The Demon Trappers: Foretold Read online

The fiend tried on a friendly smile, the effect ruined by its pointed teeth.

  ‘Time will tell, Denver Beck,’ it said, then slunk off into the bushes.

  Riley’s stomach was rumbling by the time she approached diner. It seemed traitorous to be hungry, what with Beck missing, but she knew she had to eat. As she paused to open the door to the restaurant, someone caught her arm. It was an older woman with bright white hair and twinkling eyes and she wore some strange symbol round her neck.

  ‘He wants you to find him,’ the woman said. She boldly took hold of Riley’s hand and pressed something into the palm. Something cold. ‘This will help you,’ she said, smiling.

  Spooked by the lack of personal space, Riley backed off, then stared first at the woman, then the object in her palm.

  ‘It’s a . . . rock.’ A green, flat and polished one, but a rock nonetheless.

  ‘It’s a seeker stone. It’ll help you find him. Just don’t give up. If you do, he’s lost.’

  ‘Are you one of the wise women?’

  There was a quick nod and before Riley could ask just how a small rock was going to be of any use the woman hurried away.

  Shrugging, Riley tucked it away in her backpack, figuring it couldn’t hurt.

  The diner was bustling so she had to wait for a couple to leave one of the booths before she had a place to sit. The waitress wasn’t the same from the day before, closer to Beck’s age and frowning even before Riley took her seat.

  Probably one of his hookups.

  ‘What do you want?’ the girl asked, clearly in a hurry to be somewhere else.

  ‘Tea, please.’ Riley opened the menu and gave it a quick glance. ‘And the eggs-and-bacon special with wheat toast.’

  Her breakfast was uneventful as long as she ignored the whispering and the naked stares. This wasn’t fair – she’d figured she’d be anonymous down here, not like in Atlanta after all the demon business. Now she was Denny’s whatever and everyone wanted to check her out.

  As she was finishing off her tea, wondering how to question the dinosaurs at the old guys’ table, Cole entered the diner and headed straight for her.

  How did he know I was here? It wasn’t like Beck’s truck was parked out front.

  Without asking if he could join her, he slid into the booth across from her.

  ‘I hear Denny’s gone,’ he said. ‘Is he back in Atlanta?’

  ‘Not likely.’

  Cole flagged down the waitress and ordered a cup of coffee. The girl seemed to like him, so she was all smiles. Riley even scored a refill on her tea with minimal hassle.

  ‘Lots of rumours flying around,’ Cole said. ‘What I’m hearing is that you two were knocking boots, then Denny decided he couldn’t deal and left you behind. Stuck you with burying his mother and paying the funeral bills.’

  Riley rolled her eyes. ‘Whoever is saying that doesn’t know Beck.’ Or me.

  ‘I doubt he’s changed much. He always was unreliable.’

  Before she could get in his face, Cole’s phone rang and he pulled it from a jacket pocket.

  ‘Yeah?’ A long pause. ‘Sure, I can do that.’ Cole’s eyes shifted to Riley and a cunning smile appeared. ‘I’ll be there in an hour.’ The smile grew wider as he hung up.

  ‘Why are you here, Cole?’

  ‘Wanted to help you find Denny.’

  Liar. ‘Not buying that.’

  ‘It’s the truth.’ He ramped up his bad-boy smile and it gave Riley the creeps.

  ‘Shut it down,’ she said. ‘I know what you did to Beck and his girlfriend so you have no traction with me.’

  ‘I see,’ he said, momentarily off his game. ‘Damn. Here I thought I had a shot at you. Looks like I’ll have to work for this: how about if I find Denny for you, then you take me to dinner to celebrate?’

  ‘Oh, God, listen to you,’ a voice said. ‘Don’t you ever give up?’

  The newcomer was about Riley’s age, dressed in faded jeans, a long forest-green T-shirt with a heavy navy vest layered over the top. Her blonde hair had wide streaks of white and was blunt cut at her chin, a little longer on the right than on the left. A single ruby stud adorned her nose.

  Her brown eyes bored into Cole with naked disgust.

  ‘Sammie,’ Cole said, looking up at her. ‘Get kicked out of school again?’

  ‘You’re such a dickhead, Hadley,’ the girl replied. Her attention went to Riley. ‘The name is Samantha, but you can call me Sam. Uncle Donovan said to let you know he’s looking for Beck.’

  Riley sagged in relief. If the sheriff was on the case, then they had a chance.

  ‘Have a seat,’ Cole said, offering a small space next to him.

  ‘No way. Hit the road, jerk,’ Sam replied, angling her thumb towards the exit.

  ‘No wonder you don’t have a boyfriend,’ Cole said, grinning. He downed the last of his coffee, dropped some cash on the table to pay for his drink, then rose and delivered a mock bow. As Sam took his place, she flipped him off.

  ‘Let me know if I can be of any help, Riley,’ he said, and then headed for the front door, humming to himself.

  Sam clunked her cellphone on the table. It was one of the expensive smart phones, the kind that wouldn’t survive a week in a trapper’s life.

  She pushed Cole’s coffee cup out of her way as if it was toxic. ‘He’s such a loser. He even tried to get my mom horizontal. Can you believe that?’

  ‘You live here in Sadlersville?’ Riley asked, figuring that might be a safer topic.

  A shake of the head. ‘Tampa.’ That explained her deep tan. ‘I’m . . . here on spring break.’

  In February? Riley let it pass. She put money on the table to cover her meal, plus a tip.

  ‘You have wheels? I really could stand a ride.’ Sam nodded immediately. ‘I want to talk to one of Beck’s exes. Her name is Louisa . . . Deming. You know her?’

  ‘No, but I know someone who will.’

  As Sam made a phone call to check with her source, Riley walked up to the long table of retired folks.

  ‘Hi, guys.’ There were a few mumbles in her direction. ‘Denver Beck went missing last night. You know anything that can help me find him?’

  Looks were traded down the table.

  An older man with a bushy grey moustache squinted up at her. ‘Saw his truck last night on Main Street. Probably about nine thirty or so.’

  ‘Was he driving OK?’ A nod. So that meant Beck wasn’t drunk. ‘Anything else?’

  A table full of head shakes. Riley pulled a napkin over and wrote her cellphone number on it. ‘Call me if you hear anything.’ She looked at each one of them in turn. ‘Please . . . I really need to find him.’

  ‘You might as well go back home, girl. He’s taken off again,’ one of them replied. ‘He always did that. Like that time when he was a kid and he ran away.’

  ‘I remember that. They had the cops out looking for him,’ another man added. There were nods from some of the others.

  It was time to set some of Beck’s record straight.

  ‘Oh, you mean the time his mother took him into the swamp and left him there . . . to die?’ she asked.

  The mustachioed guy shied back in his seat. ‘That’s not how I heard it. You sure about that, girl? Not right to say bad things about the dead and all.’

  Riley pushed her phone number closer to him. ‘But it’s OK to tell lies about the living?’

  She left them muttering to themselves.

  Sam’s ride was a maroon sedan with seats that warmed one’s behind. Riley decided if she ever had money she’d buy herself something like this, though it was doubtful a Three would fit in the trunk.

  ‘So what year are you? Sophomore or a junior?’ Riley asked.

  ‘Junior,’ Sam replied.

  ‘Like me, then.’

  ‘Is it true that you guys go to school in abandoned buildings?’

  ‘Yup,’ Riley replied. ‘Mine’s a Starbucks. Before that it was an old grocery store. Who knows where the n
ext place will be.’

  ‘That’s so bizarre. I go to a regular school. Well, most of the time when I’m not . . .’ She shot Riley a glance. ‘OK, Cole was right. I’m on suspension.’

  ‘What hideous offence did you commit?’ Riley asked.

  ‘I kicked a guy where it counted. He was feeling me up and when I told him to stop he didn’t. So I nailed him.’

  Riley gave her a thumbs up. ‘Works for me.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I got another lecture about not being combative and how I should have ratted the octopus out to the teacher and had the school deal with it.’

  ‘Was this his first offence?’

  ‘No. He’s groped other girls. Each time he gets a lecture from the principal and keeps on doing his grab-ass thing.’

  ‘How about after you nailed him?’

  Sam shook her head. ‘Word is he’s dialled it way down.’ She turned on to a side street. ‘Of course, my mom went ballistic. My uncle, not so much. He says I have to learn when it’s best to fight and when it’s best not to.’

  ‘Your school would not like me,’ Riley said. ‘I’m pretty peaceful, but sometimes I’ve found you just need to kick butt.’

  Sam smiled at that. ‘So that’s my story, why I’m in the middle of . . . nowhere . . . bored out of my skull. Well, except I still have homework.’

  Riley groaned at that. Her homework was piling up at home. ‘I’m here to help Beck with his mom.’

  ‘You two hooking up?’ Sam asked.

  ‘No,’ Riley said wistfully. Maybe someday.

  ‘Don’t worry, my uncle will find him. He likes Beck a lot. Oh, and he said we should trade phone numbers in case you need to get around town.’

  It sounded as if Sam didn’t mind that assignment.

  Beck’s ‘OK’ ex-girlfriend’s house was well maintained with a sizeable flower bed that still had plenty of colour, an indication that frost wasn’t a constant visitor in Sadlersville. Unlike Sadie’s place, this looked like a home.

  Riley pushed the doorbell, then looked back over her shoulder. Sam had opted to remain in the car, texting a friend at her school. It was cool to have someone Riley’s age to talk with, someone who didn’t think Beck was a waste of life force.

  The door opened and she found herself staring at a young woman with a heart-shaped face, pale cheeks and fine blonde hair. Louisa’s pale blue eyes were wide and expressive, adding to the china-doll look. Riley guessed her to be at least eight months’ pregnant. That and the wedding ring signalled that Beck’s ex had definitely moved on.

  ‘You’re Riley, aren’t you?’ the woman asked. At Riley’s expression of surprise, she added. ‘Denny told me what you looked like.’

  ‘Is he here?’

  ‘No, I haven’t seen him, but I’m glad you came by. He said he wanted me to meet you.’

  Riley was waved inside. The house was toasty warm and smelt of cinnamon and baked apples. Louisa guided her into a small front room where Riley settled in a chair. Her hostess eased herself down on the couch next to a skein of pale pink wool and a pattern for a baby blanket. The work in progress lay nearby.

  ‘I have to sit here,’ Louisa explained, placing a protective hand on her bulging stomach. ‘If I sit in one of the chairs I can’t get up.’

  ‘When are you due?’ Riley asked.

  ‘Four more weeks. It’s a little girl.’ Then Louisa smiled and held up the crochet work. ‘As if you couldn’t tell.’

  Riley smiled back. She could see why Beck had really liked this girl. She had no pretence to her.

  ‘Denny called me the other night,’ Louisa added. ‘He said he was going out for pizza with you. He sounded really tired, but he had it together. Now I’m hearing people think he took off on you.’ She shook her head, frowning. ‘That’s not like him.’

  ‘Did you call Beck last night about nine?’ Riley asked, hoping to find out who had lured him away from the motel.

  ‘No. Is it true Denny was going to ask the sheriff to reopen the investigation?’

  ‘Who told you that?’ Riley asked, astounded at how fast news travelled in this town.

  ‘The cashier at the grocery told me. I thought it was a good idea. Now . . .’ Louisa stirred uneasily on the couch. ‘I never believed he was guilty, you know? What if Denny’s disappearance has something to do with that?’

  So Riley wasn’t the only one thinking in that direction.

  ‘What do you remember about the weekend Beck and those guys went into the swamp?’

  Louisa’s expression darkened. ‘Denny and I had had an argument a couple days before. He was ducking some things he needed to take care of and I called him on it. He didn’t like it. When I asked if we were going to do anything for New Year’s, he told me he already had plans and they didn’t include me.’

  ‘Smooth move, Beck.’

  ‘You could say that,’ Louisa replied. ‘He wasn’t easy to get along with back then and most of that was his mother’s doing. I had no idea he was out in the swamp with the Keneally brothers until Cole told me.’

  ‘Cole? How did he know?’

  ‘He said he’d heard it somewhere, but I found out later he was selling drugs to Nate Keneally.’

  Now we’re getting closer. ‘Could Cole or Nate have told anyone else?’

  ‘I don’t know. I think the only reason Cole told me was to make me mad at Denny. He was always working on our heads. Eventually he broke us up.’

  ‘Beck still carries a grudge about that.’

  ‘Yeah, so do I.’ Louisa patted her baby bump fondly. ‘I wonder what would have happened if we’d stuck together. This little one might be Denny’s and . . .’ She looked up, embarrassed. ‘I’m not saying I don’t love my husband, it’s just that sometimes I think of what might have been.’

  ‘No harm, no foul,’ Riley replied. ‘I do the same every now and then.’

  ‘Are you two . . .’ the girl ventured.

  ‘Close friends, but . . .’ Could she admit the truth to Beck’s ex? ‘I want more. I want what you’ve got. Well, not the baby right off, but . . . you know.’

  Louisa smiled broadly, then it faded. ‘You have to find him, you hear? Don’t let him disappear like those boys.’

  ‘I’ll try.’ No, I will find him. She couldn’t live with anything less.

  By the time Riley left the house, she’d been given a picture of Beck from when he was fifteen. He lounged against an old car, clad in worn jeans and a black T-shirt, his summer-blond hair spiky and unkempt. His half-smile barely disguised his damaged life.

  It only made her miss him more.

  Chapter Fourteen

  As the temperature rose, Beck took the opportunity to strip out of his jacket and shirt so he could shake out the red bugs. Once he thought the clothes were less critter-filled, he put them back on.

  All the while his mind was working through options. The lack of food was an issue and there wasn’t anything within reach that would be of help. He’d pointedly ignored the bugs skittering around the underbrush. He wasn’t that desperate . . . yet.

  He really needed to find the right stone or thick branch to use as leverage to widen the gap in the ring. Then once he’d freed himself from the tree he could arm himself with the chain and make a dash past the demon towards the canal. From there he’d have to figure out in which direction to walk to reach civilization, but he’d done that before and lived to tell the tale.

  As he buttoned his shirt he found himself staring at the next tree over. It had a chain as well, a twin to the one holding him prisoner, probably left over from when they used to log the swamp.

  If he could get that other length of chain free, maybe he could use it in some way, if nothing more than an additional weapon against the demon. Beck walked over as far as his leash would allow, within ten feet of the tree, but couldn’t cover the space. He went down on his knees, then on the ground, angling himself for maximum stretch. Clawing across the leaves and debris, he edged closer. As he moved, he uncovered beetles an
d other crawly things. Beck shuddered and kept working forward inch by inch. And fell short. There was no way he’d be able to retrieve the other chain.

  Swearing, he rolled over on his back and stared up at the sky. It was a brilliant blue. Pretty, unless you were trapped in a swamp.

  Think, dammit! There has to be a way to get free.

  His right shoulder blade began to complain about the uneven ground so he rolled up into a sitting position. Hoping to score a rock, he dug with his fingers, but instead unearthed something metal. Even better. Scooping away the dirt revealed a rifle and he excavated it from the ground.

  Brushing it off, he felt a thrill of hope. If there was still a cartridge in the thing, maybe he could find a way to weaken the chain. He knew better than to try to shoot off the padlock, that only worked in the movies. Beck struggled to his feet, knocking dirt out of the barrel, then opened the chamber. There was no bullet.

  ‘Of course not,’ he muttered. At least now he had another weapon. It would only be a matter of time before some small critter got too close to him and the rifle would make a great club. If it came to eating raw squirrel rather dying of starvation, he’d find the will to do it.

  Exhausted, his muscles jittery, Beck rested. He caught sight of an anhinga observing him from its perch. The locals called them snake birds and when they dived into the water their feathers would became saturated. They’d have to sit in a tree until their feathers dried so they could fly again.

  Beck’s eyes lowered to the weapon in his hand. It seemed in decent condition other than the damaged stock, which had suffered from too much moisture. He scrubbed away on the wood with a thumbnail, then froze. The wood had a skull and crossbones imprint and the initials NTK.

  Nathan Tate Keneally

  ‘Oh my God,’ he whispered. He knew this gun. He’d fired it once.

  He looked up to find the demon watching him from a respectful distance, resting on its haunches again.

  ‘Is this some trick of yers?’ Beck demanded.

  The fiend shook its head. ‘It has been here since that night. Do you remember?’

  There was no way he could ever forget that night. It had played havoc in Beck’s nightmares for years, switching back and forth with the one from the war.