by Jana Oliver
IS THAT THE BEST YOU’VE GOT, DEMON?
The image faded away, replaced by one she knew all too well: the immense hall deep in Hell, the rebel angel Sartael in chains, the stench of brimstone, and the funk of hundreds of demons.
Lucifer, the Prince of the Abyss, clad in full armor, sat on his throne, his naked sword across his lap. His cruel voice promising her and the angel Ori eternal torment. He’d meant every word.
“Riley?” Kurt said.
His voice pulled her away from the scene, and she was grateful for that.
“Richard, can you come over here please?”
Her other apprentice joined them.
She jabbed a finger at the screen. “This is what Hell looks like, guys.”
The two leaned closer.
“Holy shit,” Kurt murmured.
“I second that,” Richard added.
“This is why you never want to accept a demon’s boon. One boon leads to another and then you find yourself in that place, forever.”
“How do you know . . . ” Kurt began. Then his eyes widened as the answer dawned on him. He pointed at the screen. “That’s you! You were there.”
“Yes, I was. The Fallen angel standing next to me used to be Lucifer’s executioner. I sold my soul to Ori to save the world. But I got it back. Don’t count on that happening to you.”
Her two apprentices nodded in unison, their eyes still riveted on the monitor in mute horror.
“Okay, the geography lesson is over. Let’s get this thing outta here.”
Riley had to keep the demon occupied, or it would figure out what they were doing. As her apprentices moved from computer to computer, carefully pulling out all the cords and placing a line of Holy Water around each desktop, she set her fingers loose on the keyboard.
IF I’D KNOWN WE WERE SHARING PICTURES OF HOME, I’D HAVE BROUGHT A FEW OF MY OWN
A bizarre hissing sound came from all the remaining speakers as the screen shifted once again. This time, the image cut right into Riley’s heart.
Two figures walked through the dark of Demon Central: her father and Beck. It was the night Paul Blackthorne never came home.
“No,” she whispered. “Not this.”
A rough laugh came over the speakers now, not one that a Geeker could make. Was another demon playing with her, using the smaller fiend as bait?
No matter how hard she tried, Riley couldn’t look away. To her horror, it played out just as Beck had said: he and her dad being tag-teamed by a Five and a Three. They’d grounded the Geo-Fiend, but one of the pieces of swirling debris had cut through the magical shield, slamming into her father’s chest.
His eyes flared in shock, then he fell to his knees, dying.
Oh my God.
Riley’s breath tightened, pushing her closer to a panic attack. It was one thing to have someone tell her how it had happened, but another to see it play out before her own eyes.
As her father died, Beck held him, sobbing. Then he turned to take on the Three, to keep it away from the man he loved as much as Riley did. Beck battled with a ferocity born of grief. Of losing a friend.
By the end of the scene, Riley was crying. And furious. Her hand reached for the steel pipe in her backpack, wanting nothing more than to smash everything in this room.
“Riley?” one of her apprentices called out.
She forced herself to let go of the pipe. Looking up, she found two pairs of worried eyes watching her. She shook her head, wiping away the tears, then began to type again.
YOUR POINT IS? MY DAD’S IN HEAVEN. YOU LOST AGAIN. YOU WILL ALWAYS LOSE.
The noise from the speakers changed now, to the repeated thump of wings. It sounded like a legion of demons descending on them, but that wasn’t possible. The image of a graveyard appeared, the one in Edinburgh where she’d killed the Archfiend.
“We’re not going there,” she said.
The scene played out, death by hideous death. Riley had just begun her sprint across the graveyard when Richard call out, “Ready!”
“Do it.”
As Kurt ran a line of Holy Water around her computer, isolating the unit, Richard pulled out the various cables.
“Done,” he said.
Riley inserted a special thumb drive into a port, activated the program, and watched as it sucked the mini demon into the drive. Richard pulled the power cord and the computer went dark.
“Tech is awesome,” Kurt said, reminding Riley a lot of her friend Peter.
She dropped the drive into a sippy cup full of Holy Water and watched it sizzle away. End of Geeker. “Good job, guys. How’s about we celebrate? The hot dogs are on me.”
Though Riley doubted she could eat—not after what she’d seen—her apprentices liked that idea, eager to shake off the images of Hell. After packing up their gear, they exited the room ahead of her.
As she reached the door, she turned back on impulse. The computers were silent, devoid of electricity and one pesky demon. It’d been a good trapping, though her nerves were raw and her heart aching.
She’d have to ask Beck about what had happened here. No Techno-Fiend had the power to summon up those images. If it’d been Lucifer, he’d have shown up in person to torment her. He was like that.
Riley was about to turn away when all the monitors came to life at once, the Hellish flames flickering again. Which was impossible because the computers were unplugged and the Geeker dead.
YOU TOOK WHAT WAS MINE
The threat delivered, all the screens went dark with a snap.
“‘You took what was mine?’” she said. She had no idea what that meant.
Shutting the door, Riley kept seeing her father’s face the moment he knew he was dying, Beck’s anguish, the Three tearing into him as he beat it off, then tore it apart.
“Hey,” Richard called out. “Everything okay?”
No.
But she put on her game face, not wanting to spook these guys. They’d done a good job and needed her support, not her heartache.
Riley forced a smile, turned, and nodded.
“Let’s get out of here. It’s time to eat.”
Chapter Six
Once they’d finished lunch and conducted the “postmortem” on how the trapping had gone, Riley set her apprentices free. With homework, of course, but they deserved the rest of the day off because they would have to be at the meeting tonight.
Though usually it was the masters who trained the newbies, that had all changed after the Guild lost so many trappers last spring. Now, journeymen trappers took up some of the slack, with a master’s oversight.
Because Harper would remain Riley’s superior until she made master, she called him and reported on how the run had played out.
“You ever hear of another demon using a Geeker to play head games with a trapper?” she asked.
There was a long pause. “No. What happened?”
After she’d relayed all the weirdness, Harper huffed. “That’s how I can tell you aren’t working for Hell. If you were, they wouldn’t bother messing with you.”
Riley wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not, so she let it slide.
“Got a couple Threes here that need to go to Fireman Jack,” he said.
Fireman Jack was so named because he lived in an old fire station. He was a demon trafficker and happened to be gay, which, in the past, had sent Harper off into a major rage when she’d sold him some demons. Now he was telling her to do just that?
Huh. She doubted Harper was going to be putting Jack on his Christmas card list, but it appeared he’d stopped being a raving homophobe. At least in her presence.
Miracles never cease, as her dad would say.
*~*~*
After delivering the Threes and chatting with Jack, who had always treated her well, Riley returned to Beck’
s house instead of her room at Stewart’s. She’d spent more and more time here, probably because she missed the house’s owner so much.
Once she’d fed Rennie, Beck’s rabbit, she went to turn on her laptop. Then hesitated, as if whatever Hellspawn had tormented her at the college might have followed her home. Which was ridiculous.
Once the computer came to life, she wrote Beck a long e-mail about what had happened over the last few days, especially the trapping at the college. She avoided the news about the Grade Five trapping, how her and Reynolds had been on their own, left to hang in the breeze by some of the other trappers. Beck would threaten to rip several people’s heads off when he got home. She smiled at the thought, realizing just how much she missed him. At least he’d be in Atlanta in time for Christmas.
Riley had barely sent the e-mail and curled up on her bed—hugging a pillow close as if it were her guy—when her phone rang.
“Hey, Princess.”
His warm and deep voice hit all the right places.
Somehow she’d known he would call. “Hi, Den. Sorry I freaked out about the college trapping thing.”
“I’d’ve done the same. That sure couldn’t have been just a Geeker. They don’t have that much power. You told Harper and Stewart about this yet?”
“Only Harper so far. Things are weird enough as it is.”
Silence.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Just rememberin’ that night . . . with Paul,” he said, his voice thicker. He’d never admit it, but she suspected there were tears in his eyes now.
“Everything that fiend showed me was of them losing,” Riley said. “I escaped Hell, Dad’s in Heaven, so they can’t touch him. You’re a grand master. They’re failing and it’s making them mad.”
“This feels more like a Fallen’s mind games than a lower level demon. If I hadn’t chopped off Sartael’s head, I’d swear this was him.”
“Yeah.” She shifted gears. “So how goes it in scenic Scotland?”
“Snowy and cold. I love this old house, but damn, I’d kill for some central heatin’.”
She laughed. “Sorry to tell you, but it snowed here last night. It’s still kind of pretty.”
“Atlanta snow is one thing. Scotland’s is another.”
“More tests coming up soon?”
“Just finished one a bit ago. Now we’re talkin’ more about moral decisions and less about the history of the war between Heaven and Hell. You know, right versus wrong. How sometimes things aren’t either one, but right in the middle. That’s when it’s a damned judgment call.”
“My dad used to talk about that kind of thing.”
“You’ll know more about that when you become a master,” he replied.
“As if. It’s been four months and the National Guild has continued to blow me off all that time. Jackson made master right after he filed. Me? Oh no, I’m Blackthorne’s daughter so I’m a troublemaker.”
“So what’s the plan?”
That sounded like Stewart, but it came with the grand master territory. They were adept at strategy and playing the long game. Mostly because that was exactly how Heaven and Hell played.
“Harper sent a letter to National, demanding they move forward on my application. He’s been talking to other masters around the country and they’re sending in letters too.”
“You know, I’m beginnin’ to like that old man more every day.”
“So am I, but don’t you ever tell him. Anyway, it’ll get worked out eventually. They can’t just turn me down and not look stupid.”
“You might be surprised. Stupid is what they do best.”
She smiled, sitting up now. “Not long before you come home.”
No reply. Her nerves twitched. “You’re still coming home on the twentieth, right?”
A brief pause. “Yeah. I was just . . . thinkin’ of all the stuff I have to get done before that.”
Riley exhaled in relief. His time in Scotland had already been extended once. She didn’t think she could take it if that happened again.
I need you here.
“Look, I gotta go,” he said. “Keep yerself safe. Tell the masters everythin’ that’s goin’ on. They’ll watch out for ya.”
“I will,” she said. He was using “ya” instead of “you,” always a sign that he was upset. “Love you, Den.”
“Love ya too, Riley.”
Once she disconnected the call, she placed her phone on the nightstand, then flopped back down on the pillow. Something was up with Beck, but then, something was up with her. It seemed to be their thing.
Right before she closed her eyes, she set an alarm. Tonight was the meeting, and it wouldn’t be good if the chief troublemaker showed up late.
*~*~*
Close to sunset, Riley pulled her aged car into the church parking lot. Though she was better off financially now, she was still very careful with her money. The longer this car continued to run, the better. Her parents had taught her that frugality. They’d taught her a lot of good things, including that love lasts forever.
Her mom had died of cancer years before, and her father, just at the beginning of the year. Then he’d returned as a reanimate, but that wasn’t like being alive. Soon it’d be the first anniversary of his death, and that was going to be tough. Especially since Beck would be back in Scotland by then.
Miss you guys. I love you.
Shouldering her backpack, Riley trudged toward the church as other trappers headed in the same direction. Some called out her name and she waved, while others ignored her as if she didn’t exist. She wished her father were here. He always knew how to handle these people. Now it was up to her and the masters.
Over the years, the local Guild had met in a number of places, starting out at Six Feet Under, a local restaurant and bar. They’d quickly learned that the combination of alcohol and rampant testosterone wasn’t ideal for conducting business. They’d tried out a few other sites before settling at the Tabernacle, a former-church-turned-concert-venue.
After a horrific demon attack, the historic building was history, along with a number of trappers. Now it was a makeshift shrine. Curiously, whenever anyone tried to buy the site to redevelop it, weird things happened: Paperwork was lost, funding dried up. It was as if Heaven (or Hell) wanted that ground to remain sacred.
Now the trappers shared a building with a fire-and-brimstone Pentecostal church. Since it was holy ground, there was less likelihood that Hellspawn would feel the need to set fire to the building. Or at least, that’s what everyone hoped—especially the churchgoers, who were pleased to show their defiance of Lucifer by hosting the trappers. Riley might not believe everything their faith professed, but she respected their fight against evil.
She also knew she was way too pissed to be at this meeting. Actually, “pissed” wasn’t the best word. “Livid” was closer. She’d been betrayed yet again. She had a right to expect that someone would watch her back as much as any other trapper, despite her “history” with Hell. But deep down, she wasn’t the least bit surprised at what had happened. That hurt.
More than once, she’d risked her life for these guys, and when it came time to do the same for her, some of them had turned their backs. That made her appreciate Jackson and Reynolds even more.
The other question still hung in the air: Why had a necromancer set her up? What would be the point? But before she could answer that, she had to settle matters with her own people.
Once inside the church, Riley headed down the long hall toward the meeting room. The bulletin boards along one wall displayed pictures from various missionary trips, along with notices about upcoming events, Bible-study classes, and free puppies. There was also a section of one board dedicated to the Trapper of the Month, as determined by the church members. Ironically, this month it was her.
Riley rolled her eye
s at that as she entered the room where their meeting would take place. It had the usual utilitarian vibe: uninspiring paint color, long tables, folding chairs, etc. Of course, there was the picture of Jesus at Gethsemane on the far wall.
The church members always brewed fresh coffee for the trappers, and usually left little tracts on the chairs, in case any of them felt the need for religion. Some trappers were devout, representing various faiths, others not so much.
Riley had seen enough of Heaven and Hell to land somewhere in the middle. She knew angels existed—she’d made a bargain with one once—and she knew Hell was for real—she’d been given a personal tour of the place. Beyond that it got murky.
Various conversations died out the moment she entered the room. She did a quick count and found about thirty trappers here tonight. Some were friends; a few were her enemies. Often that feeling was mutual.
Riley carefully stepped over twin wet lines on the tile floor—a Holy Water circle laid down to protect the trappers from demon attack, even though they were on sacred ground. Traditionally it’d been only one line, but ever since the massacre at the Tabernacle they’d used two, and someone checked that the Holy Water was genuine. Lessons learned.
She greeted her apprentices, including Jaye, who was in her early twenties, with a slim build. Her red hair was shorter now, as if trying to deal with it longer was too much hassle, given all the other issues in her life. She wore her usual jeans and black turtleneck.
“How’s your mother?” Riley asked.
“Better. She’s at home now and in physical therapy.” Jaye sighed. “I really need to get back to the trapping. I love her, but . . . ”
“I know. Sick parents are a challenge. You love them, but they can drive you nuts,” Riley said. She remembered that from when her mom had been ill.
“I think I can be back full-time right after the first of the year.”
“Sounds good. I’ll try to catch you up with these two as quickly as I can. But I won’t cut any corners.”
Mostly because cut corners could make for a very short trapping career.
