It wasn’t a question she’d expected. Before the Tabernacle attack she and Simon had been dating and everything had gone just great. After he’d been seriously wounded, he’d come to believe that Riley or her dad had somehow conspired with Hell to destroy the Atlanta Guild. Simon’s bizarre accusations had ended their relationship on a bitter note. In his own way, he’d sent Riley right into Ori’s arms.
Instead of unloading her heartbreak, Riley shook her head, too weary to go there. ‘Simon’s changed. He was so nice and kind and now suddenly he’s seeing Hellish conspiracies everywhere. He’s nothing like he was before the fre.’
‘Post traumatic stress disorder?’ the captain asked. ‘Or is someone playing with his mind?’
She looked up at the hunter, surprised by the latter suggestion. ‘Maybe a little of both.’ Lucifer had said something to that effect, but she didn’t dare tell the hunter he was closer to the truth that he might imagine.
Salvatore nodded thoughtfully, as if she’d confirmed a suspicion. ‘How do you like being a demon trapper?’
Another question she hadn’t expected. ‘I like it, when I get to do it. There’s been too much . . . drama recently. That’s not much fun.’
‘I’ll tell you a secret,’ he said, looking around as if he was worried someone might overhear him. ‘Being the captain of the demon hunters isn’t as much fun as I thought, either.’
He’s not playing nice. This is the real guy. She’d seen all the hunters as enemies, but maybe that was being shortsighted.
‘What are you going to do with me?’ she asked.
‘Ask a lot of questions,’ he responded.
‘What if you guys like the answers?’
‘You’ll be set free.’
‘And if you don’t?’
No response.
‘Got it,’ Riley whispered.
Chapter Seven
After a night spent in fitful sleep, it came as a welcome relief when the guards returned to Beck’s hotel room a little after nine. During all those hours he’d spent too much time dwelling on ancient history, most of which was littered with regrets, the kind that get a chokehold on you and never let go. Why hadn’t the Guild bailed him out?
If they can’t find Riley, will they let me take the fall?
The door opened. ‘Come with us,’ a hunter announced, beckoning to him.
Beck swung his feet over the side of the bed and pulled on his boots, lacing them with deliberate slowness while trying to read the situation. Was he free to go or was this the start of something worse?
‘What’s up?’ he asked.
‘Not my place to say,’ his guard replied.
When he reached the hallway, Beck saw a grim-faced Captain Salvatore headed towards him.
‘What’s this all about?’ Beck demanded.
Before the hunter could reply, he had his answer. At the end of the corridor, Lieutenant Amundson exited the elevator. The guy looked like he’d just won the lottery. Behind him, inside a cluster of four-heavily armed hunters, was a shorter figure.
Oh, God, they found her. No matter how angry he was at Riley, Beck had hoped she wouldn’t have to face this. To her credit, she wasn’t crying. In fact, her chin was up in defiance.
Amundson’s booming voice echoed down the hall. ‘Get that trapper out of here, now!’
‘I’m not goin’ anywhere,’ Beck shot back. No way I’m leavin’ her on her own.
Salvatore positioned himself between Beck and the approaching men, no doubt sensing the trapper’s potential for violence. His hand was on his firearm.
‘If you remain, it’ll be harder on her. Grand Master Stewart is on his way,’ he advised. ‘We’ll not question her until he’s present.’
Beck eyed him. ‘I got yer word on that, hunter?’
‘Yes, you have my word.’
It was the best Beck could do. Grinding his teeth, he spun and then marched in the other direction. The hunter guarding the stairway moved out of his path in self-preservation.
The walk of shame.
Riley’s fear translated into knocking knees and sweaty palms. She made sure to take deep, deliberate breaths to keep from spiralling into a panic attack. No need to look any guiltier.
The row of hunters positioned along the hallway was heavily armed, like they expected something bad to happen even in a downtown hotel. Beck had told her the guns used special ammunition that could take down a demon. She figured the same would happen with a human. Their eyes held no emotion, as if they’d seen all the evil in the world and it no longer registered.
Was this what Simon wanted to become? Maybe that was what it took to become a demon hunter – a close and brutal encounter with a fiend that forced you to see the world in only black and white, holy and hellish, with no room for shades of grey. If the job required selling out those you loved, her ex-boyfriend was all set.
A door opened further down the hallway and Beck exited, a dark scowl on his stubbled face. The front of his T-shirt was filthy, his jeans as well, like he’d been tossed into a pile of dirt. The look on his face was more than anger. Under it she read resentment and distrust, and all of it was aimed in her direction.
He and Salvatore traded words, none of which she caught, and then Beck erupted in a snarl and was gone, stomping away like he couldn’t stand to share the same air as her. Her knees shook harder.
When she reached the room he’d had just vacated, one of the hunters beckoned for her to hand over her backpack. Salvatore had warned her they would do that, so she relinquished it without a struggle. Riley wasn’t prepared for the other hunter insisting she lean against the wall so he could pat her down.
‘It’s not needed, Corsini,’ the captain said. ‘Secure her in the room. We’ll wait until the Guild’s representative arrives.’
‘But, sir, Father Rosetti said he wanted to talk to her immediately,’ the hunter replied.
‘It will do no good. She isn’t going to answer our questions until Stewart is here.’
Which was her clue to do exactly that. Whose side is this guy on?
‘But, sir . . .’ Corsini protested, no doubt realizing he was going to take the heat if the priest’s orders weren’t carried out properly.
‘I’ll talk to Rosetti. Make her comfortable. That’s an order.’ The captain turned towards Riley. ‘If you need anything, let me know.’
Riley nodded. There seemed to be one decent guy in this shark tank. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the one running the Inquisition.
As she entered the room, Riley let out the lungful of air she’d been holding tight inside her. After all the hunters and the weapons, the room seemed out of character. A sumptuous king bed, a royal blue couch and a large window overlooking the city. The morning sun filtered through the curtains. She noticed a tray on the desk, the remnants of the previous prisoner’s breakfast. Next to it was a newspaper.
At least they didn’t starve you.
Not knowing what else to do, she sat on the side of the bed. It was warm and the pillow had an indentation, suggesting that Beck had been here a few moments before. Ignoring the hunter sitting by the door, she stretched out, turning her back to the guy. The pillow smelt like Beck’s aftershave.
I was so wrong. Even Peter thought Beck liked her, and he’d only met the guy once, at her father’s funeral. Every time Beck tried to help her, she just pushed back, creating an increasingly unbreakable wall between them. Her way of paying him back for dissing her. Now she just felt like a stupid little kid.
I’m sorry. For all of it.
Maybe someday she’d get the chance to tell him that in person.
The raised voices outside Riley’s door caught her attention because one of them had a familiar Scottish burr. Yes!
The master entered the room with a ruddier face than usual, like he’d been arguing. In his hand was her backpack. He didn’t speak until he took a seat on a chair near the couch, then beckoned her over. Once she joined him, he gave her the pack. ‘See if there’s anythin’ missin’.’
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Riley dug through it, wondering what had caught the hunters’ interest. No surprise, her father’s Holy Water research papers were gone. Her cellphone was missing too.
She gave Stewart the news. ‘They even went through my make-up kit.’
The master shot a glare at the hunter near the door. ‘Ya can leave now.’
‘Lieutenant Amundson said—’ the man began.
‘This lass has the right ta counsel, and that must be private.’
‘Sir, I . . .’
‘Out!’ Stewart bellowed, and to Riley’s astonishment the hunter complied. The door clicked shut. ‘Sometimes ya just hafta shout,’ the Scotsman complained.
Riley closed her eyes in an effort to calm herself. He won’t let them do anything bad to me. If this had been Harper, she wouldn’t be so sure.
‘Riley?’ She opened her eyes to find Stewart watching her intently. There were dark circles under his eyes, evidence that he hadn’t had much sleep. ‘Ya hafta trust me today.’
That didn’t sound good.
He bent closer to her. ‘We must talk very quietly now. We don’t want ta be overheard. Ya ken?’ She nodded. ‘I wish ya’d come ta me first, but we’ll work with what we have.’ He leaned even closer now. ‘Tell me what happened. Don’t leave anythin’ out. If ya lie ta me, I don’t have a hope of savin’ ya.’
Now she was really scared.
Riley took a deep breath and in the quietest voice possible she whispered all her secrets. About her dad and Ori and Lucifer and her deal with Heaven. With each confession tears began to build, stinging her eyes.
Stewart muttered something under his breath, shaking his head. ‘I shoulda guessed Hell would come after ya.’
How would he have known that?
‘Did ya give up yer soul?’ he asked, his voice so low she almost couldn’t hear it. Riley shook her head. ‘Ya swear that on yer father’s grave?’
‘Yes.’
Relief lit the old master’s face. He leaned away, tapping his fingers on a knee in thought. ‘I knew somethin’ was up, but I couldn’t see it clear. Simon was dyin’ that night at the Tabernacle, I was sure of it, but the next day he’s on the mend. I wondered who had a hand in that.’ Then he leaned towards her again. ‘What does Heaven require of ya?’
He’ll never believe me. ‘I’m supposed to prevent Armageddon.’ She waited for him to call her a liar, then leave her to deal with the hunters on her own.
Instead, the master sighed deeply.
‘You believe me?’ she said.
‘Of course I do. Ya might not know it, but ya can’t lie worth a damn. Besides, it all makes sense now.’
‘It sure doesn’t to me,’ Riley grumbled.
‘Anythin’ else I should know?’
Riley filled him in on the Holy Water investigation and exactly what she had been up to overnight.
‘My friend Peter has all the photographs and video. I can give you his number.’
Stewart pulled out his cellphone and stored the information as she dictated it. Then he leaned back and stared up at the plain white ceiling for a time, collecting his thoughts. She knew better than to interrupt though the tension was turning her stomach into tangled knots.
Finally he leaned close to her again. ‘Tell them everythin’ but that ya slept with a Fallen.’
‘Even about Lucifer?’ she asked, surprised.
‘Aye.’
‘They’ll ask about Ori. They’ll want to know what happened between us. There’s no way I can talk about that.’
‘I’m thinkin’ they won’t. Trust an old Scotsman’s instincts,’ Stewart replied.
‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’
The master gave her a wry grin. ‘So do I, lass, so do I.’
Chapter Eight
They were kept waiting for another thirty minutes, as if punishing them for having defied the priest’s command for a swift interview. If it hadn’t been for Stewart, Riley would have totally lost it. To fill the time and keep her from worrying, the master had regaled her with tales about his childhood in Scotland.
‘I started trappin’ demons when I was ten,’ he explained. ‘My first solo trappin’ was in a bakery in my hometown.’
‘It went down perfectly, right?’ she asked. It always does for everyone else.
‘Nay, lass, the demon tore the place apart. I staggered out the front door, wee beastie in hand, covered in flour and bread dough. My poor father was stricken with horror.’
Riley laughed at the mental picture. ‘At least my first trapping went better than that.’
The door opened and a hunter beckoned to them.
‘It’s time, lass,’ the master said gently.
How many had heard those words over the centuries? How many had faced the certain knowledge that their mistakes might cost them everything?
Riley shot a frightened look at Stewart. ‘I don’t know if I can do this. I’m so scared.’
He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. ‘Yer a Blackthorne,’ he murmured. ‘Be strong and ya’ll do just fine.’
He’d said exactly the right thing. Her father would expect her to be brave, to face this head on. I’ll do it for him.
When Stewart moved at a deliberately slow pace, she matched his speed down the hallway, trailed by a pair of hunters. The room they entered was laid out like it had been designed for business meetings rather than a place to sleep. Three men sat round an oval conference table: Captain Salvatore, the brawny blond lieutenant who’d acted so mean to her and Father Rosetti, the Vatican’s representative with his dark hair trimmed in silver. Riley took a seat and nestled her hands in her lap, trying hard to not look like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming truck. She wished her dad was here. Stewart settled in at her left. To her right was the captain. On the other side of the table were the dark-eyed priest and the glowering lieutenant.
‘Miss Blackthorne,’ Salvatore began, ‘as you are an orphan and under age, will you allow Grand Master Stewart to serve as your legal guardian during these proceedings?’
Grand Master? ‘Yes.’
‘Then we shall begin with the paperwork that stipulates that agreement.’
Riley expected some long and complex legal form – instead it was one typewritten page that indicated that Stewart was the Designated Adult who would watch over her best interests during this and all future interactions with the Holy See.
She and Stewart signed on the dotted lines, then so did everyone else at the table, followed by the priest using an embossing stamp at the bottom of the page. He tucked it into a file with her name on it.
After a moment’s pause, Father Rossini made the sign of the cross and intoned a prayer. Taking the hint from the others, she bowed her head. Riley didn’t understand what the priest was saying so she made up her own plea in case God was actually listening.
You know I’m not evil. I made a stupid mistake. A little help here would be good. I really need it right now. And look out for my Dad, please? He needs your help too.
The instant the prayer ended, Rosetti pierced her with his cobalt eyes. ‘Tell us of the fallen angel named Ori.’
That was the one person she didn’t want to talk about.
‘I met him at the Terminus market.’ He’d been so ruggedly handsome, so kind and thoughtful it was impossible to ignore him. I should have known he wasn’t for real.
‘You do not seem surprised to hear he is a fallen angel.’
Riley took a deep breath and continued, ‘Ori said he was a freelance demon hunter and that he knew my dad.’ The moment the words were out, she realized that was a big mistake. She shouldn’t have mentioned Paul Blackthorne and the angel in the same sentence.
‘Was your father acquainted with the Fallen?’ the priest asked, targeting her error.
If she admitted that Ori had been the one to claim her father’s soul, this questioning would go bad in a hurry. She shrugged. ‘Ori lied about a lot of stuff.’
‘This Fallen, what else d
id he tell you?’
‘That he was hunting the Five that killed my dad. That it was rogue and had to be destroyed.’
Amundson said something to Salvatore in Italian, but the lead hunter shook his head.
The priest continued. ‘Why did the Fallen target you in particular?’
Riley didn’t want to get into the whole Hell is after me because of Heaven’s deal thing. ‘I don’t know. I’m just an apprentice trapper.’
‘Yet you claim to have captured a Gastro-Fiend on your own.’
Rosetti’s chiding hit a nerve. ‘I don’t claim anything. I caught it. I . . . got lucky,’ she said. ‘I should have been the thing’s supper that night.’
More conversation in Italian. Did Stewart understand any of this? He must be. He’s not asking them to translate for him.
The priest turned back towards her, his brows furrowed. ‘Who destroyed the Geo-Fiend at your master’s home?’
‘The angel.’
‘Why did you lie to Captain Salvatore and tell him it was Master Harper?’ Rosetti pressed.
‘Because Ori asked me not to tell anyone he’d done it.’
‘Was Master Harper aware of this arrangement?’
‘No. He was knocked out at the time.’
‘Why would you do what the Fallen asked of you?’ he asked.
‘I’d found out he was an angel by then so I trusted him.’
Rosetti seemed taken aback. ‘You knew he was a Fallen and yet you continued to have dealings with him?’
‘No,’ Riley retorted. ‘I only knew he was an angel, not that he worked for Hell.’ Her throat tightened and she struggled to take a breath. Sensing her distress, Stewart poured her a glass of water and placed it front of her. Murmuring her thanks, Riley picked it up in shaking hands. She took her time sipping the liquid, allowing her to think through what she would say next.
One wrong word and I’m history.
She set the glass down with a quaking hand. ‘I was hanging with Ori in Centennial Park and someone bumped into me. It made me feel weird and next thing I know I can see Ori’s got wings.’ She shook her head at the memory. ‘That pretty much told me he wasn’t buying his clothes at Walmart.’