by Jana Oliver
‘You can come, you know,’ Peter suggested. ‘I’m sure I could spare a dance for you.’
‘No. It’s . . . It wouldn’t feel right.’
‘So ask Beck to the dance.’
‘What?’ she sputtered. ‘No. Not happening.’
‘Ah, I got it. You’re chicken. You’ll take on a horde of demons, but when it comes to the one guy you’re really hot for—’
Riley glowered at him. ‘Don’t. Go. There. The subject is closed, Mr King.’
Peter raised his hands in surrender. ‘Whoa, you are grouchy. I was looking forward to seeing you . . . why?’
‘You don’t understand. It’s complicated with me and Beck.’
‘Buzzz!’ he said. ‘It’s totally simple: You guys have to stop being idiots. You’re driving each other crazy along with the rest of us.’
‘I don’t think it’s salvageable, not after I . . .’
‘After you what?’ he pressed.
Tugging her friend away from the stream of students headed to class, she related exactly what had happened at the bus station, how she hadn’t heard a thing from Beck since she’d left Sadlersville and that it was all her fault.
‘A public display of affection? Awesome,’ Peter replied.
‘No, I spooked him big time. He’ll back off. I know it.’
‘I’m guessing he won’t. Trust me on this.’
Maybe Peter was right. ‘I hope so. If not, I looked like a complete dork.’
‘Patience. Time will tell on the dorkdom.’
When Riley followed him inside the old coffee shop, nothing much had changed since she’d been gone: Same lovely ground-coffee aroma, same Mrs Haggerty, same mismatched desks and students. No, there was one difference: The desk that Alan always used was empty.
Her mood soared. She might not have a date to the prom, but the bully was gone, at least temporarily. Peter had proved he wasn’t a wimp. A few months earlier he wouldn’t have had the courage to take on a bully.
Her former nemesis, Brandy, shifted around in her chair once Riley was seated.
‘Have you met the Demonland actors yet?’ she asked, her eyes sparkling. ‘Is Jess Storm as smoking hot as he looks on TV?’
‘I’ll be seeing them tomorrow night. I’ll let you know.’
‘Don’t forget the autographs. I’ve told all my friends I’m getting one,’ the girl gushed.
It was nice that things were so insanely simple in Brandy’s world.
‘Autographs, photographs, the works. I promise,’ Riley said.
At that point she was waved up to the front of the classroom. Riley’s buoyant mood promptly deflated when she was handed her assignments from the time she was in South Georgia.
‘You did all this when I was gone?’ she asked, astounded at the thick stack of papers.
‘No, but I figured the way your life is going you might like to get a little ahead,’ Mrs Haggerty responded.
Riley dragged herself back to her desk and dropped the assignments into her backpack on top of the Holy Water spheres. As the teacher began to take roll call, she slumped back in her creaky chair and wondered how many more days of school were left before summer vacation.
By the time class ended, Riley was suffering serious withdrawal symptoms and the only known only cure was the Grounds Zero. Since it was close to six at night, the coffee shop was fairly empty. Simi, her hyper-caffeinated barista friend, wasn’t working, so Riley collected her beverage and headed for her favourite booth, the one she and her dad had often shared.
She checked her phone again like she had at least a million times over the course of the day. No call from Backwoods Boy. All because she’d unloaded the truth on him at the bus station.
Beck’s instinctive response would be to retreat behind those massive defences of his, just when she’d finally got him to take a few steps outside those very shields.
Why did I do that? That was so dumb. He’d say she was being goofy again. Beck didn’t know it, but this time the rules were different. This was the end game: If he didn’t step up and accept her love, she was done.
I will not make a fool of myself again.
Riley popped one of the chocolate curls in her mouth and sighed in relief. Life was manageable if she focused on the things that made sense: excellent hot chocolate, homework and trapping demons. Not that the last two always did.
Just after she’d taken a long sip of her drink, a tremor ran up both arms and lodged at the base of her brain, like a primal warning system. When her eyes rose, she gasped and nearly dropped the cup.
Ori strode towards her like some dark knight.
The angel’s black leather jacket, T-shirt and jeans were the same as before and his ebony hair was secured in a ponytail. He sat across from her, acting if she hadn’t held him in her arms, watched him dying after the battle.
‘Riley Anora Blackthorne,’ he said, his voice crisp. ‘Do I need to remind you of your vow to me?’
She shook her head. Somehow she’d known it would come to this moment.
‘Lucifer kept you alive.’ A curt nod returned.
Riley studied him anew. His eyes were guarded, not as caring as they had once been. Whatever had happened to him after Lucifer had taken him from the cemetery had altered the angel in some elemental way.
‘So how does this go?’ she asked. ‘You going to haul me off to Hell right in front of all these people?’
Ori leaned back in the booth, dark brows furrowed and arms crossed over his chest. ‘Nothing so dramatic.’
‘Then what am I to do? Polish your boots? Tell you just how awesome you are every minute of the day?’
No reply.
‘Well, whatever it is, I will not try to take anyone’s soul for you.’
‘I set the terms. You abide by them,’ he replied, his tone chillier now.
‘You don’t scare me, angel. I’m doomed no matter what. I refuse to hurt anyone because you expect me to.’
‘Once again you try to dictate terms when you have no leverage.’
‘The only leverage I have left is my conscience,’ she retorted. ‘I will not sacrifice that.’
Stormy eyes glared at her. ‘You may find that a difficult promise to keep.’
Concerned that someone might be overhearing this conversation, Riley gave a quick look around. No one seemed to notice them. ‘Tell me what happens next,’ she insisted.
‘As I am your demi-lord, you are mine to command. My job is as it always was: to destroy those of our realm who defy my master,’ Ori continued. ‘You will aid in that task.’
‘Me? How?’
‘I will summon you when it is time to do battle against the rogue demons. You will fight at my side.’
‘Are you mad?’ she said in a forced whisper. ‘I am not some cosmic warrior.’
‘You will be my second nonetheless.’
‘If you want me dead, just zap me with a lightning bolt and get it over with.’
‘You will serve as my second,’ the angel insisted, rising from the booth in a fluid movement. ‘Beginning tonight.’
‘This is payback. You’re pissed I didn’t beg to hand over my soul like the others.’
‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘This is survival, Riley Anora Blackthorne. For you, at least.’
He turned on a heel and strode out of the shop. Unlike in the past, none of the women noticed, as if he wasn’t really there.
Riley found her hands locked round her cup in a death grip. She prised them off. Ori hadn’t done this kind of thing with her father. Just her.
All because I wanted to be loved.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Nestled in her bed at Stewart’s house, Ori’s summons came in the middle of the night, a clarion call that interrupted her dreams and pulled Riley awake in a heartbeat.
Dress. Or fight unclothed, he ordered deep in her mind.
She’d barely managed to pull on her jeans, shirt and high-tops when the room around her faded. Her new surroundings came in
to focus: a broad, open field of green grass, the moon fat and full in the midnight sky.
I know this place. This was all angelic illusion, like the romantic picnic they’d shared when Ori had been trying to seduce her. This time there was no tasty watermelon or wine, only Lucifer’s killer.
‘Sleep in your clothes from now on, unless you wish to fight nude,’ Ori said brusquely. ‘I will call you at a moment’s notice.’
Great. ‘During the day too?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Someone will notice if I just disappear.’
‘I’ll ensure they don’t. Now extend your hand, the one with my master’s inscription upon it.’
Riley did as he asked, wondering what he had in mind, and the question was answered the instant her right palm flared to life in brilliant white flames. Crying out, she tried to wave them away, but failed. There was no pain, but it freaked her to see her hand engulfed in fire. The flames gradually spread down her fingers and became a sword, a petite version of Ori’s blade.
‘How do you do that?’ she asked, staring at it in wonder. It was so bright it hurt her eyes.
‘I am sharing some of my Divine essence with you.’
Riley gave the blazing blade a couple of test swipes through the air. It was kind of cool.
This wasn’t a good idea. ‘Look, I am not a warrior. I can try to watch your back, but I’m not good at killing demons.’
‘You did well enough in the swamp.’
The blade ceased its lazy arcs. ‘You know what happened there?’
‘Of course. I’m your demi-lord. I knew exactly what was going on.’
‘Then why didn’t you help me find Beck?’ Riley demanded. ‘Why did you let me do all that on my own?’
‘It was your test, not mine,’ he responded. ‘Now I shall show you some basic sword techniques and then we’ll go hunting.’
Hunting? This was getting out of hand. ‘What can I possibly do other than act as bait?’
The angel nodded agreeably. ‘I see you understand your role perfectly.’
When it was over and Riley had returned to her room, the clock indicated only an hour had passed. To her it felt like half a day. Her clothes were clean now, though they’d been soaked in demon blood. Her muscles ached, but not as badly as when she’d been in the middle of the fight. Somehow Ori had shared some of his angel mojo to help her recover.
As she’d warned him, she’d done very badly her first time out, unable to handle the blade. Their prey, as he’d called it, had been a quartet of rogue Threes, those who had defied Lucifer. At the end of the killing, there was a pile of corpses which he’d burned with his angelic fire. Through it all, he’d shown no emotion as he’d cut them down. The caring Divine who’d made love to her was gone, subsumed by the grim executioner.
The next morning Riley found herself in Demon Central with Simon, their master and the two new apprentices. She was sure Harper would see she was different somehow, call her out for hanging with one of Lucifer’s dudes, but he hadn’t said a word.
In contrast to the demons Ori had slain, the single Gastro-Fiend they were trying to trap was one of the younger ones, plump, with only one row of teeth. It stood about four feet tall, with black fur and glowing eyes. Currently it gnawed on a pawful of garbage, one of its usual food sources in Demon Central.
This time there was no fancy sword or angelic back-up, so one of them would serve as the ‘lure’ while the other wielded the Holy Water. If the trapper with the sphere missed, the lure was in line for the demon’s fangs and claws.
Troubled, Riley looked over at Simon. Did she trust him to throw the sphere accurately? Would he change his mind at the last second and let the fiend attack her?
Simon was frowning as well. He’s wondering if I’d do that to him.
‘I’ll be the bait,’ she said. It seemed to be her lot in life. ‘You’re better with the spheres than I am.’
Her former boyfriend shook his head. ‘No, I’ll do it.’
Riley was taken aback. He trusted her after all that had happened between them? ‘Simon, you don’t—’
‘Yes, I do,’ he insisted. ‘You’ll hit it first time. I know you will.’
She wasn’t sure about that.
‘Get it done,’ Harper called out from where he and the newbies were tucked behind a dumpster. If the trapping went wrong, the master was the back-up plan if the demon got the upper hand. It’d be his job to keep the thing from eating them, if possible.
‘Ready?’ Simon asked, testing the grip of the steel pipe in his left hand.
When she reluctantly nodded, he moved closer to the beast. Since one of these things had nearly killed him, this was an act of supreme courage. Simon’s fingers clenched the bag of chicken entrails and his breath came in quick gasps.
You’re scared out of your mind. He had to be reliving every agonizing second of the attack at the Tabernacle. Riley certainly was.
When Simon lifted up a bag of chicken entrails, the fiend dropped the handful of garbage and howled in delight. From its perspective, it’d gone from dumpster diving to two trappers on the hoof with a chicken appetizer.
Once Simon tossed the entrails towards the beast, he didn’t have to wait long for the fiend to make its headlong rush at the offering. The chicken was gone in a gulp and then the Three began to size up its next meal as this one was still a little green in the trapper-killing business. An older, more seasoned fiend would have already begun its run.
Riley edged into a better position and her movement caught the demon’s notice.
‘Blackthorne’s daughter,’ it grunted. Then those laser eyes sheered back to Simon as if she wasn’t on its menu. This was the second time a demon had ignored her and chosen to target her fellow trapper. Was it because it knew Ori was her demi-lord?
‘Chew yourrrr bones!’ the fiend cried, and began its lumbering run towards her fellow trapper.
Riley forced herself to wait until the beast was within range and then threw the Holy Water sphere. It proved a perfect delivery as the glass orb hit the beast square on its ugly face. As the liquid soaked in, it roared in agony, then crumbled to the ground in a furry heap.
Riley cried out in enthusiastic relief. As they crammed the rank fiend into one of the steel mesh bags, she whispered. ‘You trusted me. Why?’
Simon snapped the clips in place, then his vivid blue eyes sought hers. ‘Because I had to take the first step out of this endless darkness. That meant trusting someone I once thought had betrayed me.’
Riley was stunned. ‘I could have missed the thing, Simon.’
‘It was a risk that I had to take.’
My God.
Before she could respond, Harper and the new guys joined them, the master explaining exactly what had gone right and what would have happened if Riley’s sphere hadn’t contacted the Three. Why having a steel pipe with you at all times was vital for survival.
‘Would it really eat you?’ Fleming asked, his eyes wide like he’d just stepped into a horror movie.
‘It’ll make a meal of you in about fifteen minutes. Or less,’ Harper replied. ‘Their claws are filthy so if you get hurt, treat it with Holy Water pronto. If not, you start dying.’ He pointed at Simon. ‘Ask Adler how that feels. Or Blackthorne for that matter. Both have been there.’
Though Fleming paled, the other apprentice didn’t seem troubled at all.
Harper noticed. ‘Any questions over there, Lambert?’
‘That demon didn’t seem that scary,’ the guy said. ‘You’d have to be pretty dumb to get ripped up by one of them. Why are we wasting time on these things? Why not go for the bigger demons right off?’
Simon was on his feet in an instant, spoiling for a fight, and Riley grabbed on to his arm.
‘No. He’ll learn the hard way,’ she said.
‘Don’t worry, Lambert, you’ll get your chance at a Three in a month or so,’ Harper said, frowning. ‘If you’re still my apprentice, that is.’
As th
e trio walked away, Fleming peppered the master with questions. The other guy didn’t seem to care.
‘What is wrong with him?’ Simon asked, frowning. The flush of colour on her fellow trapper’s cheeks stood out against his pale skin.
‘He’s a hotshot. If he’s not afraid of a Three, he won’t make it very long.’
‘Thanks for stopping me. I would have . . . well . . .’
Totally nailed him. That wasn’t the old Saint Simon she knew.
Riley hated to admit it, but she liked the new one better.
The moment Beck pushed open the door to his house and turned off the alarm, he felt better. In the past when he’d returned from Sadlersville it had been with extreme relief. No visit to Sadie had ever been good and the horror of the Keneally brothers’ disappearance had dogged his every step. Now that was all behind him for the first time in his life, he was a free man.
He immediately collected his rabbit from Mrs Merton, the neighbour next door. She prattled on about how much she’d enjoyed watching over Rennie and then offered her sympathies about his mom. He took it all in his stride, thanking her, then retreated to his house in search of solace. After checking his messages, he settled on the couch, his bunny at his side. Beck savoured this rare moment of tranquility as his mind tumbled with possibilities, unlike in the past.
‘I got a situation, Rennie,’ he said. Though he was sure that was crazy, he often talked to her because she always seemed to understand. ‘Paul’s daughter is in love with me. Can you believe that?’ He shook his head in amazement. ‘Now I gotta decide what to do.’
Did he try to build a life with Riley or was it better to step back and not get hurt again? He’d argued both sides all the way back to Atlanta, for and against.
When Rennie gave a gentle tug on his shirt to remind him she was in need of some attention, he hoisted the small rabbit on to his lap and petted her. In her own way, she’d helped him find the right path.
‘You know, yer right. We all deserve love,’ he murmured.
Even me.
The Demonland location shoot was easy to find – all Riley had to do was follow the string of tractor trailers into the heart of Demon Central. There was a line of them, some with generators to power the lights required to make Hollywood magic. Further on, she passed a portable trailer that housed the toilets and then one for costuming. It was like a mini city had set up residence inside Five Points.
