The Demon Trappers: Forgiven Page 12

  ‘Ya have anythin’ to drink?’ he asked.

  Riley dug out a bottle of water from her backpack and handed it over. It was beyond him to get the cap off one-handed. When she remedied the situation, he drained half the liquid in a few gulps.

  Adjusting the seat so she could reach the pedals elicited a hiss of pain from her passenger.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t ya wreck my truck,’ he warned.

  ‘I won’t.’ At least she hoped she wouldn’t: she’d never driven anything this big before. Riley edged away from the kerb, trying to get a feel for the steering and the brakes. As she crossed the first intersection on her way to Stewart’s house, two police cars went flying by them, headed towards the collapsed building. A fire truck followed a short distance behind.

  Seeing Beck running for his life, then blown into the air like a bird with no wings had been the stuff of nightmares. Riley had been sure he was dead. Convinced she’d never have a chance to apologize.

  Her fears took a voice. ‘What the hell were you thinking?’ she shouted, startling her passenger. ‘Why did you stay in that building when you knew there was a bomb? Are you totally crazy?’

  Beck turned towards her, his face still sweaty from the pain. ‘We had to have proof or they’ll move their operation and start over and more folks will die.’

  ‘But you nearly died, you moron!’

  He smirked. ‘Ya keep it up, girl, and I’ll think yer care for me.’

  ‘I do care, Beck. I keep telling you that. We just don’t get along.’

  ‘Whose fault is that?’ he retorted.

  ‘Mine,’ she said without hesitation. ‘And yours. We’re both to blame.’

  He took a deep breath and then nodded in agreement. ‘Always been harder talkin’ to ya than other girls. Don’t know why.’

  Riley knew how that was. She could chat all day with Peter and never step on one emotional landmine. Beck? He was riddled with them, and she managed to hit every one of them without trying.

  ‘What did Simon say to ya that made ya so mad?’

  Riley kept her eyes on the road. ‘He thinks I’m working for Hell and that I’m sabotaging everything we trappers do.’

  Beck huffed in disgust. ‘Shows what a dumbass he is.’

  Riley shot him a quick glance. His face was less pale now. ‘How are you doing?’

  ‘Hurts like hell, but I’ll live.’ He looked out of the window at the passing scenery. ‘That call I got on the roof,’ he said. ‘The first one. It wasn’t from Justine.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you tell me that?’

  ‘I just wanted to piss ya off.’ He cleared his throat. ‘The call was from a doc down in Sadlersville. Sadie’s worse. He says she’ll be goin’ to the hospital soon.’

  ‘Your mom? What’s wrong with her?’

  Beck took another long drink of water before he answered. ‘She’s got . . . cancer. She’s dyin’,’ he said, his voice quavering.

  Oh God, I’m a complete asshat. ‘I’m so sorry, Beck. I mean it. I had no idea.’ Even apologizing didn’t make her feel any better. I totally blew it.

  He stared out of the side window, his face indistinct in the dashboard lights.

  ‘Sadie and I have never been on good terms. I remind her too much of my daddy, whoever the hell he was. I’m the next best thing to hate since he’s not around.’

  He really thinks his mother hates him. Could that be for real? ‘You’re going down to see her, aren’t you? I mean . . . before . . .’

  ‘Don’t know yet. We need to get things straightened out up here first.’

  If this had been anyone else, she would have jumped all over them for not leaving town immediately, but this was Beck and his life was complicated. Apparently his relationship with his mother was no different.

  For a moment, Riley remembered how it had felt when she’d learned about her mom’s cancer, how there was no medicine in the world that would keep Miriam Blackthorne alive. How helpless Riley had felt. She’d only made it through that hell because Peter and her dad had been there for her.

  ‘Let me know if you need anything, OK?’ she said. ‘I’m serious. I’m there for you.’

  When he turned towards her, there was a sheen of tears in his eyes. He looked away immediately, as if he’d realized he was showing weakness.

  ‘Thanks,’ he whispered, barely audible over the truck’s engine.

  The Guild’s physician, Carmela Wilson, was waiting for them at Stewart’s house. Beck didn’t take that well.

  ‘I don’t need a doctor,’ he growled.

  ‘Get your butt inside or I’ll strip you down and do the exam in the driveway,’ Carmela replied.

  Beck didn’t argue, as if his protest was all that was needed to preserve his macho trapper ego. Or he knew that Carmela wasn’t bluffing.

  He insisted on making his own way into the kitchen without any help. The exertion cost him and he dropped into a chair with a prolonged groan, his face ashen.

  Carmela rolled her eyes at the sight. ‘Must be something in these guys’ DNA,’ she grumbled.

  When they finally removed his jacket and T-shirt, his entire left shoulder was red and swollen.

  ‘Oh yeah, you’re going to be one sore sucker in the morning,’ the doctor said.

  ‘Already am,’ Beck muttered.

  ‘He needs an ice pack,’ Carmela added, then began her examination.

  Riley raided the kitchen drawers to locate a sturdy plastic bag and then filled it with ice from the freezer. From Beck’s occasional exclamations, he was in considerable discomfort.

  ‘Not broken,’ Carmela announced. ‘I’m guessing it popped back in place.’ The trapper’s moan acknowledged the fact. ‘You’ll need to keep it iced overnight. I’ll give you something for the pain. Give it a day or two and then start moving it around, but be careful, OK? No trapping.’

  Beck didn’t argue with her, which meant one of two things: he was hurting bad enough he’d actually do what the doc wanted or he was tuning her out. Riley was betting on the latter.

  After Carmela departed, he insisted on getting into his truck and driving home before he took the pain pills.

  ‘You should stay here. I can help you—’ she began.

  ‘No, I’m goin’ home. If the Scotsman doesn’t like it, to hell with him.’

  ‘Then call me when you get home. You hear me?’

  Riley buckled his seatbelt (again) and then watched in horror as he managed to get the truck out of the drive and on to the street one-handed, the ice pack still perched on his damaged shoulder like a frozen parrot.

  ‘You are such a masochist, dude,’ she said, shaking her head. How he was going to unlatch the seatbelt once he got home? Not my problem.

  Riley left the computer and paperwork on Stewart’s desk, raided the kitchen for a banana, then trucked upstairs to her bedroom. She’d begun to strip for a shower when her cellphone rang.

  ‘I’m home. Ya happy now?’ Beck’s gravelly voice demanded.

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘Yer treatin’ me like I’m some idiot kid,’ he complained.

  ‘Gee, I wonder where I learned that?’

  He hung up on her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  At first it was faint, a whisper in the back of Riley’s mind. Then it grew progressively stronger. Always her name, over and over. Ori was at it again.

  ‘No way, you jerk,’ she said, rolling over on her side. He probably thought he could turn on the charm and she’d be all apologetic and hand over her soul. Not happening. He had to know that, so why was he calling to her? Why at the same time each morning?

  Because he loved the dawn. Ori had claimed it reminded him of Heaven. He’d said the same thing about her.

  The voice wouldn’t stop, not matter how she tried to block it out. The more she fought, the more it rose in intensity, almost like a psychic scream. If it didn’t end soon, it would become incapacitating. Like Mom’s migraines.

  After Ril
ey had dressed and laced on her tennis shoes, she had second thoughts. What would the masters say if they saw her leave? A quick check proved Stewart’s car wasn’t in the driveway. They were busy with the Holy Water issue, so she could slip out without them knowing. As long as Ori remained a statue, he wasn’t a threat. If she did his bidding this once, maybe that would shut him up and she could sleep in.

  Riley crept out of the house. The moment she turned her car south, the pressure in her head eased and it continued to throttle down the closer she came to Oakland Cemetery. The journey went quickly – there wasn’t much traffic on the road – and this time she drove into the graveyard itself. That way she could take off in a hurry if this was a trap.

  Even though Ori had lied to her, seduced her and then tried to claim her soul, he had saved her life. More than once. He could have allowed Beck’s soul to be taken that night at the Armageddon Lounge when two Mezmers had targeted the trapper. But he hadn’t. Ori had said he stepped in because she’d lost too much already. If anything, she would have thought he’d want Beck out of the way.

  She parked near the Bell Tower, ensuring the car was pointed in the right direction for a swift escape. There was blessed silence inside her mind now, as if Ori had got exactly what he wanted. With the sun barely edging above the eastern horizon, the morning frost hadn’t burned off yet. In the distance she heard the whine of a MARTA train headed into King Memorial station.

  The moment after she shut the car door, Riley froze. She could see Ori’s statue now. Both fists were still raised in the air as if challenging Heaven, white wings spread. Clad in jeans, his chest and feet were bare. A fine layer of frost covered his body. What would it be like to be trapped in a statue? Did he know what was going on around him, or was it like being asleep?

  It took a lot to force herself to the base of the statue. Staring upward, it seemed to shimmer in the morning light. ‘Do you even know I’m here?’ she mused.

  ‘Of course he does.’

  Riley whirled round in fright. To her relief, it wasn’t Lucifer this time but a solemn old lady in a long black dress and orthopedic shoes. Or, if you knew her real form, Martha, the angel of Oakland Cemetery, the one who’d made the deal for Simon’s life that had left Riley on the hook to prevent Armageddon.

  ‘How are you, child?’ the angel asked, her eyes kind.

  Riley could think of a dozen different snarky replies. She decided not to go there. ‘I’ve been better.’

  A sage nod. ‘You came to see the entombed one. Why?’

  ‘I keep hearing him in my mind. I know that’s crazy.’

  ‘Not really. You’ve been touched by a Fallen. That does not fade quickly.’

  ‘If you knew what he was, why didn’t you warn me?’

  ‘It was your choice if you trusted him. Free will, you see,’ Martha explained.

  That means . . . ‘You know what happened between us?’

  ‘Of course,’ was the swift reply. Martha tidied a leaf off a headstone like it was somehow responsible for all the chaos in the world. ‘I made sure to be at the far end of the cemetery that night when you were with him.’

  ‘I thought he . . . loved me,’ Riley said, her cheeks flaming in embarrassment.

  ‘You mortals always do.’

  Riley’s eyes rose to the marble figure. ‘What keeps the cemetery people from seeing him? I mean, they’d have to notice a new statue.’

  ‘They won’t see him. Only a few of us realize he’s here.’

  Since it seemed to be a good time to ask, Riley thrust her palms towards the angel. ‘What are these inscription things on my hands? You know, they got me in a bunch of trouble with the Vatican.’

  ‘Heaven’s seal appeared when you agreed to help us,’ the angel replied. ‘And the other mark was inscribed when you agreed to work for the Prince.’

  ‘What does that make me? Good or evil?’

  ‘It makes you human, dear.’

  Riley dropped her hands. ‘Did you know Simon would turn on me like that?’

  ‘No,’ Martha replied. ‘I’m truly sorry that happened. That young man has a lot to answer for.’

  Riley opened her mouth to fire off the next question, the one about how she should stop Armageddon, but the angel shook her head. She was reading Riley’s mind again.

  OK . . . next question. ‘He,’ she said, jabbing a finger upward at the statue, ‘is messing with my mind. Why is he doing that?’

  ‘You shall have to ask him that question. He’s one of the most honest of the Fallen so you might even get a straight answer. Of course, that’s not saying much, is it?’ Martha promptly vanished into the morning air.

  Cold even with her gloves on, Riley slotted her hands inside her pockets as she gazed up at the stone angel. Oh well, what can it hurt? She could always go back to bed later.

  ‘I’m here and now you’re all quiet. So what do you want?’ she muttered, annoyed.

  If there was a reply, it was inaudible. To the east, the sunlight sifted through the bare trees, rosy gold. There was the occasional twitter of a bird in a nearby magnolia tree. Riley’s eyes roamed to her parents’ graves. Then to the mausoleum. Her memories sparked to life: the myriad candles that had awaited them when Ori had opened the doors that night. His warm wings, his seductive words.

  His lies.

  When she regarded the statue again, the sunlight had reached the top of the angel’s head, crowning him in silky light, almost like a halo. The glow did not remain stationary, but continued to spread downward, caressing his face, then his neck and then touching his chest like a lover might. Each muscle was outlined, each feather glistened like a prism, bending the light into an iridescent rainbow.

  She recalled the velvety softness of those feathers and how Ori had brought her to a new awareness, gently tutoring her in what it meant to be a woman.

  Riley shivered at the memories, running her hands up and down her arms to warm herself. She was about to turn away when the glow halted at the top of the angel’s jeans. With a flash of light, the golden marble turned soft, and then it became skin.

  ‘Hey, what’s going on here?’ Riley manoeuvred around a headstone until she had a clear path to run, just in case Ori escaped his marble prison.

  The angel shook out his wings, dropped his arms to his sides and gazed downward, his eyes pinning her in place.

  ‘Oh my God,’ she whispered. His dark hair hung around his face, framing it. His black eyes seemed as endlessly deep as that night he’d held her, made love to her.

  ‘Come to gloat, have you?’ he said, his voice harsher than she recalled.

  ‘No! You were the one who called me here.’

  ‘You know why Lucifer only allows me to see the dawn? It’s revenge. He knows I crave the Light, and so he torments me with it every morning.’

  No. If she’d been on that pedestal, watching the sunrise would have given her hope that someday Lucifer might turn her loose. But the angel wasn’t seeing that, too caught up in his imprisonment and the shame at having failed his master.

  Ori struggled against the remaining marble, but it held. Swearing in Hellspeak, he roared his fury into the morning sky. Though she was frightened, Riley held her ground. As long as she remembered what he’d done to her, what he really wanted, the angel had no hold over her.

  ‘Why did you want me here?’

  ‘So that you could see what you’ve done to me. You are to blame for my imprisonment, Riley Anora Blackthorne.’

  ‘Wait a minute. I’m supposed to feel sorry for you?’ she gasped. ‘You seduced me you asshat! You stole my—’

  ‘No!’ he shouted, his voice echoing off the stillness. ‘I didn’t steal your virginity. I accepted it.’

  She felt her cheeks warm. ‘You stole my dad’s soul. You can’t deny that.’

  The angel shook his head. ‘If I hadn’t stepped in, that Archfiend would have killed Paul Blackthorne and fed on his corpse. Instead, I gave your father chance to live, to spend more time with his belove
d child.’

  ‘He died anyway. You broke your part of the deal!’

  Ori’s dark eyes went flinty. ‘If I had known the rogue would go after Paul, I would have stopped it. By the time I realized what was happening, your father was dead. That proved . . .’

  ‘Inconvenient?’ she chided, her fists clenched.

  ‘An ill omen,’ he replied. ‘The death of Master Blackthorne sent a message that the Prince is incapable of protecting his own. That weakens His position.’

  ‘Why would us mere mortals care if Lucifer isn’t top dog? It’d still be all Hell and damnation no matter who was in charge.’

  ‘There are worse who would take his place.’ Ori frowned in thought. ‘Perhaps it is time that they did. Perhaps we have been too merciful.’

  His gaze drifted down to meet hers again.

  She heard other words now, in her mind, telling her how it would be so easy to set the angel loose from his prison. How grateful he would be. All it took was her to touch her blood to the stone and they could be together forever.

  ‘No!’ she said, shaking her head to dislodge the treacherous thoughts. ‘It’s not happening, you lying bastard. We’ve done this dance and I’m not going to get hurt again.’

  ‘You are a vain, selfish child,’ the prisoner retorted. ‘Do you not see the bigger picture? Of the war that comes our way?’

  ‘I know what’s coming,’ Riley replied, her voice calmer now. She’d resisted his best efforts and that gave her courage. ‘I’m supposed to stop that war, or did you forget that?’

  ‘I will continue to hammer at your mind until you free me. Or you will go insane.’

  ‘You can try, Fallen.’

  Ori’s rage abruptly vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He fell silent and shook his head in deep despair: the golden glow was climbing up his torso now, then sped upward across his chest. The angel saw it too.

  ‘So soon,’ he said sadly. Ori flexed his wings, as if desperate to absorb the sunbeams even as his body swiftly returned to stone.