door cracked and then burst into pieces as it flew open. Demons poured on to the roof. Four, five, more. The hunters opened fire in a volley and their attackers fell. One large demon took a hit between its eyes and crumpled only a few feet from the ward. It twitched, then stop moving, dead.

  We’ll be OK. They’ll shoot them and then we’ll get out of here.

  The demon corpse twitched again, rising up on its haunches, black blood flowing down its hideous face. Reddish yellow eyes flickered, then grew brighter. Howling in rage, it waved its clawed arms above its head.

  ‘But you shot it!’ Riley exclaimed. The bullets had papal Holy Water in them. No demon could withstand that. ‘It should be dead.’

  Salvatore put another three rounds into the thing. It jerked, but didn’t fall. It couldn’t die because it was already a corpse.

  ‘Ah, hell. Zombie demons? Give me a freakin’ break!’ Beck yelled.

  More of the dead Threes rose now, all with that strange yellow flickering in their eyes.

  ‘Hold your fire unless they cross the ward,’ Salvatore ordered. ‘Don’t waste the ammunition.’

  ‘This is an epic fail,’ Beck said, casting a worried glance over the side of the building.

  If he’s scared, we’re in big trouble.

  Heaven wouldn’t let her die. She couldn’t stop Armageddon if that was the case. Now I sound like Simon. He’d been so sure his faith would keep him safe that he’d never thought the angels might have other plans.

  ‘Have ya ever seen somethin’ like this before?’ Beck asked.

  Salvatore shook his head. ‘This is a new evil.’

  Riley frowned in thought. The demons were all wrong. There’d been no chorus of ‘Blackthorne’s daughter’ that she’d come to expect whenever she encountered a fiend. Didn’t matter if it was the small ones or a Five, they all did it. These hadn’t.

  ‘Their eyes are different. They’re yellow,’ she said.

  Beck huffed in agreement. ‘Didn’t figure Lucifer would go this far.’

  The demons growled, but there was no cringing and wails of ‘Name not he!’ like they usually did. It appeared that the wounds had stopped bleeding and Riley swore she could smell the stench of decay.

  ‘Lucifer is a wimp,’ she shouted. No reaction whatsoever. ‘I don’t think these guys are his.’

  ‘They have to be the Prince’s,’ Salvatore argued.

  ‘Then why don’t they fear his name?’ Riley asked.

  Before the captain could answer, his radio came to life. ‘The other team is closing in,’ he announced.

  The fiends continued to hold their positions outside the Holy Water ward.

  ‘What are they doing?’ Riley asked. ‘They could break through if they wanted. What are they waiting for?’

  Beck swore under his breath. ‘Ah, hell, don’t ya see? They’re usin’ us to draw the others in. We’re the damned bait!’

  The captain whirled towards him. ‘You think this is a trap for the back-up team?’

  ‘Why not? They could have shattered that ward any time, so why are they standin’ there?’

  ‘Sir, I think the trapper is correct,’ Müller said.

  The captain muttered under his breath, then cued the radio. ‘This is Team Gabriel. Do not enter the structure. I repeat, do not enter the building. Set up a five-man team by the west entrance to keep the Hellspawn confined. Use Holy Water grenades only. Ammunition is ineffective.’

  There was a pause on the other end as Amundson digested that troubling news. ‘We copy you, Team Gabriel. Local fire department’s hook and ladder truck is five out.’

  Salvatore peered over the edge of the building. ‘We’ll need to move sooner than that. Send up ropes and we will rappel down.’

  What? ‘Ah.’ Riley raised her hand like she was in class. ‘Rappelling is not in my skill set, guys.’

  Salvatore didn’t miss a beat. ‘Cancel the ropes. Employ tarp extraction.’

  Tarp extraction? What did that mean?

  The low growls from their watchers grew more intense, like the demons had figured out that their prey wasn’t going to be there for much longer.

  Riley’s breath became tighter with each inhalation.

  Can’t panic. Just breathe in. Breathe out. We’re not going to die.

  Beck moved closer to her, touching her arm. ‘Hang in there, girl – we’re almost outta here,’ he said quietly. His strong voice reassured her, and she loosened her death grip on the steel pipe.

  When shouts came from below, Riley took a quick peek over the side of the building. The demon corpse was gone. She doubted it was because someone had toted it home as a souvenir.

  A screech of tyres announced the arrival of four black vans. The doors flew open and men bolted out of the vehicles at top speed. Riley caught sight of Jackson and Remmers running up the street. Then Simon’s bright blond hair. They joined the hunters and set about preventing Atlanta’s clueless citizens from wandering into the middle of a war zone.

  The growls behind Riley escalated in volume and she turned in time to see the demons begin to move forward.

  ‘Steady,’ Salvatore advised. ‘It’ll take time for them to get through the ward.’

  Beginning to panic, she looked down again and found that something large and white was being unfolded in the middle of the street, gradually becoming a giant square. A huge tarp. Hunters shuttled around the edge of it, getting a strong grip on the fabric. Then, one by one, they looked up expectantly.

  The captain’s radio crackled. ‘The tarp is in place, Team Gabriel,’ Amundson reported. ‘Whenever you’re ready.’

  ‘Excellent. Begin evacuation,’ the captain replied.

  If they thought she was going to jump off the roof . . .

  ‘No, no way,’ Riley said, backing up.

  Beck was next to her in an instant. Over her protests, he pulled her cap off, tossed it aside, then peeled the pipe out of her fingers. It fell near his duffel bag.

  ‘Riley?’ She didn’t answer him, too afraid of what would happen if she did. Shivers raced across her body and each breath grew ominously tighter.

  ‘Come on, girl,’ he urged. ‘Link yer arms round the backpack and hold it tight to yer chest. Then jump. It’ll be fine.’

  ‘I can’t do it,’ she insisted.

  The demons were at the circle now. A lone howl went, then amplified as each fiend added its voice to the unholy chorus. The first Three bounced off the ward, cringing and crying as the Holy Water scorched it. Then another struck the barrier, and another. Eventually the line would break and they’d all die.

  ‘Ya have to go, now!’ Beck said, scooping her up his arms. There was a hiss of pain in her ear as his shoulder reacted to the increased weight.

  ‘Oh God, don’t do this!’ she cried.

  Beck must have seen how frightened she was because his expression softened. He leaned close and whispered. ‘Do ya trust me, Riley?’

  Tears built in her eyes. Do I?

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered, trembling in fear. Always.

  Beck gently placed a kiss on her forehead. ‘Then it’ll be all right,’ he replied.

  Then he tossed her over the side of the five-storey building.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Riley would have screamed all the way down, but there wasn’t time. She bounced once, twice, then slid off the edge of the tarp and on to the ground, assisted by a pair of hunters. Her head spun and it took one of them to help her to the kerb. She sank on to the concrete, shaking, her arms in a death grip round her backpack. Finally she loosened her grip and it slid to the ground.

  Her eyes rose at the sound of multiple gunshots. Beck leaped off the building, his duffel bag cradled to his chest.

  ‘Oh my God,’ she whispered, then held her breath as he plummeted towards the ground.

  Beck landed, slid off and took a few steps
away from the tarp, grimacing in pain. Müller and Corsini were next. Captain Salvatore didn’t wait for the last hunter to clear the tarp, but dove over the edge, hastily tucking into a ball. Above him, demons lined the roof, bellowing in rage.

  Beck joined her, sinking down on the kerb, cradling his shoulder. He hissed when something popped in his back, then straightened up.

  ‘You OK?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah. I just gotta stop doin’ this stupid shit. Makes the shoulder hurt like hell.’ He looked over at her, concerned. ‘Sorry about the roof, but there was no other way.’

  ‘I know.’ She never would have jumped on her own, at least not until a demon was about to eat her. And he’d kissed her, well sort of. That had been . . . interesting. Maybe he wasn’t holding on to his grudge as hard as she thought.

  Extracting a pint of water from her pack, Riley took a lengthy drink, trying to prevent her hands from shaking. She failed. Then she handed the water to Beck. As she’d hoped, he dug around the inside of his duffel bag and produced a bottle of pain pills. He dropped one on to his palm and gulped it down with the rest of the liquid. The hunter cap she’d been wearing came her way.

  ‘Thought ya might want to keep this as a souvenir,’ he said.

  A roof full of demons and he’d taken time to pick up the cap.

  ‘Thanks.’

  Her eyes went to the top of the building again: the demons were no longer visible, probably regrouping, waiting for another chance to catch their prey unawares.

  ‘The hunters aren’t going inside there again, are they?’

  ‘By the time they do the Threes will be gone.’ Beck wiped sweat off his brow with his uninjured arm. ‘There’s a series of tunnels throughout this part of the city. They’ll just move to a new location.’

  Jackson squatted next to Riley and winked at her. ‘You fly real well for a trapper.’

  ‘Yeah, one of my many mad skills.’

  ‘I’ll teach you how to rappel if ya want,’ Beck offered.

  She gave him a sidelong look. ‘You’re serious?’

  ‘Sure. Ya have to build up some upper-body strength, but it’s doable.’

  Riley filed that away for future reference.

  ‘We need to get ya boots, though,’ he added. ‘Those high tops are not cuttin’ it.’

  That she wasn’t so sure about: she liked her Converse.

  ‘What happened in there?’ Jackson asked.

  Beck shook his head immediately. ‘I’ll tell ya somewhere less . . . public.’

  ‘Got it,’ the other trapper replied, frowning now. ‘Stewart and Harper will be here soon. They’re making a condolence call.’

  Beck looked up. ‘Who did we lose?’

  ‘Tom Ashton. A couple Threes got him.’

  ‘Sweet Jesus,’ Beck murmured.

  ‘Which one was he?’ Riley asked.

  ‘The guy with the big handlebar moustache,’ Jackson replied.

  Oh. She remembered him. He’d been nice.

  Riley rose, the urge to be somewhere else so strong she thought it might strangle her. She needed to see her dad, feel him hug her and have him tell her the world wasn’t such a horrible place. She wouldn’t believe him, but at least she could try to delude herself that he was right.

  ‘I’m going,’ she said. When Beck protested that she should wait until Stewart arrived to catch a ride back to the master’s house, she waved him off. ‘I’m good. I’ll catch the bus.’

  ‘Suit yerself.’

  Staring down at him, Riley tried to think of how to let him know she was grateful for saving her. Despite all that had fallen between them, he’d watched out for her.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said simply.

  ‘Yer welcome,’ he replied.

  As Riley wove her way around the barricades, there was the click of camera shutters. The press was all over the place. Someone called her name – it was Justine pushing her way through the rubber-necking bystanders.

  Riley turned her back and kept walking. If the reporter got in her face, there would be big trouble, the kind that would most certainly rate another article in the newspaper.

  Another nemesis waited for her at the next street corner: Simon. His usually bright blue eyes were dull and his expression said he couldn’t make up his mind if he was pleased she was alive or not.

  As Riley drew closer, he moved into her path. ‘Can’t you see that Hell is using you as its tool?’ he asked, so quietly she barely heard him.

  ‘Go away, Simon,’ she said. ‘I’m not in the mood.’

  He caught her arm, pulling her to a halt. ‘Why do you keep luring the demons to you? If the hunters hadn’t come in time, all those men would be dead.’

  ‘So would I, Simon. You seem to have missed that little detail.’

  ‘I doubt Hell would do that to one of its own.’

  She glowered up at him. ‘Who was the guy who visited you at the hospital and at your house? The one your brother said made you so weird?’

  ‘No one came to see me at the hospital except my family and Father Harrison,’ Simon retorted. He sounded so certain, like someone had drilled that into his brain.

  ‘Really? I came to see you, so did Beck. Did you forget that?’

  He blinked. ‘You’re trying to confuse me,’ he replied, his hand retreating from her arm.

  ‘Ask your mom. She won’t lie to you. Then tell me who Hell is playing for a fool, Simon Adler.’

  Riley pushed past him, feeling his contempt follow her up the street. She only slowed her pace a block away because her body ached from the tarp landing and the seemingly never-ending cramps. As she hiked towards the bus stop, all she could think of was Beck holding her in his arms. How he’d given her such a gentle smile like he’d forgotten all about Ori. He’d even kissed her forehead. When she’d been fifteen that would have sent her into ecstasy. Not now. She’d seen how quickly joy could turn to heartbreak.

  ‘Do ya trust me?’ he’d asked.

  I do. That didn’t mean her trust wouldn’t end in tears.

  The bus trip to her apartment complex was tolerable, except for a scruffy teen and his mp3 player. It was one of the really nice ones and he was seriously rocking to the tunes. So was Riley, six rows back. When she’d boarded the bus, she noticed a wet line at the bottom step and a jug of Holy Water stashed near the driver’s seat. When she’d asked about it, the guy said it was a city by-law now. All buses and trains had to be warded against demons.

  Oh, crap. That meant sneaking small fiends on public transport had come to an end. Hellspawn on the buses and trains had always been illegal, but trappers usually ignored the rules and no one complained, at least for the small Grade One fiends. No one would dare haul a Three on to a MARTA train and not expect some blowback.

  Once she reached home, Riley went through the motions: retrieving the bills from the mailbox, looking at the notices posted on the corkboard near the entrance. Sometimes you could score cheap furniture that way when someone was moving out. The newest note was from Mrs Ivey on the fourth floor who was missing her hearing-aid battery (again). Being a cranky old woman, she was convinced someone had stolen it.

  She might be right. If the battery had any shininess to it, it was a good bet it’d been thieved by the fiend that shared Riley’s apartment. If the demon showed his face, maybe she could convince him to give it back.

  The apartment smelt stale, but Riley wasn’t staying there often enough for it to be any other way. Despite the chilly air she popped open a window then cycled through her voicemails. The most important message was from Fireman Jack, a demon trafficker who doubled as the Guild’s lawyer. It was bad news: the Consolidated Debt Collection people had set their sights on Riley’s car. However, if she was willing to give up her father, they’d be happy to leave the vehicle in her possession.

  Blackmail? After all the hell she’d been through in the last few days the car problem was barely a flicker on her problem meter. Jack would sort it out. He was good with that kind of th
ing.

  After her shower and clean clothes, Riley dropped on to her couch. For some reason Mrs Ivey’s problem resurfaced in her mind. It had to be awful not being able to hear.

  Was the little demon in residence?

  ‘Hello? Are you here?’ There was a flash on one of the bookshelves and there he was, all of three inches of light brown fiend with a forked tail and tiny red eyes. His ears were peaked and he dressed like a ninja. He even had the little tabi shoes ninja assassins wore. Except this guy was a thief, not a killer. Sitting next to him was a bag of loot, prizes he’d liberated from other people’s apartments. She often wondered if Lucifer regretted creating such a stealthy kleptomaniac.

  ‘Did you take someone’s hearing-aid battery?’ She got a shrug in reply. Maybe the demon had no idea what she was talking about. ‘Can you check? Please? Mrs Ivey needs it back. She can’t hear without it and she’s a grouchy old lady on good days.’ Riley had learned that when she’d left her clothes in the communal dryer a few seconds longer than was necessary.

  The fiend dug in his little bag and began to haul out pieces of loot, each one shiny or sparkly. That was a Magpie’s weakness – they were all about the bling. The pile of loot kept growing and included earrings, a small toe ring, gold tone paperclips, tie clip, I LUV Las Vegas key ring. There had to be demon magic involved as his loot bag wasn’t large enough to hold all the goodies inside. He pulled out a battery, held it up and squeaked at her. The demon equivalent of: ‘Is this it?’

  ‘Yes, I think it is. Can I have it, please?’

  The demon issued another squeak. ‘In return for what?’ she guessed.

  Riley dug around in her backpack and came up with a slightly dented chocolate kiss from the coffee shop. How it’d survived in one piece, she had no idea.

  ‘How’s about this?’ she said, turning it so he could see the shiny tinfoil.

  The trade happened even before she could blink her eyes, the battery lying on her palm, the silver-wrapped kiss in the demon’s hands.