Forgiven (4 page)

Cooperate?
What little she knew of the Vatican’s boys, that wasn’t a word those guys were familiar with. She’d seen their high tech equipment and their paramilitary work ethic. No matter her deal with Heaven, they would only be interested in her chat with the Prince of Darkness and her knocking boots with the Fallen.

‘If I had something to bargain with . . .’ she murmured.

Her father coughed, then took another long swig of the glowing potion. ‘Holy . . . Water.’

The way he was fading she didn’t have time to get into a lengthy discussion about the fake Holy Water that was being sold in the city. ‘Who do you think is doing this?’

‘No idea.’ A few rapid blinks then he closed his eyes, like someone had flipped a switch to the Off position.

Riley looked over at Mort. ‘It’s like he’s in screensaver mode. Is this going to happen a lot?’

‘Plan on it. Your father has the ability to do high level cognitive reasoning which takes a heavy physical toll.’

‘How did you find him?’

‘I didn’t. He arrived at my door late last night. For a while I thought it was because of that invitation spell I’d invoked, offering him refuge if he broke free of his summoner.’ Mort’s calm brown eyes met hers. ‘But now I know that’s not the case.’

He’s not sure if Dad told me about Lucifer.
Which he hadn’t since that news items had come from the Prince himself.

‘I know who summoned my father,’ Riley replied. ‘What I don’t understand is why Lucifer set him free.’

Mort visibly relaxed. ‘I’m just as confused. He owns your father’s soul. Why does he need his body?’

Riley shrugged. Another question for which there was no answer.

Tereyza, Mort’s housekeeper, appeared at that moment bearing a tray. Riley was presented with a full cup of something with a heady fruity aroma.

‘Tea always helps clear the mind,’ Mort said.

The only thing that cleared Riley’s mind was hot chocolate, but that didn’t seem to be on the menu, at least not here.

‘I detect inner conflict,’ the summoner said. ‘Want to talk it out?’

Riley shook her head. No matter how much she’d like to push this disaster on to someone else, it was her mistake that had landed her in this situation. She needed a way to get to her house, collect the stash of money she had hidden there, then decide where she was going next. But to do that Riley had to get into the apartment complex unnoticed.

I wonder . . .

Riley retrieved her trapper’s licence from the messenger bag. The photo had been taken when she’d sported a bizarre mishmash of teal, black and brown hair. After he’d seen the photo, her dad had insisted it return to its natural and boring brown.

‘That’s a devious smile,’ Mort said over the top of his tea cup.

‘The hunters are looking for this Riley,’ she said, pointing towards her face. ‘What if I looked completely different?’ She held up the licence for contrast. ‘If I get some hair dye maybe I can pull it off.’

‘No need. I can do that with magic.’

Riley blinked. ‘You can?’ Why hadn’t she thought of that? Probably because tea-sipping Mort didn’t seem overly magical.

‘Sure,’ he replied. ‘It’s an easy spell. I can make your features look any way you want.’

That sounded like a plan, which meant there had to be a downside. ‘What happens if the Vatican finds out I used magic to hide from them?’

‘Nothing good,’ their host admitted.

‘Thought so.’ Still, she felt it was worth the risk.

‘Can I borrow your cellphone?’ she asked. After he handed it over, she dialled her best friend, Peter.

‘Riley? Where have you been? I tried calling—’ her friend began.

She cut him off, told him what she needed.

‘What is this all about?’ he asked.

‘The Demon Hunters are after me. If you help me, you could get in deep trouble with those guys.’

There was a very long pause.

‘If you’re not good with this, just say so, Peter. I won’t be upset.’

‘No, I’m good,’ he said at last. ‘My dad won’t be home for another two hours and I’ll need his car.’

‘That’s fine. I need to make a run to my place and it’s best we do it closer to dark.’

‘Then what?’

‘I’m leaving town.’

More silence. Finally he spoke. ‘When and where should I pick you up?’

Riley put the question to Mort and he came back with a location about a quarter of a mile away, near the heart of Little Five Points. She relayed the info to Peter, along with a time.

‘Right. See you in a while.’ Her best friend hung up.

Peter’s going to help me. Maybe this will work out after all.

She handed her phone back to Mort and in return he offered her a plate loaded with baked goods. ‘Strudel?’ he said.

Riley took two thick slices and placed them on the small plate in front of her. If she was about to play cat and mouse with the Vatican’s dudes, she needed serious fuel.

After about an hour’s work, Mort’s magical expertise resulted in a brown band, about two inches wide, with twin snaps and a few arcane symbols carved on the thick leather.

‘Do those mean anything?’ Riley asked.

He shook his head. ‘All for show.’ He handed it over. ‘Prepare to be amazed.’

Riley swore she felt a tingling sensation as she snapped the band on her left wrist, then dutifully followed him to the closest bathroom mirror. And gasped. The new Riley had raggedy hair that looked like someone had chopped at it with a pair of kid’s scissors. It was a breathtakingly mix of blue, black and stark white streaks. Two long micro-thin braids went to her waist – those were platinum white as well. There was a clear plastic barbell wedged in her left eyebrow, a blue gem in her nose, multi-piercings in her ears and a tongue stud: all the stuff she’d never been brave enough to try for real. Turning, she studied the blood-red tattoo that began on the back of her neck and wrapped round her throat. It was a vampire bat with enormous fangs.

‘OK, that’s different,’ she said, shivering.
Kinda cool, actually.
And since a lot of kids in Atlanta had tats or piercings and bold hair colours she’d fit right in.

Mort nodded approvingly. ‘The hunters might zero in on you because of your age, but with one glance they’ll know you’re not Riley Blackthorne.’

Not even close.
Which was the whole point of using magic. ‘How long does this last?’

‘When you’re wearing the bracelet, you’re the Bride of Frankenstein. Take it off and you’re the real Riley.’

‘You could make a fortune on Halloween.’

The summoner chuckled. ‘The downside is the magic uses some of your energy to power itself. You’ll be more tired than normal, so only wear the bracelet when you need it, OK?’

‘Can anyone use this?’ It’d be fun to try it out on Peter.

‘No. It’s keyed to you. It’s best the hunters not find you wearing this. They’re pretty savvy about magic, even if they don’t like it. They might figure out what the bracelet is and that won’t go down well for you.’

‘Understood.’

When they returned to Mort’s office, a quick look proved her father was still in siesta mode.

‘Tell Dad that I’ll be OK and I’ll let you know where I end up. Don’t let him worry about me.’

‘He would worry about you even if you were sitting next to him,’ Mort replied softly.

The summoner was right. That was one of the reasons now was the best time go. It’d be hard when her father woke and found out she’d left him behind, but he’d understand. At least she hoped he would.

‘I bought this while you were sleeping,’ Mort said, handing her a cellphone. It was one of the cheap, pre-paid kind. ‘It’s not tied to you in any way and I’ll keep refilling the minutes as you need. I programmed in my number if you have any trouble.’

This guy was amazing and she said so. A shy grin crept on to the summoner’s face at her compliment, but he didn’t deny it.

After Riley was sure she had everything she needed, she placed a kiss on her sleeping dad’s forehead and took what might be her last look at him.

‘Love you. Don’t worry, I’ll be good from now on.’
No more lying angels.
‘Who knows? Maybe I’ll find a way to get you into Heaven with Mom.’

That was all bluff, though she owed Lucifer a favour and in return he’d said he’d grant her one wish. Could that be her father’s
Get Out of Hell Free
card?

It was a small sliver of hope and she clung to it.

After one last kiss marred by tears, Riley followed the necromancer to a rear door that opened on to a gravelled alley.

‘If you need to return, the bracelet is also your key back inside,’ the necro said. ‘Place it up against the door and it’ll let you in.’

‘Wow.’
Who knew magic could actually be helpful?

Mort sobered. ‘Please be very careful.’

‘I will. Thanks, I owe you.’ On impulse, she gave him a hug, though her hands wouldn’t reach all the way round him. That got her an instant blush.

When the summoner closed the door behind her, the wood shimmered and then went solid again. Soon she’d be on her own, moving from town to town, trying to stay ahead of the demon hunters. And the demons.

Riley slipped the strap of her messenger bag over her shoulders. All she could think of was what her dad would say when he found out she was gone.

The prisoner had expected room service, but Beck got a redhead instead. He rose off the bed as Justine Armando was escorted into his hotel room by one of the hunters.

‘Hello, Beck,’ she said, tossing her expensive black leather coat on a nearby chair, followed by a folded newspaper on the nightstand. ‘I heard you were here in the hotel so I thought I’d pay you a visit.’

The guards were locked in full stare mode – apparently they’d never seen the reporter in action. Sporting a set of brilliant emerald-green eyes, Justine was a stunningly petite woman with shocking red hair that tumbled over her shoulders in wide curls. Her accent was hard to pin down, but it flowed like verbal honey no matter the subject.

Beck’s attention moved to the hunters. ‘Any way ya can give us some space?’

A conversation started between the men in Italian, and for a time it didn’t look like the answer was going to be positive. Justine weighed in, also in Italian, and abruptly they changed their minds. She had that effect on men.

When the door closed behind his guard dogs, she settled into the chair, positioned so that Beck had a fine view of her long legs. He sank on to the bed, regretting he looked so scruffy.

‘How’d ya know I was here?’

Justine pouted. ‘I
am
a reporter. When I heard that Denver Beck is in the hunters’ custody and that there is a search in progress for Master Blackthorne’s daughter, I had to determine if it was all true.’ She leaned closer. ‘You wouldn’t know where she is, would you?’

So this visit wasn’t just a welfare check. Beck should have expected that, but his guy ego developed a new bruise.

‘No, I don’t know where she is or my ass wouldn’t be sittin’ in this room,’ he growled. ‘Riley could be anywhere. She knows a lot of places to hide.’

‘Why do they want her? Is it because of the Fallen or something else?’

He stiffened. ‘How do ya know about the Fallen?’

‘One of the hunters told me.’ She straightened her skirt. ‘Why did Riley call you this morning?’

A nervous twitch crawled across Beck’s back.
Too many questions.
‘That’s private,’ he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
End of conversation.

Justine got the message. ‘As you wish.’ She rose, collecting her coat. ‘I had hoped I could persuade Elias to release you, but he will need more information to justify that decision.’

Elias.
Justine had a ‘history’ with the captain of the demon hunters and she wasn’t above using that to get what she wanted. In this case, she was angling for inside information on Riley.

‘I can’t help him,’ Beck insisted.

Justine gave him a sad smile, stepped forward and dropped a kiss on his cheek. Then she stepped back, adjusting her coat over an arm. ‘For you,’ she said, pointing at the newspaper on the nightstand.