The Demon Trappers: Foretold (29 page)

Riley was embarrassed to admit she didn’t really know that much about the man who’d taken her in. It was time to fix that. ‘He has some kids, right?’ She knew that much
from the pictures in his office.

‘Three sons and a daughter. Anthony, the eldest, is a trapper. The others have picked less dangerous professions.’

The door swung open and they entered a large and airy room, the wood floor creaking under their feet. It was a feminine space with eye-catching floral wallpaper and a high ceiling with ornate
cornices. The double doors in the far wall beckoned to her. When Mrs Ayers swung them open, they revealed a broad, circular room. The turret. It was at least twenty feet in diameter and studded
with windows.

‘This is amazing,’ Riley said, walking along the wall, checking out the view of the city in the distance. ‘It’s so big.’

‘You can have the bedroom in here or in the other room, whichever feels best to you.’

Riley scrutinized the layout. ‘No, I want this to be like a living room. It’s so bright.’ She could put her ‘desk’ in front of one of the windows and watch the
world go by as she did her homework.

‘Then that’s the way it’ll be,’ Mrs Ayers replied. ‘There’s a bath down the hall and you’ll not be sharing it with anyone.’

Riley was still in ‘wow’ mode.

‘This is really going work, isn’t it?’ she said in wonder. ‘I was so mad about being evicted and now . . .’

‘Sometimes we just need a shove to send us into a new situation,’ the woman advised. ‘I’ll come up this afternoon and give it a good cleaning. You can move in any time
after that.’

‘Thanks. I can’t wait.’
Oh yeah, this is perfect.

Maybe Master Stewart was right and things were really going to get better.

Beck’s day had flown by him, though in truth he knew he was stalling big time. He’d taken a trip to the bank, spent some quality time with his friend Ike at the
homeless shelter and then dropped by to check in with Stewart. He had to see Riley eventually, and the longer he put it off the angrier she’d be. She wasn’t the kind who’d cut him
much slack.

It was after six in the evening when he paused at the bottom of the stairs to her apartment, gathering his courage. Stewart had warned him that Riley’s temper was shorter than usual and
that it wasn’t just because she had to move.

‘Tread carefully, lad,’ Stewart had cautioned him. ‘Ya should have called her the moment ya got home. Now ya have to pay for that mistake. Tell her where yer heart lies.
That’s yer only chance.’

With a long sigh, Beck headed up
those
stairs. They would always remind him of the night Paul had died. At least once Riley moved he’d never have to take this journey again. After
the second flight of steps, he paused in front of her door as her words still echoed in his mind:

‘I love you, Denver Beck. I’ve loved you for a long time.’

He’d been shocked, though he shouldn’t have been. She’d been showing her love in so many ways, only he’d been denying it.

‘All or nothin’,’ he murmured. That was the only way it could be from now on.

Beck rapped on the door, his throat suddenly dry and his heart pounding. ‘Please God, don’t let me screw this up,’ he whispered.

The door opened only as far as the security chain. Riley studied him soberly, her eyes puffy from crying.

‘Hi there. Thought ya . . . you might need some help.’

When she didn’t let him in, his worry escalated.

‘Sorry I didn’t call. I just got a new phone today – Donovan’s still got my old one for evidence – and, well . . . I’m here now,’ he said, not willing
to go much further into the grovelling department.

‘You didn’t need a phone to talk to me last night. You were at the shoot.’

Damn.
She’d seen him.

‘Didn’t look like a good time. Besides, you handled the trappin’ really well. You dropped that demon like a pro.’

‘That’s no excuse.’

He couldn’t back down now. ‘I came to help you. And I’ve apologized. So where do we go from here?’

Riley mumbled something under her breath and when she pushed the door closed, he’d thought he’d lost everything. Then she unfastened the chain and let him into household chaos. Boxes
sat everywhere, some full, most empty. There was an open space in the middle of the living room with belongings piled all around it where she’d been sorting her possessions.

‘Sorry yer havin’ to move,’ he said, growing more uncomfortable.

Riley turned towards him, eyes glinting. ‘It’s so . . . hard. I thought I could just weed through this stuff really quick, but everything has a memory attached to it.’ She
picked up a picture frame adorned with orange kittens from off the couch. ‘Like this. My dad and I bought it at one of those dollar stores. It was so silly we thought it was perfect. Now
it’s . . .’

‘Goin’ with you. Take what you want to keep. Start over. Paul and yer momma would understand.’

She peered up at him solemnly. ‘I can take the small stuff, but things like my mom’s favourite pie pan and roaster, what do I do with those?’

‘Pack them and give them to me and I’ll store them in my garage. I’ve got plenty of room now that Harper’s salvaged metal is out of there.’

When her face brightened, he knew he’d said exactly the right thing.

‘You sure?’ Riley asked.

‘Totally sure. Maybe someday you’ll make me some of yer momma’s roast beef and her awesome peach pie.’

Their eyes met and her cheeks tinted crimson. ‘If you’re going to tell me I was being all goofy at the bus stop, just say it and then . . . get out.’

She thought he was going to tear into her again, like he had in the past.

‘All I heard was a pretty girl tell me exactly what she thought. I didn’t see anyone bein’ goofy, did you?’ he replied.

‘Oh, I . . . thought . . .’ She fidgeted with the picture frame.

Knowing it was best not to push any further, he slipped off his jacket. ‘Tell me what to do, ma’am. I am yer slave.’

Her wicked grin told him she really liked that idea.

As Riley sorted through her father’s books she could hear Beck packing up the kitchen. She’d pulled out a few things she wanted to keep, then turned him loose and
he was moving right along, having emptied the upper cupboard. Now he was digging around under the sink while complaining about just how many half-full boxes of laundry detergent he’d
found.

His grumbling made her smile. If things had played out differently in the swamp she might never have heard that ever again.

Exactly where they stood was unknown. He hadn’t shown up at her door, swept her off her feet and made passionate love to her amongst the packing boxes. Neither had he told her to back off.
They resided somewhere between those two extremes.

A few minutes later the microwave dinged and then he joined her, two cups of hot chocolate in hand.

‘Figured you needed a break.’

She took the cup and they retired to the couch. ‘How’s the leg?’

‘Sore,’ he replied. ‘The demon wound is all healed. The top of the foot is the problem. My boot rubs on it.’

‘You could wear tennis shoes until it healed.’

‘Nope. Not my style.’

‘Your pain.’ She tapped a stack of papers on the arm of the couch. ‘These are the newspaper articles about you and the Keneally brothers. I kept them in case you wanted me to
read them to you.’

‘Thanks, I would,’ he replied. ‘Donovan called this afternoon – the crime-scene people found two partial skeletons. He figures critters made away with the rest.
They’ll do DNA tests, but given the size of the bones and the bits of clothing they found, it’s Nate and Brad.’

‘It could have been you out there,’ she said, softer now.

‘Yeah, I keep thinkin’ about that. But it turned out OK. McGovern took a plea bargain and Cole’s goin’ down too. He’ll never get to buy you that ice cream he kept
promisin’.’

‘I’m crushed,’ she said.

It took a bit of unearthing, but she handed a bank envelope to her guest.
Now comes the hard part.

He peered inside at the stack of bills. ‘What’s this for?’

‘It’s all the money you loaned me. I’m paying you back. Thanks for helping me out when it counted.’

‘Riley, I . . .’ he began.

‘You didn’t trap for a week and you have your mom’s funeral to pay for. I want to do this, OK? It’s important to me.’

‘You gonna give me loads of grief if I don’t accept this?’ he asked.

‘Count on it.’

Beck gave a nod and tucked the envelope away. ‘Thank you. Glad I could help out.’

He went for it?
She’d expected a major hassle.

Beck took a wary sip of his beverage.

‘What’s up with you?’ she said, pointing at his drink. ‘You don’t like chocolate.’

‘No, but I like the company, so I’m willin’ to suffer a little,’ he replied, a twinkle in his eyes.

‘Huh?’ That hadn’t made much sense.

‘I’m hangin’ with my favourite girl. My granddaddy would have called this . . . courtin’.’

Courtin’?

Before she had time to process that, he continued. ‘You doin’ anythin’ Saturday night?’

‘Ah . . . no.’ She certainly wouldn’t be going to the prom, that was for sure.

‘I thought we could do somethin’ together.’

‘Let me guess – trap demons,’ she said.

‘No, that wasn’t what I had in mind. I figured we’d act like normal folks for a change.’

‘And do what?’ she asked suspiciously.

He tugged his jacket off the end of the couch and retrieved a flyer from a pocket. ‘I can’t read all of this, but I think I got most of it.’ He handed it over.

Probably some country western concert.

Riley unfolded the paper and read the top line, then her eyes stalled in surprise. There had to be some mistake.

She looked up. ‘You want us to go to the prom together?’

‘Yeah. That’s what normal folks do.’

If Riley’s brain had been a computer, it would have just gone blue screen. Overwhelmed, she hastily pushed the reset button and as it whirred back to life she stalled.

‘But this is . . . I mean . . . we’d have to dress up. No jeans, you know? We’re talking suit for you and really nice dress for me.’

‘I know,’ he said patiently. ‘We could make an evenin’ of it. Go out to dinner somewhere special and then to the dance.’

Beck is asking me out on a date.

‘Ah . . . ah . . . ’
Ohmifreakingod. He asked me to the prom.

‘I know it’s short notice and all, but I think it’d be fun,’ he said, still pitching. ‘I’d get to see you all dressed up. That’d be real fne.’

Why is he doing this? Does it matter? Don’t be an idiot.

‘Ah . . . OK . . . sure . . . yes.’
Yes! Yes!

His smile told her he was very pleased. ‘Good!’

‘Can you dance?’ she asked before she could stop herself.

‘I can,’ he said, affronted. ‘I’m really good with the
slow
songs.’

Riley’s cheeks began to burn at the thought of the two of them pressed up tight against each other. Then reality kicked in. ‘Oh, I’ll need a dress and my hair and . .
.’

With a chuckle that said he was enjoying her minor freak-out, Beck rose and placed his nearly full cup on the bookshelf. ‘Then we got a date. Sorry, but I need to get going. I’m
meetin’ Jackson down in Demon Central for a little trappin’. Need to build up my bank account.’ He tapped the envelope underneath his jacket. ‘This helps, though. Thank
you.’

‘Thanks for all the packing,’ she said, gesturing towards the kitchen.

‘No sweat. You helped me out with Sadie’s stuff. When you need the truck to move, let me know.’

Riley followed him to the door, still trying to wrap her brain round all that had happened. Then it got awkward, at least for her.
What to do now?

Beck solved the problem by leaning close and placing a quick kiss on her lips.

‘See you soon, Riley.’

She locked the door behind him and hurried to the window, trying not to trip over the packing boxes. When Beck reached his truck, he gazed up at her and waved. She returned it. Then, on impulse,
she blew him a kiss.

He grinned as if he’d won the lottery.
I’m going to prom with Denver Beck.

The moment his truck left the parking lot, Riley dived at her cellphone. She needed serious back-up.

Simi answered on the first ring. ‘It’s me. So talk already.’

‘Ohmigod! You are not going to believe this!’

Though overnight she’d acted as Ori’s sidekick, Riley’s day was consumed by the apartment. She and her dad had never owned that much stuff, not after the
condo fire, but it seemed as if somehow all her possessions had given birth to twins or triplets. Her clothes weren’t an issue but her father’s were. What did she do with them?

Once she gave them away another part of him was gone. Still, it was silly to keep them when other folks might find them of use. After an
I’m losing it here
convo with Peter, she
followed his advice and pulled out a few of her dad’s favourite garments and laid them aside. The remainder were lovingly packed into boxes to be donated.

It was close to four as Riley was head deep in the tub, scrubbing, when the knock came at the door. Muttering under her breath about crappy timing, she opened it as far as the security chain.
Then did a double take.

‘Hi,’ Blaze said. ‘Ah, is now a good time?’

It wasn’t, but Riley’s curiosity got the better of her.
Why would a TV star visit me?

Blaze was in blue jeans and a Bon Jovi T-shirt, but nothing as tight as was required for
Demonland
. She had little make-up on, her hair back in a ponytail, and was sporting black-rimmed
glasses and bright red tennis shoes. In short, she didn’t look at all like the ‘totally hot’ demon slayer.

Riley let the actress into the apartment after warning her it was a complete mess.

‘Moving, huh?’ Blaze said, clutching a manila envelope in her hands.

‘Evicted. The management is sure I’m a threat to civilization because of my job.’

‘What? That sucks,’ the woman replied. Then she abruptly stuck out her hand. ‘The name’s Susan, by the way.’