Forsaken (21 page)

There was a prolonged silence on the other end of the phone. She thought maybe he was IM’ing one of his buds, but there wasn’t any keyboard clicking.

“Peter?”

“Are you, like, crazy?”

“I need the money.”

More silence.

“Peter?”

“I always thought your dad would look out for you, and now that he’s gone it’s … more dangerous.”

“Stop worrying. I’ll apprentice with one of the master trappers and get my full license. Then I can go after that Geo-Fiend.”

Peter’s voice got all strange. “Ah, I need to go, Riley. Let me know what the new school is like. Anyway … later … bye.”

Riley found herself listening to the dial tone. He’d never left her hanging on the phone like that, even when pestered by his mom.

“Thanks, dude. I knew I could count on you.” She clicked off the phone and dropped it on the couch next to her. When it bounced off the cushion and hit the floor, she made a gun out of her fingers and riddled it with bullets. No one understood what it was like unless they were a trapper.

Which was how her life was going to play out from now on. She’d put in her time at school until she got her diploma, but her real life was the demons. And just like Peter, there would always be people who wouldn’t understand that. Wouldn’t know the thrill of trapping a Three and living to tell about it. She’d never be normal again.

If I ever was.

Leaning back on the couch, Riley stared at nothing, letting her thoughts ramble. At least until the nothing moved. Sitting up, she caught sight of something small and stealthy toting a little canvas bag as it crept along the edge of a bookshelf.

The Magpie had returned. At least it looked like the same one she’d caught that night in the hallway.

“How’d you get away?” The demon just grinned and parked itself on the edge of the shelf, legs swinging back and forth like a kid. It began to unpack its bag, laying out a variety of shiny objects with studied reverence. One of them was the
N
key from her keyboard. Riley bet if she checked her dresser the silver earring would be long gone.

She could catch it, and that would be seventy-five bucks, money she really needed. If it was that good at escaping it’d just come back and she could earn another seventy-five bucks. She could make her rent off this one demon.

Riley rose off the couch. In a flash the fiend was gone, along with the bag. It hadn’t moved that fast the other day.

“Wow. You’re supersonic.” Clearly it’d decided it was going to stay. “Just don’t let anyone see you,” she advised. “And put my
N
back right now!”

There was a blur toward the keyboard and then to the shelf. The key was in place, and not one foul word had been uttered.

“
So
not a Biblio.”

*   *   *

Beck had barely
walked inside the Tabernacle and settled at a table for the Guild meeting when Simon edged up to him.

“How is she?” the young apprentice asked, keeping his voice low. At Beck’s quizzical expression, he added, “Doctor Wilson told me what happened.”

“She’s doin’ better.”

“Would Riley like me to visit her?” Simon asked.

Riley might, but I’m not so sure I do.
He hadn’t quite worked out what he thought of Simon, especially since the guy definitely had his eyes on Paul’s little girl.

Ah, what the hell.

“Yeah, go see her,” Beck replied. “She’d appreciate talkin’ to someone who doesn’t piss her off.”

Simon brightened. “I’ll call her later.”

“Anyone else know about this?” Beck asked, letting his eyes trail across the other trappers in the room.

“Harper doesn’t, if that’s what you’re asking.” Simon retreated across the open space to take his place behind the master. Harper glared and snapped at him out of habit.

Beck took a chair and went still, like a sniper in a tree. Besides his usual bottles of beer, in his pocket was Exhibit A, the three-inch claw the doc had excavated from Riley’s leg.

Just in case there’s show-and-tell.

The first part of the meeting was the usual stuff—Guild housekeeping, as Paul had called it. Collins, the Guild’s president, announced an increase in dues to cover the cost of meeting at the Tabernacle for the next year. That earned groans from the members. There were the usual complaints about trappers not filling out their paperwork properly.

“Anyone had any problems with the Holy Water?” Collins asked.

“I have,” Beck replied. “It didn’t take down a Three like it was supposed to.”

“Was the Holy Water fresh?”

“Yeah. One day old.”

“It helps if you actually hit the demon, Mile High,” one of the other trappers jested.

Beck wasn’t in the mood. “Paul hit it straight on, but it didn’t matter.” The mention of the dead master’s name shut down the joking immediately.

“Speaking of which,” Collins began, “why don’t you tell us what happened the night Paul died.”

Beck dreaded this moment. Out of respect for his mentor, he rose. The room fell silent.

“This is hard,” he began, feeling the prickle of tears in his eyes. He blinked them away, took a long, deep breath, and delivered the report in measured tones as if he were in front of a superior officer. When it was over he remained standing in case there were questions.

“Ya say the beasties were workin’ tagether?” Master Stewart quizzed.

“Timin’ was too good to be coincidence.”

“Bullshit,” Harper said, glaring over at Beck. “He’s just saying that because he fucked up and got his partner killed.”

Beck’s heart began to hammer in his ears. Fists clenched, he forced himself to stay put, not vault across the room and take Harper out.

“I didn’t fuck up. I did every goddamn thing right and he still…”

Beck unclenched his fists and put his hands palm down on the table to keep from losing it.

Better tell them now.

When he looked up, all eyes were on him. “It was the same Five that went after Paul’s daughter in the library.”

Harper smirked. “How’d you know that?”

“I asked it. The damned thing laughed at us, like we were nothin’.” He hesitated and then let loose the final secret. “It was the first time I ever saw Paul afraid of a demon.”

Some of the trappers shifted nervously, whispering among each other. If a Geo-Fiend could take out someone as experienced as Blackthorne, then any one of them was at risk.

Even Harper. And the old master knew it.

“Any other questions?” Silence. “Thanks, Beck. Sorry about Paul.” A pause. “Jackson, you’re up.”

The Guild’s treasurer rose. “Got a report that someone is selling demons illegally. You guys heard anything?”

“Fireman Jack mentioned something about it the other day,” Morton replied. He still hadn’t made master because Harper refused to sign off on his application, which had made for bad blood between them.

“That fag?” Harper huffed. “Wouldn’t trust a thing he’d say.”

“As long he treats us fairly, I don’t care what church he worships at,” Jackson shot back.

“You wouldn’t.”

Beck shook his head. Harper never failed to amaze him. The man was a natural-born asshole.

Jackson cleared his throat, twice, his way of keeping his cool. “I checked with a few of the traffickers. One of them was complaining that someone paid five hundred for a Three earlier this week. He didn’t know who bought the thing and wanted to know why the Guild was allowing that.”

“We aren’t,” Harper said testily. “Any you guys trap a Three this week?”

One of the trappers raised his hand. “I did. I sold it to Jack for three hundred.”

“Anyone else?” Seven more men raised their hands, and all of them had sold the fiends for the standard fee.

“I sold two,” Beck added.

“So this story is bullshit then,” Harper said. “Let’s move on.”

They don’t know about Riley’s demon.
Beck weighed the situation. He might be able to bury her misadventure deep enough that they’d never find out, but it wouldn’t change the fact that someone was stealing demons and selling them illegally. That would eventually come back to haunt them.

Pain now. Pain Later. Never a good call.

Sorry, girl, the shit’s gonna hit the fan.

“There was another Three caught this week.”

“Who trapped it?” Collins asked.

“Paul’s daughter. She took it down in Demon Central Sunday night.”

Harper broke out in a thick laugh. “Nice one, kid.”

“I’m not jokin’. She was worried about payin’ her rent, so she loaded up Paul’s gear and went huntin’. She took down a Three …
on her own
.”

“No way,” Jackson said. “For real?”

“For real.”

“She tell you that?” Harper asked. Beck nodded. “Then she’s lying.”

Beck’s muscles tensed. He moved his neck to loosen them, like a fighter does right before a bout. Harper caught the gesture and sneered at him.

“She’s got six claw marks in her leg that say otherwise,” Beck retorted. “And just in case you think
I’m
lying…” He raised the claw fragment in the air so the others could see it. The trapper closest to him winced.

“Doc Wilson dug this out of her thigh.”

“Claws marks don’t mean she trapped the thing,” Harper protested.

“Once it hooks you, it only goes two ways: You trap it or it eats you. There’s no other options,” Morton replied. He gave Harper a hard stare. “I would expect a master to know that.”

Harper spat on the floor in disgust.

“I did some checkin’,” Beck replied. “Seems there’s a couple of losers down there who like rollin’ folks. Riley trapped the Three and then they showed up. They told her they could get five hundred for it.”

“You sayin’ they stole her demon?” Jackson asked, astonished.

Beck nodded. “It was easy. Young girl on her own. They figured they’d score some serious cash and have a party. She had to leave the demon behind if she didn’t wanna get jumped.”

“That ain’t right!” someone called out from the back of the room. “Those two need some thumpin’.”

“Amen to that,” another voice said.

Collins looked over at Beck. “How’s the kid?”

“Healin’. And seriously pissed.”

There were nods around the room. Beck kept the smile to himself. These guys were hard-core, with a simple view of how the world should work. Trapper Rule No. 1: No one messed with your capture. Rule No. 2: No one messed with a fellow trapper. Violate either of those rules and serious pain was in your future.

Jackson frowned, his face deep in thought. “Who’s buying these fiends for that kind of money? The legit traffickers know better. The world falls in on them if they deal under the table.”

“What do they do with the demons after they buy them?” Morton asked. “They have to go to the Church. But if the buyer’s illegal, they can’t do that without the paperwork.”

“We need to get a handle on this,” Collins interceded. “Stewart, can you check in with the Archbishop and find out if anything’s happening on that end?”

“Aye,” the master replied.

“What about Blackthorne’s brat?” Harper asked. “She was trapping illegally. We can’t let that happen.”

Stewart chuckled and rose, supported by a cane. “Nay, we canna. Paul was one of the best damned trappers I ever knew. If his lass can pull down a Three at this stage, I’d say it be in the blood.”

“You willing to take that on?” Collins asked. “She sounds damned willful.”

“Aye, I’d be pleased ta train the lass. All she needs is a firm hand.”

Beck allowed himself to exhale. Stewart was a good man. A bit slower now that he’d gotten banged up tangling with an Archdemon, but still a lot kinder than the other choice.
And a lot less prejudiced
.

“No,” Harper barked. “I’m senior trapper and I get my choice of apprentices. Blackthorne’s brat is mine to train.”

Stewart eyed his rival. “Ya gonna be fair with her?”

“Just as fair as she deserves,” Harper retorted. The unholy smile on his face said it all.

Simon went pale. He gave Beck a desperate look, but there was nothing they could do. Harper had seniority.

Shit.
His plan had failed.

Collins gave Harper a long look. “We’ll want regular reports on her progress.”

The smirk grew wider. “And you’ll get them, trust me.”

“Okay, let’s move on. What’s this about not telling mall security when you’re trapping in a department store? You guys know the rules.”

TWENTY-ONE

Riley heard the telltale clomp of boots in the hallway before the knocking started. It was close to eight at night. Simon wasn’t due until nine, which meant this was probably Beck returning for another lecture.

“Hey, girl, ya awake?”

Riley muted the television and hopped to the door. With a groan, she flipped the locks and opened the door partway but not enough to allow her nemesis to barge in. “What’s up?”

Beck waved a bag in front of her face. It sported the logo of the Grounds Zero. “Brought ya one of their brownies. Thought ya liked them.”

“I do. Just don’t like the delivery guy.”

“Sucks, don’t it?” he said. “So do ya let me in or do I toss this in the dumpster on the way out?”

Riley gasped at the thought of such cruelty and waved him in. Beck plopped on the couch, placing the bag on the packing box coffee table. He still looked tired, like sleep no longer held any value for him.

“New coat?” she asked. His old one had been dark brown. This one was a creamy brown, and it looked good on him.

Beck nodded. “Found it at the market. It’s used, but I like ’em that way. Not as stiff, makes it easier to move.” He stared at her for a few seconds. “Ya have any soda?”

Riley hobbled into the kitchen, retrieved the drink, and then began to fume. She was the one with the gored leg. Why wasn’t he getting his own drink? When she returned to the living room she realized why. He’d set out the plastic wrapped brownie, and leaning up against it was a colored envelope adorned with a smiley face.

He bought me a card?

She handed over the drink and then eagerly thumbed open the envelope.