The Demon Trappers: Foretold (17 page)

After he’d heard about Riley’s conversation with McGovern, he made a mental note to have a talk with the man.

‘Thanks. I’ll check it out.’ He cleared his throat. ‘How much you know about Denver’s past?’

‘Some, but not much. He’s pretty closed about it,’ she admitted.

‘Then I’ll give you a little background. When the brothers disappeared, Denver was just holdin’ his own. Sadie had a new boyfriend, a guy named Vic, and he used to beat on the
kid. I never could get Denver to say a word about it and Vic was smart enough to hit where the bruises didn’t show.’

‘He wouldn’t have told you. He never left his mom because he was sure his dad would show up some day.’

Donovan nodded his agreement. ‘I figured that was what was going on. Up to that point he’d listen to me, take my advice, then the brothers went missing. Louisa and Denver broke up
and he went out of control. After he was in a knife fight I sent him north.’

‘You did the right thing. Beck’s turned his life around.’

Donovan pulled round a camper and then cut back into the lane.

‘I was really worried about him up there since his uncle didn’t really give too much of a damn about the boy and both his grandparents were dead by then. When your father called me,
we talked for a long time. I realized Denver had himself a champion, and one he might respect. Over the years Paul and I kept in touch. That’s how I learned the boy had been wounded in
Afghanistan.’

‘My dad really cared about him.’ She looked out of the window. ‘I don’t have anyone left except Beck,’ she murmured. ‘I can’t lose him. He’s . . .
too important to me now.’

From the yearning in her voice it was more than friendship.

‘Don’t worry, we’ll find him. One way or another.’

She swung back towards him. ‘You didn’t find those boys.’

‘That’s why I won’t stop this time until I bring him home.’

Beck was pleased to see that the hole he’d scooped out had about three inches of water in it. He knew it’d taste awful, but dehydration was his second biggest
threat right after the demon. He cupped his hand and brought the liquid to his mouth. As it trickled in, he nearly spat it out, but forced himself to swallow it.

‘God, that’s awful.’

‘All the water you wish can be yours,’ the demon said. It was back in its usual position, scrutinizing him like a teenager does a freshly baked pizza.

‘I know the drill,’ Beck replied, then took another long sip. ‘Ya’ll give me everythin’ I want in this world as long as I sign up to be yer slave in the next
life.’

‘What is it you wish for, Denver Beck?’

‘For you to go away,’ he replied. He went back to the task at hand – trying to free himself from the chain. Bashing the padlock only made his foot ache, so now he was trying to
widen the gap in the ring. Where had the demon got the padlock in the first place? Did it just magic it up or something?

‘They hated you,’ the fiend continued. ‘Those two who died. They brought you out here to make fun of you.’

Beck’s nerve faltered. ‘I know that now.’ He looked up. ‘Why are you here? Why would a demon be playin’ tag with the gators?’

The fiend’s eyes flared. ‘Punishment, they said. For not honouring the Prince in the proper way.’ It spat in disgust. ‘For not heeding his commands.’

‘Not a fan of old Lucifer, huh?’ Beck said, seeing if he could get a reaction.

The demon winced at the use of its master’s name, but it didn’t cry out in anguish like most of them did.

Beck sensed weakness. ‘Let me guess, yer one of Sartael’s crew but somehow you didn’t show up for the big battle. You thought that crazy old archangel was going to knock off
Lucifer and you wouldn’t have to be there to help out. Now yer here. A traitor exiled from a bunch of traitors.’

The demon moved faster than he thought possible. He brandished the rifle for protection, but the fiend had already struck and retreated. Beck staggered backwards, scowling in pain. Keeping an
eye on the demon, he warily bent down to touch a hand to his left leg. It came away bloody. Within an hour or two he’d start to feel the effects, first a fever, then, as the infection
worsened, he’d begin hallucinating. If left untreated with Holy Water, the wound would kill him.

‘Now you have no choice, Denver Beck,’ the demon snarled. ‘You will give me your soul or you will die here and no one will find your bones.’ It smiled and gestured
towards the patch of ground in front of the other tree. ‘I’m sure the brothers will embrace you in death.’

Riley knew she was being stubborn and wasting money by keeping the unused motel room, but the moment she packed up Beck’s clothes and moved them into her room she was
admitting he was gone. Maybe forever.

Restless, she called Stewart to let him know the latest, but he wasn’t at home. According to his housekeeper he was attending yet another meeting between the witches and necromancers in an
effort to tamp down the tensions brewing between the latter.

So life sucks even back home.

She left a detailed message and then began to pace from room to room, unsure of what to do next. The helplessness was driving her crazy. Beck was somewhere and he needed her help, but what could
she do without wheels or any notion of where to turn next?

A knock on her door paused her pacing. If this was Beck, she’d hug him first then shout. Then hug him again and never let go.

She checked through the privacy portal and found twin blue eyes gazing back at her.

Simon?
He was the last person she’d expected to see in Sadlersville. She opened the door, not knowing what to say.

‘Riley,’ he said, clearly as uncomfortable. ‘Master Harper sent me down to help you find Beck.’

‘Ah, OK.’
Now what?

Simon didn’t move. ‘I know this is hard for you, but . . .’

‘We’ll work it out,’ she said, waving in. ‘You can stay in Beck’s room.’

Simon didn’t remark about the fact that the rooms were connected and the door between them was open. Luckily the housekeeper had made Beck’s bed or it’d look even worse.

Riley opened a drawer and gazed down at the tidy piles of Beck’s socks and underwear.

‘I haven’t moved his stuff because I thought . . .’ She froze, her hands trembling. ‘It’ll just take me a minute and . . .’ Riley looked up at the ceiling,
tears stinging her eyes. ‘Oh God, Simon what if . . . he’s . . . dead?’

He gently turned her round. She wanted him to hold her, but with what had happened between them, was that even possible? Apparently he was thinking along the same lines.

‘Stewart said we’re not to come home until we find Beck,’ he murmured.

‘But what if . . .’

‘Then we’ll find who hurt him and introduce them to Hell . . .
personally
.’

Shocked at the malice in his voice, Riley took a step backwards. This wasn’t the Simon she knew, the one who used to apologize to demons when he caught them.

Oblivious to the reaction he’d caused, he gestured towards the open drawer.

‘Leave Beck’s things where they are. I’ll work around them. He can pack them up when he gets back.’

That was a thick slice of hope and she clutched at it greedily.

‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘let him do it. No way I’m touching his underwear.’

Simon gave her a nod and a painfully thin smile.

Riley left him to unpack. As he moved around the other room, he was on the phone to Harper reporting that he was in Sadlersville and ready to take up the hunt. Though it made sense that
he’d be the best trapper to send down to help her – all the journeymen would be too busy – it was hard to be close to him without remembering their past. She saw Stewart’s
hand in this, even though Harper had been the one to send her ex down south.

Riley had just turned off her computer when Simon stuck his head into the room. ‘I came down on the bus and I haven’t eaten yet. You hungry?’

Riley really wasn’t, but to humour him she nodded. ‘How’d you get out to the motel?’

‘I walked. Couldn’t seem to find a cab.’

‘Tell me about it.’
Maybe we can get a ride.
She dialled Sam’s number and when the sheriff’s niece answered she explained the situation.

‘The new dude. Is he a hottie?’ Sam asked.

‘Totally.’

‘I’ll be there in ten.’

‘We got a ride,’ Riley called out, not bothering to explain it was because of Simon’s appearance, not out of kindness.

A screech of tyres in the parking lot announced their driver had arrived. As Riley and Simon walked to the car, Sam rolled down the window.

‘You’re right, he is a babe.’

Riley groaned.
Just shoot me now.
‘Simon, this is Samantha, a.k.a. Sam.’
Who has no idea of how to monitor that mouth of hers.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said politely.

‘Yeah, real fne,’ the girl replied, and beamed.

Riley had Simon take the front seat, knowing that Sam would spend the entire drive with her eyes on him. If he was sitting in the back seat, that could get dangerous if they actually encountered
any significant traffic.

‘So what’s it like?’ Sam gushed. ‘Being a trapper, I mean. Is it all kick-butt stuff, like the TV show?’

‘It’s unique,’ Simon replied diplomatically. Then he deftly changed the subject to Sam’s life and away from his. Their driver didn’t seem to notice. As she kept
talking, Simon made conciliatory noises, but Riley could tell his mind was elsewhere.

‘So where can we eat?’ Riley asked. Now that she was out of the motel room she was hungry.

‘There’s an Italian place. That work for you?’ Sam asked.

‘Sounds good,’ Riley replied.

It didn’t work for any of them as the restaurant was closed for a private party.

‘God, it’s like being exiled in Siberia,’ Sam grumbled.

Like moths to a flame, they ended up at the diner and chose a booth at the back. When Sam made sure to sit next to Simon, he seemed bemused by the attention. To her surprise, Riley didn’t
feel a bit of jealousy. Whatever she’d felt for her ex-boyfriend had been put to rest, reinforced by a drenching in Holy Water.

At least he doesn’t hate me now.

As Sam inspected the menu, Simon dug two newspapers out of his pack and set them in front of Riley. ‘Sorry, I should have given you these at the motel. Stewart wanted you to read them.
They’re by the reporter Beck was . . . dating.’

Dating?
That wasn’t what Riley would call it, but she didn’t bother to correct him.

‘Thanks,’ she replied, and pulled the papers closer. She started with the newspaper from two days earlier, the day Sadie had died. The article was not on the
Atlanta Journal
Constitution
’s front page, which was a blessing, but buried inside. Beck’s photo was decent and though she didn’t want to give the Stick Chick any credit, the article was well
written. There was nothing inflammatory until you read the last paragraph when Justine began to pose questions about Beck’s early years in Sadlersville. In particular, his role in the deaths
of the Keneally brothers.

Which meant the masters and all of Atlanta now knew Beck’s darkest secret.

Grumbling under her breath, Riley switched to the next paper, the one that had been published that morning.

Is this decorated war hero a stone-cold killer?

Her eyes lifted to meet Simon’s. She could tell he was concerned about her reaction.

‘I’m good.’
Or I will be, right after I rip her lungs out.

Riley skimmed the article. Justine had made only one error, claiming Beck had been sixteen rather than a year younger. Still, it didn’t answer the question, but laid out the pros and cons
of the case. At the end there was another teaser:

Was Denver Beck the scapegoat for someone else’s heinous crime?

‘Stewart thinks the reporter is using Beck to flush out the real murderer,’ Simon observed.

‘If that’s the case, the killer would go after him, not her, which might just have happened.’ Riley folded the paper, thinking it through. ‘I need to make a phone
call,’ she said, slipping out of the booth.

‘What do you want to eat?’ Sam called out.

‘I don’t care. Just order something with potato chips.’ It was time for fat, salt and something crunchy.

Riley stepped outside the diner into the chilly night air. The town was quieter now, few cars on the road. Down the street the cop shop was lit up, three cars parked in front of the building.
Donovan was still on the case.

Riley scrolled through her incoming calls until she found the one she wanted. As it rang through, she made a fist of her free hand.
I hate you, you lying skank. You hurt the guy I love, but
if you can help me find him I’ll . . . I’ll . . .

‘Justine Armando,’ the lyrical voice announced.

‘It’s Riley Blackthorne. I’m in Sadlersville. I need you to help me find Beck.’

‘I do not understand.’

‘He’s missing and the cops think he shot a local guy, then killed himself,’ Riley said.

‘That’s nonsense,’ Justine retorted. ‘Tell me what has happened.’

Riley laid it all out for her, including the fake suicide call. ‘You were using Beck as bait to find the real killer.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘Not as such, but my articles may have served as a catalyst. I am in Florida conducting research on a collateral story. As soon as I am finished here, I’ll come to
Sadlersville.’ A lengthy pause. ‘However, in return I want the truth of what happened at Oakland Cemetery.’

She never stops.
‘I can tell you about the battle with the demons, but that’s it.’

‘I need to know it all.’

‘Not happening. I’m under orders from the Vatican.’ That wasn’t quite the truth, but closer than Riley would care to admit. ‘Here’s the deal. Your articles
started this mess so now you’re going to help me get Beck back. If you try to screw us over, you will have an enemy for life.’

Justine huffed. ‘You are hardly a threat, girl.’

Riley’s mind conjured up the favour Lucifer owed her.

‘In that you would be wrong,’ she said, and then hung up.

Riley’s ham sandwich and potato chips were waiting for her, but her stomach churned so badly it was hard to eat. She didn’t like having to threaten people, even the
skank.