Forsaken (26 page)

“I decide who goes and who doesn’t go on a run.”

Riley took that to mean she wasn’t invited. That changed the moment the two men were in the car.

“So get your ass in here, Brat,” Harper ordered. “We don’t have all damned day.”

No way I can win.

Riley eased into the backseat and slammed the door. Part of her was stoked. She was out of that smelly building and doing what she should be doing—trapping demons. Well, not her, exactly. This was Simon’s show, and from the conversation in the front seat they were after a Grade Four Hypno-Fiend, or Mezmer, as the trappers called them.

Harper supplied the directions.

“What are we getting into?” Simon asked, turning off Memorial Drive and heading north toward downtown. His voice held a hint of nervousness.

The master shoved some paperwork over the seat back to Riley.

“Earn your keep.”

Pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes, she skimmed the report. As with all trapping requisitions, the paperwork stated the complainant’s name, address, and type of suspected demonic activity.

“A Mr. Ford says this boy is hanging around his daughter, Carol, and getting her do things she shouldn’t be doing. He thinks the boy is a demon because every time he tries to run him off, he finds himself agreeing with whatever the kid says.”

“Sounds like a Mezmer,” Harper said.

“He might just be a creep,” Riley said.

The master trapper gave her a strange look over the seat. “Been there, have you?”

Sure have.

Riley had met Allan right after Beck had tossed her to the curb. She’d been vulnerable, and Allan had taken advantage of that. It hadn’t mattered that her father had disliked her new boyfriend from the moment they’d met. In her mind, Allan was the only thing in her life that mattered and she’d do anything for him to keep him interested in her. And she had. It’d started with the small stuff—lying, sneaking around, stealing cigarettes from the grocery store, though neither of them smoked. It ended the day she’d been one step away from stuffing a two-thousand-dollar mini laptop under her jacket. He’d told her it would prove that she loved him.

The instant her hand had touched the computer a shock ran through her entire body. The future unfolded like a bad movie: It wouldn’t be him at the police station getting yelled at by the cops; he wouldn’t be fingerprinted, thrown in a cell, or have to face the judge; he wouldn’t have to endure her father’s horrified disappointment.

Freaked, she’d hurried out of the store minus the computer. As Riley passed the security guard he’d given her a nod. He’d known what she was going to do.

“Smart move, kid,” he’d said.

Allan hadn’t seen it that way. When she’d admitted she couldn’t do what he wanted, he’d shouted her down in front of everyone in the parking lot, calling her a stupid bitch. Then he’d hit her.

Riley touched her cheek, remembering the sting of the blow, the taste of blood in her mouth, his furious face only inches from hers as he’d called her nasty names.

She’d found the courage to leave him swearing in that parking lot. It’d taken three bus rides to get home. When her father saw her and the growing bruise, his face went crimson in anger. She’d collapsed in his arms and told him all of it. When she’d finally stopped crying, he’d asked her only one question.

“Do you believe you deserved to be hit?”

“No!” she’d said. “He had no right!”

Her father’s expression had melted into relief.

“Always remember that, Pumpkin.
No one
has the right to hurt you.”

Then he’d hugged her and taken her out for ice cream to celebrate her lucky escape from The Worst Boyfriend Ever. A few months later she’d heard Allan had broken his new girlfriend’s arm during an argument.

I got off so lucky.

“Hey!” Harper called out, snapping his fingers and causing Riley to jump. “Pay attention, will you? If you think you know all this, you’re wrong.”

“Sorry,” Riley said. “What were you saying?”

“I was saying that Grade Four demons are devious mothers. They sing a sweet song in your ear, and next thing you know your soul’s got a brand on it courtesy of Lucifer. Sometimes they do it fast, sometimes slow. Doesn’t matter which, because your soul is what they want, before or after they fuck you over.”

Simon twitched at the obscenity.

Harper kept going. “Once they claim your soul they have two choices—harvest it right then and there, in which case you are dead meat, or sell you to a higher-level demon to curry favor.”

“What does the higher-level demon do with a person’s soul?” Simon asked, frowning.

“Since you’re still alive, they own you. You’re their bitch for eternity.” He turned to Simon. “Tell us the difference between an incubus and a succubus.”

Her fellow apprentice sighed, not pleased at having to discuss such matters in front of Riley. “A succubus seduces males and takes energy from them during the sex act. An incubus does the same with women.”

Harper nodded. “They’re evil. No other way to say it.”

“So how do you stop them?” Riley asked.

“A Babel sphere does the trick,” the master replied.

She wasn’t that far in the manual. Maybe she should have read ahead. “How does it work?”

Harper huffed like she was ignorant. “Tell her, Saint.”

The so-called Saint, who’d been doing some heavenly kissing the night before, studied her via the rearview mirror. “The Babel sphere translates what the demon is really saying, rather than what it wants you to hear. It reveals the fiend underneath the illusion.”

“Once we’re sure this is a demon, we’ll bust open a Babel and then bag the damned thing,” Harper said. “Piece of cake.”

Riley caught a glimpse of Simon’s face in the mirror.

That wasn’t what either of them was thinking.

TWENTY-FIVE

The Armageddon Lounge wasn’t busy, but the folks inside eyed the three of them like refugees would a free Sunday buffet.

This is where Beck plays pool.
It fit him—a seedy End Times–themed bar with eight pool tables and a big-screen television running some college football game. The green felt on the tables was worn, and the painted concrete floor needed mopping. It smelled of cigarette smoke, which meant the owner had paid the city extra for that option.

Harper nodded toward a young couple at one of the tables.

“Probably them,” he said. The boy was almost Simon’s height, five nine or so, with black scruffy hair and a collection of metal in his eyebrows, nose, and tongue. Riley wondered how he could afford all that bling. The boy wore stonewashed blue jeans and a black T-shirt that said “I’m Perfect! Deal!”

No ego there.

As Riley moved closer she examined the girl. The paperwork said she was fifteen, but Carol Ford looked older. Her hair was blunt cut and blond, her face remarkably plain. Riley couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under her eyes. Either Carol was ill, a druggie, or her boyfriend really was an incubus sucking the life out of her. No matter what the cause, no amount of concealer was going to fix that.

Simon unzipped his trapping bag and set it on the floor next to him. Next to it went a bright blue lunch tote.

“Excuse me, are you Carol Ford?” he said. She turned toward him and blinked repeatedly like he’d shown a bright flashlight in her eyes.

“Yes?”

“I’m Simon Adler. I’m a demon trapper. You might have a problem I can help you with.”

Riley envied him: He sounded so in control, except with Simon it came from his faith, not years of experience.

“You don’t need to talk to them,” the boy said in a commanding voice, turning his full attention their way. “Your ’rents sent them.”

“Parents?” she asked, like she’d forgotten she had any.

“There’s been a misunderstanding,” the boy continued. He put his arm around Carol, who shivered at his touch, and not in a good way. “Her ’rents don’t like me, but we’re meant for each other. It’s not fair that people keep getting in our way. You should leave us alone.”

He sounded reasonable, but so had Allan when he was on his game.

“It’s not like we don’t care for each other,” the boy continued. “You love me, don’t you, Carol?”

Carol nodded like a puppet.

“I won’t let anyone hurt her,” the boy continued, then let his eyes roam to Riley.

The moment their eyes met, Riley felt the weight of his attention like they were the only ones in the bar. She could hear him talking to her, but it didn’t seem that anyone else heard him. He was telling her how she was so pretty, how he was sorry she was all alone now, that he’d make it right. How he’d never leave her like everyone else had.

You trust me, don’t you?
he asked.

There was a loud snap and both apprentices jumped. Harper had busted a pool cue over one of the tables.

“For God’s sake, get on with it, Saint!” he ordered.

Simon jerked to attention and clutched his wooden cross, his lips moving in silent prayer. A moment later a sphere impacted the floor and exploded in tiny glass fragments. Carol gave a gasp of surprise as the air immediately filled with the smell of cinnamon and a mosaic of flickering lights. The lights rose with the scent, then veered directly toward her boyfriend, encompassing him.

“What is that?” she asked nervously.

“Evil…” the boy hissed. “How dare you!” He flailed at the magic as his honeyed voice took on a reedy quality. Higher and higher it went as his face shifted from handsome to hideous in a reverse makeover. His clothes vanished revealing a body that looked like it’d been dipped in mud. The brown layer was cracked in places, revealing sallow skin underneath. His bloodred eyes bore into Riley, glowing in the bar’s muted light. He had no horns, but a long barbed tail flicked behind him like an angry cat as his taloned hands clawed the air.

With the clothes gone, Riley caught a glimpse of what no mortal should see.

Oh, great. Now that’s seared into my brain forever.

Once it dawned on the bar’s patrons that they had a naked demon in their midst, there was a stampede for the front door. When Carol saw her boyfriend’s real form, then looked farther south, she shrieked and backpedaled.

“Her soul I nearly had,” the demon shouted. “Evil you are!”

Simon ignored him, donning a pair of heavy latex gloves.

“Boon I grant all of you!” the demon offered.

“Get screwed,” Harper replied.

The fiend began to shrink like a child’s balloon with a slow leak. As he diminished in size, the demon yowled and swore and flailed his hands, but it didn’t stop the magical process.

That is so cool. I wonder how it works.

Finally he was only a foot tall, stuck inside a circle of bright twinkling lights that resembled a miniature force field. Simon scooped up the snarling fiend, dumped it in the oversized lunch tote, zipped the container closed and padlocked it. The magical charms tied to the handle rattled as he picked it up. Apparently they were supposed to keep the fiend from clawing his way out.

Riley clapped, pleased at Simon’s success. “Trapper scores.” He gave her a modest smile, but she could tell something was bothering him.

Harper didn’t share her joy. In fact, he glared at the pair of them. “What the hell were you two doing?” he demanded. “I told you he’d mess with your head, and you stood there like a couple of dummies!”

Riley didn’t bother to argue. If the fiend could get into Simon’s mind, it could get into anyone’s. She turned her attention to Carol. The girl seemed paralyzed, staring at the container that held her ex-boyfriend. Copious tears rolled out of her eyes.

“He’s … he’s a…” she stammered.

“Demon. They happen,” Riley said, trying to sound supportive.

The girl wailed and flung herself into Riley’s arms.

“Let’s get out of here,” Harper ordered, casting a wary eye around the bar. A crowd of curious locals had formed at the door. “Don’t want to waste my time explaining this to the cops.”

As Simon toted the demon outside, the bartender got in Harper’s way, bitching about the broken pool cue and all the glass on the floor.

“You want us to turn him loose?” Harper demanded. The guy paled and shook his head. “Figured so.”

Once they were outside, Riley pointed Carol toward the police station.

“Go over there and call your parents,” she advised. “Tell them you screwed up.”

“I thought he was…” the girl said, sniffling. She blew her nose. “He was so…”

“Wrong for you.”

“But they’ll ground me,” Carol cried, totally focused on her ruined love life and not the what-might-have-been if the Four had won this round.

Getting grounded or spending forever with a demon?

“Small price to pay,” Riley said, patting the girl’s arm in sympathy. “Trust me on that.”

*   *   *

Simon remained dead
silent on the drive to Harper’s place.

You caught the demon. That’s all that matters.
Did he really think the thing wasn’t going to try to con him? That he was immune somehow?

Harper was quiet, too, so Riley spent time trying not to stare at the lunch tote on the seat next her. She could hear the demon in her mind offering her a boon if she’d set him free.

“No way that’s happening, so just shut up,” she muttered.

Harper gave her a stern look over the seat. “Is it talking to you?” She nodded. “Tempted?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m a Blackthorne,” Riley replied, before she could stop herself.

He smirked. “Like that makes a goddamn bit of difference.”

The demon kept bugging her so she took a mental vacation to the night before and the kissing. Its voice faded away to nothing.

The instant they reached Harper’s building, the master was on her case. “There’re some Ones in the office. Take them downtown to Roscoe Clement on Peachtree Street and sell them. You’ll get seventy-five a piece for them. Get the paperwork signed, got it?”

“Sir, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Simon chimed in, troubled by the order. “Roscoe is—”

Harper delivered a blistering look at the older apprentice. “Not your call, Saint.” He jabbed a finger at Riley. “Be back by the time we are.”