The Demon Trappers: Foretold Read online

  What the hell was that? Beck hadn’t trained her how to do hand-to-hand combat and he doubted Stewart had.

  Slowly the wildness that had claimed Riley drained away, leaving her confused and unsteady on her feet.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he asked.

  Riley shook her head. ‘I feel weird.’ She stared down at the fiend and the bloody weapon in disbelief. ‘I killed it?’

  ‘Seems so,’ he said, trying not to let his panic bleed through his voice.

  After that, she went on auto-pilot, cleaning the knife and replacing it in its sheath before she dragged the demon’s body outside the circle and into the brush. After rebuilding the Holy Water barrier where it’d been breached, she rejoined him at the tree. Despite her assurances that she was unharmed, he checked for wounds and found none.

  The Riley he knew would never have been able to destroy a demon with such cold-blooded precision. Clearly, her angel had extended his protection to her. How else could she survive a head-on attack from a rampaging Hellspawn?

  Riley stirred. ‘I don’t remember killing it, Beck. What’s wrong with me?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he soothed. ‘It happens like that in battle.’ Fortunately, she accepted the lie.

  He insisted she join him inside the blanket, anxious about what was going on in her head.

  ‘I should keep watch,’ she murmured, but he could tell that wasn’t going to happen. She needed to rest.

  ‘We won’t be bothered again. That corpse will tell any of the others that they don’t want to mess with us.’ With you. Because yer Fallen will make sure of it.

  ‘OK,’ she said, then snuggled up against him. ‘Sorry, I smell like dead demon.’

  He stroked her hair until she fell asleep. What did that liar have in mind for her? Why keep her alive instead of claiming her soul?

  He’d know soon enough. If they ever got out of here, he was going to hunt Ori down and have a little chat with him. If Beck didn’t like the answers, Hell might come up short a Fallen angel.

  The sound pulled Beck out of a solid slumber somewhere near dawn. It sounded like a harp. For a moment he wondered if he was dead and someone was welcoming him to Heaven.

  ‘My phone,’ Riley mumbled. Apparently the demon’s death had restored their means of communication with the outside world.

  She dug under the blanket and came up with it. Then dropped it on his chest.

  He took charge. ‘This is Beck.’ He grinned. ‘Sounds good. See you soon.’ He hung up and laid the phone outside the blanket. ‘That was our ride. They’re about thirty minutes out.’

  A lazy smile came to his companion’s face. ‘Good. Wake me when they get here.’

  For once Beck wasn’t in any mood to hurry out of bed. No, he was fine where he was, other than the fact that his leg throbbed and his back ached. He tucked Riley up against him, enjoying the feel of her next to him. It was a miracle they were both alive.

  I’ve been an idiot. No other way to look at it. He’d been so convinced that the only way to survive his past was to keep his present away from it. That had only managed to get him backhanded every time he’d tried it.

  No more. Riley had been right – he should have trusted her, should have known she wouldn’t turn away from him. All he’d ever seen from her was a fierce need to protect him, a need so strong that she’d risked her life for him in the middle of an accursed swamp.

  When he was young, his granddaddy had told him that someday he’d find a woman that would be his equal, one that would complete his soul, that she would be there for him when life got rough and stick by him even when he was being a dumbass. If Beck ever found that woman, and kept her close, he’d be twice the man he would have been without her.

  His granddaddy knew a thing or two about that – he’d been married to Beck’s grandmamma for forty-five years until death finally broke that bond. They would have easily made fifty if his heart hadn’t given out on him.

  Did Beck have that special woman in his arms? Was Riley the one who would stay with him? If so, everything he did from this moment on was vitally important. He dare not screw it up.

  Beck sighed in resignation, knowing they had to get moving. ‘We should get goin’,’ he nudged.

  ‘Why?’ she replied, still mumbling. ‘I like it here. Well, not in the swamp. You know what I mean.’

  He did. ‘I like it too, but that was Simon on the phone. How well is he gonna take it that we’re all tangled up together?’

  ‘That’s his problem.’

  He grinned. ‘Come on, lazy girl. We need to be ready to leave when they arrive.’ When she didn’t budge, he used the one lever that would get her up. ‘Who knows, they might have a reporter with them. Probably be Justine. She’ll take some pictures and they’ll put them right on the front page of the paper.’

  Riley was up in a heartbeat, running a hand through her tangled hair in horror, scowling.

  ‘You’re evil, Denver Beck.’

  ‘So I’ve been told.’ He retrieved a wet wipe and handed it to her. ‘You have demon blood on yer face.’

  ‘Yuck . . .’ That set off a frenzy of cleaning and hair brushing. To him, she was beautiful without all the effort, but he knew she wouldn’t believe him if he told her.

  When Riley was done, he borrowed her brush and tried to get himself in good shape. Who knew? There just might be a photographer.

  They had the campsite tidy, trash bagged and the remaining supplies packed within a few minutes. The demon’s body was noticeably missing.

  ‘Probably some scavenger,’ Beck said. Her silence told him she wasn’t buying that.

  Riley did a quick bathroom run, fretting about snakes the entire time, but returned unbitten. As they waited, they shared some of the beef jerky and the last banana.

  ‘Why did you come out here?’ he asked. ‘Yer not a country girl. You could have left it to someone else.’

  Riley tossed the peel in the trash bag, thinking through her answer.

  ‘I knew if anyone was going to find you, it was me,’ she said. ‘To have you vanish, forever . . .’ She shuddered. ‘I couldn’t deal with that. It was bad enough losing my parents, but you . . . you’re . . .’ She looked away as if embarrassed at being so open. ‘You’re part of me now, Beck. You always will be.’

  He didn’t know how to respond to that. He tried on a number of words, but they seemed inadequate so respectful silence seemed to be the best option.

  In the distance there was a shout and Riley answered it. In a short time a team entered the site: Donovan, Ray and Simon.

  ‘No photographer,’ she said, shooting Beck a mock glare.

  ‘Could have been,’ he said, smiling.

  ‘God, it’s good to see you, Denver,’ the sheriff said, crouching down next to Beck. ‘Damn good.’ They grasped hands firmly.

  ‘Same here,’ Beck said. ‘Now please get this damned thing off me.’

  He groaned in pain as the guide worked the bolt cutter between his boot and the tight chain. Ray applied pressure and Beck’s face went red. Finally the chain fell free.

  ‘Thank you, God,’ he said. He unlaced his boot and when it and the sock finally came off, his ankle proved to be bruised and raw.

  Simon noticed the dried demon blood inside the circle. ‘Bad night?’

  ‘Yeah. I had to kill a Mezmer,’ Riley said.

  He gave her a strange look, but didn’t reply.

  Riley broke open the first-aid kit. While she dealt with the wound, Beck pointed to the rifle near his duffle bag. ‘Got somethin’ for you, Donovan,’ he said. ‘It’s Nate’s. I recognized it right off.’

  The sheriff inspected it. ‘Where’d you find it?’

  ‘Over near that other tree,’ Beck said, angling with his head. ‘McGovern was headed this way before the demon caught up with him. I think Nate and Brad are here somewheres.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me that,’ Riley protested.

  ‘I didn’t want to spook you,’ he replied.

 
Donovan crossed the space and then began to sweep away the leaves and debris with the tip of the rifle.

  With Beck’s foot properly bandaged, Riley carefully eased the sock back on, then his boot. He laced it loosely, watching Donovan out of the corner of his eye. The sheriff knelt, dug around in the dirt and unearthed something white. He studied for the object a moment, then held it up. It was a bone, possibly a rib.

  ‘Sweet Jesus,’ Beck murmured. The demon was right.

  Simon crossed himself.

  ‘I wonder which one of the boys it is,’ Donovan said as he returned the bone to where he’d found it, then covered it over with leaves. ‘I’ll call the forensic team. They’re going to love this location.’

  Beck limped to his feet with Riley’s help. ‘Get me out of here,’ he said, suddenly more emotional than he cared to be. Nate and Brad hadn’t been good to him, but they deserved better than to die out in the middle of nowhere.

  As Ray helped him down the path, Beck paused long enough to look back.

  Rest in peace, guys. Sorry I wasn’t there for ya.

  Chapter Twenty

  Though Riley really wanted a nap on the way back, she was treated to a euphoric Beck who was surfing the I can’t believe I’m alive! wave.

  ‘This is the third time this swamp has tried to kill me,’ he announced, triumphant. ‘Still it’s a glorious place, isn’t it?’ He pointed towards the far bank. ‘I mean, look at those yellow flowers. They’re so pretty.’

  They were pretty now that Riley wasn’t fearing for his life.

  ‘You know, maybe someday I’ll come back here and take a canoe through the place. Stay overnight at one of the shelters. You could come with me. Just the two of us.’

  Riley wisely didn’t reply.

  When the boat abruptly slowed, Riley woke to find herself covered in a blanket, her head on Beck’s lap. He was sound asleep and she nudged him awake.

  She slowly sat up and then stretched, her muscles weighing in one by one. In the distance she could see the dock along with news vans and one familiar redhead. Justine. Somehow the alligators hadn’t eaten her.

  Donovan and Simon’s boat docked first and quickly unloaded. Once Ray had pulled their boat up to the shore, the sheriff offered Beck a hand to help him out.

  ‘Best not to say what happened out there,’ he said in a lowered tone. ‘Don’t worry, your story will be heard.’

  ‘Just as long as it is.’ Beck hobbled up the concrete ramp, then stopped, eyeing the ambulance. ‘I’m guessin’ that’s for me.’

  ‘Sure is,’ the sheriff said. ‘Once you’re done at the hospital we’ll take your statement at the office.’ He looked back at Riley. ‘You can pick him up there in a few hours.’

  ‘Will do.’ That’d give her time to have a shower and maybe a longer nap. Then it’d just be the two of them. She wanted nothing more than for her and Beck to curl up together and the rest of the world to leave them alone.

  ‘Where ya been, Denny?’ someone called out. ‘Been playing with those dead boys’ bones?’

  Beck bunched his fists but kept walking, the sheriff by his side.

  A reporter got in their way. ‘Is he under arrest? Mr Beck, tell us what happened out there.’

  Donovan pushed him aside. ‘No comment.’

  By the time Riley reached the top of the ramp, the centre of everyone’s attention was in the back of the ambulance. Beck gave her a nod, then lay on the stretcher. The doors swung closed.

  As if on cue, the crowd’s attention turned towards Riley. Two reporters were in her face and there was the constant click of camera shutters. To her surprise, Justine wasn’t in the fray, but stood some distance away, as if she was above such juvenile drama.

  As Riley and Simon climbed into the pickup, questions flew, along with catcalls and ribald comments about what she and the wounded trapper had been doing in the swamp.

  ‘How can they say things like that?’ she demanded, slamming the passenger door.

  ‘Because they’re idiots.’ Simon made sure the truck spun sand and gravel out of the parking lot, raising a cloud of dust that swirled around the knot of reporters, causing them to cough and shield their eyes.

  Riley grinned and gave her fellow trapper a double thumbs up. ‘That was awesome!’

  ‘I didn’t do anything,’ he said, but there was rare mischief in his eyes. ‘I’m not used to driving a truck.’

  Riiight . . .

  As they neared town, Simon updated her on the phone call he’d made to Atlanta on the way back to Kingfisher Landing.

  ‘Since we found Beck, Harper wants me back home tonight. I called Sam and she can take me to the bus station after I grab my stuff at the motel.’

  Maybe he wasn’t finding Donovan’s niece too much of a flirt after all.

  ‘Why do they want you back so soon?’ Please tell me there are no more zombie demons.

  ‘Harper needs every trapper he can find what with all the calls coming in. The hunters left yesterday so it’s all on the Guild now and there aren’t that many of us left.’

  Riley felt a twinge of regret. Though she held mixed feelings about the Vatican’s team, she had wanted to say goodbye to a couple of them.

  ‘I don’t get it,’ she said. ‘Why didn’t Rome just tell everyone what really happened at the cemetery? How close we came to the end? Maybe then we’d all get a clue and start doing things right.’

  ‘Because not everyone is happy that the world didn’t end.’

  ‘What? It would be a horrific thing. Zillions of people would die. Who would want that?’

  ‘It depends on what you believe. If you’re looking forward to the Rapture and being summoned to Heaven, then you’d be disappointed when it didn’t happen and may be angry at the one who stopped it.’

  That would be me. ‘Are you . . . angry?’ she asked.

  A frown creased Simon’s brow. ‘I’m not sure,’ he admitted. ‘A month ago I would have been. Now?’ He gave a half shrug. ‘I’ve learned that nothing is that clear cut. The End of the World I believe in might not be the one that actually happens.’

  Amen.

  By the time Riley had finished her shower and dressed in fresh clothes, Simon was packed and waiting to say goodbye. In the past she would have given him a kiss, but she’d not forgiven him enough for that intimacy. She could still could feel the Holy Water soaking into her clothes, hear his furious accusations, and that betrayal had cut deep.

  Hell had drawn first blood from both of them.

  Still she owed him something. ‘Thank you, Simon. You saved my life the other night.’

  He seemed troubled at Riley’s gratitude, which confused her.

  ‘It’s not that simple,’ he replied.

  He crossed to Sam’s car and hopped in like he was eager to escape. With a wave Sam drove away.

  Now you’re weird again. What is it with this guy?

  Riley’s plan to swoop in and collect Beck from the sheriff’s office was foiled by the one woman she’d hoped she’d never see again: Justine. Sitting at one of the deputy’s desks, the stick chick was in full reporter mode, notebook and digital recorder in full view. Beck sat nearby, a cup of coffee in his hand, his sore leg propped up in the seat of another chair. Someone had found him some clean clothes, as he was in a pair of sweat pants and a white cotton T-shirt now. Above all, he appeared at ease, as if Justine no longer posed a threat.

  Riley’s resentment immediately stirred from its fitful slumber. What was it about this woman that pushed every single one of her buttons? Though she worked hard to keep her expression neutral, when Beck caught her eye he smiled, as if he knew what was going on inside her head.

  Yeah, I’m jealous. Just deal.

  Riley noted that his tone wasn’t friendly, but measured, and he answered Justine’s questions crisply and without any extra words, like he was testifying in court.

  Grudgingly, she shoved the Jealousy beast back into its cage and slammed the door, denying it the power it craved to ru
in her life.

  ‘I’ll wait outside until you’re done,’ she said.

  Justine’s emerald eyes appraised her. ‘This will take some time. I’ll drive him to wherever he wishes to go once we’ve finished our interview.’

  The beast howled in torment, rattling the cage’s steel bars, wanting to rend and maim.

  ‘That work for you, Beck?’ Riley asked, her jaw so tight it was difficult to speak. When he nodded, she left the pair of them behind before she did something stupid.

  The instant she was in his truck, she pounded the steering wheel much like he often did, and then glowered at the building.

  I go all the way into the damned swamp and save his butt, and then she swoops in . . .

  How long would the interview take? When it was done, would they go for drinks and then . . .

  The jealous howls in her mind grew frantic and only tapered to a petulant whine when she finally reached the motel.

  Ninety-eight minutes later Justine delivered Beck to the motel. Not that Riley was counting or anything. There was some brief conversation outside Beck’s room, which Riley couldn’t really hear. Instead her caged beast helpfully filled in the details.

  Beck: Let me ditch the kid. Then we’ll knock boots until dawn, baby.

  Justine: Oh, Beck, you’re such a stud.

  Riley thumped her forehead with the palm of her hand to stop the jealousy soundtrack. In reality it was probably more like:

  Beck: Ya’ve had yer damned interview, now we’re done. Hit the road.

  Justine: (Pouts) . . .

  The door to Beck’s room opened and then closed. The first stop was the bathroom, then he hobbled into her room, aided by a cane.

  ‘Washing off her lipstick?’ Riley asked before she could stop herself.

  ‘Yup. Didn’t want you to get jealous or anythin’,’ he shot back. Then he sank on the end of the bed. The medicine they’d used on his bug bites bled through the cotton T-shirt in little blue splotches.

  ‘Donovan found another undertaker willin’ to handle Sadie’s funeral. It’ll be two days from now.’