Forgiven (37 page)

That seemed to shut down the magical kindergarten. It wasn’t like they hated each other – it’s just that there was no trust between them.

Riley’s butt instantly complained about the cold ground the moment the two connected. For some reason she’d not packed anything for this do-or-die scenario. What would you pack for Armageddon? Sunscreen and shades? Flame-proof underwear? Maybe a travel guide to the Underworld?

There
was
a sleeping bag in the mausoleum. As she unlocked the twin bronze doors, she was immediately surrounded by all the memories of this place: the day they’d buried her mother, the many hours she’d been here watching over her father, the night she’d shared the wine with Ayden and got totally ripped, the time she’d spent here with Beck after the Tabernacle burned. How he’d held her close though he was injured. Then
that night
with Ori. The mausoleum was more to her than a resting place for departed relatives – it was an integral part of her personal history, both good and bad.

A red rose lay on the storage box in the rear of the structure, the one Ori had given her the night they’d made love. Though it had been over a week, the petals were only just beginning to wilt.
Angel magic.
Riley set it aside, then raised the heavy marble lid of the storage box. As she reached in, she found a white envelope lying on top of the sleeping bag. It was addressed to her in her father’s handwriting.

It hadn’t been there the last time she’d opened the box so apparently he’d put it here sometime after he’d been reanimated.

A tear trickled down her cheek. ‘There is nothing to forgive, Dad. You did what you thought was right. I’ll try to do the same.’

Riley kissed the note, then carefully returned it to the envelope. On a whim, though it wouldn’t be comfortable, she tucked it inside her shirt next to her heart. If her father couldn’t be with her, his love would be.

‘Looks like we’re ready,’ Mort announced.

‘What do I need to do?’ Riley asked. Luckily the circle was big enough to accommodate her sleeping bag without trashing all their complex preparations.

‘You can tell the hunters we’re about to begin and then turn down the radio.’

With considerable nervousness, Riley clicked the communication device they’d given her. ‘Ah, hello?’

Captain Salvatore immediately responded. ‘Go ahead Team Demon.’

At least that was better than Team Hellbound.

She relayed the news and Captain Salvatore acknowledged it. ‘Teams Gabriel and Angelus are in place. May God grant us victory,’ he said.

‘Go us,’ she said, then lowered the volume on the radio.

‘Turn off your phone too,’ Mort advised. ‘We don’t need any distractions.’

Right before she did as he asked, she sent a last text message to Peter.

It’s about to go down. Wish us luck. Prayers are good too. Love you!

Once the electronics were tamed, it was a matter of watching the others work their magic. All the woo-woo reminded Riley that she really was an outsider to their world of spells and charms.

‘Magic is a lot like trying to work around high power lines,’ Ayden cautioned, adjusting a candle and the corresponding crystal next to it. ‘You’ve got to stay focused or you’ll get fried. We’ll help you through this as much as possible. Just keep your mind focused on the task at hand.’

It was the witch who built the cone of power, weaving the potent spell that would hopefully protect them from Ozymandias, should he decide to retaliate. As Ayden patiently constructed the spell, Riley felt spiky magic crab-walk across her skin. There were sparkles in the air around them now, like inside one of those holiday globes you find in the stores at Christmas. Ayden finished calling the corners and invoked the circle to life. Immediately there was a sharp spark and a pop. Riley grimaced as her ears slowly adapted to the air pressure change. This was a protective circle on steroids.

The magic swirled around and above them, peaking about ten feet in the air as iridescent patches glimmered in the predawn light. Everything beyond the circle – the gravestones, the Bell Tower, even the trees looked gauzy and indistinct, like she was viewing them from inside a soap bubble.

Mort nodded his approval, his equivalent of a standing ovation.

Maybe this will work.

Riley’s palms began to itch.
Oh boy.
The inscriptions were pulsating, clearly visible. Somehow the magic had triggered them. She resisted the urge to scratch them.

‘Do I want to know what those mean?’ Mort asked, staring down at her palms. She shook her head.

‘Ignorance does have its good points,’ Ayden replied. ‘Especially in this case.’

Once the circle had been secured, the summoner sat next to Riley and methodically arranged his supplies. The main object was a leather spell book engraved with a complex symbol on the front cover, probably the necromantic equivalent of a skull and crossbones.

‘This is my book of spells,’ Mort explained, caressing the aged cover with genuine fondness. ‘It’s been passed down through my master’s line for hundreds of years.’

Like Stewart’s chess set.
‘They gave you that when you first started?’ That certainly wasn’t the way the trappers handled things; they dribbled out information to keep apprentices from dying a quick death at the hands of a senior demon.

‘I didn’t receive this until my master passed away. Then I was ready.’

Riley was tempted to ask how that death had happened, then decided against it. She doubted the guy had died of boredom.

Mort opened the spell book to a page dense with Latin. It wasn’t typeset, but in calligraphy. The letters literally
glowed
. It reminded her of one of those texts the monks used to create in their little stone cells.

Riley gulped as her heart rate rose. ‘This is really hard to read,’ she said, hoping that might give her a pass.

‘I know. That’s why we have this,’ he said, handing her a typed sheet of paper. ‘It’s the same incantation with the pronunciations underneath each word.’

OK, that’s better. Sort of.

Riley had
never
wanted to do magic, but here she was. If she succeeded, she bet the Vatican would reopen her investigation even if the spell saved every one of the hunters’ lives.

The summoner flicked his fingers and a miniature ball of light hovered over the top of the printed page. At least she could see the words now. It also revealed there was a fine sheen of sweat on Mort’s forehead, which showed he was worried. That didn’t help Riley’s confidence.

Damn!
She’d been pushed into this corner by Lucifer, by Ori and by her own foolish choices. There was a crackle under her shirt, her father’s letter.
It’ll be OK.
That’s what he always said.
Maybe this time you’re right.

‘We’ll need the demon claw,’ Mort said. ‘Place it in the centre of the book.’ Riley did as he asked, the silver chain coiling round the black talon. It reminded her of Beck, of the day he’d given it to her and how concerned he’d been she might not like it. Even then he was telling her how much he cared for her.

He’s out there somewhere. He and Simon and all the rest of them. They’ll die if I don’t get this right.

‘We’ll start by summoning this particular fiend,’ Mort explained. ‘If that works, we’ll do the unbinding spell. Take your time. We are not in any hurry.’

Not yet
. As soon as she started this first incantation, Ozymandias would know. He’d probably send his Hellspawn and the battle would begin.

‘Do not let anything distract you. That is vital,’ Mort cautioned.

Riley nodded, her heart racing so hard it was difficult to breathe.
What if I get a panic attack in the middle of the spell? What if –

Ayden touched her arm, gaining her attention, then traced something in the air between them. She’d done that before at the market, and claimed she was waving away a mosquito.

‘What
is
that?’ Riley demanded.

‘A grounding spell. It’ll help.’

And it did, though Riley had no idea why. Her breathing gradually eased and her muscles loosened. She could even see through the protective circle.

‘Sometimes the strongest among us are those who seem just the opposite,’ Ayden said, her eyes on the summoner now. ‘The courage is there. You just have to find it deep inside you.’

Mort began to chant. Whatever he was saying sounded way serious, but then anything in Latin did. When the incantation was complete, he handed her a piece of paper. ‘Read this.’

Riley did as he instructed, taking it slow. There were only two lines to the spell and it went quickly. When she finished, he took the sheet and tossed it into the air where it ignited in blue flames. As it was consumed, it filtered to the ground in a fine blue ash.

‘That wasn’t so bad.’ Better than she’d figured.
I got myself all worked up over this?

‘No, that’s rather a simple spell. Now we wait and see if our demon friend shows up,’ Mort replied. ‘The claw will begin to move when the creature gets close. Then we’ll do the unbinding spell. That one is infinitely more complex.’

Time passed. Riley tried not to fidget, but she failed. She wanted to reread her dad’s letter, but not in front of the others. That was just between the two of them. Then the fine hairs on the back of her neck began to twitch, a primitive response to an unseen threat. A second later the demon claw began to rock back and forth on the page.

There was a snuffing sound from far behind them, followed by a long, wailing howl. The demon was on the other side of the north cemetery wall – it knew better than to cross on to sacred ground and risk being destroyed.

‘I did it,’ Riley said, grinning. ‘Wow!’

‘You did. Now we’ll begin the unbinding incantation and –’ Mort began, then lost his ability to speak.

A pair of reddish-yellow eyes glared at them from outside the circle. The demon was on holy ground.

‘That’s not right! It can’t be here,’ Riley exclaimed. ‘It should be a French fry.’

Mort took a long and deep breath to steady himself. Then he pointed at the Three. ‘See the faint red aura round it? That’s part of Ozymandias’s reanimation spell. That’s what’s allowing it to be on sanctified ground.’

‘Oh God, no,’ Riley whispered.

‘You’d better tell the hunters. They won’t be expecting this,’ Ayden said. ‘I certainly wasn’t.’

With a trembling voice, Riley delivered the bad news. She’d counted up to five before the reply came through.

‘Roger, Team Demon.’ Salvatore’s response was clipped now, stressed. All the captain’s careful planning had just been trashed.

There was a clicking sound and then Salvatore began to issue orders, moving his men into new positions, along with the warning that Hell was not playing by the rules.