Mind Games

by Jana Oliver

  “Nope,” she said.

  “You do know you’re bleeding.”

  “Yup.”

  “Okay. Then I’m going to stand over here, out of the way.”

  “Congratulations on becoming a master,” she said, meaning it.

  “Thank you. Even if you can’t use the spheres, if you want to trap with me, you’re always welcome.”

  His support meant everything to her, especially now. “You rock, you know that, Remmers?”

  “Only following in your footsteps, young lady.”

  Next to arrive were her apprentices, who had wisely waited until they’d received Beck’s “all clear” text. Each of their faces reflected guilt for not staying to fight.

  “You did right,” Riley said, knowing what they were feeling. “No way you could have taken this thing down. We could all be dead if you hadn’t followed my orders.” She took a breath. “Don’t worry—one day, you, too, can have all this fun.”

  Kurt winced. “Yeah, looks like a blast.”

  Jaye peered down at the demon. “It’s a female?”

  “Yeah. Equality in Hell. Go figure.”

  As more cars arrived, Beck rose and took a position to her right. His pack was at his feet, his sword resting on top of it, his expression all badass.

  I love you.

  Groups of trappers began to form about twenty feet out from her and the demon. She didn’t know if they kept their distance because of the way she looked or because of Beck’s vigilant “you mess with her and I’ll rip off yer head” expression.

  Simon walked right up to her.

  He conducted the same assessment as Remmers. “Your third Archfiend, right?” he said quietly.

  “Yup.”

  “Going to get in Master Northrup’s face about this?”

  “Yup.”

  “Good.” After a nod at Beck, he walked up the stairs and took a position to her left. A grand master and one of the Vatican’s exorcists as backup. Couldn’t get any better than that.

  When it was nearly eight, Harper and Stewart arrived. As they approached, both studied the scene.

  “Blackthorne,” Harper said, his eyes on her, not on the demon. “You okay?”

  “Been better, but things are looking up,” she said. More wishful thinking than a lie.

  “Good job. By now you’d think the Archfiends would know not to mess with you.”

  “One can only hope, sir.”

  Stewart didn’t say a word, just folded his arms over his chest, pensive.

  Northrup arrived right at eight. The knots of trappers became more vocal as the National Guild’s enforcer walked through them. He halted about fifteen feet away from Riley, frowning.

  “What’s going on? What are you doing here with that thing?”

  Her stomach flipped again, and she feared she was about to throw up on the corpse in front of her. That would be memorable.

  “Good evening, Master Northrup,” she said, trying not to let derision coat each word. “In case you’ve lost count, that’s three Archfiends I’ve killed. And no, I’m not moving off these steps until we get some things straightened out.”

  Northrup shook his head. “Grandstanding again. You know, the last couple of days all I’ve gotten is irate phone calls about how I’m treating you unfairly. I’m tired of your special-little-snowflake bullshit.”

  Her sword in hand, Riley stood slowly, revealing the rent clothes and the caked blood.

  “Oh, lass,” Stewart said, seeing the damage to her arm and shoulder.

  “Jesus,” Jackson murmured. Other trappers winced. They knew what that felt like.

  Riley carefully wiped her sword on her jeans, taking her time, thinking through her reply. When the blade was clean, she looked down at the man who was standing between her and becoming a master. Between her and her future.

  “For the record, this special little snowflake has been too busy not getting killed by Hellspawn to ask anyone to call you.” She shuddered as her fever rose. “Is my application for master status going to be approved?”

  “No.”

  “Then tell me: Just how many Archfiends do I need to kill to make that happen?”

  “You’re being ridiculous. You know why you’re not master material.”

  “Color me confused on that,” she said. She took the scabbard Simon offered and sheathed the blade, though tempted to leave it out.

  “First, you said I was turned down because I might have cheated on the exam, except we had another master from out of state proxy the test to ensure everything was on the level. Then, you said it was because I was learning magic, but I applied for master status four months ago, long before I started working with a necro. So what’s the real excuse?”

  “We owe you no explanation.”

  “Oh yeah, you do.” Riley sucked in air. “These guys,” she said, angling her head toward the other trappers, “they follow the rules, and they’re golden. But not me.”

  “You know why you’ll never be a master. Your father sold his soul.”

  “He did and he got it back. He’s in Heaven with my mom now because he saved the lives of everyone in the cemetery that day.”

  There were mumbles of assent from the trappers.

  She took a step down. “So, how many demon corpses do you need to prove I’m worthy? Five, ten, fifty? Give me a number, and I’ll keep piling these things at your feet.”

  “You’re delaying the meeting and—”

  “How many?” she shouted. “If I’m so freakin’ special, give me a number!”

  Northrup snarled. “There’s no number, you stupid girl. You’ll never kill enough demons to make master. We’ll never allow it. Master Adams told me all about your father and how you’re just like him. Lucifer is sending these demons to make you look good. We all know that.”

  “What?” Beck growled. “The hell he is.”

  “Even if he were, she’s still killing them,” Simon pointed out, his bright-blue eyes narrowed.

  Stewart intervened. “What ya might not know, Riley, is that yer father filed two ethics grievances against the board. The last one was a week before he died. They’re still languishing, sidetracked by this useless lot of bureaucrats.”

  Riley hadn’t known that, but her dad hadn’t shared much of the Guild’s business. “So this really has nothing to do with me at all.”

  “Master Northrup?” a honey-smooth voice called out.

  Somehow Riley had missed Justine’s arrival, but there she was, impeccably dressed, this time in a green silk suit and a black leather coat and boots. This was Ms. Armando in full Reporter Mode, about to rip a hole in Northrup’s life. Next to her was a cameraman, recording the moment for posterity.

  For one brief instant, Riley actually felt sorry for National’s fool.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The Guild’s rep glared over at Justine. “I told you I don’t talk to the press.”

  “We’re here for the meeting. It’s open to the public, right?” Justine said.

  “Not tonight.”

  “The local Guild’s policies-and-procedures manual states that the public are welcome to attend any meeting they choose,” she responded politely. The light on the camera glowed, meaning this was all going on film.

  “That’s right. The meetings are always open,” Jackson piped up. “It’s just that most folks don’t give a damn.”

  “I would think you would be concerned that such a move might send a negative message to the public, as if the Guild had something to hide,” Justine said.

  “Fine,” Northrup warned, wagging a finger at the reporter. “But you be careful what you write, or there will be a lawsuit.”

  “You’re not the first person to issue that warning,” Justine said, moving closer, like a shark selecting a particular fish from a school o
f victims. “My research indicates Master Blackthorne did file grievances against the National board on more than one occasion. What do you have to say to that?”

  “What else would you expect one of Lucifer’s tools to do?”

  Riley ground her teeth. She shot a look at Beck; his expression was venomous.

  “I see.” Justine continued on. “How is it that the National Guild can deny master status at whim, contrary to your bylaws, especially when the applicant has met your standards? In Ms. Blackthorne’s case, three times over. Are you not concerned about a discrimination lawsuit?”

  “Blackthorne does not qualify. That’s the bottom line,” Northrup replied.

  “Setting aside the matter of Ms. Blackthorne’s application for the moment, is it true that there are nine other applicants being denied master designation, though all of them have fulfilled the Guild’s requirements? That one of them, from Colorado, has been waiting over eight months and you are ignoring his master’s requests for status updates?” Justine pressed. The cameraman moved in to get a close-up of Northrup’s face.

  “Nine?” someone called out. “I thought it was just Blackthorne.”

  The grumbling among the trappers increased.

  “No comment.” Northrup pointedly turned his back on the reporter. “As of tonight, the Atlanta Guild is on probation, and a new administrator will be arriving right after the first of the year. Until then, no more demons will be trapped. Clearly your masters are not doing their jobs, so you have no one to blame but them.”

  “What?” someone shouted. “Are you insane?”

  Riley shook her head in dismay. Did this guy want to go back to DC in a coffin?

  “If the demons find out we’re not doing our jobs, they’ll tear through this town,” Jackson warned.

  “No trapping for a week? Over the holidays? How do we pay our bills?” McGuire called out.

  “That’s your problem,” Northrup replied uneasily.

  Something felt off here. Was Northrup the bad guy, or just the messenger?

  “That takes a lot of balls, comin’ from you guys,” Beck said. “It’s been y’all who haven’t been doin’ yer jobs. We called for help last spring, when we were bein’ slaughtered, and you were nowhere to be found. If the Demon Hunters hadn’t stepped in, we’d all be dead.”

  “He’s right,” Harper said. “You were told what was going down, but you didn’t bother to send us any help. You said it was our problem. You even dragged your feet paying out the death benefits. We had to cover some of those ourselves so folks wouldn’t lose their homes.”

  “I was told the paperwork wasn’t right,” Northrup replied, but he was sweating now, despite the chilly night air.

  “The hell it wasn’t,” Beck spat. “You folks slow-rolled those payments because you’ve never liked this Guild. And I’m guessing it’s because we call you on all yer bullshit.”

  As if on cue, Justine moved in for the kill. “Does this new administrator have anything to do with the National Guild planning to ban the use of all spheres that contain magic?”

  “What?” Northrup said, seeming shocked.

  She pressed on. “Is it realistic to expect this country’s trappers to face deadly Hellspawn with Holy Water as their sole weapon?”

  “What the hell is this?” someone called out.

  “That the truth?” Beck asked, though, like Riley, he already knew the answer. “You sendin’ us against the demons without the magic we need to stay alive?”

  “That’s an unfounded rumor,” Northrup replied, but his sudden nervousness told another story. “It’s been discussed, but not decided yet.”

  Riley heard the lie, and so did the others.

  “That’s not true, now is it?” Justine cut in. “I have in my possession a document that substantiates the claim, and it was provided by someone who used to work in the National Guild’s office. This ban has already been put to a vote and passed, though by a very narrow margin. I also know that it was roundly condemned by two members of your board, who have been sworn to silence so that they could not publicly protest this decision before it was implemented.”

  Northrup’s face had gone pasty white. “Ah . . . I might have been mistaken about the voting.”

  “You liar!” one of the trappers shouted.

  “Yes or no. Has this been voted in?” Justine demanded.

  The man gulped air now. “Yes.”

  “Yes? Then can you explain why this magical interdiction is set to roll out over a two-year period, but Atlanta will be first on the list to comply? In fact, it’s six months before another city is required to follow the new rules.”

  “No, that’s not right,” Northrup said, looking confused. “Adams told me that it would be countrywide from day one. Everywhere, all at once.”

  “Why us first? That’s not fair. We get the shaft while other trappers keep making a living?” McGuire demanded.

  Even as Riley’s body kept sending her messages that she wasn’t going to remain upright for much longer, her mind went into overdrive. Why would Atlanta be first on the list, long before any of the others? Who benefited?

  Lucifer. He wanted to make an example out of the city because they’d stuck it to him more than once.

  “Now I get it,” Jackson said, shaking his head in disgust. “This is why you’ve been all over Riley. You’re looking to use her as a scapegoat, blame her for this ban. All it took was one complaint”—he glowered over at McGuire—“and you had exactly what you needed to keep your hands clean.”

  Northrup’s face turned red, but he didn’t deny the allegation.

  “I complained because what she’s doing isn’t right,” McGuire said.

  “But you played right into their hands,” Beck said. “The Holy Water is all fine and good, but the magic makes it kick ass. No magic and we’re out of a job. Or dead. Is that what you want?”

  The trapper shook his head.

  “Is this really true?” one of the others called out from the back of the group. “Are they going to stop us from using the magic?”

  “Aye. It’s true,” Stewart said. “I’ve verified it myself. The new rulin’ was to be posted next week, once this ass made it back home safe.”

  “Why do you dislike magic so much?” Riley asked.

  Northrup looked over at her now. “Because it’s wrong. Always has been. We never should have been using it in the first place.” He glowered at Harper now. “Either you’ll abide by the ruling or we’ll shut this Guild down. Permanently. You people have always been in our faces.”

  “Maybe we wouldn’t have to be if you weren’t such douchebags,” Jackson said.

  Northrup narrowed his eyes. “Bottom line, no magic and you get a new master to lead you. Master Adams will clean up this Guild. He said I should tell you all to take a look at the guy next to you. That trapper won’t be here after the first of the year.”

  Harper walked up the steps until he could be seen by all of them. “You’ve heard what National has in mind. We can try to fight this, demand a recall election to boot these bastards out and fix what they’ve broken. Or . . . we can split off from the National Guild and go our own way.”

  There were gasps of surprise. Followed by a “Hell yes!” from somewhere in the back of the group.

  “No way,” Northrup said. “You can’t demand a recall unless at least twenty percent of the guilds agree to it. You people are the only troublemakers. If you break away, we’ll make sure that you won’t be able to legally sell your demons. We will destroy you.”

  “Yer right about the twenty percent,” Stewart said. “But if the folks I talked ta this afternoon follow through, we’ve got closer ta a quarter of the guilds eager for a recall. And that threat ta starve us out?” Stewart glowered at the man. “The International Guild is willin’ ta underwrite this city’s trappers. The traffickers will
continue ta buy the fiends at the same rates. Only, National’s cut would be goin’ inta the local Guild’s bank account from now on.”

  “You can’t do that,” Northrup sputtered.

  “The hell we can’t,” Harper said.

  “Why do we need these scum?” someone called out.

  “That’s a very good question,” Riley murmured.

  “So what’s it going to be, folks?” Harper asked. “Recall or break away? Think about it. We’ll vote once we get inside.”

  The murmuring grew louder.

  “You’d throw this all away because of one damned girl?” Northrup demanded.

  “No, but we would for a fellow trapper,” Stewart said. “Yer playin’ with fire, lad, and ya don’t have a clue how not ta get burned.”

  “Adams told me the International Guild has no role in the U.S.,” Northrup insisted.

  “Well, he’s lyin’ to ya. The U.S. guilds were originally underwritten by the grand masters. It’s in yer charter, which clearly ya’ve not read. We have final say on what goes on over here. We’ve always given ya free rein, but that is about ta end.”

  “But he said—”

  Justine’s cameraman moved in closer now, distracting him.

  “Master Northrup,” she began. “Could you comment on accusations that one or more of your board members have been co-opted, that in fact some of you may be working for the Prince of Hell, and that’s why you’ve failed to certify the new masters?”

  Ohmigod. She went there. That hadn’t been a strategy they’d discussed.

  “It’s not me you should be asking about,” he replied, glaring at Riley now. “It’s her family that’s the problem, not us. You test her, and you’ll see.”

  “Ms. Blackthorne?” Justine asked. “Are you willing to undertake such a test on camera?”

  “Yes,” Riley replied without hesitation. “Anyone have some really fresh Holy Water?”

  “Like I’d believe it wouldn’t be fake. I’m not stupid,” Northrup said.

  “As a lay exorcist for the Vatican, I have papal Holy Water. Will that do instead?” Simon asked. The steel in his voice said that denying his offer would have serious consequences.