Mind Games Page 6

  Beck didn’t take the bait. From the corner of his eye, he caught a faint nod from MacTavish. Learning patience had been the master’s mantra since Beck had arrived at the manor house. It had been a tough lesson to learn, as he’d always been the kind to grab someone around the throat and demand answers.

  Elias must have realized his silence wasn’t working and he sighed. “Grand Master Stewart sent us a report that has my superiors worried. I suspect you know what that report contained.”

  “That Riley’s studyin’ magic,” Beck said. “Stewart explained why, too.” He’d seen a copy of the report. Fortunately, Riley wasn’t aware he was in the loop, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever tell her.

  “There are those in the Holy See who are not pleased by this information,” the hunter continued. “They fear her connection with Hell, paired with the magic, will only lead to trouble. They are nervous about this new development.”

  “But yer not,” MacTavish said, leaning forward with both elbows on the table. “Why is that?”

  “I’ve spent time with Riley. She possesses a good heart, a strong moral compass, and she’s tough as nails.” Elias looked over at Beck now. “We’ve fought together. I know she’s not going anywhere near Hell, no matter what Lucifer or his demons offer. Other than Father Rosetti, my superiors don’t know her. It’s hard to see inside her bright soul when all you’re doing is judging her from a report.”

  Beck inclined his head in thanks. “So how do we get them to know her better, so they’ll leave her alone?”

  “She could go to the Vatican,” Elias suggested. “But then some might not allow her to leave. Not all in the Holy See have an open mind about such things.”

  “So your visit is more a warnin’ than a social call?” MacTavish asked.

  “No,” Beck said, before the demon hunter could reply. “I think this is a heads-up that things could get worse if we don’t keep an eye on them.”

  “That’s it entirely,” Elias said. “My superiors know I’m visiting you, but they assume I came here to talk about demonic hotspots, not about Riley Blackthorne.”

  “And Father Rosetti?” Beck asked.

  “He was the one who suggested I be candid about the problem, so you can determine a way to short-circuit whatever is going on in Atlanta.”

  “Riley is not causin’ the problems,” Beck insisted.

  “Rosetti and I know that, but others don’t. We figured, what with Christmas coming soon, you might be headed home. Maybe you can find a way to spread some oil on the water, as it were.”

  “Indeed,” MacTavish said. “I’m pleased that the hunters and the grand masters are workin’ tagether more than before. I’m sure Hell doesn’t appreciate it, and anythin’ that annoys Lucifer is fine by me.”

  Elias nodded his agreement. “Ironically, it was Riley’s situation that brought us into more contact. Stewart’s reports to the Vatican have been concise, thorough, and unbiased. I’ve read all of them, and I can tell he’s pulling no punches, which can’t be easy given the situation.”

  “I don’t envy him,” Beck murmured.

  Especially if something went wrong. It was as much Stewart’s life on the line as Riley’s.

  “So where are ya off ta next?” MacTavish asked.

  Elias set his napkin aside. “Things are heating up in Croatia, so I expect the team will be headed there in a few days. I had hoped for some time off over Christmas, but that wouldn’t be Hell’s plan at all. They love to stir up trouble this time of year.”

  “Well, yer doin’ good work nonetheless. Celebrate Christmas where ya are,” MacTavish said.

  “We always do.”

  “Is Rosetti still workin’ with the hunters?” Beck asked.

  “Part-time. He has . . . new responsibilities now.”

  Which, clearly, Elias wasn’t going to explain.

  “All right, I’ll let you know what I find out in Atlanta,” Beck said. He trusted the man, and he knew that any information he shared would go to Father Rosetti, who seemed to carry a fair amount of weight in Rome.

  “I appreciate that.” The demon hunter rose. “Thank you so much for breakfast, gentlemen. Have a very merry Christmas and a blessed New Year.”

  The sentiment was returned, and then Beck escorted him to the manor’s front door. As they stepped outside into the crisp air, Elias asked, “So, this grand master thing, is it all you thought it would be?”

  “I’ve always liked trappin’ demons. Now, I know there’s so much more to it than that. The whole Grand Game, how we humans are stuck in the middle of it. How easily it could go wrong.”

  Elias nodded. “I remember what Riley said during the battle in the cemetery, when she stood between the Prince and the Archangel Michael.” He looked into the distance, as if picturing the scene. “She said mortals were created to balance the Light and the Dark. That we were in the perfect position, not the angels in Heaven or the demons in Hell.”

  Beck nodded, remembering that moment as well. The immense courage it had taken to stand between those eternal foes.

  Elias looked over at him now. “Keep Atlanta from boiling over, no matter who is causing the trouble. My superiors’ patience is thinning.”

  “Do you think Hell has somethin’ to do with that? Yer bosses’ lack of patience?” Beck asked bluntly.

  Any other representative of the Holy See would have felt insulted, but Elias was pragmatic. “I’m not sure. I’ll find out.”

  They shook hands. As the demon hunter drove away, Beck found MacTavish waiting for him just inside the manor’s entrance.

  “Is it possible Lucifer’s infiltrated Rome?” Beck asked.

  “It’s entirely possible.” MacTavish hesitated for only a few seconds. “Start packin’, lad. We’ll see if we can get ya an earlier flight home. It’s time ta put all yer trainin’ inta practice.”

  Chapter Ten

  Riley’s mind wasn’t playing fair; Mort’s Latin homework required more attention than she was willing to give it. The noise of Grounds Zero, usually comforting, just jumbled her thoughts.

  Part of the problem was the headache she’d endured since last night’s magic session. Two hours of trying to make an orange look like a banana had done that to her. Mort had said there’d be fewer headaches once she didn’t have to work as hard at casting a glamour spell. Couldn’t come soon enough for her.

  Still, after those two hours of practice, she’d come up with a scrawny banana-like object all on her own. Then she did it three more times.

  The other issue was Mort’s solemn announcement—perfectly timed as she was leaving his house, so she couldn’t ask a ton of questions—that there was an “event” she must attend to become an official member of the Summoners’ Society. That he really couldn’t keep teaching her magic without it. When she asked if this involved a blood sacrifice, he shook his head, but she got the notion that this thing was going to be pretty serious.

  Hence the continued headache. If she wanted to make one fruit look like another or figure out who was summoning Grade Five demons just to mess with her, she had to be part of their society. As if already belonging to one organization that didn’t entirely trust her wasn’t enough.

  To make things worse, she was on call later tonight, but what if some idiot necro summoned another Five? The job was terrifying enough without worrying if you had backup. The other trappers on duty this evening were mostly friendly, but she never knew when loyalties might shift, which happened more often than was good.

  Riley dropped her pen and took another sip of hot chocolate. Thank God that was the one thing that never failed her. As she set the cup down, she heard someone clear his throat. She looked up and gasped.

  “Simon?”

  Her ex-boyfriend stood near the table, smiling. His bright-blond hair was much longer, curling down on his collar, and his eyes were as blue as she re
membered them. He wore jeans, a black shirt, and a heavy coat.

  “Riley,” he said, opening his arms wide.

  She slid out of the booth and walked into those arms without hesitation.

  They hugged, hard. There’d been a time when she’d hated him for what he’d done to her, but now that anger was gone. Simon had endured a test that would have broken most mortals.

  “I have missed you so much,” she said into his ear.

  “I’ve missed you too,” he replied.

  They broke the embrace and she smiled up at him. “When did you get back in town?”

  “Last night. I hoped I’d find you here. I can’t stay long. I promised the ’rents I’d be home in time for supper.”

  Riley waved him over to the booth.

  “Let me get some coffee first. You need a refill?”

  She shook her head and he set off for the front counter.

  “Simon’s back,” she whispered. From the look of him, he was doing well. Fit and healthy. There was a fire in his eyes now, and that made her wonder who, or what, had put it there.

  He returned to the booth with his drink. After he sat, they just stared at each other for a few moments.

  “Beck said he saw you a while back.”

  Simon nodded. “He looks different. Older. Comes with being a grand master, I guess.”

  “I still can’t believe he killed an Archangel.” Suddenly nervous, Riley took a drink of her hot chocolate. “Are you coming back to work as a trapper?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve got another job now.”

  “Oh. What are you doing?” she asked.

  Simon looked around, then lowered his voice as if what he was about to say was a state secret. “I’m a lay exorcist for the Vatican.”

  She blinked. “You cast out demons? For real?”

  “For real. The trappers do a good job capturing the fiends, so do the hunters, but there is a need for personal exorcism, and there just aren’t enough priests to go around. At least not those trained to handle this kind of thing.”

  “Wow. A genuine exorcist. Not like those girls who tried to cast out my devils last spring.”

  He nodded, smiling at the memory. “It’s . . . a new organization within the Vatican, and I was invited to be in their first training course.”

  “Because of what you went through?” she asked, quieter now.

  “Exactly because of that. Father Rosetti is heading the group.”

  “Rosetti, huh,” she said.

  The priest had been sent to Atlanta to determine if she was working for Hell, and they hadn’t trusted each other. By the end of the battle at Oakland Cemetery, Rosetti knew she wasn’t a threat. In fact, she kind of liked the guy, even though he was the Vatican’s watchdog.

  “He said to send his regards.”

  “That’s nice of him. I never figured he liked me,” she said, shrugging. “You got hand-picked, huh? That is awesome, Simon.”

  That comment earned her a smile. “Trust me, there was a lot of psychological testing before I was accepted.”

  “Did they break out the papal Holy Water?”

  He nodded. “Passed that test too.”

  “I didn’t the first time around,” she admitted. “I really kinda blew Rosetti’s mind with Hell’s mark on one palm and Heaven’s on the other.” She looked at the crown on her left hand. “I’m down to just one now.”

  He nodded his understanding. “Luckily it’s Heaven’s.”

  She agreed. “Thanks for writing me. It helped knowing you were doing okay.”

  “It was life changing journey. I visited so many places, talked to so many people. All of them had their own personal faith, and they shared with me how they view their god. Or sometimes a goddess or gods, depending on who I talked to.”

  “Beck said something about spending time in Pluscarden Abbey at the end of his training. Is that why you were there? To straighten things out in your head?”

  “Yes. I needed to get my heart and my head in the right place. The actual exorcism training took nearly five months. It was nothing like I’d imagined,” he said, his eyes not meeting hers now. “No surprise—I seem to be good at blocking demonic bullshit, so now I’m an exorcist. I don’t think that’s what Lucifer had planned.”

  Bullshit? The old Simon would have never used that word. She couldn’t keep the grin from filling her face.

  Riley took his hand and squeezed it. It wasn’t soft like before, but had calluses now, like he’d been doing heavy labor. “I’m so glad you’re back.” He’d know she meant more than just being in the city.

  “Thank you. What happened between us is one of my biggest regrets.”

  “No, I don’t look at it that way,” she insisted. “It made us both what we are today.”

  “God’s will and all that?” he said.

  “That’s how I see it, no matter how much it hurt at the time.” She paused to take in more hot chocolate, caught by the strong emotions between them. Almost like the love between a brother and sister. “What about your parents? Are they good with this new job?”

  “Mom doesn’t like the idea, but Dad is all for it. They’ll adjust.” He took a look at his phone to check the time, then winced. “I better be going. She’ll have my head if I’m late. Amy’s coming by with my nephew. He was born while I was gone.”

  His sister had been pregnant when Simon was lying in a hospital bed, dying. Because of Riley’s bargain with one of Heaven’s winged messengers, he was alive to meet the little boy. It was hard to fight back the tears.

  “That’s great, Simon. Say hi to Amy for me. Oh, and once Beck gets home, you should come over for dinner.”

  “I’d be happy to. When’s the wedding?”

  Everyone asked that question, and she didn’t have an answer.

  “I’m not sure. I’m . . . still adjusting to the idea. It’s not that I don’t love him, but with so much else going on . . . ”

  “Don’t put it off. You know how precious every day is, how little time we have in this world.”

  He was right.

  They both rose at the same time.

  “I’ve been studying magic with Mort and Ayden,” she said. “I really had no choice.”

  She’d expected Simon to stiffen, to pull back from her. To retreat behind his fortified wall.

  Instead he just nodded. “Beck told me what happened. I still don’t like magic, but I understand why you’re doing it.” He hugged her again, and then he was out the front door of the coffee shop, leaving behind a lot of memories. Some were good, some bad. But all worth it.

  “Thank you for letting him find his way back,” she murmured as her eyes rose to the ceiling. “He’ll be an awesome weapon against the darkness.”

  Which had probably been Heaven’s plan all along.

  Chapter Eleven

  It was nearing seven-thirty in the evening when Riley hustled up the path in Oakland Cemetery on her way to “class” with Ayden. Why her witchy friend wanted to meet here, she didn’t know. The place held so many vivid memories it was hard to handle them all. Ayden knew that. But then, the witch never did anything without a reason.

  The chilly night made Riley’s breath cloud, and she regretted having left her gloves in the car. The snow had remained, settled around the graves like melted frosting. Above her, through the naked branches, the stars shone. In the spring, the cemetery would come alive with blooms. Now it appeared to be hibernating, resting up for the coming year.

  As she drew close to the bell tower, Riley caught sight of a ring of twinkling lights farther down the path. A quick glance at her phone indicated she might have enough time to check it out. If she was lucky, inside that ring would be the cemetery’s guardian angel.

  Instead of bearing left toward the Blackthorne mausoleum, she kept going straight. Farther up the p
ath she found Martha in a lawn chair in the very center of the circle, knitting something or other. She looked elderly, in old-lady garb—including orthopedic shoes—though Riley had seen the angel’s real appearance after the big battle.

  Martha smiled warmly as she approached. “Ah, there you are. I was hoping you’d come by to see me. How have you been?”

  Riley stopped about five feet away from the ring of candles, the sacred circle that kept necromancers from stealing the body in the new grave.

  “I’m good. Well, sorta good. It’s getting crazy again.”

  “So I hear. And you’re engaged now,” the angel said, pointing at Riley’s ring. “A grand master, no less. Well done. You’ve chosen wisely.”

  “It’s more my heart’s doing than anything,” Riley admitted.

  “Which is why it was a wise decision.”

  “So how goes the angel business?”

  Martha shrugged, rising to her feet. Then she stretched. “Same old, same old. Lots quieter since last spring. But I’m thinking that’s going to change pretty soon.”

  “Any hints you can give me so I don’t end up dead?”

  “Nothing is what it seems,” the angel replied.

  “Like that’s any different than normal?”

  “In this case, that’s the new normal.” Martha looked off into the distance. “Your witch friend is starting to get anxious.”

  “That, I wouldn’t doubt. I better go see her. Stay well, Martha.”

  “You too, Riley Anora Blackthorne.”

  Riley cut back toward the road that led to her family mausoleum. The night the trappers were attacked at the Tabernacle, she’d taken refuge here in case the demons went on a rampage. Beck had joined her, injured and ill. She still remembered him lying next to her, stroking her hair. Now she knew it had been the start of something between them. Something that had turned into love over time.

  As Riley moved closer to the mausoleum, the moonlight cast shadows over the structure, the spire jutting toward the sky and stone gargoyles perched on all four corners of the roof. The fifth gargoyle, the one facing east, sat alone.