by Jana Oliver
“I will.”
I bet he won’t give me a straight answer either.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Beck found his fiancée sitting on the couch, staring at nothing. She looked up at him, nodded, and went back to staring. He locked the door behind him, placed his trapping bag in the front closet, and then plopped down on the couch next to her.
“You aren’t all chewed up or anythin’. That’s a good sign. Better than trappin, then.”
“Yeah.”
“So what was it like?”
She stirred from her mental holiday. “It was off-the-charts creepy. You know, I’m used to demons snarling and clawing and trying to get into my head, but seeing one come out of a wall is a whole new thing.”
“It does freak you out.”
She blinked in surprise. “You’ve seen an exorcism?”
“Yeah, in Glasgow. It’s part of the grand master training. This priest summoned a Four out of a little old lady. Like you said, it was creepy.”
“Simon kicked butt. He was rock solid. This is exactly what he’s supposed to be doing.”
“Then it all worked out for the best,” Beck observed.
“I think it did. We took the thing to a monastery south of town. They put the demon on holy ground and killed it.” She looked over at him. “Then I bought some fruitcake from the monastery’s gift shop.”
“Dessert after our steak tonight?” he asked.
“No. It’s going to Stewart’s place for Christmas Eve dinner.”
“You are a cruel woman.”
She ignored that. “Why do trappers sell the demons, rather than kill them like the Vatican does. Why go to all the hassle?”
Beck sighed. He’d known this would eventually arise, but not quite so soon.
“It has to do with the balance between the Light and Dark. I can’t tell you much more than that. You’ll find out if you become a master.”
“If? What happened to your ‘we’ll fight them and win’ speech?”
He wisely kept his mouth shut, knowing she’d growl at him no matter what he said.
“Where do the grand masters fall on this scale of Light and Dark?”
“In the exact middle. Or at least, that’s where we should be. It doesn’t always work out that way.”
“You can’t explain it any better than that?”
He shook his head. Riley’s frown returned again, and that meant there was more.
“What else is buggin’ you?” he asked.
“Besides all the stuff you can’t tell me?”
“Besides that.”
He watched as her anger diminished. “I’m worried about Ayden. It’s scaring me that she’s been so quiet.”
“What’s this Morgaine lady like?”
“Arrogant, pushy, with a serious case of ego.”
That meant he might have something to work with there. Instead of letting Riley know what he had in mind, Beck switched topics. “How’s about I grill the steak and then we each open a present?”
Riley blinked at the abrupt subject change. “It’s not Christmas yet.”
“It’s Christmas somewhere, right?”
“Ah, no, not really,” she said, smiling. “Well, maybe one little present. What can it hurt?”
He hugged her. “Yer so easy.”
“In your dreams, Backwoods Boy. Only in your dreams.”
*~*~*
Beck found the Terminus Market adorned with Christmas lights and crowded with holiday shoppers, all hustling around buying gifts: a new skillet, a woven basket, a handcrafted rocking chair. Despite the festive atmosphere, as he wandered among the market tents he found himself remembering the day the demons rampaged through here, killing and maiming. There was no sign of the carnage now, other than a permanent shrine to the dead located at one of the market’s entrances.
He had told Riley he had some things to do, but hadn’t bothered to mention where he was headed, or that the things were witch related. Although she’d given him a skeptical look, she hadn’t challenged him on his half-truth, as if somehow knowing it was best not to ask.
The witches’ midnight-blue tent was easy to find; all you had to look for were the silver and gold stars. There were two witches present, one of whom was Ayden. That hadn’t been by chance; Beck had texted her to find out her schedule, and whether Morgaine was working tonight. The answers had both been in the affirmative.
“Beck,” she said, her face breaking into a smile. “Goddess, look at you.” She came out from behind the table of goods, and they hugged.
“Riley sends her best,” he murmured.
Ayden’s smile dimmed. “I miss her.” She shot a quick look behind her to the witch at the far end of the table, who had her hands crossed over her chest, frowning.
“That’s Morgaine?” he whispered.
“Uh-huh,” Ayden replied, her voice tight.
“She’s the reason yer not able to teach Riley now?”
“Yes. The other witches are undecided, but she raised a huge stink.”
He scratched an ear thoughtfully. “Got a big ego?”
“Oh, Goddess, yes.”
“Let’s see what I can do with that.”
Beck moved over to the table, looking at it like he was eager to buy something.
“What do you suggest for a young woman who’s learnin’ spells and such?” he asked, addressing Morgaine directly.
She gave Ayden a look, then returned her attention to him. “What kind?”
“Summoner magic. She was just accepted into their society.”
Morgaine huffed. “That’s not real magic.”
Beck met her gaze. “Well, it’s the best she could get. Seems you people didn’t want her to learn yer kind, so she went somewhere else.”
Morgaine blinked. “I don’t understand.” Then it dawned. “Are you talking about the Blackthorne girl?”
“Yup. The summoners were really happy to have her. Didn’t even start with the light-gray robe, either.”
Morgaine frowned. “What did they assign her?”
“Blue. Seems she’s got some talent.” He poked at an amethyst crystal on the table. “What about this? Think she’d like it?”
Morgaine’s mouth had dropped open. “Blue? But . . . ”
“I told you she had talent,” Ayden said. She switched her attention to Beck. “For Riley, I’d recommend the bloodstone. It’s the dark-green stone with the red spots. It increases energy and strength and also grounds and centers. She needs all of that.”
“Definitely on the groundin’ and centerin’,” Beck replied. “She’s a whirlwind on two feet.”
He looked over at Morgaine, who had finally regained her composure. Was she going to get on the team, or continue to be a pain in the ass?
“I agree,” Morgaine said. “She seemed a bit . . . agitated the last time I saw her.”
He picked up the stone, examining it. “Probably because you left her glued to the pavement in Oakland Cemetery. That’d piss anyone off.”
Morgaine’s frown was back again. “She needs to learn respect.”
Ayden laughed. “You don’t get it. She’s not a follower, Morgaine. She’s a trailblazer. Like her fiancé here.”
The other witch studied him closer now. “Just who are you?”
“Denver Beck,” he said. “I’m a demon trapper and a grand master in the International Trappers Guild.” He wasn’t quite there yet, not until he went through the official ceremony. Still, the other masters called him that, so he’d decided to own it.
The woman’s face actually paled. “I . . . didn’t know.”
“Now you do.” He offered the bloodstone to Ayden. “I’ll take this for Riley. She’ll like it. She’s been puttin’ things in the bag you gave her.”
“Good. She n
eeds all the protection she can get.” Ayden rang up the purchase. “Of course, now that she’s with the summoners, that won’t be as much of a problem. I’m just sorry we couldn’t have taught her our kind of magic.”
“So is she.”
As Ayden handed him the stone, all wrapped in tissue paper and inside a small plastic bag, Morgaine spoke up. “Um, I didn’t realize she was that . . . interested.”
When Ayden tensed, he hoped she would hold her tongue.
“Maybe we should rethink this situation,” Morgaine added. “I mean, it wouldn’t be right if she only learned magic from them, would it?”
“That’d be Riley’s decision, not mine,” Beck said. He nodded to Ayden. “Thanks. You have a blessed Yule, now, you hear?”
“Merry Christmas to you,” she replied, winking.
Then Beck walked away, leaving behind the fertile seed he’d planted.
Stewart and MacTavish had taught him that a person’s insecurities are often their weakest link. If he was lucky, his conversation would bear fruit. It certainly wouldn’t be an apology, at least not from Morgaine, but if it got Riley back with her friend and the opportunity to learn witchy magic, then his evening had been well spent. He’d even scored her another Christmas present to boot.
Win-win.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Riley’s first day of trapping without using magic sucked. Big time. She got stuck with the little fiends, the Magpies and the Biblios, while her three apprentices went trapping Threes with Master Harper.
By the afternoon, she was one big angry mess, ready to explode. Beck, she’d noticed, had kept a respectful distance as she’d trapped, but he’d been watching her back. Which pissed her off even more. He was a grand master, for God’s sake, not a freaking babysitter.
They had just sold some fiends to one of the demon traffickers. Her grand total for the day: three Ones. It was pathetic. Even the trafficker had remarked on that.
“Anyone you want me to catch so you can kick the crap out of them?” Beck asked, sensing her mood as they left the shop.
“Yeah, I got a few people,” she shot back. “Starting with Northrup. What’s Jerkface up to now that he’s usurped Harper?”
“Nothin’ that we can tell.”
“Huh. Are you sure the National Guild is okay with what he’s doing?”
Beck paused at his truck, keys in hand. “You know, that’s a damned good question. Might be time to find out.”
Before she could reply, his phone buzzed. “Beck. Hey, Jackson. Yeah, we can do that. Get a beer later? Good. See you then.”
He ended the call and smiled over at her. “How’s about we go trap a Four?”
“You know I can’t—”
“I know what you can do, and what you can’t. You can still be backup while I catch the thing.”
“All right, but this pisses me off.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” he said, then chuckled. “Not. At. All.”
She snarled at him, and that made him laugh.
Keep it up, dude. Just keep it up.
*~*~*
They’d just finished supper, tired from the successful capture of the Four at the convention center, when Riley’s phone rang.
“Hey, Simon. How’s it going?”
“Not good. I need your help. Beck’s too, if he’s free.”
She looked over at her guy. “An exorcism?”
“Yes. It’s going to be a rough one. It’s a little girl. She’s five and won’t live to see the new year if we don’t get this thing out of her soon.”
Oh, my God.
“Hold on.” Riley covered the phone and explained the situation.
“I’m in. Just tell me when and where,” Beck replied, his voice hardening to steel. Mention that a kid was in trouble and he was all over it.
Riley returned to the call. “We’re both in. Where do you need us?” She took down the address Simon provided on a piece of paper from the kitchen.
“If you have a cross, or some other religious item, wear it. This is one of the bad boys. Usually Father Hicks would handle this, but he’s conducting an exorcism in Athens at the moment and we can’t wait any longer.”
The tension vibrating through his voice made her shiver.
“Got it. We’ll be there.” She ended the call, thinking through all that Simon had told her.
“Bad?” Beck said, already restocking his trapping bag.
“Yeah. He’s scared. I could hear it in his voice.”
“Then it’s good that it’s the three of us.”
As he packed, she headed for the bedroom and her jewelry box. Inside she found her mother’s cross. When she returned to the living room, she offered it to him.
“Simon wants us fully protected. It was my mom’s.”
“But what about you?” he asked, tucking it into his pocket.
She held up her left hand, the one with the crown embedded in the palm. “I’m good.”
Beck bent closer, kissed her, and whispered, “Yes, you are.”
*~*~*
The house was big, somewhere between McMansion and a castle. Maybe demons preferred the fancier places. Why try to steal a soul in a run-down house with a leaky roof and bad plumbing?
Simon was already there, fidgeting with the gear in his trunk. Unlike at the last exorcism, his movements telegraphed his worry.
“You have any idea how many exorcisms the Vatican makes these guys do before they’re on their own?” Riley asked as Beck turned off the truck’s engine.
“I’m guessin’ it’s quite a few. Looks bad if one of them dies, and the Vatican doesn’t like bad press.”
“He’s way spooked,” she said. “He wasn’t this way the last time.”
“Then whatever’s in there is big trouble.”
Once they were out of the vehicle, Beck slipped his backpack over his shoulder. To Riley, it appeared heavier than usual. As they approached Simon, he turned toward them. He wore his charred cross, and she smiled at that.
When he saw her looking at it, Simon touched it reverently. “I thought that I might need this today. That if I could survive the Tabernacle . . . ”
He could survive whatever was waiting for them in the house.
Okay, now I’m really freaked out.
The McMansion appeared normal—no Hellfire flaring out the windows, no swarms of demons crawling on the roof, nothing to show that evil resided inside. Still, Riley felt the cold even here on the lawn, rolling out in waves toward her. She closed her eyes and tried to follow the thread, and then felt herself breaking out in a sweat, her heart pounding erratically.
Her concentration wavered when a black BMW pulled into the driveway and parked.
“This should be the little girl’s parents,” Simon explained.
As they climbed out of the vehicle, it was easy to see that the couple had been through nearly as much hell as their daughter. They were both listless, exhausted, with bluish-black smudges under their eyes that spoke of little sleep. Their clothes were wrinkled, their lives in tatters, a suburban dream turned into a hellish nightmare.
Simon stepped up to them. “I’m Simon Adler. You’re Mr. and Mrs. Gill?”
The man nodded. He looked over at Riley, then at Beck. “I was told there would only be two of you.”
“I decided it was best to have a third person in on this. Beck is a grand master with the International Demon Trappers Guild.”
“You came all the way to Georgia to help us?” the wife asked, her eyes widening.
“No, ma’am. I live here in Atlanta. I was home for the holidays.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Riley is a journeyman demon trapper. They both have considerable experience with Hellspawn,” Simon continued.
“Carrina’s only five. Why would this happen to
her?” the woman sobbed, tears trickling down her face. Mr. Gill put a reassuring arm around his wife’s waist.
“It just does,” Simon replied. “It’s nothing you did wrong. Hell will target just about anyone.”
“But what kind of god lets that happen?” the mother asked.
“The kind that has sent us to help you,” Simon replied softly.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get your little girl out of there,” Beck said.
He sounded so confident. His words, and the way he delivered them, gave the parents hope, and Simon a needed dose of courage. If Riley was honest, she needed that courage as well.
Another car pulled up, and this time a portly man in a clerical collar joined them.
“I’m Father Vonn, the Gills’ priest,” he said, offering his hand.
Simon shook it and made the introductions.
“You’re Paul Blackthorne’s daughter?” the man asked.
“Yes, I am.”
“Father Harrison spoke of him with great fondness. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
Simon shifted weight on his feet, then beckoned them away from the couple.
He addressed the priest. “Keep them out here, no matter what happens. It’s far too dangerous for any of you to come inside the house. You understand?”
“It won’t be easy, but I’ll try. It was hard asking them to stay away from their daughter today, but they were too close to the breaking point.” Vonn paused. “We’ll pray for your success.”
“Thank you,” Simon said, then looked up at the building. “We’re going to need it.”
The trek to the front door seemed to last forever. The cold continued to grow, then suddenly switched to heat, then back to cold.
Now that’s just eerie. A quick glance at Beck told Riley he was feeling the same thing.
Simon set his suitcase on a cedar bench on the porch, opened it, and handed Riley the Holy Water. She poured a small amount into his hand and he anointed himself. She drew the heart on her forehead and also put some of the sacred liquid on her left palm. When she turned toward Beck, she wondered what he’d do.
“What did you put on your forehead?” he asked.
