by Jana Oliver
‘No,’ she replied, shaking her head. ‘Stewart will have to tell Rome about how I slept with Ori. They’ll . . . lock me up or . . . something. I’ll never see you again.’
‘I think Rome’s already got a good idea of what happened between you and the angel, and they don’t want to push it. Not after you kept the world from bein’ torn apart.’
She shook her head again. ‘The masters won’t be able to do anything. Ori is going down and I’ll go with him. You know those chains Lucifer put on Sartael? There’s a set waiting for me.’
He felt the panic start to work on him, like it did before every battle. The unrelenting doubts, the rampaging fear, the utter helplessness.
Not goin’ there. She needs me. I have to be strong for her.
As tears rolled down her cheeks, Riley began to fumble with the ring on her finger, trying to remove it. Beck knew he couldn’t let her take that step. He took both her hands in his.
‘No, pushin’ me away is not the answer. What we have is more than for when things are goin’ right. It’s forever, Riley.’
Her eyes sought his. ‘They’ll kill you, Beck. I can’t face that.’
‘I don’t give a damn about bein’ alive if yer not with me. I love you and no Fallen angel is gonna take you away from me. You hear?’
‘But—’
‘No! You didn’t walk away when I was dyin’ in the swamp and I’m not leavin’ you now. We face this together. That’s the only way it’s gonna be.’
There was gratitude in her eyes now. ‘I love you,’ she whispered.
‘I know. We’ll make it through this,’ he insisted. ‘You and me, we’re stronger than Hell. Love always is.’
Riley pulled her hands out of his, but made no further attempt to remove the ring.
‘You really think the masters can help us?’ There was more strength in her voice now, like she was tapping her last reserve of courage.
Beck kept his sigh of relief to himself. ‘We’ll find out in the mornin’,’ he replied. ‘Now you get some rest.’
‘No. I don’t want sleep.’ Riley kissed him on the lips. ‘Make love to me, Den,’ she murmured. ‘Make me believe we’ll still be together when this is over.’
‘We will be together, Riley, one way or another. I promise.’
Even if he had to kill every demon in Hell to make that a reality.
Chapter Thirty-One
Beck was out of bed at dawn, his mind too full of worries to rest. As he pulled on his clothes, he tried not to make any noise so Riley would continue to sleep. She had rolled over now, her hair draped on the pillow. His heart ached at the sight of her so soft and vulnerable.
God, I love you.
If he didn’t figure out how to shield her from Hell’s politics, she wouldn’t be with him much longer. He knew exactly what his life would become without her: it was just a matter of buying enough booze and picking which gutter he wanted to die in.
Beck pulled the door closed and then made a pit stop in the bathroom. After putting Riley’s clothes into the washer to remove the sulphuric stench, he allowed himself to stall by making the coffee. After that there was nothing left to do but pick up the phone and call Stewart. He dialled the master, though in some ways he felt he was betraying the girl he loved. Once Stewart answered, Beck nearly choked up.
‘Riley’s in big trouble and we desperately need the Guild’s help, sir.’
There was a momentary pause. ‘This have somethin’ ta do with that Fallen angel?’ the master asked.
How did you know that? ‘Yes, it does.’
‘Bring Riley here at nine. I’ll call Harper.’ The line went dead.
Beck set the phone down on the table, replaying the conversation in his head. How was it that Stewart always seemed to be one step ahead of them?
The Vatican would probably take Riley to Rome for her own protection, though Beck questioned whether the Church could shield her from the Prince’s wrath.
What if I never see her again?
At this point he’d do anything to keep her alive, even turning her care over to someone else.
As he reached for a cup, his balance faltered, then his head spun. When Beck’s senses came back online, he was no longer in his kitchen, but in a verdant pasture. The sky was a bright blue and the weather, sunny and warm, like mid-summer. It certainly wasn’t Atlanta in early March.
‘What the hell is this?’
Then he spied the angel under a broad oak tree, his wings clearly visible. Spitting an oath, Beck marched towards him, eager to vent his frustration and fury on Riley’s seducer.
The angel watched him approach without concern.
‘Killing me will not help Riley Anora Blackthorne,’ Ori said.
Beck ground to a halt, love and revenge waging war within him. ‘What the hell are you playin’ at? Where are we?’
‘A place of my own making. I like being somewhere no one else can overhear us.’
Which meant that if this bastard decided to kill Beck no one would ever know.
‘That too,’ the angel replied.
‘You can read my mind.’
‘Sometimes. Right now you’re so emotional it’s child’s play.’
Beck growled, but held his ground. ‘Why are you takin’ my girl out of my arms every night and tryin’ to get her killed?’
In lieu of a reply, Ori settled under the tree, propped a foot up and laid his forearm on his knee. The gesture seemed so human.
‘I’m waitin’ for an answer,’ Beck said.
The Fallen’s dark eyes turned towards him. ‘Our realm is in turmoil because my master did not kill Sartael when he had the chance.’
Beck frowned. ‘Lucifer is not a wimp. If he thought one of his angels was a threat, that sucker would be dead.’
‘Only if and when that death suited his plans.’ Ori plucked a long blade of grass and twisted it thoughtfully between his fingers.
When the angel said nothing further, Beck took a position under the tree, but left considerable space between himself and his enemy.
He sighed heavily. ‘Lucifer’s a lot like Stewart,’ he mused aloud. ‘He does nothin’ without a strategy behind it. Which means . . .’ Beck began to see other possibilities. ‘Something must have made the Fallen uneasy with their master.’ He suspected that something was sitting near him. ‘Why are you alive? Last I saw you were dyin’, leakin’ blue blood everywhere.’
The sudden fury in Ori’s dark eyes made Beck tense up in response. ‘My master refused me the right to die.’
‘What happens when a Fallen dies?’
‘We are sent to Oblivion. Nothingness. You mortals call it Limbo. It’s a great void – no sound, no light, nothing. If we have paid our debt, we may be summoned back to our Creator. If not . . . we’re alone for eternity.’
The angel wasn’t making much sense. ‘Why would you want to die if that’s where yer headed?’ Beck quizzed.
‘Eternity in nothingness is what I deserve,’ Ori replied, quieter now. ‘I am weary of . . . life.’
Beck had never considered that possibility. If you were nearly eternal, perhaps you could grow tired of each new day.
He was getting closer to the real issue – he could feel it. ‘What do the other angels think about Lucifer not letting you die?’
‘Most are angry I have not been given the choice to end my life.’
‘Angry enough to side with Sartael and his crazy demons?’
‘Perhaps.’
Beck huffed. ‘Yer bein’ played, angel. Both the Prince and that crazy-assed archangel are usin’ you as the tinder for this war.’
‘I know.’ Ori’s brows furrowed as he tossed the blade of grass aside. ‘That is why I have been training Riley so hard. It is vital she survives. Soon Sartael’s fiends will free him, and when that happens he will not remain in Hell. He will return to the one place in your world that has shown him defeat.’
‘Atlanta,’ Beck said, his heart sinking.
‘Need
I warn you what he intends to do with those who vanquished him? The trappers? The necromancers and witches? Or the daughter of the master who put him in those chains?’
Beck shook his head. It all made sense now. ‘Does Riley know any of this?’
‘No. All she needs to know is how to survive. When Sartael begins the battle anew, I will try to kill him, but he has many demons in thrall and draws power from all of them. If he is injured, he can heal himself by pulling on their life energy. He will most likely defeat me.’
‘Damn . . .’ Beck muttered, running a hand through his hair. The air grew stickier now and his shirt clung to his back. ‘What about the other Fallen? What will they do?’
‘Unknown. My job is to try to kill Sartael as quickly as possible so that my kind do not step into the war against their master.’
‘Why are you tellin’ me all this?’
The angel rose. His face was hard, jaw set. ‘Your task is to keep Blackthorne’s daughter alive. That is all that matters to me.’
‘What? Why?’ Beck demanded, leaping to his feet. ‘Are you in love with her?’
‘Not in the way you are, trapper. I love what I see in her eyes, for there is a glimpse of Heaven there. I told her that once, but she thought I lied so I could seduce her.’ Ori shook his head sadly. ‘It was the truth.’
‘If you die, her soul is still goin’ to the Prince.’
Ori cocked his head. ‘No. If I die before Riley Anora Blackthorne, her soul is freed from Hell. That was part of our deal. If Sartael learns of this, he will ensure I do not die.’
‘Who knows so far?’
‘Only Lucifer. Riley drove a hard bargain, but that won’t matter when Sartael comes to Atlanta. He will destroy her.’
‘He has to get through me first,’ Beck replied. ‘I know I’m not some high and mighty angel like you are, but I’ll do my best to keep her alive.’
‘You swear that on your soul?’ Ori retorted.
Beck stilled. So that’s the trap.
‘If you fail to keep Riley alive, your soul will belong to Hell.’
‘In exchange for what?’
The corners of Ori’s mouth rose into a smile. ‘I can see why a Grand Master has taken you under his wing. You have little fear.’
‘Just answer the question.’
‘I’m willing to share knowledge that is forbidden to mortals. I’m going to tell you how to kill a Divine.’
Beck jolted in surprise. ‘What keeps me from doin’ the same to you?’
‘I am trusting that you love Riley more than you desire revenge.’
Ori had read him right.
‘Damn you,’ Beck muttered, knowing he’d been cornered. ‘Tell me what I need to know. If Riley dies, it won’t matter where I go. My life will be Hell anyway.’
As they walked in tandem down the hallway to Stewart’s den, Riley tightened her grip on Beck’s hand.
‘Frightened?’ he asked.
‘Totally. I’d be losing it if you weren’t here with me.’
‘Then I’m doin’ my job,’ he said, and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
Both masters were waiting for her, just as Beck had warned her. Harper had a cup of coffee in his hand, his scar pulled tight along the side of his face. He nodded at her, but she saw none of the animosity she’d faced in the past.
Stewart was in his favourite chair, but his posture spoke of considerable tension.
‘Lass,’ he said, ‘have a seat and then tell us what’s goin’ on. Leave nothin’ out, ya ken? Then we’ll see if there’s anythin’ we can do for ya.’
When Riley sat on the couch, Beck unfolded an afghan and wrapped her in it, a loving gesture. In his own way, he was telling the masters that if they thought they were going to throw her to the wolves, he would be in their faces.
‘Go on,’ Beck said. ‘You and me can’t do this alone.’
Once Riley began, the story of her and the Fallen angel burst from her like a storm-swollen river. She left nothing out: how they’d sealed the deal in the cemetery for her soul so Ori could fight Sartael, and the unique terms of the arrangement. What that meant for both her and the angel.
As Riley spoke, she stared at marks on her palms, not at the faces of the two men who held her fate in their hands. She was afraid of what she’d see there.
‘Ori showed up after I returned from Sadlersville,’ she continued. ‘He’s been teaching me how to kill demons. Last night . . . we were summoned to Hell.’
There was a weighty silence after she’d finished and Riley forced her eyes up towards the masters. Harper was staring down into his cup and Stewart’s face was pensive.
‘I know you have to tell the Vatican,’ she said. ‘I don’t want them to blame you, Master Stewart. It was me . . . I made the mistakes.’
‘You never had a chance,’ Harper said, his eyes rising to meet hers. ‘Once your father sold his soul, they went right after you.’ He sighed. ‘Truth is, I would have done the same for my son.’
It was as close to an apology as she’d ever receive.
Stewart stirred. ‘We’ll need ta talk this out, lass. Go get some rest. We’ll let ya know what we decide.’
After Beck gave her a kiss on the cheek, she moved down the hall, defeat in every step.
‘How long have ya known about the angel?’ Stewart asked.
Beck eased the door closed. ‘Only a couple days. How about you?’
‘I spoke with her demi-lord right after the pair of ya went ta South Georgia. I called Harper the same day ta let him know what was in the wind.’
Beck frowned at the pair of them. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because there were other things the pair of ya needed ta sort out before ya faced this challenge. Am I right?’
Beck nodded wearily and sank on the couch. ‘Yeah, I suppose.’
‘Has the angel talked ta you yet?’
This was not what he’d expected, and it angered him. Agitated, Beck jabbed his fingers through his hair, then sank wearily on to the couch. They knew all along and never told me.
‘Lad?’ Stewart pressed.
‘Yeah, this mornin’ the angel pulled me out of my own home like I was some damned puppet.’
‘Then ya know that we’re in grave danger. The angels are verra angry with Lucifer right now. Not all of them care for Ori in any fashion, but denying him the right ta die tells them they’re little more than pawns, no better than the demons, who they detest. That was Lucifer’s mistake. He got too clever for his own good.’
‘Ori believes Sartael will be freed tonight, when that reverend tries to cast out the demons,’ Beck said.
Neither master looked surprised. ‘We’ve got our people ready,’ Harper said. ‘The necromancers are on board and maybe a witch or two. They know their job is to deal with the demons while Ori tries to kill Sartael.’
‘Ya understand yer role, lad?’ Stewart asked, his eyes riveted on him now.
‘Yes. I’m to keep Riley alive and maybe even kill Sartael if I get lucky.’
‘Wouldn’t count on the latter,’ Harper said. Stewart didn’t reply, his eyes still locked on Beck.
How much else does he know that he’s not tellin’ us?
Beck snorted. ‘So let me get this right – we’re gonna be sidin’ with one part of Hell against the other.’
‘The lesser of two evils, my friend,’ Stewart replied.
At least my will is up to date.
Brunch was as sumptuous as usual, but Riley had no appetite, and she stared at the eggs on her plate as they grew cold. Mrs Ayers fussed a bit, then gave up and left her alone.
Shortly after that she was joined by Master Stewart, who slid out a chair and sat across from her. Riley knew him well enough to know that what he was about to tell her wasn’t good news.
‘The Vatican wants me in Rome, right?’
‘Aye. They’re hopeful that they can get ya out of harm’s way.’
‘That’s not going to work. Ori will call m
e to him whenever he wants. It won’t matter where I am.’ She pushed her plate away. ‘How soon do I have to leave?’
‘A few days,’ Stewart said. ‘They have ta make arrangements and I’ve told them not ta be in a hurry.’
His sombre tone made her look up. ‘Why?’
Stewart laid his hands on the table, fingers spread. ‘Whatever is brewin’ in Hell will be goin’ down before ya leave. I have that on good authority.’
‘But who . . .’ Ori. He was totally plugged into Hell’s politics. Or was it the Prince who’d been keeping Stewart in the loop?
Had she been wrong about the master? Had he really been working for Lucifer all along?
‘I’m not on Hell’s payroll,’ he replied, as if he’d heard her thoughts. ‘As a Grand Master, I am tasked ta preserve the balance between good and evil. Sometimes that means I work with those I would consider my enemies.’
‘Like Lucifer and Ori.’
Stewart nodded in return. ‘When Sartael is freed, he will return ta this city ta exact his revenge. There will be a bloodbath.’
‘Then have the Vatican’s guys come back to Atlanta.’
‘Nay, it’s our job and, truth be known, there isn’t time for the demon hunters ta get here anyway.’
The hunters could move pretty quickly, which meant . . .
‘How soon is this going to happen?’
‘Tonight. It’s for the best. The longer the war brews in Hell, the worse it will be. Many of the demons and the Fallen haven’t chosen sides yet. We want to keep it that way.’
‘In case they go Team Sartael,’ Riley replied.
‘Aye. I’ve known all along that Ori was trainin’ ya, and I reluctantly agreed with that. He is tryin’ ta keep ya alive.’
He knew what was happening and he didn’t stop it?
It appeared that just about everyone had been playing her for a sucker.
It was early afternoon when Beck tapped on the door to Stewart’s house. To his relief, Riley answered and beckoned him in.
‘I thought, well . . .’ he began, then faltered, unsure of how to ask for what he needed between them.
Riley didn’t reply, but took his hand and led him up the stairs to her room. As he set his backpack on the floor, she shut the door behind them. Then locked it.
