by Jana Oliver
‘But you are now.’ Donovan picked up the bottle of whisky, but didn’t take a drink. His thumbnail scored the label. ‘Your mother and me were together for a few months right before I went into the Navy. When I came back four years later, she’s got this little blond-haired boy. Sweet fellow with big brown eyes and a smile that would own your heart.’
Beck jammed his lips together.
‘I asked her if you were mine and she said you weren’t. Now by that time she was drinking heavily and not known to tell the truth, so I kept an eye on you as best I could.’ He paused. ‘When she left you in the swamp, I was so damned mad I had Doc Hodges do a paternity test while you were in the hospital, on the sly. I never told Sadie about it.’
Beck sat up, his breath caught. ‘Yes or no?’
‘It was negative, Denver. You’re not my son. I can tell you that wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I had so hoped you were.’
‘Ah hell,’ Beck murmured, his hopes crushed. ‘I always thought . . .’
‘So did I. I’d hoped you were mine so I could sue for custody, get you away from your mother.’
‘All those years I wasted dreamin’ you were my daddy.’
‘No, not wasted. It gave you something to hope for, something Sadie couldn’t destroy. That’s why I never told you. As long as you held that hope you had a reason to keep moving forward.’
Beck ran a hand over his face. ‘Guess I’ll never know who he is.’
‘Well, one thing’s for sure, he must have had a great deal of courage or his son wouldn’t be as good a man as he is.’
Beck shrugged.
‘I’m sorry that wasn’t the answer we both wanted.’ Donovan sighed. ‘In some ways I regret that Sadie and I didn’t work out. Maybe she would have stayed out of the bottle if she’d had someone to look after her.’
‘Probably not.’ Beck squared his shoulders. ‘Well, as far as I’m concerned, I had two daddies – you and Paul. I couldn’t have asked for better.’
‘That means a lot,’ Donovan replied, clapping a hand on his shoulder.
‘Before I leave, I want to see Louisa again and meet her husband. Tell him what a lucky guy he is. Once that’s done, I’ll be headin’ home.’
‘Don’t forget your roots, son. They’re important. And, whatever you do, don’t let Riley get away from you. She’s just what you need.’
It was heartening to know Donovan thought so highly of her.
‘Yeah, I’m workin’ on that. Not to worry.’
His time in Sadlersville was drawing to a close. Everything was settled now.
With a sense of accomplishment, Beck leaned back to watch the couch, and his past, vanish in a sea of flames.
Atlanta lay beneath them like a conquered city, but the view from the roof of One Atlantic Center did not impress the angels. After you’d witnessed the beginning of the cosmos, the mortals’ cities were like a child’s toys.
The Divine standing next to Ori was the pensive kind, the kind that saw the future with disturbing clarity. It was one of the reasons he’d asked Gusion to join him tonight.
‘Where will you stand if war comes?’ his friend asked.
Ori raised an eyebrow. ‘Where do you think I should stand? What do you see of our future? You’re known for that talent.’
‘All I see is blood,’ the other Fallen angel replied solemnly. ‘Nothing is clear beyond that.’
That wasn’t the response he’d expected. ‘Whose blood?’ Ori asked. ‘Mortals’ or angels’?’
‘Both.’ Gusion turned towards him. ‘Do not go to war against Lucifer. He will destroy you and all you hold dear.’
‘What if that’s exactly what I want?’ Ori parried.
His old friend shook his head in despair.
‘I have a favour to ask of you, Gusion. You have every right to refuse.’
Then he laid out what it was he wished for, how his fellow angel may well have a role to play in the days to come.
Gusion ruffled a wing in agitation before he answered. ‘You ask much.’
‘But will you do it if the need arises?’
‘I shall, though it is not in my nature.’
‘What of the other Divines? Where do they stand?’ Ori asked.
‘They are undecided. Though many do not hold you in high regard, they are displeased with the way you have been treated.’
Ori nodded his understanding. ‘Lucifer hopes to pit Sartael against me to destroy us both. He has lost sight of what is important.’
Gusion did not argue that point. ‘Where is this soul you hold, the one that has made Lucifer so angry?’
‘Blackthorne’s daughter has just returned to the city.’
‘Does she know of the danger she faces, how so many would view her as a means to destroy you?’ Gusion asked.
‘Not yet. Riley Anora Blackthorne will learn soon enough.’
‘Is she strong enough, this soul of yours?’
‘She had better be.’
As Beck had promised, Riley found journeyman trapper Chris Jackson waiting for her outside the Greyhound bus station in Atlanta, leaning against the front bumper of his truck. Jackson’s build was on the thin side and he was one of her favourite trappers: he’d been in her corner from the moment she’d joined the Guild.
‘Welcome back to the big city,’ he called out, a welcoming smile in place.
‘Hi, Jackson. How’d you get stuck with picking me up?’
‘Volunteered,’ he replied.
He hefted her small suitcase into the back of his truck and then they were headed north into the heart of Atlanta. Since Jackson’s trapping bag took up space on the seat between them, Riley placed her backpack at her feet.
‘How’s Beck?’ he asked.
‘Doing OK. You hear what happened?’
‘Yeah. It’s been in the papers.’ He shook his head in sympathy. ‘I can’t imagine him having to carry that weight on his shoulders all those years.’
‘It was really hard. Now they know he’s as much a victim as the other guys.’
As Jackson took a corner, her backpack flopped over on to her feet and she readjusted it. ‘So what’s happening up here? Am I still on someone’s hit list?’
‘Nope. The cops caught up with the dude. He made the mistake of sending threats to the mayor, the governor and a state senator. He’s done for.’
‘Wow, the company I keep,’ she said wryly.
‘Besides that idiot, we’ve got a bunch of new folks who want to join the Guild. A good portion of those are very scary. Most of them actually.’ He took in a breath. ‘Oh, and the Demonland film crew arrived yesterday. They start filming tomorrow evening.’
‘Why would they come here after everything that’s happened?’
‘Ratings is what I hear,’ Jackson replied. ‘They really want to know what went down at the cemetery so they can work it into an episode. Harper has threatened to gut anyone who tells them a peep about the battle.’
She could see her master doing that.
‘I never got to thank you for what you did at the cemetery,’ he continued. ‘I don’t know how you stood up to those angels.’
‘I had no choice,’ she said. ‘Sometimes when you’re cornered you do the impossible.’
‘Is it true Heaven made a deal with you to save Simon’s life?’ Jackson asked, looking over at her now.
Apparently that bit of truth was in the wild now. ‘Yes, they did.’
Jackson whistled under his breath. ‘I’ve only seen him a couple times since the battle and he’s not looking good. I think the guilt is getting to him.’
‘Yeah, it is.’
‘How’s about some good news: I passed my master’s exam.’
‘That rocks, Jackson!’ she said. ‘Wow, you have to be jazzed.’
His grin told her he was. ‘Now I have to do my thing with an Arch-Fiend and I’m good to go.’
‘You’re not going to try to capture one of those things, are you?’ she asked, worried.
‘After what I
saw at the cemetery, no way. I’m just going to kill it before it kills me.’
Riley totally agreed. ‘You sure Harper will sign off on you to become a master?’
‘He says he will. He’s less of a . . . jerk now that he’s clean and sober. The National Guild has waived its restrictions about the number of apprentices per master. Harper has two new ones to train now.’ Jackson gave her a look. ‘You’re going to love these guys.’
‘Bad news?’
‘Clueless.’
She laughed. ‘They’ll feel right at home with me, then.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
The next morning brought a hearty breakfast courtesy of Mrs Ayers and a scrawled note from Master Stewart that welcomed her home, and told her that she was expected at Harper’s new office by ten.
No rest for the damned.
Since she’d crawled out of bed late, Riley had no time to fly by her apartment, though she knew the mailbox would be jammed full by now. She moved that task on to the ‘later’ list and followed Stewart’s directions to her master’s new home.
When Riley pulled into the gravelled parking lot, she knew she’d found the right place. Like his previous location, Harper had opted for a car repair business that had fallen on hard times. At least this one was in better physical condition than the old one, especially after a Grade Five Geo-Fiend had torn it apart.
The new place was constructed of tan brick. One side of the building was two storeys and the other – the garage portion – just one. The garage’s twin overhead doors weren’t peeling or warped. In fact, it looked as if they’d recently received a coat of paint.
‘Much better,’ she said, nodding her approval. Maybe Harper’s new sobriety was carrying over into other aspects of his life. Or he got tired of living in a dump.
Despite Jackson’s observation that her master was better behaved now, Riley was still apprehensive. She and Harper had shared a rocky relationship, including a history of bruises he’d left on her during his blistering tirades. Now that she knew him better she understood where that anger had come from, but that didn’t mean she trusted him.
Right before the battle at Oakland Cemetery, he’d promised that if they made it through the end of the world he and Riley would have a little chat and that she wouldn’t like what he was going to tell her. She suspected that conversation would conclude with her handing over her trapper’s licence.
I made the deal with Hell. He won’t have any other choice.
She steeled herself and pushed open the front door to the building. The interior smelt more of garage than it did demon, but that would change over time. Harper’s new office was bigger than the old one and her master had positioned his battle-scarred desk so he could take advantage of the space. Some of his old furniture had made the move – the battered filing cabinets crouched in a corner – but there was a new office chair. The grubby recliner was gone and Riley did not mourn its demise.
The door to her right led into the old service bays. The hydraulic lifts were noticeably absent, probably sold for scrap by the previous owners, and in their place were four cages that were specially designed to hold Grade Three demons. All were occupied and the demons set up a chorus of howls when they spied her, including their usual Blackthorne’s daughter greeting.
Harper looked up and grunted at her arrival. He was an older man in his late fifties with a wicked scar running from his left eyebrow down the side of his face. Given the warmer weather, he was in a T-shirt and the skull tattoo on his arm was partially visible. A full bottle of water sat next to him now, instead of a bottle of booze. Next to it was his can of chewing tobacco telling Riley he’d not abandoned all his vices.
‘Blackthorne,’ he said evenly.
That was new. Usually he called her Brat.
‘Master Harper.’ She gestured at the space around them. ‘I like this place. It’s nicer than the old building.’
‘So do I. It’s got a couple decent rooms upstairs so I can spread out.’
Then he leaned back in the chair and studied her intently, like a lion waiting for a gazelle to make a fatal error. ‘I hear you killed a Four down in the swamp. That true?’
‘Yes.’
‘You killed it on your own?’ When she nodded, his expression grew pensive.
It was time to make an end to this one way or another.
Riley placed her trapper’s licence on the desktop. He eyed it, then looked back up at her. ‘Giving up?’ he asked.
‘You said we were going to have a little talk if the world didn’t end. Well, it’s still here, so . . .’
‘If I take that licence away, you’ll go freelance, right?’
She nodded. ‘I have to make money somehow.’
‘Damn,’ he muttered, then shoved it back her way. ‘We’ll have that talk when I’m ready and not until then.’
‘But—’
‘Stewart and I will be keeping an eye on you.’ He leaned forward now, the scar standing out on his jaw line. ‘You go dark on us . . .’ He left the threat unspecified. It was far scarier that way.
‘Understood.’ All she had to do was stay on the straight and narrow and maybe she could avoid being shipped off to the Vatican for punishment. Or worse.
As Riley returned the licence to her backpack, Harper shuffled some papers.
‘That TV show will start filming tomorrow night. I need you there. Reynolds will be there too. Watch yourself with those people and don’t tell them a thing about what went down in the cemetery. You got that?’
‘Understood.’ The last thing she needed was for Hollywood to do their version of the showdown between the Archangel Michael and Lucifer. Knowing them, it’d involve a car chase and a trashy love scene.
Harper pushed a trapping order across the desk. ‘There’s a Magpie at the convention centre. Good luck with that one. The place is huge.’
She sighed and took the order.
‘I’ve got two new apprentices – they’ll be here pretty soon. Tomorrow we’ll go down to Demon Central. I’ll have you and Adler show them what it means to be a trapper.’
Riley opened her mouth to protest that he was going to spook the newbies too soon, but he waved her off.
‘Might as well have them see what it’s really like. If they can’t stomach it, we need to know that now.’
Before she could reply, the front door swung open and two young men entered. The taller of the pair came with curly brown hair and dark glasses and his T-shirt was something her friend Peter might wear, proudly proclaiming ACTUALLY, IT IS ROCKET SCIENCE. The other guy was shorter and had a little more meat on him. His hair was about the same colour, but it was straight and ended at his collar. Both were in jeans and work boots.
The newbies.
Harper pointed at the taller one. ‘That’s Fleming. The other is Lambert.’ His finger veered towards Riley. ‘This is Blackthorne. Listen to her and you might live through the first week.’
While Fleming seemed taken aback at Harper’s blunt pronouncement, Lambert adopted a bored expression.
He’s going to be the problem child. There was always one in every crowd.
‘Start them at the bottom,’ Harper ordered. His grin told her exactly what he meant.
‘Come on, guys,’ she said, waving them towards the garage. ‘Let me show you the wonders of demon poop.’
The old Starbucks’ parking lot was nearly full up by the time Riley pulled in and, to her relief, she was a few minutes early despite all her fretting about being late. Harper had been right – finding a Klepto-Fiend in the middle of a peach producers’ convention had been anything but a slam dunk. Three hours in she’d finally caught the little fiend as it’d slowed down long enough to collect some glittering peach pins at one of the producer’s booths. On the plus side she’d scored four jars of peach preserves. Those would be yummy on Mrs Ayers’s homemade scones.
Peter sauntered over the moment she exited her car. ‘The wandering Riley returns,’ he said. ‘And look, no gator
bites, either.’
A magnificent bruise encircled his left eye, shading from brown to green. ‘Peter! What happened?’ she demanded.
‘Your stalkery ex said something I didn’t like and I told him to jam his head up his butt. It didn’t end well.’
‘Alan? I warned you he’d get even,’ she said. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about this?’
‘You had enough going on down south – you didn’t need to know about my problems.’
Getting in Alan’s face felt like a plan right now. He couldn’t hit her best friend and not incur her wrath. Riley’s eyes swept the various knots of students as they clustered around talking or texting before class began.
‘So where is the jerk?’ she asked.
‘He’s suspended until Thursday. I only got a warning.’
There was only one reason Peter might receive that. ‘You hit him back?’
‘Sure did,’ he said, holding up his skinned knuckles as evidence. ‘My dad gave me props once he heard what happened. He said he was proud of me, but it had to be top secret so Mom doesn’t come unstuck.’ He waggled an eyebrow. ‘Simi thinks I’m cool because of it.’
‘She’s just jealous of your hair,’ Riley replied, pleased her barista friend had finally begun to take Peter’s interest seriously.
‘Maybe, but she thinks I’m so cool we’re going to the dance together.’
That works. Simi would encourage his wilder side while he mellowed her out. Then the other part of his statement registered.
‘What dance?’ Riley asked, hefting her backpack on a sore shoulder. Her muscles still felt as if someone had stomped them into a pulp.
‘It’s the annual citywide “dress like an adult” thing. It’s this Saturday.’ Peter fell in step next to her as they walked towards the building.
‘You mean the prom?’ Of course he did.
With the school system bankrupt, the dances were sponsored by local businesses. To accommodate all the kids in the city, there were a series of proms and it appeared theirs was going to be way early this year.
A pang of envy shot through her. She would have loved to go, but . . .
‘You guys have fun.’ She would probably be trapping smelly demons in a MARTA station or in the bowels of Demon Central.
