by Jana Oliver
Or had she?
The woman had always offered her special teas to help her sleep, given her much-needed advice, acted like a loving grandmother would. Or in this case, a crone, which Ayden had patiently explained was not an insult.
“So you’re Rada?” Riley asked. The woman nodded. “I never suspected. I mean, you don’t have anything in your apartment that says you’re a witch.”
“My altar is in my bedroom. Some of my family are Russian Orthodox, so I don’t overdo it. The older you get, the more you realize the faith is in here,” she said, tapping her chest, “rather than in all the trappings.”
“Is Max your familiar?”
She shook her head. “Just a cat. As if that isn’t enough.”
Riley laughed. “Well, thank you. For everything.”
The old woman nodded. “Now, let’s get this circle set and do some business.”
As they followed her into the ring of stones, Riley leaned over to Ayden and whispered, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“She asked me not to. It was just fate that you ended up living next to her. She told me she was watching out for you.”
“She did. She was one of the people who were there for me the night Dad died.”
Ayden touched her elbow. “Rada is the oldest witch in Atlanta. She holds a lot of power, at least in terms of political savvy. She doesn’t do much magic, but then, she doesn’t have to. Work with her, not against her. Okay?”
“It all depends on what she’s after,” Riley replied. Loyalty to the old woman or not, she had to deal with her own conscience.
Ayden nodded, then broke off to join the other witches.
Did my dad know she was a witch? Probably. There was so much he hadn’t told her.
It was the young witch who called the corners and invoked the circle. Riley found herself studying the girl. Again, she had a faint taste of something familiar, but it was muted by all the power around her. Once the circle was in place, the other witches opened their lawn chairs and parked themselves in a semicircle. Of course, that left Riley the only person still standing.
How special.
“Thank you for coming to us tonight,” Rada said, settled in her own chair. “I am aware of the difficulties this must pose with your superiors.”
How had she heard about Riley’s no-magic ultimatum?
“I am surprised you dared to come here at all,” Morgaine said.
“In the past,” Riley said, emphasizing those words, “I’ve had a good relationship with the witches in this city. We’ve fought side by side. I saw no reason not to accept your invitation.”
“Even if you lose your demon trapper’s license?” Rada asked.
“Yes, even then.” Riley wanted to say more but held her tongue. No matter how furious she was at the National Guild, that fight wasn’t these ladies’ business.
Rada nodded as if divining Riley’s thoughts. “I asked you to join us because we have a problem, and we need your help.”
Morgaine began to mutter under her breath.
“I am willing to help you,” Riley replied, “but you know I’m on a short leash.”
“We are aware of that leash, but a few of us believe you are in the best position to keep us safe.”
“From what?”
“The trappers do not yet realize that the National Guild intends to outlaw the use of any magic during the trapping process.”
“What? I thought they were just playing games with me.”
Rada shook her head. “No. We witches have supplied that magic to the trappers for a number of reasons. First, it is the right thing to do. No one wants a world overrun by Hellspawn. The second is that it works well in conjunction with the Holy Water. And there is a third reason.”
Riley remembered back to the first time she’d met Ayden, and what the witch had said as she’d taught her about the spheres the trappers used.
“The third is that you can’t be accused of working for Hell when you’re helping us keep folks safe.”
Rada tipped her head to indicate Riley was correct. “If the National Guild disallows the use of our magic, we no longer have the thinnest of protections against those who claim we are evil. They’ll blame us when their children are hurt, when their pets go missing, or when they’re fired from a job. There is a fine line between a friend and an enemy.”
“This is stupid! Holy Water works great, but it’s the magic that grounds the Fives, makes the Fours lose their ability to charm, and stuns the Threes long enough for us to get them restrained. It keeps Hellspawn out of peoples’ houses and businesses. No magic? We’ll have lots of dead trappers and civilians.”
Rada nodded. “Which leads me to wonder why the National Guild is being so willfully ignorant. Is it because they truly hate magic, or is there some other reason?”
“How am I going to get them to change their minds?” Riley asked. “Because they’re not listening to me right now.”
“You are a remarkable young woman. You have authority beyond what you realize. You may think that no one really knows about you, about your father, about what nearly happened in Atlanta last spring. You would be wrong,” the old woman insisted. “The word has spread, and the name Blackthorne carries a power beyond that of any other trapper. Well, except for, perhaps, the young man you are marrying.”
Because he killed an Archangel.
“Unfortunately,” Rada continued, “we cannot be seen to aid you in this task. We are walking a tightrope as it is. Are you willing to do this for us?”
“Keep the National idiots from changing their policies?” Rada nodded. “Oh man. I can try, but I don’t know if I’ll be any good. Their representative hates me.”
“Ask yourself why that is,” Ayden said softly. “Maybe that will help you find a way to prevent this.”
Riley studied her friend, knowing what was at stake here.
“Okay, I’ll do what I can.” Somehow her mouth didn’t stop there. “But I want something in return.”
Every one of the witches’ eyes was on her now. Most were not friendly, and she began to feel like a small frog in a pond full of hungry fish.
“You dare to ask something of us?” Morgaine demanded. “You? A trapper?’
“If I’m going to pull your butts out of the fire, then yes, I do. Because we all have something to lose. Even you.”
“That’s not acceptable,” Morgaine replied. “You have no power over us.”
“Take it or leave it. Because that’s my line in the sand.”
Riley felt magic slither around her feet, like the thick coils of a serpent. It took her only a moment to detect the source, and, of course, it was Morgaine. “Call it back, witch. Call it back now.”
“Or?” the woman taunted.
With a look of apology to Ayden, Riley slid the steel pipe out of her pack.
“Or you’re about to find out why Hell’s fiends know my name.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Morgaine, remove the spell,” Rada said in a tone of voice that brooked no argument.
The spell vanished instantly.
“Thank you.” Riley slotted the pipe back into place inside her pack, surprised that her hands weren’t shaking. Even Beck would have thought twice about what she’d just done.
“What is it that you want from us?” her former neighbor asked.
“First, if I can get the necromancers onboard, I want you to send a representative to sit down with them, at least monthly. It doesn’t have to be anything formal; you just need to talk. This pissing match is totally Stone Age.”
Anxious looks flew between some of the witches. It was as if she’d just suggested they jump into an erupting volcano.
“We have nothing we need to speak to them about,” Morgaine insisted. “They’re arrogant jerks.”
Pot. Kettle. Wi
tch.
“And there’s the problem. You’re so . . . ” She hunted for a word that wouldn’t get her turned into something small and furry with buckteeth. “You’re so caught up doing your own thing, you don’t realize there’s common ground. Both of you use magic. Both groups will lose big if people begin to believe magic is bad. If you at least talk once in a while, share information, you might be able to keep the locals from lighting up the torches and sharpening their pitchforks.”
“They have nothing to contribute,” one of the witches complained. “They never listen to us anyway.”
“I know they’re arrogant.” No more than some of you. “But it doesn’t matter if you’re a demon trapper, a witch, or a summoner—we’re all fighting on the same side. Because believe me, the Prince of Hell loves this kind of crap. The more we squabble and try to harm each other, the stronger he gets.”
“That’s—” Morgaine began.
“An idea we will seriously consider,” Rada cut in. “What else?”
“I need a promise that none of your witches will ever put a spell on me again without my permission,” she said, glaring at Morgaine. “Like the one you did in the cemetery, or the one you tried here.”
“You were not harmed,” the woman retorted.
“Would you have done that immobility spell to me anywhere else in the city?”
“Of course. Why would it matter?”
“Because if I hadn’t been on holy ground, I would have been at the mercy of any demon who wandered by,” Riley replied. “You put my life at risk, and I won’t have it.”
Morgaine appeared taken aback. Clearly that hadn’t occurred to her.
“No spells. None,” Riley said again.
“We can do that,” Rada agreed. “Anything else?”
“I want to continue training with Ayden. I don’t want to learn just summoner magic.”
A heated discussion began among the witches, which Riley tuned out.
She felt another tug on her mind, one too hard to ignore. It happened again, stronger now. As she looked from witch to witch, she could see the color of each one’s life energy. It was like being inside a rainbow.
Then, there was the lavender, the thread she’d encountered when she’d been trapping. When her eyes landed on the young witch who’d brought her to the circle, Riley paused. “What’s your name?”
“Ah . . . ”
“Name,” she demanded.
“Eslee.”
Everything fell into place with amazing simplicity. Well, at least most of it. What Riley had been feeling was the thread of this girl’s life force, the same lavender energy she’d encountered in Piedmont Park when the illusionary demons came after them, and again when Beck had been trapping with her and the apprentices.
“You’re Kurt’s girlfriend, aren’t you?”
The girl’s eyes widened, then she cast around a wary glance at the others. “I was. How did you know?”
“I felt you in Piedmont Park a few days ago and in Virginia-Highland earlier today.” The girl went rigid. “You’ve been casting illusion spells, making it seem as if there were more demons than there were.”
“Ah . . . ” the young witch began, then she clamped her mouth shut.
“Eslee? What did you do?” Rada demanded.
Instead of answering her superior, the girl glared over at Morgaine. “You wouldn’t let me date him. You said Kurt was beneath us because he was just a trapper. But I really like him and so I . . .”
“What kind of spell was it?” Ayden asked.
“We were trapping a Grade Three demon in the park,” Riley explained. “She created two other imaginary demons, but at first we had no idea if they were real or not.”
“No one got hurt,” the girl protested.
“But we could have. Until I figured out they were illusions, we thought they were for real, and that made us believe we were surrounded. One of us could have been injured. Or died.”
The girl’s eyes began to moisten. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”
“I know. Why would you put your boyfriend in danger?”
“I wanted him to think trapping was too dangerous and quit. Then we could date and no one would be all pissy about it,” she said, glaring at Morgaine again. These two seemed to be related in some way.
“So if Kurt said, ‘I want you to quit being a witch and then we can date,’ would you do it?” Riley asked.
“No! Of course not!” the girl replied, indignant.
“But that is exactly what you expected him to do,” Rada said solemnly. “It’s not right to manipulate people like that.”
Eslee hung her head in shame, tears falling. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” she murmured. Then she looked up, worried. “You won’t tell him, will you?”
“No, because you’re going to,” Riley answered. “Then, if he still thinks you’re worth all the hassle, you guys have a chance.” Glaring at Morgaine, she added, “For that to work, the rest of us have to stay out of their faces. Is that clear?”
“You have no right to tell us what to do,” the witch began.
“In this case, I agree with Riley,” Rada said sternly. “Our closed-mindedness isn’t Stone Age, but it is medieval, and we all know how well that era treated us.”
Riley turned back to the girl. “About a week ago, did you conjure up a fake necromancer in Demon Central, then have him call up a demon?”
“No. I wouldn’t know how to do that.”
“Well, someone did,” she grumbled. She studied Morgaine for a moment, but the woman shook her head.
“I have no issues with you resuming your studies with Ayden,” Rada said. “Clearly you have talent, if you could determine the source of the illusion spell.”
Riley gave a nod, understanding that was an apology of sorts. “Is there anything else you wanted to talk to me about?”
“No.” Rada smiled like she’d just pulled a perfect angel food cake out of the oven. “You are free to go. Please come see me soon. Max misses you. And bring that handsome young man of yours. I’ll bake your favorite cookies.”
“We’ll be there.” After shooting Morgaine a sour look, Riley smiled at Ayden and crossed out of the sacred circle. To her surprise, Eslee was right behind her.
When they reached the front of the shop, the girl unlocked the entry door but didn’t open it. She took a very large breath, like she was working up the courage to speak.
“Do you think Kurt will hate me when I tell him what I did?”
“I don’t know, but you have no future together if you try to make him give up what he really wants to do in life. That’s wrong.”
“Even if he could get hurt or killed?”
“Even then. It’s his choice. Do you think I like the idea of my fiancé out battling Hellspawn, a walking target for every fiend who wants to butter up Lucifer? It makes me sick sometimes, but that’s what Beck is all about. If I insist he stop doing what he loves, we’re through. He knows it goes both ways.”
The girl nodded numbly. “I won’t do anything like that again.”
“Then this evening hasn’t been a waste.” As the door opened, Riley couldn’t resist. “Why does Morgaine hate demon trappers?”
“My aunt used to be married to one when she lived in New York. They divorced, so now she doesn’t like any of them.”
“Of course. It couldn’t be anything the least bit rational. Thanks.”
Riley stepped outside and the door closed behind her. She blew a stream of air through her lips. The witches wanted her to stop the National Guild from instituting a truly suicidal policy, but despite what Rada claimed, Riley had no real power. She and all the other trappers were totally screwed.
As she drew closer to Mort’s doorway, it opened and his nephew stepped out. It should have startled her, but nothing regarding the nec
ro surprised her anymore. He just seemed to know things.
“Hey, Alex. How’s it going?”
He shrugged. “It goes. My uncle wants to talk to you. He said you were headed back this way after the witches’ meeting.”
“How did he know that?”
“He just does. He knows everything.”
“So what’s going on with you? Usually you’re in a pretty good mood.”
“Ah, nothing.”
She entered the house. “Come on, we know each other fairly well. You can spill.”
Alex shut the door behind her, groaning as he did. “You know how I was going to major in physics and all?”
She nodded.
“My head’s just not there anymore.”
“Girl?”
He shook his head. “Magic. I want to study with my uncle. That’s creating some major hassles with my parents, who do not see ‘corpse collector’ as a viable profession.”
“Even though Mort is doing really well?”
He nodded. “Mom is sorta sympathetic because Mort’s her brother, but my dad isn’t talking to me. He says I have to stop believing in fantasy.”
“I suppose pointing out that sometimes you’ll actually be using that magic to stop demons won’t make them any happier.”
“No, definitely not. Uncle Mort said your father didn’t want you to become a trapper. How did you convince him?”
“I wore my dad down. I kept researching everything I could find about trapping, and I told him what I’d read. I made sure that what I said was wrong in some way, and he kept correcting me because he was a born teacher. Finally he just gave up, and we applied for my apprentice license.”
“Huh . . . Don’t think that will work for my dad. He’s a brain surgeon. He wanted me to be one too, but he was okay with the physics-major thing because it sounded cool.”
“Unlike necromancer.”
“Yeah. Well, thanks. Maybe I’ll figure something out.” Alex pointed toward the rear of the house. “Uncle’s in the back room, chilling out.”
What Alex did not say was that Mort wasn’t alone. Oh no, not alone at all. Sitting in a chair near the fireplace was the High Lord of All Things Necromantic, Lord Ozymandias. He wasn’t wearing his usual wormhole-black robe. In fact, he was in slacks and a navy turtleneck, which made that odd glowing sigil in the middle of his forehead even odder.
