Ori.
The handsome rogue who knew just what to say and how to step in when she and Beck were at odds. He’d been her first lover, a Fallen angel who’d sought her soul in a misguided quest to keep her safe. Now Ori was dead, watching the sunrise every morning, savoring the light he craved. His sacrifice had given her a future with the man she loved.
“I hope you’re at peace.”
Ayden sat on the steps of the mausoleum, frowning. “You’re late,” she said.
That was unusually curt. “Not by much. Since when do you worry about time?”
“Tonight I do.”
This wasn’t the Ayden she knew. Riley stopped a few paces away, judging the situation. Was this really her friend? Or had Mort’s glamour training just made her question everything she saw?
“So what’s wrong?” she asked, buying time.
“Lots. But right now, let’s get your lesson done.”
“And I know you’re Ayden because . . . ?”
The witch’s trademark eyebrow raise sealed the deal.
Question answered. “Does what’s wrong have something to do with you training me? Are some of the other witches not liking that?”
Ayden cocked her head. “Goddess, you’re too perceptive nowadays. I used to be able to get stuff past you, but not now.”
“If the trappers are giving me crap, I figured it was a good bet the witches were doing the same to you. What’s their problem? I would think they’d like to have a trapper on their side for a change.”
Ayden tapped the stone step next to her and Riley joined her.
“Often, witches do things that are counterproductive to their own self-interest. Just like everyone else.”
“Do you want to keep training me? Because I can back away and maybe it’ll take the heat off you for a while.”
Ayden’s brow furrowed. “No. If you’re being trained by a summoner, you really should learn from a witch, too. Your magic must be balanced. For anyone else it wouldn’t matter, but for some reason, it’s important for you. I really can’t figure out why.”
“Would it help if I talked to your people?” Riley offered.
“Not sure. Let me think about that.”
“Okay, then what are we doing tonight?”
Ayden straightened up, slipping into teacher mode. “Learning how to feel the magic of a place or a person.”
“Why would I need to do that?”
That earned her a sidelong glance. “Because it’s what you need to learn?”
“Ah, got it.” When her friend was in one of these moods, it was best to just go along.
Ayden walked down the steps, then stopped in the middle of the area where Riley had once sat vigil for her father. She waved Riley down.
Once she was in place, the witch said, “Close your eyes. Tell me what you feel here.”
Riley did as ordered, trying to calm her mind enough to pick up any sensations. At first, there was little more than a jumble, too many memories.
“Clear your thoughts; that will help.”
Riley tried, and slowly, little threads began to appear in her mind. A white one, flowing softly in the nonexistent breeze, coming from the two graves behind her.
“What do you feel?” Ayden asked.
“My parents. I feel their love for each other. And for me.”
“What color is that love?”
Clearly Ayden had known Riley’d be able to see the threads in some way. “It’s white. Pure white.”
“As it should be,” Ayden replied.
Another thread, silvery gray, led to Ori. That made sense, as he was a mix of the Light and Dark.
“Ori. He’s here as well.” She felt another one. “Blue. That’s Beck. He’s really strong. Maybe because he’s deep inside my heart.”
“And because he was here in the cemetery at emotionally difficult times. We all leave a bit of ourselves behind in cases like that. What else?”
“I sense you. You’re a vibrant green.” Riley opened her eyes to find her friend smiling.
“That’s a good start, but there’s more around here. Let’s rest a bit because you seem really tired.”
Riley didn’t dare admit that her weariness was courtesy of a certain necromancer’s lessons, as that might set off the witch.
“What is Mort teaching you?” Ayden asked, as if hearing her thoughts.
“Illusion spells. How to tell if someone is using glamour. Trying to teach me how to make an orange look like a banana.” She waited for the negative reaction, but instead she received a nod of approval.
“Good. That way you can tell who is what and vice versa.”
Ayden was even more cryptic than usual this evening.
“So close your eyes and try again,” the witch said. “See what else you can sense.”
Riley sat on the cold ground. She could fetch a blanket from the storage box in the mausoleum, but that would be too much effort.
Closing her eyes, she picked up those few threads again and then began to feel others. They were more like vibrations than actual threads of energy, and many were very old, no doubt from the dead buried around them. One vibration was drawing closer, and it felt different from the others.
“Necromancer,” Riley said, opening her eyes. And she knew exactly which one.
“What is he doing here?” the witch muttered, even before the figure came into view.
“Probably wanting to talk to me. I’m really popular right now.”
This time, the high lord of the Atlanta summoners didn’t blow up in a whirl of leaves like he had in the past. Instead, Ozymandias walked along the path just like anyone else, his black cloak flowing behind him, staff in hand. Ayden frowned, crossing her arms over her chest.
The necro halted about ten feet out, gazing first at Ayden and then at Riley. “Witch,” he said.
“Summoner. What brings you here?”
“Her,” he replied, gesturing toward Riley.
“Told you,” Riley said to her friend. “What can I do you for, Ozy?”
Ayden groaned at her disrespect.
“I made a trip to Demon Central this evening,” he said. “I checked out the site where you encountered the Geo-Fiend. I felt a blended kind of magic, part summoner, part witch, part unknown.”
“We don’t call up demons,” Ayden said.
“Because if you do, the witch usually ends up dead,” Ozy replied.
“That’s the main reason,” Ayden replied. “We leave that nonsense to your people.”
Riley jumped in. “Could it be a rogue summoner?”
“Potentially,” he admitted. “Still, the magic felt confused in some way, darker than what I’d expect.”
“Who else could do that kind of spell?”
“There are a number of people,” Ayden said, her attention still on the necro in front of them. “Shamans, Voodoo priests and priestesses, Druids.”
“So it might not be either of your people,” Riley said.
“That doesn’t follow,” Ozymandias argued. “The reason a demon was summoned was to bring you to that site and, most likely, ensure you were dead or injured. The only people who might want that to happen are either summoners or witches.”
Riley looked over at her friend. “Is he right? Do the witches want me hurt?”
Ayden issued a long sigh. “There are those who are not happy with you or the trappers.”
“Not being happy with me is one thing. Calling up a Five to kill me is another.”
“I agree. I don’t think it’s gone that far, but anything is possible.”
“Any chance you can get these people to back off?”
“If I get further involved, this is going to get worse,” Ayden warned.
“You’re already involved,” Ozy said. “You crossed the line whe
n you fought with the trappers and Summoner Alexander during the battle. You can’t unring that bell, witch.”
“I know!” Ayden snapped. “I wouldn’t want to. I had as much right to be there as any of the others.”
“Nevertheless, your people don’t agree, do they?”
She shook her head. “I was told it wasn’t our fight. Some of them naively believed that when the demons finished killing all the trappers and hunters, they’d just stop. Not sweep through the city, slaughtering everyone they found, us included.” She glared at the necromancer. “A hell you unleashed on us.”
To Riley’s surprise, Ozymandias issued a contrite nod. “I remember that fact every day of my life. My greed for power got people killed. Innocents who would otherwise have been safe if I’d done my job.”
“Well, when you put it like that . . . ”
Ozymandias half turned, as if he’d heard something. “We have company. Witches.”
Ayden nodded. “They’re waiting for me.”
“Why?” Riley asked.
“I was warned not to train you any further.”
“So you blew them off?”
“It’s not their decision. They’ve overstepped their authority.”
Ozymandias gave a respectful nod. “You know, witch, I rather like you. You have a backbone. I can, if you wish, transport you out of here and they won’t know where you’ve gone.”
Ayden shook her head. “They’ll catch up with me sooner or later. I’ve been expecting this.”
She turned to Riley and gave her a hug. Then she pressed a small embroidered bag into her hand. “There’s an amulet inside. Wear it at all times, even when you’re sleeping or showering.”
“Okay, now you’re spooking me.”
“Not my intention. This will enhance the spells Mort is teaching you. In time, you won’t need it, but right now you do.”
“Excellent. I was thinking of something similar,” the necromancer said, clearly pleased. “I’ll leave you to it. Miss Blackthorne. Good evening, witch.”
Ozymandias vanished.
“He wasn’t really here, was he?” Riley asked. “That was a sending. It’s why he felt more like a vibration than an actual energy thread.”
Ayden nodded. She looked off into the distance. “You should wait here until I’m gone.”
“Not an option.”
Her friend sighed. “Goddess, you’re stubborn.”
“Learned from the best, my friend.”
Chapter Twelve
They didn’t speak on the way out of the cemetery, and that only made Riley worry more. Ayden must have known what they were facing, but she made no effort to spin up any magical protection. Which meant she was trying not to turn this into a war.
Three witches waited for them just outside the cemetery entrance, and there were no smiles with this bunch. Though Riley would have expected the classic maiden-mother-and-crone configuration, these ladies were all in their mid-forties. In other words, about Ayden’s age. Each wore a thick black cloak that reached the ground. At least the necros had some sense of color.
“‘When shall we three meet again?’” Riley said, quoting from one of her favorite Shakespearean tragedies. “‘In thunder, lightning, or in rain? / When the hurly-burly’s done, / when the battle’s lost and won.’”
The witches’ scowls grew.
“Not fans of the Bard? That is so disappointing.”
Ayden shot her a look. “Being a smartass is not a good idea right now.”
“If they don’t want to be compared to the crones in Macbeth, maybe they shouldn’t go around in groups of three. ”
The witch in the middle, a blonde, stepped forward, making a point to ignore Riley.
“Ayden.”
“Morgaine.”
Morgaine? As in Morgan le Fay from the legend of King Arthur? That wasn’t very original.
“You are in the company of the demon trapper. I warned you about that,” the woman continued.
“You have no authority over whom I see, or teach,” Ayden replied. Her voice had an icy chill that Riley had never heard from her before. The kind of tone that said these two had crossed swords, or magic, repeatedly.
“Then you leave me no choice but to move forward.”
“Move forward on what?” Riley asked.
Morgaine shot her a frown. “None of your concern, trapper.”
“Actually, it is my concern. Ayden is a dear friend of mine. Now, there are those who say I shouldn’t be hanging with a witch. Me? I don’t care. If you treat me decently, I’m your friend.” Riley paused for effect. “But if you hurt my friends, you make an enemy. For life.”
Morgaine laughed, though the other two witches appeared uneasy.
“You do not scare me, child.”
“Why is it every time someone wants to insult me, they call me a kid? You can’t come up with anything better than that?”
“Riley . . . ” Ayden warned.
“I know. I’m getting in her face because she’s pissing me off.”
“It is not wise to train one of you in magic, even if you did have any talent. Which you don’t. Your kind just stirs up trouble, demonic trouble,” Morgaine countered.
“If you think the fiends wouldn’t be here if not for us trappers, you’re wrong. Lucifer will keep feeding Hellspawn into this city until the end of time.” Riley took a step closer to her. “Your kind is supposed to keep the innocents safe. Except for Ayden here, you’ve been doing a damned poor job of it.”
Her friend sucked in a breath, telling Riley she’d gone too far. The spell came out of nowhere, swirling around her, locking her feet in place. Riley tried to break free, but it only made it worse, as if every cell in her body was on fire.
“Don’t fight it,” Ayden said. “It won’t hurt you.”
Morgaine frowned. “You are ordered to cease any interaction with this trapper from this point on. Any infraction will be dealt with severely.”
“What does Rada have to say about this?” Ayden asked.
“She’s out of town,” one of the other witches muttered. From her tone, Riley got the impression that she was hoping this Rada person would return soon.
“While she is gone, I make the decisions,” Morgaine said.
That flew in the face of what Riley knew about witches. They were independent as cats and only came together in a coven when they had heavy-duty magic to perform. Since when did Atlanta have some sort of head witch?
Ayden gave her a quick look and sighed. “We’ll settle this when Rada returns.”
“So we shall,” Morgaine replied.
“Keep practicing your lessons and do exactly what I told you to do,” Ayden said.
The amulet.
“I will. You be careful.” Because I don’t trust this woman.
“You’ll release her after we leave?” Ayden asked her fellow witch.
“Of course,” Morgaine replied, but the answer came too quickly.
As her friend walked away with the others, Riley used some choice Hellspeak curses. One of the other witches looked over her shoulder and mouthed, “Sorry.”
Tell me about it.
Once they disappeared from sight, Riley waited for the glue-the-trapper-to-the-pavement spell to dissipate. It didn’t. Morgaine had lied.
“Oh come on, you’re kidding me,” Riley said, struggling against the binding as sweat popped out on her forehead. They were going to leave her like this? At least she could reach her phone, but who should she call? Certainly not one of the trappers, not even one she trusted. She’d never hear the end of this. Maybe Mort . . .
“Now, this is fun,” a voice said.
She knew immediately who that voice belonged to and had prayed, repeatedly, that she’d never hear it again. Her prayers were not answered, as Lucifer, the Prince o
f Hell, appeared on the road in front of her. Tonight he was rocking the mysterious look: black slacks and black turtleneck, his bright-blue eyes set off by black hair that reached his collar.
Riley twisted in the spell, trying to get free, but it didn’t help. Damn witches.
“If you’d like me to assist . . . ” he began.
“Don’t bother, I know the drill. No, I’m not willing to give you my soul so I can get free.”
“Am I that predictable?”
“Ah, yeah,” she said.
“I wasn’t even going to make the offer. Part of me is amused seeing you stuck here like a helpless fly on sticky paper,” Lucifer said, his tone smooth and low.
It was the opposite of the voice she’d heard in Hell, when she’d stood in front of his throne and been threatened with eternal torture.
“What brings you here?” she asked. “Things dull down in the fiery pits?”
“Just checking up on how my favorite demon trapper is doing.”
“Fine. I’m taking a rest at the moment.”
He laughed. “I’ve been keeping an eye on your fiancé too. Denver Beck is doing well, and it appears the grand masters are very pleased with him. I’m still annoyed he didn’t accept my offer when he was in my domain.”
“You win some, you lose some.” Why are you here? Only then did she remember he could read her thoughts.
“I’m here because I was bored. It’s been rather quiet since I purged Hell of my enemies. My remaining servants are too scared to try any new intrigues.” He sighed dramatically. “I so hate demons. They’re either incredibly stupid or too cunning for their own good.” He waved off her next comment. “I know, I know, if I’d stayed in Heaven, I wouldn’t have to put up with them.”
“You wanted freedom, you got it. The demons are the price you pay. So really, why are you here?”
“In the next few days, your life is going to change. It is not a change I’m happy about, but events are already in motion, so I figured, why not let it play out?”
Her blood chilled. “Events like what?”
“You’ll be offered an opportunity. It’ll be challenging. Still, it’ll make both our lives a lot more interesting.”