Mind Games Page 8

  What is he going on about?

  “You’ll know soon enough,” Lucifer replied, once again having heard her thoughts.

  “What if I walk away from whatever this is?”

  “Part of me is so hoping you don’t,” he said, smiling.

  That smile made the hair on the back of her neck rise. He waved a hand and the witch’s spell cracked apart like an egg.

  “Choose wisely. And please send my regards to the new grand master. I’m so looking forward to breaking his will. One day, his soul will be mine.”

  Before she could respond, Lucifer vanished, much like Ozymandias had. The comparison made her twitch as she shook off the effects of the spell.

  A new opportunity?

  His Infinite Darkness had to be playing with her head. Again.

  She glared into the distance, hoping Ayden was going to be okay. Right now there was little she could do, but down the line she’d know how to fight Morgaine’s spell.

  Then there will be payback.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Though it was late—nearly half past eight—Riley knocked on Mortimer’s door. And waited. Then knocked again. Finally it cracked open to reveal the summoner himself. Alex must have been out for the evening.

  Mort took one look at her, then waved her in.

  “I’m sorry I’m here so late.”

  “No problem. He said you would probably be dropping by.”

  The “he” was no doubt Ozymandias.

  Mort guided her not to his office, but to the living room in the back of his house. It was comfortable and unpretentious, like him.

  Riley plopped down on a tan sofa and was immediately colonized by Orson, Mort’s big black cat. Orson was a recent addition and had settled right in, as if this were his home and Mort merely a renter. In short, typical cat behavior.

  As she scratched Orson behind the ears, she found herself staring at the feline, puzzled. Something didn’t seem right about him.

  Mort took a seat in a brown, plaid recliner. A half-empty glass of beer sat at his elbow, with a copy of Necromancers Quarterly nearby. It seemed she’d interrupted his quiet time.

  He smiled over at her confusion. “So what do you see?” he asked, gesturing toward Orson, who was purring in a steady rhythm as she continued to stroke him.

  “A cat.” Riley concentrated, trying to sort out what felt wrong. To her astonishment, Orson’s coat shifted from black to tabby. She looked up at Mort. “Glamour? Why?”

  “Because everyone expects my cat to be black.”

  Which meant that all the times she’d petted Orson, he’d not been what she’d thought. She wore Ayden’s amulet now. Had that helped?

  “Okay, that’s creepy. How do I know what you look like, for sure?”

  He smiled. “I promise I am what I appear to be. Now tell me what happened with the witches.”

  Riley brought him up to speed on Ayden, Morgaine, and the spell.

  “Morgaine left you bespelled in the cemetery?” Mort asked, his voice harder than usual.

  “Yeah.” Then she told him how she’d gotten free.

  “Oh God. I’d hoped he’d forgotten about you,” Mort said.

  “The Prince never forgets anything or anyone.” She hesitated. “I know it’s not right to learn magic when you’re angry, but I’m sick of this. I need to be able to protect myself from asshats like Morgaine.”

  “I agree. I’ll teach you an elementary protection spell before you leave tonight. Wear the amulet Ayden gave you. It’ll help.”

  She hadn’t mentioned that to him. “You felt her magic, didn’t you?”

  “Easy to do once you know what to look for.” He gestured toward the cat. “You can see it works, even if the amulet doesn’t give you a clear picture of what’s behind the glamour.”

  “Will they hurt her?” she asked, because that was her greatest fear.

  He saddened. “I’m not sure. I don’t know witch politics that well. It’s my guess that she has a history with Morgaine, and somehow you’ve got that feud going again. You do have a tendency to unsettle the status quo.”

  “I don’t try to. Honestly.”

  “I know, but you still do. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing.” Mortimer rose from his chair. “How about I make some popcorn, and then I’ll teach you that protection spell. Sound good?”

  “Yes. Thanks.”

  After he’d left the room, she closed her eyes and opened them again. The cat was back to being black. Apparently if she didn’t concentrate, the glamour reasserted itself.

  What else am I not seeing?

  Riley left Mort’s place full of popcorn and hot chocolate, and with her mind full of a protection spell. As she made her way to her car, she dialed Ayden’s number. The call went directly to voicemail.

  “Hey, let me know if you’re okay. I’m worried.”

  It was only then that she noticed she had a voicemail from a couple hours earlier, just about the time she’d been mouthing off to Morgaine in the cemetery. It was from Beck; for some reason she hadn’t heard the call.

  Riley pushed the play button.

  “Hope you get this. I’m just about to leave New York. My flight arrives in Atlanta at ten thirty-five tonight. Sorry I didn’t tell you ahead of time, but I flew standby and I didn’t want you gettin’ yer hopes up. Looking forward to seein’ you soon, Princess. Love you.”

  Riley stared at the phone. “Tonight? He’s home tonight?” She checked the time. “In an hour?”

  Beck wasn’t supposed to be in Atlanta, so all her plans to have the house in perfect condition were no longer an option. No chance to have her hair curled and her nails polished. Her fiancé was almost here, and if she didn’t hustle, he wouldn’t find her waiting for him.

  Riley sprinted for the car as if her life depended on it, cursing for the second time in one day. Just once, why couldn’t things go the way she’d planned?

  *~*~*

  It had been three years since Denver Beck last flew into Atlanta’s airport from overseas, when he’d come home from the Army. Two people had been waiting for him that time: Paul Blackthorne and Paul’s young daughter, Riley. He still remembered the hand-lettered sign that said WELCOME HOME DENVER! and the twin shouts of joy when he’d first appeared out of the crowd.

  Tonight the crowd noises were pretty much the same, though they didn’t spook him as much as they had back then, when he was fresh from a war zone. This time, the sounds spoke of home.

  Riley would be here, if she’d gotten his message in time. It’d been so long since he’d last held her, last seen her walking to her plane, proudly wearing his engagement ring.

  It was a big step forward—a wife, maybe children someday. Becoming a grand master. So much had changed in these three years, he found it hard to believe. Moments like this brought it into sharp focus.

  Beck adjusted his backpack, then rolled his heavy suitcase along. His eyes searched faces and when he found the woman he loved, his breath caught. Up on her tiptoes, Riley was searching for him as well, her brown eyes bright, her soft hair hanging loose around her shoulders, just the way he liked it. She wore his favorite bright-blue sweater and jeans, the demon claw necklace visible at her neck. For just a second, he swore he saw Paul standing next to her, though that wasn’t possible.

  Beck could tell the instant Riley spied him—she bounced up and down and called out his name. Weaving her way through the crowd, she waited until he was free of the security area and then she sprinted to him, her hair flying behind her. He caught her around the waist, and pulled her tight against him. Their lips connected with a longing that spoke of too many weeks apart.

  She was warm and soft and all his.

  “Get a room,” a man joked as he passed them.

  Beck laughed. “Plan on it!” he called back, then kissed his girl one more
time. She smelled of light perfume and popcorn.

  Riley cupped his face, looking deep into his eyes. “You’re really here,” she said. Then she took hold of his arm, as if she couldn’t bear not to touch him. He knew how that was.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call you,” he said. “I had short connections in Amsterdam and in New York. I was lucky to get a flight home at all today. I think MacTavish called in some favors.”

  “I’m happy you’re home, but why the change in plans?” she said.

  “Because I couldn’t wait to see you.” Which was the truth, and a way to keep from explaining the other reason, the one that involved the Vatican. At least for now.

  “So how’s my rabbit doin’?” he asked, wanting to deflect her curiosity.

  Riley gave him a quick frown, as if she knew what he was doing. “Rennie’s good. She’ll be so happy you’re home.”

  Beck smiled at the thought—even his bunny had missed him.

  “You don’t have to go back early, do you?” she asked, concern in her voice.

  “No. Still headin’ back on the thirty-first.”

  Riley’s smile lit up. “Okay. You’re home longer. I can deal with that.”

  He’d hoped she’d see it that way. “MacTavish said I’ve been doin’ really good and that I need some down time. Of course, I’ll have some studyin’ to do while I’m here, but we’ll have time together.”

  “I can help you. At least, if it’s something that I can know about.”

  “It is,” he said, although he couldn’t share everything. It was the way of a grand master. To keep their sanity, there were things the world, and Riley, didn’t need to know.

  “I love you,” she added, rather solemnly.

  He ducked down and stole a kiss. “And I love you. Now get me home. All this travelin’ has worn me down.”

  Beck rolled his suitcase along behind him, refusing her offer to help. The moment he stepped outside the South Terminal, he took a deep breath. Atlanta in December. A little chilly, but nothing like the Scottish Highlands. He took another deep breath and sighed.

  Georgia. I’m really home.

  Originally it had been his plan to spend the next few weeks not worrying about demons or Hell or whatever devious schemes they might be concocting. Time to live, love, and laugh with the one person who was the center of his universe, the young woman who had agreed to be his wife.

  Beck still planned on doing most of those things, but Elias’s visit to the manor house had told him his job would always weigh him down, always cut into his happiness. He’d been warned about that, but here it was, up close and personal.

  As Riley drove him home, Beck listened to her talk about everyday things, how she’d gotten a B+ in her Latin class and how her friend Peter was on a ski trip in Vermont. MacTavish had once pointed out that when women were nervous, they would talk through that unease, whereas guys tended to clam up.

  Riley could have said anything—even read to him from a fast food menu—and he wouldn’t care. It was hearing her voice again that mattered.

  What she didn’t say caught his notice as well: not a word about her magical studies or how things stood with the demon trappers. He suspected the studies were going fine—Riley was a quick learner—but that the issue with the trappers was festering like an untreated wound. He also caught an undercurrent of tension, as if something else had happened and she wasn’t ready to tell him about it yet.

  Tempting as it was to drill down on all that, Beck knew it was best to let her reveal it in her own time. She wasn’t a kid anymore and he respected her too much to treat her as one. He’d done that before and it had blown up in his face more than once.

  Instead, he went with safe topics. “Stewart doin’ okay?”

  “He’s good. He really misses you. So do Jackson and the other trappers. They’re really proud of you.”

  Some of them maybe, but not all. Some would resent that he’d become a grand master, envious that he’d somehow managed to kill a Fallen angel. Some of the trappers would never trust him, no matter what he said or did, because he now held the power of life or death in his hands.

  “I changed some stuff around at your house. I hope you’re okay with that,” she said.

  “It’s yer house too, you know.”

  “No, not yet, but since I was living there part time I thought . . . well . . . ”

  “I’m good with whatever you did.”

  That earned him a relieved smile. Judging from her reaction, whatever she’d done meant a lot to her.

  Riley drove past the usual turn for his house. “I thought you’d like to see some of the Christmas lights,” she said, by way of explanation.

  Caught up in his studies, he’d almost forgotten about the holiday, at least until the nine-foot Scots pine Christmas tree had gone up in the manor house. He’d made a prompt trip to Edinburgh to pick out Riley’s presents and had already shipped most of them to Stewart’s house. A few were tucked into his luggage. He couldn’t wait for her to open them.

  Now, as Beck looked around, he found that a number of houses had their holiday lights up, glowing in the late night. Had there been Christmas decorations in years past and he’d just never noticed them?

  Maybe so. It wasn’t the kind of thing a poor boy from South Georgia would care about, not when he was more concerned about food and keeping a roof over his head. It had taken every bit of luck and long hours just to be able to make the house payments.

  Now it was different. As a grand master trainee, he was earning a decent salary. He wasn’t wealthy, but he was better off than he’d ever been. But money was only part of it.

  Beck looked over at Riley, knowing she was the sole reason he was appreciating any of this. She’d opened his eyes to so many good things in life, like sunsets, the joy of sharing a kiss on a rooftop as the city lights came on one by one. The simple act of loving.

  All because of you.

  Riley slowed the car to a crawl. “What do you think?” she asked, waiting for his reaction.

  He studied the nearest house out his side window and nodded in appreciation. White curtain lights draped along the porch railing and down both sides of the stairs. A large green wreath hung on the door, and the main window was framed in twinkling lights. Even the mailbox had a red ribbon and greenery. The place looked great.

  “Real pretty,” he said.

  “Welcome home, Den.”

  Beck’s mouth dropped open. This was his house?

  The moment Riley pulled into the driveway, he was out of the car. He strode to the middle of the front yard, barely aware of the snow in the grass. Hands on his hips, he stared in astonishment. He’d always kept the place nice—he was “house proud,” as his grandmother would say—but this was even beyond that.

  Riley joined him. “Do you like it?”

  “It’s so . . . ” Like a real home. Something he’d never had as a kid, but something their children would have, if they raised any.

  Beck felt his eyes grow moist. He could feel Riley watching him, and he pulled her into his arms, hugging her tight. He set his chin on top of her head.

  “I love you so much,” he said.

  “All because of a few Christmas lights?” she joked.

  “Yeah, just because of that,” he said, knowing there was a world of words he wanted to say but didn’t know how. “Now, if they’d been another color, I might have changed my mind.”

  She laughed and pulled out of his arms. “Riiight. Come on, Rennie is probably going nuts. I made her this big exercise pen so she could hop around more. She really likes it.”

  “She talks to you now?” he jested.

  “All the time,” Riley replied, winking. “Just like she used to talk to you.”

  He laughed and hugged her again, then spun her around in the air.

  “God, I have missed
you.”

  “I’m sorry I’m not dressed up. I got your text right before you landed. I wanted to be all pretty and—”

  He caught her chin and brought her eyes up to meet his.

  “Doesn’t matter what yer wearin’, to me yer the most beautiful woman in the world. You understand?”

  She nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

  “Now that we’ve got the neighbors wonderin’ what the hell we’re up to, let’s get inside.”

  After Riley disabled the alarm, he set his luggage just inside the door and waited as she flicked on the lights. Things had changed. She had moved the front-room furniture around, and it looked better than it had before. A large space was open in one corner; when he asked her about it, she grinned.

  “I left room for a tree. There’s a place outside of town that sells them. We can cut our own so it’s not as expensive. Not that I know how to do that, but I figured you would.”

  Beck felt a smile forming. “Sounds like a plan. We had a Christmas tree in our barracks in Afghanistan—it was a little scrawny thing—but I’ve never had one of my very own before.”

  Riley blinked at him, looking stunned. “Never?”

  “No.” His mother hadn’t been into that kind of thing—too busy drinking. Once he’d had his own place, he’d never bothered.

  Now it all seemed to matter.

  “That’s sad, Den,” she whispered, taking his hand and squeezing it.

  That was the downside of this new life—the realization of how much his old one had sucked. How easily this one could vanish if Riley wasn’t at his side.

  “So where is that rabbit of ours?” he asked, trying to sidestep the familiar ache in his chest.

  “Right this way,” she replied, tugging him along.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Despite the fact that Riley hadn’t been able to put all her plans in place before Beck arrived home, it didn’t seem to matter. He’d really liked what she’d done to the house, and he’d had a great reunion with Rennie.

  Then he’d grown far too quiet. Some of it was jet lag—she remembered that from her trip—but it seemed deeper than a time zone change. It made her worry that maybe things weren’t right with him. Would he have told her if something was wrong? Maybe not. Beck could hold back things when he wanted.