Mind Games Read online

  No, it’s not.

  Once the noise died down, Northrup continued. “Journeyman Blackthorne has been notified that her application for master has been denied.”

  “What? Why?” someone called out.

  “She does not qualify because we’ve learned she has been associating with witches and necromancers.”

  “Since when is that a crime?” Barton asked.

  Northrup speared him with a glare. “Because of this behavior, Blackthorne has been ordered to no longer have contact with any of the magic users in this city.”

  “About damned time,” McGuire said.

  That comment didn’t surprise her.

  “She is on a six-month probation and is forbidden to use any form of magic during that period of time, or she will immediately forfeit her license.”

  Silence fell as that last part soaked in.

  “How is she supposed to trap if she can’t use the spheres?” Remmers asked. “That’s just not possible, unless she wants to be a corpse.”

  Northrup shot him a look. “She should have thought of that before hanging around with the corpse peddlers and the hags.”

  Hags? It was good none of the witches had heard that.

  Remmers stood now. “Why do you guys care how we trap demons?”

  “This is a National Guild matter, and anyone who isn’t comfortable with this decision can hand me their license right now.”

  “My God,” someone said. “Did he just say that?”

  “The question stands,” Jackson said. “Why do you care? As long as the demons are caught and the city is safe, how we accomplish this job is our business.”

  “I would expect more from a master, but then, we know this city’s leadership isn’t what it should be.” He looked down at Riley now. “So? What’s it going to be? Are you going to abide by the probation?”

  “Sorry, Princess,” Beck mumbled.

  Riley rose, but she wasn’t shaking. She was far too angry for that.

  “If I follow your rules, no one will want to trap with me since I can’t provide proper backup. If I trap on my own, I’ll be chewed up or dead. But if I use one of the spheres, like any other trapper, I’m out on my butt. This is a Catch-22.”

  The man didn’t deny it.

  “You’re painting a bull’s-eye on my back. Every demon who wants payback will be after me, knowing I have no way to defend myself. Same for any necromancer.”

  Again, the man didn’t deny it.

  “You’re deliberately trying to get me killed.”

  “Then save all the hassle and hand in your license now.”

  “No way. I may not be able to trap like anyone else, but I am not giving up my license.”

  “Your decision. Stick to the rules and you’ll be fine in six months.”

  “What keeps you from changing those rules down the line?” Beck called out.

  Northrup smiled. “Nothing. If any of you see this trapper violating the terms of her probation, contact me and I’ll deal with it.” He motioned to her. “Hand me your trapping spheres.”

  Instead of giving them to Northrup, she walked up to Harper and delivered them to him, one by one. That action spoke reams to the other trappers, and murmurs of approval came from some of them.

  “This isn’t over yet,” Harper said quietly.

  “No, it’s not,” she replied.

  He nodded his approval at her attitude. “Watch your back.”

  “You watch yours, too.”

  “Hell, if that isn’t the truth.”

  “Anything you want to say, Trapper Blackthorne?” Northrup asked. “Because if not, it’s time for you to leave the meeting. You’ll only be disruptive from this point on.”

  He had that right, but his comment angered some of the trappers, who began grumbling among themselves.

  On the way out, Riley picked up her backpack, then touched Beck’s arm. “Can I take your truck? I need some time alone.”

  He nodded his understanding, eyes sad. “I’ll find another way home. Go somewhere safe and let me know where you are. If you need me, call.”

  “I will.” She placed a kiss on his cheek and headed for the rear door. In the last row, her three apprentices stared at her, eyes wide.

  She needed to reassure them that their world wasn’t ending.

  “Master Harper will help you finish your training. Don’t give up, no matter what.”

  “But—” Kurt began.

  “It’ll be okay.” Even when it won’t be.

  When Riley reached the door, she knew all eyes were on her. She turned. “Master Northrup?”

  “Yes?” he said, looking up from his notes. Apparently, he’d thought she’d already vanished off the face of the planet.

  “So you know, Blackthornes have been trapping demons for centuries. We don’t give up. So play all your dumbass head games, but I’m here to stay.”

  “Amen!” someone called out.

  A few claps began, and then more filled the room as Riley crossed into the hallway. She kept her back straight and her eyes forward, refusing to show any weakness. That little stunt might have cost her license, but she didn’t care.

  Once she reached the parking lot, she sent Beck’s truck toward downtown and refuge, knuckling away the tears as they fell.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Riley retreated to the Grounds Zero. More than once, this place had offered her asylum, but tonight the hot chocolate tasted like boiled gym socks laced with mothballs. She knew it wasn’t the drink’s fault.

  The life she had fought for, bled for, and nearly died for was being pulled out of her hands, like a toy she’d been allowed to play with until someone changed their mind.

  Her way of honoring her father’s sacrifice, his love, the sacrifices her mother had made, was vanishing because some pencil pushing bureaucrats didn’t like what she stood for, the choices she’d made. In many cases, the choices she’d been forced to make.

  She was past the swearing stage, past the crying stage. Now she was just numb, like when she’d buried each of her parents.

  She could fight on or tell National to cram it and work on her own. But that was dangerous. Beck had told her about some of the freelance trappers, their prison records and how they’d cut your throat just to make a dime. With Beck returning to Scotland, she’d be on her own. No way he would go for that.

  After an hour at Grounds Zero, she still wasn’t ready to go home. Beck hadn’t returned her text when she’d told him where she was, which meant things were still going strong at the meeting. She suspected none of it was good. After bussing her table, she headed for her other refuge: Oakland Cemetery.

  This time she drove right up to the Blackthorne mausoleum, not keen to wander around in the dark. Her sense of security, her I-can-handle-most-anything mantra was fragile right now, with her backpack strangely light, empty of all her spheres. At least here, on sanctified ground, she was safe from demons.

  Riley chose to sit on the cold earth in front of her parents’ graves, the snow finally having melted away. It seemed only right that she be here, as so much of her life was wrapped around this one piece of earth.

  Her father’s voice floated through her mind, like it often did. It’ll be okay. All things happen for a reason.

  “Sorry, Dad, but I’m not buying that right now.”

  She bowed her head and let a few more tears slip down her cheeks, then wiped them away. Time passed. The night grew darker and still, Riley didn’t move. It was as if she’d become a statue. Can’t stay here forever. Den will worry.

  In fact, she was surprised he hadn’t called her yet.

  The sound of footsteps on the asphalt brought her around. If Lucifer was back to harass her . . .

  But it wasn’t the Prince.

  “Simon?” What are you doing here?r />
  Her ex-boyfriend closed the distance, stepping off the road and onto the ground surrounding the mausoleum. His hands were jammed into his jeans’ pockets, his expression angry and troubled. Now that she looked at him closer, she could see his thread, a warm teal.

  “I’m glad I found you,” he said. “I got to the meeting late. Beck told me what happened. He said you’d probably be here if you weren’t at Grounds Zero.”

  The man she loved knew her so well. “I was at the coffee shop earlier.”

  “Can I join you?”

  Riley almost said no, then changed her mind. Simon was worried about her, that much was evident.

  “Have a seat,” she said, “as long as you know I suck at being good company right now. There might be a lot of swearing and calling certain people buttheads. Just warning you.”

  “You probably won’t be the only one swearing,” Simon said, as he took a seat on the ground next to her. It reminded her of the night they’d sat vigil for her dad. The night they’d shared their first kiss.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t have any strawberry Pop-Tarts tonight,” she said.

  He thought for a second, then smiled. “God, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it? Or at least it feels like it.”

  “Yeah. Lots has happened since then.”

  “What the hell is National thinking?” he blurted.

  The old Simon hadn’t gotten angry that often, and it confused her when the new one did. Still, this was him now, and she’d have to adjust. Lord knew he’d done that for her.

  “They just want me out of the Guild, for whatever reason. I can go freelance, but Beck would throw a fit. But I need to earn my own money. I won’t sponge off him, even if we’re going to be married someday.” She sighed. “Maybe I could go work at a restaurant or something. Fewer hassles.”

  Simon shook his head. “No, that’s not what you’re trained for.”

  “What can I do?” Riley spread her hands. “No magic, and I’m hosed. Harper can appeal the decision but—”

  “Actually, he can’t. He’s no longer in charge of the Atlanta Guild. Northrup is. He took over right after you left the meeting.”

  Her jaw dropped open. “What? That’s insane. The trappers let him do it?”

  “So far they have, but Beck said a lot of people are very angry. This isn’t going to go the way National thinks it will. They’ve overstepped their authority.”

  Simon looked off into the distance for a moment, then back at her. “There is another option. You can work with me.”

  You? “Doing what?”

  “Exorcisms. Until they assign me to a new location, Rome wants me to handle any demonic possessions here. I need backup. There aren’t enough lay exorcists to form two-person teams. You’d be a great partner. You know demons and you know how to kill them if they come after me.”

  In that second Riley heard Lucifer’s voice in her head, telling her how she had a new opportunity coming her way and how much he hoped she’d take it.

  “Ah . . . no, that’s not a good idea.”

  “Why not?” Simon replied.

  She hesitated, wondering if it was wise to mention what the Prince had told her. Not with Simon so plugged into the Vatican. It was better if Rome thought she was completely off the chief Fallen’s radar.

  “If you don’t want to, I understand,” Simon continued, sounding disappointed. “I just figured you might want to keep doing what you do best, and you’d get paid too. I receive a fee for each exorcism, and I’m willing to share half of that money. I’m living at home, so my expenses are pretty minimal.”

  Riley cocked her head. “It’s really nice of you to offer, but why are you doing this after everything that happened between us?”

  If anything, Simon grew more solemn. He took a very long breath and let it out slowly, as if carefully formulating his reply.

  “Even when it all went bad between us and I knew you hated me, you watched my back. Not everyone is like that.”

  She’d learned that lesson big-time earlier that week.

  “What I do is pretty white-knuckle and it’s way scary,” he continued. “But you know what that’s like. I need someone who won’t fold when a demon whispers in their head. I need someone who knows how they play their mind games, and can give it right back. That’s you.”

  He’d caught her interest now. “What are these possession demons like?”

  “It’s not always like in the movies,” Simon admitted. “Some are Mezmers who have the ability to physically inhabit a body or an inanimate object. Others are Hellspawn you’ve never heard of. That kind of knowledge is master level or higher.”

  That clicked. “My dad said something about there being other demons than the ones trappers capture.”

  “There are, and I learned about some of those during my training. I suspect the grand masters know about even more than that.”

  Riley issued a low whistle. As if five grades of fiends wasn’t bad enough.

  “Come on, help me out here,” Simon pressed, clearly eager for her to join him.

  If I turn him down, Lucifer won’t get to mess with my life. Or at least not this way. But if I say yes, I could keep Simon from getting hurt. Maybe even dying.

  She hedged. “The Vatican is okay with this?”

  “I called them right after I talked to Beck. Father Rosetti gave his personal approval.”

  What? It would have been after midnight in Rome, and yet he’d reached Rosetti and received an okay, all in one call? It seemed her ex-boyfriend rated pretty high with the Vatican types.

  “Why would Rosetti give his okay? I mean, come on Simon, I sold my soul to Hell.”

  He winced. “But you got it back. That counts, Riley. Rosetti believes you’d do a good job.”

  It was more than that, and they both knew it.

  “Ah, let me think about this. I need to talk to Beck. It’s not just about me anymore.”

  Simon nodded his understanding. “Call me in the morning. I’m really hoping to work with you again. It’d be cool.”

  “If I don’t sign on, maybe you can get one of the other trappers to help you.”

  He shook his head. “There are some I trust, but the Vatican only approved me working with you.”

  “We’re talking about the same guys who put me through Inquisition Lite last spring?”

  “Believe it or not, you’ve made some friends in Rome. Me? I just want someone I can trust watching my back, and that’s you.”

  Wow. “I’ll . . . call you. No matter what, thanks for thinking of me.”

  He rose. “Don’t let National break you. You’re better than those jerks. Always have been.”

  As Simon walked away, her mind reeled at what had just happened. How so much had changed since the last time she’d sat with him in this cemetery.

  What have I got myself into?

  Whatever it was, the Prince of Hell had to be loving it.

  *~*~*

  Beck heard his truck pull into the drive and the engine turn off, but no sound of a slamming door. He drummed his fingers on a knee. Should he wait her out or not?

  Too anxious for patience, he grabbed up his coat, set the alarm, and exited the house. Riley sat in the truck, staring at nothing. He walked up to the door and waited until she rolled down the window.

  “Someone keeps promisin’ me a tree. We still have time to get one?”

  She blinked at him as if he were speaking Martian. “Ah . . . yeah, I guess. The tree place is open until ten.”

  “You want me to drive?”

  “No. Better not. You still got your head in the Highlands.”

  He joined her in the truck and secured his seat belt, but she still didn’t move.

  “I missed you,” he said simply.

  Riley looked over at him, then nodded. “I missed you
too.”

  Her silence made him nervous; he didn’t know how to deal with it. A mad Riley, a crying Riley, he understood. A quiet one wasn’t good.

  “Simon find you?”

  “Yeah. He told me about Harper.”

  Beck swore. “I still don’t believe they did that. He nearly died trying to clean up the local Guild all those years ago, and now they say he’s doin’ a shitty job. I thought Stewart was goin’ to rip Northrup’s head off.”

  “So everyone’s screwed, then.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Simon offered me a job.”

  He jerked his eyes toward her. “Doing what?”

  “Serving as backup during his exorcisms.”

  “Well, damn. He didn’t say a word about that to me.”

  “I think he came up with the idea after you guys talked. He even called the Vatican to get their approval, and they were all for it. Or at least Rosetti was.”

  They were? “You know why they’re doin’ this, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “Two reasons: I can keep Simon alive, and it gives the Vatican another way to keep an eye on me, on top of those reports Stewart sends in every month.”

  “Yeah. Rome saw an opportunity and jumped on it. They’re not usually that fast about stuff, so this must be important to them.”

  “There’s an issue,” she said. “One I haven’t told anyone about.”

  Beck listened as she told him about meeting with Ayden in the cemetery, then about Morgaine interfering, and encountering the Prince of Hell. His eyebrows rose as she gave him Lucifer’s prediction, and how the Fallen had thought it would be a great idea if she took this new “opportunity.”

  Beck decided now was not the time to chew her out about keeping secrets. He wasn’t exactly a model citizen when it came to that himself.

  “What is that old bastard up to?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t tell Simon because he’d have to tell Father Rosetti, but I don’t like it that the Prince is involved.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “If he wants me to do this, that’s a bad thing, right?”

  “Or, because he is the Prince of Lies, he’s telling you that to keep you away from the Vatican’s business.”