The Demon Trappers: Foretold Page 23

  Knowing Simi those tights would not be black or some other normal colour.

  Probably neon orange.

  The clerk at the second-hand shop sized up the situation, including the cash restrictions, and took charge.

  ‘Strapless?’ Riley shook her head. ‘High or low neck?’

  ‘Low is fine, but not so much that I look slutty.’

  ‘Classic or frilly?’

  ‘Classic.’ That’d been her mom’s style.

  ‘Colour?’

  ‘Anything but black.’ She’d worn that colour too much in her seventeen years.

  Like magic, gowns appeared in the dressing room. The first was really chic, a red silk number, but it was a little tight. The next was too flashy for Riley’s taste. Three gowns later she felt a thrill of hope.

  The clerk slid the next choice over Riley’s head. The zipper in the back went up and . . .

  Rich royal blue velvet clung to her body in ways that astounded her. It was the ideal colour for her complexion, with tiny satin flowers edging the neckline. It revealed the right amount of cleavage, draped over her hips and was the proper length for a low pair of heels.

  She looked anxiously at Simi. ‘What do you think?’

  A purple thumb shot up. ‘That’s it. You look ah-mazing.’

  ‘How much?’ Riley asked, crossing her fingers.

  ‘Seventy-five,’ the clerk replied.

  That left enough cash to buy a long slip and maybe a pair of shoes. Giddy, Riley executed a test swirl in front of the mirror.

  The princess had found her gown for the ball.

  Beck leaned against the wall of Riley’s new bedroom, trying to catch his breath.

  ‘You just had to be on the third floor, didn’t you?’ he wheezed.

  She would have razzed him about being some old guy, but she was too busy trying to breathe as well. The worst was over: the mattress, headboard and frame and the dresser were up the stairs now. That left some boxes and her clothes, stuff she could handle on her own.

  Beck wiped sweat from his forehead. ‘If you move again, it’d damn well better be into a place without a lot of stairs, like my house.’

  It took Riley a second to realize what he’d said. Had it been a slip of the tongue? You never knew with him.

  ‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ she said, trying not to read too much into his words.

  Digging in his backpack, he came up with a pile of papers. ‘This is the end part of yer daddy’s trappin’ manual. You’ve pretty much blown past all that, but I thought you should have it so it’ll be complete.’

  She took the pages and thanked him. After they’d assembled the bed, Beck took off, limping more than usual. He had stuff to do, he said, but she knew better than to ask exactly what that might be.

  Maybe someday you’ll let me all the way across that moat of yours.

  Beck’s first stop after the move had been to a florist shop where he needed to determine exactly what kind of flowers Riley might like and where she’d wear them. The choices were mind-boggling. After that harrowing decision, he moved on to the next stop: a new suit. Stewart had recommended a store that wasn’t too expensive, but would make sure he received a proper fit.

  This datin’ business isn’t easy. He’d never gone to this trouble with Louisa, but back then there hadn’t been money for a suit or flowers or any of that. Lou had been heartbroken when he’d not asked her to the prom, but deep down she knew why. Instead, she went to the dance with Cole. It was the same night Beck had got into the drunken knife fight with Mr Walker, and been exiled to Atlanta for his sins.

  Now he had a chance to reclaim a part of his life he’d missed and he’d be damned if anything, or anybody, would ruin it.

  The final part of the move was the hardest part: scrubbing out the old apartment so Riley could get the damage deposit returned. It took her over five hours and she even vacuumed the heating vents. Once the apartment was tidy, she hauled the cleaning supplies down to her car, then made the final trip back inside the building.

  Riley stood at the open door, studying the empty apartment. No lumpy couch, no Max fluff balls on the floor. What would the next renter do with the space? Paint the walls something other than industrial tan? Would they share as much love as she and her father had?

  She walked into the middle of the living room and began to catalogue those memories, filing them away, one by one. Without thinking, she touched the demon claw necklace where it rested under her shirt. Beck had given it to her here. Simon had been here as well, taking her out for hot chocolate. Even Justine had woven her way into the weft of this story.

  She heard a gentle cough behind her and turned to find her neighbour, Mrs Litinsky, at the door. Max, her cat, sauntered into Riley’s apartment and parked himself for a paw wash.

  Mrs L had watched over her when she’d been so sick with the demon wound, and the cat had comforted her after her father’s death. They were part of her life.

  ‘All done?’ Mrs Litinsky asked.

  ‘Yes. I . . . It’s so hard to leave,’ Riley said, the sadness welling up again.

  Max began to nose around the empty room. She’d really miss him and her little demon roommate, who had mysteriously disappeared right after the events at the cemetery.

  ‘You will come and visit us, please?’ the old woman said. ‘We’ll miss you.’

  ‘I will, I promise.’

  They shared a tender hug and at the end of it the old woman touched Riley’s hair with fondness. ‘Your father would be very proud of you.’

  Riley’s eyes brimmed. ‘Thank you for watching over me,’ she said. She looked down at Max who was now batting at her shoelace. ‘Both of you.’

  A short time later, Riley had handed over keys, survived the super’s fussy inspection and received the damage deposit refund. Now, as she sat in the car, she took one final look at the building that had been her home.

  ‘Goodbye, past. Hello, future. I hope it’s way better.’

  It was nearly ten in the evening before Riley had everything exactly the way she wanted it. It’d taken forever because she’d move something into a new location, then move it back to where it had been before. It was good that Beck wasn’t here or he’d have lost his mind.

  She’d placed her parents’ pictures on the top of an old bookcase Mrs Ayers had scrounged from the attic. On the shelf below were two trapping manuals: hers and her dad’s. In between was the cat-framed picture of the two them, then a picture of Riley and her mom. She placed the young Beck photo right next to that.

  That works.

  ‘Need some plants,’ she mumbled, adding that to a list she had on her computer table. As long as she remembered to water them, they’d thrive with all the sunshine in the turret.

  Her phone rang. It was Beck. ‘Hey, guy. How’s it going?’

  ‘Just fine, Princess. How’s the new place?’

  ‘Good. I like it here. It feels right.’

  ‘Glad to hear that. Jackson and me are headed to some buildin’ in south Atlanta. Neighbours said somethin’ about a Three down here so we’ll check it out.’

  ‘You guys be careful. I do not want you to be all chewed up for the dance.’

  ‘I’ll make sure I’m not,’ he said, then laughed. ‘You sleep well and I’ll see you tomorrow night.’

  Smiling now, Riley set herself and the phone on the coach. Lounging back, her arms behind her head, she sent a longing gaze at the formal dress hanging in a door frame. She was going on a date with Denver Beck. Simi’s stylist was going to do her hair and nails. This was really going to happen.

  ‘Please, let everything be awesome,’ she prayed. ‘No demons, no weird Alan. Let it be wonderful, OK?’

  Just once she’d like everything to go right, for her and Den to have the most beautiful evening together. The kind of night other girls got without having to pray.

  As she daydreamed of what that might be like, something caught her eye. Looking over, she spied the tiny form of a Klepto-Fie
nd creeping along her new bookshelf, loot bag over his shoulder. It was the demon from her apartment and, since Stewart didn’t ward his house with Holy Water, it’d apparently moved along with her.

  ‘Hey!’ she said. ‘Are you nuts? This is a Grand Master’s house.’

  The little Magpie paused, then shrugged like it was no big deal.

  ‘Try not to steal anything he’ll miss, OK? I don’t want him to kick me out.’

  A series of high-pitched noises returned, probably the Hellspawn version of ‘Whatever.’ With a sudden blur of motion, her perpetual roomie was gone.

  Now the place felt like home.

  The swirling Chicago snowstorm nearly blinded Riley, but it seemed to have no effect on the angel standing beside her.

  ‘I can’t see a thing,’ she complained. Or feel much for that matter as the chill seemed to drill right into her bones.

  ‘Use your senses,’ Ori retorted.

  ‘My senses can’t see anything, either, OK? What kind of demon is out in this kind of weather anyway?’

  ‘The kind that we need to kill,’ Ori replied. ‘It is a traitor to the Prince.’

  A second later a shrill shriek ripped through the storm, a high-pitched scream of mortal terror.

  ‘Where is it?’ she demanded.

  The angel didn’t reply, but let her fumble through the swirling flakes like an idiot. Another shriek rent the air, one that tore through her skull. Panicking now, Riley closed her eyes and trusted those senses Ori was always talking about.

  Very quickly the strong stench of demon filled her nose, nearly making her gag. Opening her eyes, she hurried forward. Then she saw it, a four-foot-tall lumbering form covered in snow and ice. Chicago’s version of the abominable snowman.

  The Gastro-Fiend had two teens cornered. The terrified boy had positioned himself in front of the girl, trying to hold the demon back with his computer bag. That made her think of Peter. The girl was crying into a cellphone, begging for someone to help them.

  Riley moved closer and let her sword erupt from her hand. She had to admit it looked really badass.

  ‘Hey, demon!’ she called out. ‘Yeah, you.’

  The fiend whirled, its twin glowing eyes piercing the snow veil. It howled her name.

  Remember what I taught you, Ori whispered in her mind.

  The Three charged immediately, moving with a speed she’d not expected. She slashed at it, wounding its arm as it surged past. In response, it bellowed and swiped at her with one of its razor claws, gashing her cheek. Riley bit back the cry of pain, trying to keep her balance on the slippery ground.

  With a roar, the demon launched itself at her again. This time she managed to do exactly as Ori had taught her: step to the side at the last minute and catch the demon full on in its chest.

  The blinding blade cut true and the Three went down into the snow, blood steaming like a cauldron. As she struggled to catch her breath, the boy called out his thanks. She waved them off and the pair of them fled into the night.

  ‘Did they see you?’ she asked, straightening up.

  ‘No. They won’t remember what you look like if anyone asks,’ Ori replied.

  He gestured and the demon burst into flames, a grisly bonfire for a bitterly cold winter night.

  Once her sword had vanished, Riley touched her face where the demon had cut her. It stung and her jaw was sore.

  ‘Hold still,’ her demi-lord instructed. His hand brushed her face, causing the wound to heal. In that instant she remembered that night in the mausoleum, how he’d made love to her.

  ‘What happened to you, Ori? Why are you different now?’

  ‘It does not matter,’ he said, but the angel’s eyes grew sad, as if he too remembered that night and what they’d once had.

  It does to me.

  Then she was in her room, but the cold and the feeling of loss were hard to shake.

  It was nearly noon and the parking lot outside the old Starbucks was crowded with students, all in their little cliques, chattering away. Riley stifled a yawn, not quite ready to take on the noise yet. With each one of these nocturnal hunts, the guilt within her grew. She had to tell Beck what was going on, but what if he lost it? Decided not to take her to the prom?

  I’ll wait until after the dance and tell him. Yeah, that will work.

  Ahead of her were four hours of class to make up for the time the schools had been closed during the zombie-demon crisis. No one wanted to be here, not with the prom tonight. Even those who were blowing off the dance were talking about it.

  That included Riley, whose mind was still racing with all the things she had to complete by the time Beck picked her up at seven. Her hair and nail appointment was at five thirty, then she had to rush home and begin the process of transforming from a scruffy girl demon trapper to the princess that her date imagined her to be. She had all her clothes laid out, but still it was going to be tight.

  To curb her rampaging nerves, Riley made her rounds of the parking lot, handing out the collection of autographs, photos and whatnot from the Demonland cast. The reactions were instant: when she received the personalized photograph from Jess Storm, Brandy went ballistic with one of her supersonic whoops. As Riley distributed the other goodies to Brandy’s friends, they celebrated their good fortune, comparing photos and signatures.

  ‘You rock, Riley,’ one of the girls said.

  I do. She’d come through as promised.

  ‘Is Blaze as smouldering in the flesh as on TV?’ Peter asked, studying the glossy photograph in his hand. The actress had added a lipstick kiss in the lower left corner next to his name.

  ‘Sort of. She’s pretty nice. Not a ditzy airhead like I figured.’

  ‘I’ll ignore that you dissed my fave actress.’

  ‘Probably best.’

  ‘Alan’s back,’ he said. ‘The Neanderthal overheard me talking to Brandy, so he knows you’re going to the prom.’

  Before she could tell him how much that sucked, her cell rang. It was Beck and she needed to hear his voice. ‘Hey, guy. You getting ready for our night together?’

  ‘Ah,’ he said, his voice strained. ‘It’s just . . .’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘We got a pack of Threes in Little Five Points, near Mort’s house. They don’t usually go there so this is somethin’ new. Jackson, Reynolds and me are to take them down. Tonight.’

  You wouldn’t dare bail on me. ‘Tonight? Can’t they do it?’

  ‘Not without back-up and no one else is free. I promise, I’ll be there at the dance, but our fancy supper is history.’

  Peter was staring at her now, probably because of her darkening expression.

  ‘Tell them you have a date,’ she said through clenched teeth.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be there for the dance. I’ll not leave ya hangin’. I gotta go now. See ya soon, girl. I can’t wait.’ Then Beck hung up, as if he knew any longer on the phone might be life threatening.

  ‘Ah . . . I think I’ll go inside now,’ Peter said, edging away.

  ‘He’s going trapping,’ Riley snarled. ‘The one night we’re supposed to be together and . . .’ She jammed her phone into her backpack. ‘He’s going to meet me at the dance. Won’t that look special?’

  ‘You need a ride?’

  She nodded, feeling the sting of tears. ‘I swear I’m going to kill him. I’ll wear my new dress to the trial and no jury would convict me. They’d probably give me a medal or something.’

  Alan came out of nowhere. She knew what would happen next, just like it was scripted or something.

  ‘I’ll take you, Riley,’ he offered. ‘I won’t ditch you like that hick did.’

  As she began to walk away, he caught her arm.

  ‘Come on, get real,’ Alan said. ‘Stop being an idiot. He’s not your kind of guy.’

  ‘How many times do I have to tell you? I want nothing to do with you. Leave me alone!’

  ‘Riley—’

  She got into his face, whic
h was always dangerous. ‘Back off, Alan. I swear I’ll tear you apart if you keep messing with me.’

  She felt the familiar tingle in her right hand. With little effort her right palm would ignite into a fiery sword and slice this miserable excuse for humanity into sushi. Riley forced herself to take a deep breath in an effort to calm down. Hanging with Ori was starting to affect her in ways she didn’t like.

  Peter gave a low whistle and headed for the door, sensing retreat was the best option. Muttering choice Hellspeak curse words, Riley followed him. Fortunately Alan held back, her anger having stunned him into silence.

  Her special night was a ship foundering on the rocks in a heavy gale.

  Why am I surprised?

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  With his romantic dinner plans trashed, Beck fell into a foul mood. He’d planned it so carefully and a damned trio of Gastro-Fiends had screwed it all up. There was no need to check the time on his phone: he was way late and Riley would be furious at him.

  He’d had no choice. This pack had gone after a couple of senior citizens and only luck had kept them from becoming a meal. Now those same rampaging demons were all lined up in steel bags, howling like the world was coming to an end. One of them was bleeding and Beck took credit for that.

  ‘Ah, shut the hell up!’ he shouted.

  ‘Man, did you go medieval on that thing or what?’ Reynolds asked, pointing at the Three with the busted arm. ‘Something bothering you, Den?’

  Though he knew it wasn’t the others’ fault, Beck spewed out his frustration at the screwed-up plans, what the evening was supposed to be like.

  Reynolds and Jackson traded looks.

  ‘The prom? That’s cool,’ Reynolds replied.

  ‘No, it’s not. I’m late and she’s gonna be totally pissed.’

  ‘Then get your butt out of here,’ Jackson said. ‘We’ll take care of these things.’

  ‘You sure about that?’ Beck asked.

  ‘Take off!’ Reynolds said, giving him a playful shove. ‘Go have a life, dude. You can buy us a beer down the line for our trouble.’

  ‘Thanks, guys. I owe you!’

  Despite his sore foot, Beck took off at a run.