The Demon Trappers: Foretold (26 page)

‘Blackthorne,’ he said evenly.

That was new. Usually he called her Brat.

‘Master Harper.’ She gestured at the space around them. ‘I like this place. It’s nicer than the old building.’

‘So do I. It’s got a couple decent rooms upstairs so I can spread out.’

Then he leaned back in the chair and studied her intently, like a lion waiting for a gazelle to make a fatal error. ‘I hear you killed a Four down in the swamp. That true?’

‘Yes.’

‘You killed it on your own?’ When she nodded, his expression grew pensive.

It was time to make an end to this one way or another.

Riley placed her trapper’s licence on the desktop. He eyed it, then looked back up at her. ‘Giving up?’ he asked.

‘You said we were going to have a little talk if the world didn’t end. Well, it’s still here, so . . .’

‘If I take that licence away, you’ll go freelance, right?’

She nodded. ‘I have to make money somehow.’

‘Damn,’ he muttered, then shoved it back her way. ‘We’ll have that talk when I’m ready and not until then.’

‘But—’

‘Stewart and I will be keeping an eye on you.’ He leaned forward now, the scar standing out on his jaw line. ‘You go dark on us . . .’ He left the threat unspecified. It
was far scarier that way.

‘Understood.’ All she had to do was stay on the straight and narrow and maybe she could avoid being shipped off to the Vatican for punishment. Or worse.

As Riley returned the licence to her backpack, Harper shuffled some papers.

‘That TV show will start filming tomorrow night. I need you there. Reynolds will be there too. Watch yourself with those people and don’t tell them a thing about what went down in
the cemetery. You got that?’

‘Understood.’ The last thing she needed was for Hollywood to do their version of the showdown between the Archangel Michael and Lucifer. Knowing them, it’d involve a car chase
and a trashy love scene.

Harper pushed a trapping order across the desk. ‘There’s a Magpie at the convention centre. Good luck with that one. The place is huge.’

She sighed and took the order.

‘I’ve got two new apprentices – they’ll be here pretty soon. Tomorrow we’ll go down to Demon Central. I’ll have you and Adler show them what it means to be a
trapper.’

Riley opened her mouth to protest that he was going to spook the newbies too soon, but he waved her off.

‘Might as well have them see what it’s really like. If they can’t stomach it, we need to know that now.’

Before she could reply, the front door swung open and two young men entered. The taller of the pair came with curly brown hair and dark glasses and his T-shirt was something her friend Peter
might wear, proudly proclaiming
ACTUALLY, IT
IS
ROCKET SCIENCE
. The other guy was shorter and had a little more meat on him. His hair was about the
same colour, but it was straight and ended at his collar. Both were in jeans and work boots.

The newbies.

Harper pointed at the taller one. ‘That’s Fleming. The other is Lambert.’ His finger veered towards Riley. ‘This is Blackthorne. Listen to her and you might live through
the first week.’

While Fleming seemed taken aback at Harper’s blunt pronouncement, Lambert adopted a bored expression.

He’s going to be the problem child.
There was always one in every crowd.

‘Start them
at the bottom
,’ Harper ordered. His grin told her exactly what he meant.

‘Come on, guys,’ she said, waving them towards the garage. ‘Let me show you the wonders of demon poop.’

The old Starbucks’ parking lot was nearly full up by the time Riley pulled in and, to her relief, she was a few minutes early despite all her fretting about being late.
Harper had been right – finding a Klepto-Fiend in the middle of a peach producers’ convention had been anything but a slam dunk. Three hours in she’d finally caught the little
fiend as it’d slowed down long enough to collect some glittering peach pins at one of the producer’s booths. On the plus side she’d scored four jars of peach preserves. Those
would be yummy on Mrs Ayers’s homemade scones.

Peter sauntered over the moment she exited her car. ‘The wandering Riley returns,’ he said. ‘And look, no gator bites, either.’

A magnificent bruise encircled his left eye, shading from brown to green. ‘Peter! What happened?’ she demanded.

‘Your stalkery ex said something I didn’t like and I told him to jam his head up his butt. It didn’t end well.’

‘Alan? I warned you he’d get even,’ she said. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about this?’

‘You had enough going on down south – you didn’t need to know about my problems.’

Getting in Alan’s face felt like a plan right now. He couldn’t hit her best friend and not incur her wrath. Riley’s eyes swept the various knots of students as they clustered
around talking or texting before class began.

‘So where is the jerk?’ she asked.

‘He’s suspended until Thursday. I only got a warning.’

There was only one reason Peter might receive that. ‘You hit him back?’

‘Sure did,’ he said, holding up his skinned knuckles as evidence. ‘My dad gave me props once he heard what happened. He said he was proud of me, but it had to be top secret so
Mom doesn’t come unstuck.’ He waggled an eyebrow. ‘Simi thinks I’m cool because of it.’

‘She’s just jealous of your hair,’ Riley replied, pleased her barista friend had finally begun to take Peter’s interest seriously.

‘Maybe, but she thinks I’m so cool we’re going to the dance together.’

That works.
Simi would encourage his wilder side while he mellowed her out. Then the other part of his statement registered.

‘What dance?’ Riley asked, hefting her backpack on a sore shoulder. Her muscles still felt as if someone had stomped them into a pulp.

‘It’s the annual citywide “dress like an adult” thing. It’s this Saturday.’ Peter fell in step next to her as they walked towards the building.

‘You mean the prom?’ Of course he did.

With the school system bankrupt, the dances were sponsored by local businesses. To accommodate all the kids in the city, there were a series of proms and it appeared theirs was going to be way
early this year.

A pang of envy shot through her. She would have loved to go, but . . .

‘You guys have fun.’ She would probably be trapping smelly demons in a MARTA station or in the bowels of Demon Central.

‘You can come, you know,’ Peter suggested. ‘I’m sure I could spare a dance for you.’

‘No. It’s . . . It wouldn’t feel right.’

‘So ask Beck to the dance.’

‘What?’ she sputtered. ‘No. Not happening.’

‘Ah, I got it. You’re chicken. You’ll take on a horde of demons, but when it comes to the one guy you’re really hot for—’

Riley glowered at him. ‘Don’t. Go. There. The subject is closed, Mr King.’

Peter raised his hands in surrender. ‘Whoa, you are grouchy. I was looking forward to seeing you . . . why?’

‘You don’t understand. It’s complicated with me and Beck.’

‘Buzzz!’ he said. ‘It’s totally simple: You guys have to stop being idiots. You’re driving each other crazy along with the rest of us.’

‘I don’t think it’s salvageable, not after I . . .’

‘After you what?’ he pressed.

Tugging her friend away from the stream of students headed to class, she related exactly what had happened at the bus station, how she hadn’t heard a thing from Beck since she’d left
Sadlersville and that it was all her fault.

‘A public display of affection? Awesome,’ Peter replied.

‘No, I spooked him big time. He’ll back off. I know it.’

‘I’m guessing he won’t. Trust me on this.’

Maybe Peter was right. ‘I hope so. If not, I looked like a complete dork.’

‘Patience. Time will tell on the dorkdom.’

When Riley followed him inside the old coffee shop, nothing much had changed since she’d been gone: Same lovely ground-coffee aroma, same Mrs Haggerty, same mismatched desks and students.
No, there was one difference: The desk that Alan always used was empty.

Her mood soared. She might not have a date to the prom, but the bully was gone, at least temporarily. Peter had proved he wasn’t a wimp. A few months earlier he wouldn’t have had the
courage to take on a bully.

Her former nemesis, Brandy, shifted around in her chair once Riley was seated.

‘Have you met the
Demonland
actors yet?’ she asked, her eyes sparkling. ‘Is Jess Storm as smoking hot as he looks on TV?’

‘I’ll be seeing them tomorrow night. I’ll let you know.’

‘Don’t forget the autographs. I’ve told all my friends I’m getting one,’ the girl gushed.

It was nice that things were so insanely simple in Brandy’s world.

‘Autographs, photographs, the works. I promise,’ Riley said.

At that point she was waved up to the front of the classroom. Riley’s buoyant mood promptly deflated when she was handed her assignments from the time she was in South Georgia.

‘You did all this when I was gone?’ she asked, astounded at the thick stack of papers.

‘No, but I figured the way your life is going you might like to get a little ahead,’ Mrs Haggerty responded.

Riley dragged herself back to her desk and dropped the assignments into her backpack on top of the Holy Water spheres. As the teacher began to take roll call, she slumped back in her creaky
chair and wondered how many more days of school were left before summer vacation.

By the time class ended, Riley was suffering serious withdrawal symptoms and the only known only cure was the Grounds Zero. Since it was close to six at night, the coffee shop was fairly empty.
Simi, her hyper-caffeinated barista friend, wasn’t working, so Riley collected her beverage and headed for her favourite booth, the one she and her dad had often shared.

She checked her phone again like she had at least a million times over the course of the day. No call from Backwoods Boy. All because she’d unloaded the truth on him at the bus
station.

Beck’s instinctive response would be to retreat behind those massive defences of his, just when she’d finally got him to take a few steps outside those very shields.

Why did I do that? That was so dumb.
He’d say she was being
goofy
again. Beck didn’t know it, but this time the rules were different. This was the end game: If he
didn’t step up and accept her love, she was done.

I will not make a fool of myself again.

Riley popped one of the chocolate curls in her mouth and sighed in relief. Life was manageable if she focused on the things that made sense: excellent hot chocolate, homework and trapping
demons. Not that the last two always did.

Just after she’d taken a long sip of her drink, a tremor ran up both arms and lodged at the base of her brain, like a primal warning system. When her eyes rose, she gasped and nearly
dropped the cup.

Ori strode towards her like some dark knight.

The angel’s black leather jacket, T-shirt and jeans were the same as before and his ebony hair was secured in a ponytail. He sat across from her, acting if she hadn’t held him in her
arms, watched him dying after the battle.

‘Riley Anora Blackthorne,’ he said, his voice crisp. ‘Do I need to remind you of your vow to me?’

She shook her head. Somehow she’d known it would come to this moment.

‘Lucifer kept you alive.’ A curt nod returned.

Riley studied him anew. His eyes were guarded, not as caring as they had once been. Whatever had happened to him after Lucifer had taken him from the cemetery had altered the angel in some
elemental way.

‘So how does this go?’ she asked. ‘You going to haul me off to Hell right in front of all these people?’

Ori leaned back in the booth, dark brows furrowed and arms crossed over his chest. ‘Nothing so dramatic.’

‘Then what am I to do? Polish your boots? Tell you just how awesome you are every minute of the day?’

No reply.

‘Well, whatever it is, I will not try to take anyone’s soul for you.’

‘
I
set the terms. You abide by them,’ he replied, his tone chillier now.

‘You don’t scare me, angel. I’m doomed no matter what. I refuse to hurt anyone because you expect me to.’

‘Once again you try to dictate terms when you have no leverage.’

‘The only leverage I have left is my conscience,’ she retorted. ‘I will not sacrifice that.’

Stormy eyes glared at her. ‘You may find that a difficult promise to keep.’

Concerned that someone might be overhearing this conversation, Riley gave a quick look around. No one seemed to notice them. ‘Tell me what happens next,’ she insisted.

‘As I am your demi-lord, you are mine to command. My job is as it always was: to destroy those of our realm who defy my master,’ Ori continued. ‘You will aid in that
task.’

‘Me? How?’

‘I will summon you when it is time to do battle against the rogue demons. You will fight at my side.’

‘Are you mad?’ she said in a forced whisper. ‘I am not some cosmic warrior.’

‘You will be my second nonetheless.’

‘If you want me dead, just zap me with a lightning bolt and get it over with.’

‘You
will
serve as my second,’ the angel insisted, rising from the booth in a fluid movement. ‘Beginning tonight.’

‘This is payback. You’re pissed I didn’t beg to hand over my soul like the others.’

‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘This is survival, Riley Anora Blackthorne. For you, at least.’

He turned on a heel and strode out of the shop. Unlike in the past, none of the women noticed, as if he wasn’t really there.

Riley found her hands locked round her cup in a death grip. She prised them off. Ori hadn’t done this kind of thing with her father. Just her.

All because I wanted to be loved.