Forbidden

by Jana Oliver

  “Hi there, Riley,” Jackson called out. He was drinking coffee instead of a beer, probably in deference to his wounds.

  “How are you doing?” she asked.

  “Not bad. Hurts like hell, but the doc said I don’t need grafts, so I’m not going to complain.”

  “That’s really good news.”

  “Amen to that. Where’s Den?”

  “Here!” Beck called out as he walked up. He set his pitcher and pint of beer on the table next to Riley’s glass. Shooting her a snarky grin, he said, “Now don’t ya get those mixed up, ya hear?”

  Riley gave him a scathing look, which was a complete waste of time. The group went quiet, except for Beck, who took a long gulp of his brew.

  “God, I love this stuff.” Then he looked down at the others. “What’s the problem, guys?”

  McGuire angled his head toward Riley. He was in his early forties, tall with thin hips and thin brown hair that covered his collar. If the deep crease lines on his face were any indication, a scowl was his default setting.

  “Apprentices are always at these things. How else are they gonna learn anythin’?” Beck asked.

  “But she’s—”

  “A trapper,” Jackson said.

  “Not in my book,” McGuire replied.

  “You can bitch all you want, but I saw her take down a Three with a folding chair,” Jackson replied. “We would have been burying Simon tonight if it hadn’t been for her, so I think maybe you should just can it.”

  “The hell I will. First it’ll be her, then there’ll be more of them. We’ll have to take anyone who wants to be a trapper,” McGuire complained.

  “I’d say the more the better. We could use ’em right now,” Beck said.

  McGuire rose to his feet. “No disrespect to the dead, but I can’t be here if she is.” He slugged down what remained of his beer and then stomped off toward the stairs.

  Riley shook her head. Another enemy. Like I don’t have enough already.

  One of the trappers pounded the table enthusiastically. “Good deal. McGuire’s such a downer.” He gave Riley a hundred-watt smile. “I’m Lex Reynolds, by the way. Pleased to have you here, miss.”

  She nodded in reply. Reynolds had a full beard and hair that went below his shoulders. He looked like a surfer, muscled, with a deep golden tan. He wasn’t a good ol’ boy, that was for sure.

  The trapper rose and lifted his glass. With a nudge from Beck, she stood like the others.

  “Rest in peace, guys,” Reynolds called out, and then everyone took a long drink. “You keep those Pearly Gates open for us, and we’ll bring the beer.”

  “Amen!” a few of the trappers shouted.

  Chairs skidded on the floor as the group returned to their seats.

  “Collins owed me twenty bucks,” Jackson announced. “I’m never going to see that, am I?”

  “Twenty? He owed me fifty,” another trapper called out.

  “Y’all are screwed,” Beck laughed. “I bet he’s laughin’ his ass off right now.”

  “God, I miss him. He was so much fun,” Reynolds said. “Remember when he went after that Four at Georgia Tech, right after he became a journeyman?”

  “I don’t know that story,” one of the trappers replied. He was an older guy with an exquisite handlebar mustache.

  “Well, there was this Four eating up fraternity boys like candy. So Collins gets the job. He goes up to this chick and she offers him a good time, so he drops a load of Holy Water on her.”

  Jackson chortled. Apparently he knew how this story played out.

  “You see, she wasn’t a demon.” Reynolds grinned. “She was an undercover vice cop. Man, did they bust his balls.”

  Riley laughed along with the others.

  “Sounds like somethin’ I’d do,” Beck joked.

  A trapper named Thomas jumped in with a tale about Morton catching a Three in a meat locker at a grocery store. Then someone related the joke they’d pulled on Stewart involving a goat in Demon Central. It was only then she realized the masters weren’t here.

  When she asked Beck why that was the case, he replied, “So the guys can say anythin’ they want and not worry they’ll get in trouble. They can blow off steam that way.”

  Riley settled back in her seat, letting the stories surround her. This wasn’t about remembering the dead but honoring those that were still alive. These trappers were the real deal, and for a moment she felt a strong sense of pride at being one of them. This was why Dad did this. It wasn’t just bringing in the demons or earning a paycheck. It was about being one of the guys.

  But I never will be one of the guys. She didn’t have the right equipment and that would make all the difference. Even if she rose to the rank of master, she’d never really belong. Depressed, Riley finished off her drink and stood. All eyes went to her.

  “You’re not leaving, are you?” Jackson asked. “The night’s young.”

  “I need to get some sleep,” she admitted, then wondered if that made her sound weak. It was a better explanation than having to stay on holy ground after dark.

  “’Night, Miss Riley,” someone called out from the group, though she wasn’t sure who it was. She called out her own farewell and headed down the stairs. Beck quickly fell in step with her, following her out to the car.

  “I thought ya were gonna drive me home,” he chided.

  “Changed my mind.”

  “Glad to hear it.” He hesitated and then added, “I need help with somethin’ tomorrow. Will ya be home around noon?”

  “Help with what?”

  “Just somethin’.”

  Okay, be mysterious. “I’ll be home then.”

  “Good. I’ll bring barbecue for lunch.”

  “That works.”

  They’d reached her car. As Riley pulled out the keys, he said, “Call me when ya get to the church.”

  “Why do you do that?” she demanded, turning on her heels to face him.

  “What?”

  “You go all old on me, like you’re a geezer or something.”

  “Ya don’t understand,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

  “What don’t I get, Beck? That you had a craptastic childhood? That you can’t change what happened to you so you’re going to micromanage my every waking hour?”

  His face hardened. “Yeah, that’s part of it. I had to take care of myself since I was little. I know what it’s like.”

  “You keep it up and you’re going to be like Harper, a sad old guy who hits people and bitches about everything.”

  “Ya don’t understand,” he repeated.

  “Then tell me why you have to be like this. One good reason.”

  “Because…” He slumped against the car. “I don’t know any other way to be.”

  Finally the truth. And from the expression on his face, it looked like she’d carved it out of his heart.

  She leaned against the car next to him, hands crossed over her chest. “Promise you’ll stop going all senior?”

  He looked over at her. “Will you call yer aunt?”

  Here we go again. “I won’t be any safer in Fargo. If the demons want me, they’ll find me.”

  Beck put his hand on her arm. “Please,” he pleaded.

  Riley stared at him. That word just wasn’t one of his favorites. For him to use it meant he was desperate. When she didn’t reply, he removed his hand in defeat.

  “I just need to know that there’s someone who’ll take care of ya … if … somethin’ happens to me.”

  Without another word her companion walked back toward the pub. At the last moment he looked back over his shoulder. This time his emotions were unmasked and she could read them easily.

  Fear. For him and for her.

  What aren’t you telling me? What really happened at the pool hall?

  FIFTEEN

  It took some time for Riley to find Simon: He’d been moved out of ICU. As she drew closer to his room, a man passed her in the hallway. He was
n’t hospital staff, so for a moment she thought maybe he was a priest, but he wasn’t wearing a clerical collar.

  Probably a friend of the family.

  Riley paused outside the room to gear herself up for this. It shouldn’t be this way. She should be really looking forward to seeing Simon, but something wasn’t right between them. I’m overreacting. He’s just scared like the rest of us. He’ll come out of it.

  She cautiously stuck her head in the door and found him in the bed closest to the door. The curtain was pulled, shielding him from his roommate, who was watching television.

  Her boyfriend was staring at nothing, hands tangled around a rosary, his face as pale as it had been the last time she’d seen him. She moved to his side, set her messenger bag on the chair and waited for him to acknowledge her. When he did, he frowned like she wasn’t welcome.

  “Where have you been?” he demanded, scowling. “I called your house over and over, and you didn’t answer. Are you blowing me off on purpose?”

  Riley counted to ten so as to not buy into his anger. He’s just frustrated. He has to vent.

  “I’m not home much anymore,” she explained. “Call my cell.” Then Riley remembered why that wouldn’t work. “I’ll get you the new number. My phone got toasted so I’m using Dad’s.”

  If she expected that to mollify Simon, it didn’t work. “Why weren’t you here this morning?”

  “I’ve been busy. I’ve had our master to take care of, a Magpie to trap, funerals and a wake to attend. That doesn’t leave much time for sitting around the house waiting for your call, Simon.”

  “Wake?” he replied. “Why would you go to that?”

  Because I’m a trapper? “Don’t start,” she replied. “I had to listen to McGuire complain about me being in the Guild. I don’t need to hear it from you.”

  Simon looked away, but no apology was forthcoming.

  “Look, I’m really tired, so I’m kind of bitchy,” she said, trying to salvage the conversation. “Let’s start over, okay?”

  When he didn’t respond, she reached over one of the side rails and touched his hand. Simon flinched and pulled away.

  “What is going on with you?” she asked.

  “I would think that would be obvious,” he replied, scowling over at her.

  No, or I wouldn’t have asked. “Look, just hang in there. You’ll be getting out of here soon. You’ll be coming back to work and maybe in a couple weeks we can go to a movie or something. Spend some time together. I’d like that.” I really need your strength right now.

  “A date?” he retorted, his knuckles white as he clenched the rosary. “How can you think about that? How can you be oblivious as to what is going on in this city?”

  Riley’s temper reared its head. “I know what’s happening, Simon. I know better than anyone, but—”

  “I never realized how shallow you are,” he said, staring at her like he’d just learned her darkest secret. “Don’t those dead trappers mean anything to you?”

  “Now look here,” she retorted, trying hard to control her voice so as not to disturb his roommate. “Don’t give me this ‘You don’t care’ crap. I’m not oblivious, Simon.” I just want to get things back on track with us.

  “That’s not what I’m seeing,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “We have to find out what happened at the Tabernacle. We have to find out who betrayed us.”

  Betrayed? Riley forced herself to sound calm, though her emotions were seething. “No one betrayed us, Simon. You know that as well as I do.”

  “Do I?” he asked, a strange light in his eyes. “This is a battle for our very souls, Riley. Nothing is like it seems. We can trust no one until we know what happened.”

  Riley gave up. She was too tired for all this drama. “Then you work it out. I’ve gotta go.”

  When she dropped a kiss on his cheek, Simon’s jaw tensed underneath her lips.

  “I’m not giving up on you,” she said, defiantly.

  “And I’m not giving up until I find the truth.”

  * * *

  Instead of dragging herself into the solitude of the church’s basement and listening to the furnace do its on-and-off dance, Riley sat on the stone steps that led to the building’s front entrance. It was after dark now, the streets alight with cars and busy with pedestrians headed home for the night. Right now the Five seemed a remote threat. A bigger worry was Simon and what was happening between them. The possibility of losing him weighed on her heart.

  “Heaven can’t be that cruel,” she whispered.

  A slight breeze made her tuck her coat tighter. She heard the light footsteps before she saw him. Ori. He settled onto the steps next to her, dressed in a black leather jacket and jeans. He said nothing for a long time, as if he was respecting her need for silence. Finally Riley knew she had to say something.

  “I didn’t see you following me from the hospital,” she said, looking over at him.

  “I’m very good at what I do,” he replied. “Something happened there, didn’t it?”

  “It’s more what didn’t happen.” She twisted the strap on her messenger bag in agitation, then realized what she was doing and shoved it away. It was a stupid habit. “My boyfriend’s gotten weird. I know he’s been really ill and all that, but…”

  “But?” Ori nudged.

  “Simon’s changing. He used to be so sweet and kind. Now he’s nasty, even to me, like it was my fault he got clawed up.”

  “Do you think it’s your fault?”

  Riley rubbed her face in thought. “Maybe. What if the Five brought those other demons just so it could get to me? What if I’m the reason all those guys died?”

  Ori gently placed his hand on her arm, giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

  “If the Five wanted you, it just had to wait for the right time to kill you. It did not have to orchestrate an attack on the Tabernacle.”

  Riley searched his face and found only compassion. She needed that support right now. Simon certainly wasn’t giving her any. “You really believe that?”

  Ori nodded. “The demons are not acting normally. Something, or someone, is driving them to this grotesque behavior.”

  “Lucifer?”

  “No. Not his style. The Prince of Hell likes order above all things.”

  “But who—” Riley let it drop, too tired to try to work through it. Stewart and the others would take care of it. She had her boyfriend and her dad to worry about.

  “I thought that Simon’s faith would help him through this. I mean, he’s really religious. I thought we’d deal with this together, but he’s not moving on, all he’s doing is looking backward.”

  “While you’re looking forward?”

  Riley nodded. “That’s what I do when it goes wrong. If I slow down I don’t think I can handle my screwed-up life, so I just keep moving, hoping it’ll get better. It never does.”

  Ori put his arm around her, drawing her close to his body, which allowed Riley to rest her head on his shoulder. She inhaled the crisp, cool scent that was him.

  “Simon’s journey is his own,” he said. “If he’s foolish enough to push you away, then that’s his loss. Don’t give up on him just yet.”

  “I hope he gets his head straightened out. I really like him.”

  “Then he’s a lucky boy.”

  She straightened up, uncomfortable with how close they’d become in such a short time. She knew so little about this man, and it was a good bet once he caught the Five, he’d be gone.

  “Do you ever look back and regret things you’ve done?” she asked wistfully.

  Ori stared into the middle distance before he answered. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t have that luxury.” As he rose, he looked down at her with a sad smile.

  “And neither do you, Riley Blackthorne.”

  * * *

  In Ori’s experience it was quite easy to find a demon, especially the ones that ate everything. All you had to do was pitch your ears toward
the snarls and home in. He’d already found two of them, older, more feral ones, but they hadn’t been helpful. He’d left their bleeding corpses in the murky dark of this place the trappers called Demon Central.

  Now he’d found another, a younger one who hadn’t developed its second row of teeth yet. It was rounder, more bulky. It almost looked harmless, but in a few months it’d thin down and become a dedicated killing machine.

  It had just caught itself a large rat. The rodent’s head was already gone, but this fiend, unlike most of its kind, wasn’t a gobbler. It seemed to be savoring the meal.

  Ori moved quietly to a position about five feet from the thing. Then he let it see his true form, wings, sword, and all.

  It shrieked and jumped back in terror, clutching its bloodied meal to its chest as its black hair stuck out like a porcupine. After a quick look around, it realized it had no place to run.

  “Hellspawn,” Ori said. “You know what I am.” There was a whine of fear from the abomination. “And you know what I want.”

  The demon began to shiver. Gastro-Fiends, or Threes, as the trappers so quaintly called them, weren’t very intelligent, all their brains geared toward acquiring food. This one had enough smarts to know that if it pointed Ori in the direction of another demon, that might mean its death. Especially when the other fiend was a weather worker capable of killing a master trapper.

  “Where is the rogue demon called Astaring?” Ori demanded.

  The fiend’s face scrunched up in what passed for thought, then it cautiously extended the rat toward him. A bribe for its life, perhaps?

  Ori sighed and shook his head. “No. That is not what I want.” He took a menacing step forward. It got the reaction he’d hoped for: The Hellspawn cowered in fear.

  “Tell me, pitiful one,” he ordered, putting power behind the command.

  The creature began to babble in Hellspeak. Most of what it said was a list of complaints about how badly it was treated by the other demons, but at the very end it gave Ori a glimmer of information.