Forgiven (17 page)

‘Just some suit,’ one man said.

‘That’s all ya can remember?’ Nods all around.

‘We’ve got six guys who know diddle shit and a burning building full of evidence. The Guild is going to take the blame for this,’ Harper complained.

Beck tugged on Riley’s coat and when she leaned closer he whispered into her ear. He watched as she processed what he’d told her.

‘You’re full of awesome, you know that?’ she said, grinning.

For a second, he believed her.

Riley crossed to Stewart and passed on the message in a whisper. Then she did the same with Harper. The two masters traded looks. With a quick order from Harper, the workers were herded down the street and made to sit on the kerb in a tidy row, guarded by Remmers and Jackson.

‘Go on, Saint, earn your keep,’ Harper said.

As he passed Riley, Simon murmured to her something to her that Beck didn’t catch. A second later, she was in her ex’s face, shoving the apprentice away in fury.

‘Don’t you dare say that,’ she hissed. ‘I had nothing to do with it.’

‘Then why is Hell always one step ahead of us?’ he countered.

‘Stand down, the pair of you,’ Harper bellowed. Riley jerked away, her chest heaving in anger, fists clenched.

The young apprentice gave Riley a final scathing glare, then headed up the street to watch over their prisoners.

With Riley’s help, Beck made it to his ride. Leaning against the passenger side door, out of sight of the plant workers and the other trappers, he had her unzip his jacket. She carefully tugged out the computer and the paperwork, then displayed them to the two older men.

Stewart’s eyes lit up like fireworks. ‘That’s why ya stayed in there so long.’

‘Hell, boy, you might have saved our asses,’ Harper said, grinning.

Sirens wailed in the distance.

Stewart pointed at the evidence. ‘Take this stuff to my place. I’ll have Jackson come over later and go through the computer. We’ll need back-ups of everythin’. Same with the paperwork. I want copies. Spread them around.’

‘You think we’re going to get stonewalled, Angus?’ Harper asked.

Stewart nodded. ‘I’m countin’ on it.’

It took considerable effort on Riley’s part to help Beck into his pickup. He was so sore she had to buckle his seatbelt for him, ignoring how close that put them and how she had to reach across him to get the thing latched.

‘Ya have anythin’ to drink?’ he asked.

Riley dug out a bottle of water from her backpack and handed it over. It was beyond him to get the cap off one-handed. When she remedied the situation, he drained half the liquid in a few gulps.

Adjusting the seat so she could reach the pedals elicited a hiss of pain from her passenger.

‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t ya wreck my truck,’ he warned.

‘I won’t.’ At least she hoped she wouldn’t: she’d never driven anything this big before. Riley edged away from the kerb, trying to get a feel for the steering and the brakes. As she crossed the first intersection on her way to Stewart’s house, two police cars went flying by them, headed towards the collapsed building. A fire truck followed a short distance behind.

Seeing Beck running for his life, then blown into the air like a bird with no wings had been the stuff of nightmares. Riley had been sure he was dead. Convinced she’d never have a chance to apologize.

Her fears took a voice. ‘What the hell were you thinking?’ she shouted, startling her passenger. ‘Why did you stay in that building when you knew there was a bomb? Are you totally crazy?’

Beck turned towards her, his face still sweaty from the pain. ‘We had to have proof or they’ll move their operation and start over and more folks will die.’

‘But you nearly died, you moron!’

He smirked. ‘Ya keep it up, girl, and I’ll think yer care for me.’

‘I
do
care, Beck. I keep telling you that. We just don’t get along.’

‘Whose fault is that?’ he retorted.

‘Mine,’ she said without hesitation. ‘And yours. We’re both to blame.’

He took a deep breath and then nodded in agreement. ‘Always been harder talkin’ to ya than other girls. Don’t know why.’

Riley knew how that was. She could chat all day with Peter and never step on one emotional landmine. Beck? He was riddled with them, and she managed to hit every one of them without trying.

‘What did Simon say to ya that made ya so mad?’

Riley kept her eyes on the road. ‘He thinks I’m working for Hell and that I’m sabotaging everything we trappers do.’

Beck huffed in disgust. ‘Shows what a dumbass he is.’

Riley shot him a quick glance. His face was less pale now. ‘How are you doing?’

‘Hurts like hell, but I’ll live.’ He looked out of the window at the passing scenery. ‘That call I got on the roof,’ he said. ‘The first one. It wasn’t from Justine.’

‘Then why didn’t you tell me that?’

‘I just wanted to piss ya off.’ He cleared his throat. ‘The call was from a doc down in Sadlersville. Sadie’s worse. He says she’ll be goin’ to the hospital soon.’

‘Your mom? What’s wrong with her?’

Beck took another long drink of water before he answered. ‘She’s got . . . cancer. She’s dyin’,’ he said, his voice quavering.

Oh God, I’m a complete asshat.
‘I’m so sorry, Beck. I mean it. I had no idea.’ Even apologizing didn’t make her feel any better.
I totally blew it.

He stared out of the side window, his face indistinct in the dashboard lights.

‘Sadie and I have never been on good terms. I remind her too much of my daddy, whoever the hell he was. I’m the next best thing to hate since he’s not around.’

He really thinks his mother hates him. Could that be for real?
‘You’re going down to see her, aren’t you? I mean . . . before . . .’

‘Don’t know yet. We need to get things straightened out up here first.’

If this had been anyone else, she would have jumped all over them for not leaving town immediately, but this was Beck and his life was complicated. Apparently his relationship with his mother was no different.

For a moment, Riley remembered how it had felt when she’d learned about her mom’s cancer, how there was no medicine in the world that would keep Miriam Blackthorne alive. How helpless Riley had felt. She’d only made it through that hell because Peter and her dad had been there for her.

‘Let me know if you need anything, OK?’ she said. ‘I’m serious. I’m there for you.’

When he turned towards her, there was a sheen of tears in his eyes. He looked away immediately, as if he’d realized he was showing weakness.

‘Thanks,’ he whispered, barely audible over the truck’s engine.

The Guild’s physician, Carmela Wilson, was waiting for them at Stewart’s house. Beck didn’t take that well.

‘I don’t need a doctor,’ he growled.

‘Get your butt inside or I’ll strip you down and do the exam in the driveway,’ Carmela replied.

Beck didn’t argue, as if his protest was all that was needed to preserve his macho trapper ego. Or he knew that Carmela wasn’t bluffing.

He insisted on making his own way into the kitchen without any help. The exertion cost him and he dropped into a chair with a prolonged groan, his face ashen.

Carmela rolled her eyes at the sight. ‘Must be something in these guys’ DNA,’ she grumbled.

When they finally removed his jacket and T-shirt, his entire left shoulder was red and swollen.

‘Oh yeah, you’re going to be one sore sucker in the morning,’ the doctor said.

‘Already am,’ Beck muttered.

‘He needs an ice pack,’ Carmela added, then began her examination.

Riley raided the kitchen drawers to locate a sturdy plastic bag and then filled it with ice from the freezer. From Beck’s occasional exclamations, he was in considerable discomfort.

‘Not broken,’ Carmela announced. ‘I’m guessing it popped back in place.’ The trapper’s moan acknowledged the fact. ‘You’ll need to keep it iced overnight. I’ll give you something for the pain. Give it a day or two and then start moving it around, but be careful, OK? No trapping.’

Beck didn’t argue with her, which meant one of two things: he was hurting bad enough he’d actually do what the doc wanted or he was tuning her out. Riley was betting on the latter.

After Carmela departed, he insisted on getting into his truck and driving home before he took the pain pills.

‘You should stay here. I can help you—’ she began.

‘No, I’m goin’ home. If the Scotsman doesn’t like it, to hell with him.’

‘Then call me when you get home. You hear me?’

Riley buckled his seatbelt (again) and then watched in horror as he managed to get the truck out of the drive and on to the street one-handed, the ice pack still perched on his damaged shoulder like a frozen parrot.

‘You are such a masochist, dude,’ she said, shaking her head. How he was going to unlatch the seatbelt once he got home?
Not my problem.

Riley left the computer and paperwork on Stewart’s desk, raided the kitchen for a banana, then trucked upstairs to her bedroom. She’d begun to strip for a shower when her cellphone rang.

‘I’m home. Ya happy now?’ Beck’s gravelly voice demanded.

‘Yes, I am.’

‘Yer treatin’ me like I’m some idiot kid,’ he complained.

‘Gee, I wonder where I learned that?’

He hung up on her.

At first it was faint, a whisper in the back of Riley’s mind. Then it grew progressively stronger. Always her name, over and over. Ori was at it again.

‘No way, you jerk,’ she said, rolling over on her side. He probably thought he could turn on the charm and she’d be all apologetic and hand over her soul.
Not happening.
He had to know that, so why was he calling to her? Why at the same time each morning?

Because he loved the dawn.
Ori had claimed it reminded him of Heaven. He’d said the same thing about her.

The voice wouldn’t stop, not matter how she tried to block it out. The more she fought, the more it rose in intensity, almost like a psychic scream. If it didn’t end soon, it would become incapacitating.
Like Mom’s migraines.

After Riley had dressed and laced on her tennis shoes, she had second thoughts. What would the masters say if they saw her leave? A quick check proved Stewart’s car wasn’t in the driveway. They were busy with the Holy Water issue, so she could slip out without them knowing. As long as Ori remained a statue, he wasn’t a threat. If she did his bidding this once, maybe that would shut him up and she could sleep in.

Riley crept out of the house. The moment she turned her car south, the pressure in her head eased and it continued to throttle down the closer she came to Oakland Cemetery. The journey went quickly – there wasn’t much traffic on the road – and this time she drove into the graveyard itself. That way she could take off in a hurry if this was a trap.

Even though Ori had lied to her, seduced her and then tried to claim her soul, he had saved her life. More than once. He could have allowed Beck’s soul to be taken that night at the Armageddon Lounge when two Mezmers had targeted the trapper. But he hadn’t. Ori had said he stepped in because she’d lost too much already. If anything, she would have thought he’d want Beck out of the way.

She parked near the Bell Tower, ensuring the car was pointed in the right direction for a swift escape. There was blessed silence inside her mind now, as if Ori had got exactly what he wanted. With the sun barely edging above the eastern horizon, the morning frost hadn’t burned off yet. In the distance she heard the whine of a MARTA train headed into King Memorial station.

The moment after she shut the car door, Riley froze. She could see Ori’s statue now. Both fists were still raised in the air as if challenging Heaven, white wings spread. Clad in jeans, his chest and feet were bare. A fine layer of frost covered his body. What would it be like to be trapped in a statue? Did he know what was going on around him, or was it like being asleep?

It took a lot to force herself to the base of the statue. Staring upward, it seemed to shimmer in the morning light. ‘Do you even know I’m here?’ she mused.