Soul Thief-Demon Trappers 2 (27 page)

“I was born in Italy, raised in Ireland, France, and then America. I’ve been all over the world, so I’m a bit of everything. My Irish friends say I sound American. My American friends say I sound like I can’t make up my mind what I am,” she said, a full smile gracing her lips. “What about you?”

“Good old Georgia stock,” he said. “Lived here and in the Middle East and that’s about it.”

“At least you know who you are.” The reporter looked down at her pad and then up again. “Master Blackthorne’s daughter is a trapper now. Does it bother you to have a female in the Guild?”

Sure does.
He’d served with women in the Army, knew they could hold their own like any of the guys. He didn’t care if a female wanted to be a trapper. His problem was that it was Riley.

“Not really,” he lied.

Justine studied him intently. “You put a lot of thought into that.”

“She’s young and I’d hate to see her hurt.” Which wasn’t a lie.

“Are you two…?” she asked, delicately raising an eyebrow.

Damn, yer nosy.
“No, there’s nothin’ between us. She’s too young.”

“So you like your women … older?” she asked.

The come-on slid across the table so smoothly he almost didn’t catch it. Maybe there was more going on here than he’d figured. “I like women who know what they’re doin’,” he said.

Justine began to run her slim fingers up and down the side of her glass in a way that made his head spin. “You’re staring at me,” she said, a touch of a smile at the corners of her mouth.

“Just enjoyin’ the view,” he said.

“So am I. I don’t usually get to say that.”

He reluctantly pulled his mind back to work. “Can ya tell me what the hunters are gonna do here?” When she didn’t reply right off, he added, “Come on, I’ve been answerin’ all yer questions.”

“True,” she replied. She reached over and clicked off the recorder. When their eyes met, he nodded in understanding. This was off the record. “They begin by surveying the most infested areas of the city.”

“Demon Central, then,” he said. “That’s where the Gastro-Fiends like to hang out.”

“Where is this Demon Central?” she asked.

“It’s called Five Points. It’s got lots of holes and abandoned buildin’s. The Threes love those.” He leaned closer, pushing his soda aside. “What will they do after this survey?”

“Once they know the types of demons and their locations, they’ll move in and clear them out.”

“And if folks get in the way?”

She shrugged. “They try to minimize the collateral damage, but sometimes that isn’t possible.”

“So who’s this Father Rosetti?” he asked. “Are all Rome’s priests such tight asses?”

A red eyebrow arched. “Father Rosetti was originally an exorcist for the Vatican. And no, the other priests are not as ardent in their duties. I find it odd: He usually doesn’t go out with a team but remains in Rome.”

“Then why is he in Atlanta?” Beck quizzed.

“I asked that question, but I did not receive an answer.”

The lounge doors swung open and four guys entered, stepping right over the top of the still-wet line of Holy Water. Not demons, then. By the noise they were generating, they already had a significant buzz on. Beck frowned. These guys weren’t regulars so they wouldn’t know not to jack with him. Since he was with the hottest woman in the place, this might not go well. Especially with four of them.

He caught Justine’s eye. “We gotta go. Now.”

To his relief she didn’t argue but scooped up her belongings. As they reached the doors, one of the guys called out from his place at the bar.

“Hey, where ya goin’, babe? Come back here. I’ll buy ya a beer.”

Justine kept moving, Beck right behind her. When they reached his truck, he set his trapper’s bag on the hood.

“Sorry about that,” he said, his eyes still on the lounge’s entrance. The quartet was still inside, the lure of more booze stronger than chasing tail.

“I am accustomed to it,” Justine said as she ran her hand over the demon decals on the side of the truck. “What do these mean?”

“A trapper gets one every time we take down a Three.”

She counted them. “Very impressive. Hell must hate you.”

He chuckled. “I do my bit. Can I drop ya somewheres?”

She turned toward him, and he could smell her perfume now. Something flowery. When the reporter leaned forward and kissed him, it set his blood on fire. He didn’t need a steel pipe to the head to see how this night might play out.

Why not?
All he’d done recently was fret over Paul’s daughter and work long hours to pay the girl’s bills and the only thing he’d gotten was grief in return.

I deserve some fun.

“I am thinking,” Justine began, running a hand through his hair, “it would be nice to talk to you about something other than … demons.”

Beck didn’t hesitate: He pulled her tight against him, enjoying the feel of her body close to his. She felt even better than she looked. “I’m game as long as this
talk
is off the record.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she purred.

T
WENTY-FOUR

It was never a good sign when your ex-boyfriend’s mom called you at seven in the morning and asked to meet you after Mass. Though Riley was still enduring Category Five breakup grief, she didn’t have the heart to turn Mrs. Adler down. Rather than just trudging around to the front of the church to meet the woman after services, Riley set the meeting at the Grounds Zero. She needed food and knew that standing on the church stairs talking about how Mrs. Adler’s son was a crazed religious lunatic probably wouldn’t be good for anyone.

Riley ordered a salmon-and-cream-cheese bagel, took it to a booth, and ate it without much enthusiasm. Food didn’t taste good now, and though this coffee shop made the best hot chocolate, she hadn’t ordered it as it would bring back too many memories of Simon. Like the night he’d said he’d wanted to date her. Riley closed her eyes, trying to erase that moment, but it didn’t work. She could still hear his gentle voice, feel his hand stroking hers. How great it had felt to know someone cared for her.

“Riley?”

She found Mrs. Adler standing nearby. Her purple dress, matching coat, and hat looked really nice, but the outfit didn’t disguise the dark circles under her tired blue eyes.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Mrs. Adler said, sliding into the booth. Her purse clunked on the seat next to her. “I wanted to talk to Father Harrison after Mass.”

All the pain and brutal rejection from the day before slammed into Riley like a shock wave. She bit her lip, not wanting to shout her fury aloud, reveal to the world how badly this hurt.

How could you let him do that to me? Why can’t you convince him he’s wrong? That he made a mistake?

Riley felt the prickle of tears and brushed them away with the back of her hand. “Why is he doing this?” she said, her voice cracking. “He used to be so nice. That’s why I liked him so much.”
Why I was falling in love with him.
“Now he’s…”

“Lost,” Mrs. Adler replied, her eyes drifting down to her folded hands. “Father Harrison is finding us a therapist, one familiar with post-traumatic stress disorder. Maybe we can help Simon get past this.”

There was only a slim thread of hope in the woman’s voice.

“You don’t think he’s going to get better,” Riley said before she could stop herself.

Mrs. Adler jammed her lips together while fumbling for a tissue from her purse. After she wiped her eyes, she took a deep breath. “Simon has always been different than the other children, so serious about everything. When he met you, he started to…” She struggled for the right word.

“Lighten up?” Riley suggested.

A weary smile came back at her. “That’s it exactly. He smiled more and talked about you at dinner. He’s never spoken of his girlfriends before. That’s when we knew you were right for him.”

“Not anymore,” Riley said, feeling the tears massing for another assault. “He thinks I’m evil now, that I’m part of a grand hellish conspiracy.” She sniffed and rubbed her nose. “I thought if he had time to get over what happened, he’d be better. He’s just gotten worse.”

Mrs. Adler reached across the table and gently took Riley’s hand, much like her son had done the night he and Riley had begun dating. The woman’s skin was cool despite having been in contact with the coffee cup and its heated contents.

“We didn’t know what Simon had done to you until last night. He didn’t tell us. Then some men showed up at our house. One of them was a priest, so I thought maybe Father Harrison had sent them.” Mrs. Adler’s hand retreated. “They were from the Vatican, and Simon had called them. He told them that … you and your father were the reason all those trappers died.”

“He called the demon hunters down on me?” Riley cried. Heads turned in their direction. She lowered her voice, but outrage still owned her. “How could he do that to me? What is wrong with him?”

Mrs. Adler shook her head, more tears in her eyes now.

Don’t yell at the psycho-ex’s mom. It’s not her fault.
Riley counted to ten very slowly. She made sure her voice was steady. “My dad had
nothing
to do with the ward failing. Neither did I. There were too many demons. Period.”

“I know,” Mrs. Adler admitted, “but my son is fixated on this. He needs someone to blame instead of God.”

That pretty much summed it up.

“Did the hunters believe him?” Riley asked.
Please say they think he’s nuts.

“I’m not sure,” Mrs. Adler admitted. “I thought you ought to know about them.”

Riley mumbled her thanks, but her mind kept screaming:
He called the hunters!
This was way bad news for both her and the Guild. Her attention snapped as Mrs. Adler rose from the booth, clutching her purse tightly.

Mournful eyes blinked tears away. “I’m so sorry, Riley.” The woman swallowed heavily. “Please pray for Simon, pray that he might see the truth and be himself again.”

Riley watched as her ex’s mom made her way out of the coffee shop, each step laden with worry.
But I did pray for him. Then everything went wrong.

*   *   *

Justine was already
up and in the shower by the time Beck came to full consciousness. It took some time to realize he was in a hotel room at the Westin. He didn’t remember much sleep overnight, but that was okay. It hadn’t bothered him that when they weren’t going at it, she’d asked him a lot of questions about Atlanta and her demons and about the demon traffickers. Some girls did that. It meant they were interested in more than what he was packing in his jeans.

He rolled out of bed and used the toilet. Luckily it was one of those separate from the shower because the running water was getting to him. He moved to the sink and splashed water on his face. Then smirked. Justine had left marks on his neck.

Yer a fireball, that’s for sure.

Beck dressed. He’d just finished tying his boots when Justine entered the room wrapped in a large white towel. Her hair was still damp. She came to him immediately, cupping his jaw in her small hands. Then she kissed him, tasting of toothpaste. He let his arms go around her waist, pulling her closer.

“Are you leaving already?” she asked, reproachfully.

“Got to. I’m meetin’ with Master Stewart.”

“Will I see you tonight?” she whispered after the next kiss ended.

He’d be with her whenever she wanted, but he just couldn’t admit that right out. He had his pride to think of. “Maybe.”

“So it’s demons first, then me?” she teased as she sank onto the bed next him.

“Yes. No…”
Ah, hell, I don’t know.
He kissed her again. Finally, he let go of her, but it took a lot of willpower. Claiming his jacket from a chair, he headed for the door.

“Beck?” He turned at the sound of her soft voice. She was curled up on the bed, sending him invitations he didn’t dare accept. “If you speak to Elias Salvatore, don’t mention you’ve been with me.”

“Why?” he asked, curious.

“Elias and I were once lovers,” she said matter-of-factly. “He is very jealous. It could go badly for you if he finds out about us.”

I slept with the top hunter’s woman?
Part of him was jazzed, but the other part wasn’t happy at the news. Without knowing it, he’d done the one thing Stewart had warned him against: He’d made a demon hunter look like a fool.

*   *   *

Students streamed out
of the old Starbucks, calling out to each other and hopping into their rides. “Feels strange not having to run home and check in with The Warden,” Peter said as he and Riley walked toward her car after class.

Riley unlocked the driver’s side door and dropped her messenger bag onto the front seat. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I called the city today to find out who picks up their empty Holy Water bottles, in case the guard at the recycling place was lying.”

“Any luck?” Riley asked.

Peter leaned against the side of the car. “I got blown off. The secretary chick said it would be a breach of security to tell me that information, because someone might want to sabotage the shipment.”

“Why would someone sabotage a shipment of empty bottles?” Riley asked.

“I pointed that out, but she wouldn’t budge.”

“That sucks,” Riley grumbled.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find a way to get the info. I’ll be able to help more now that I don’t have to be chained in my room.”

Riley eyed her best friend. “Think you’ll be able to cope?”

“Totally. It’s like I’ve been pardoned from a life sentence. I’m worried someone will realize they’ve made a mistake.”

“They didn’t.”
Neither did you.
“So what are you doing tonight?”

“The house is just going to be a dead zone. I was thinking of going to the library, start on my homework. What about you?”

“No, I’m doing witchy stuff,” Riley said. “A friend of mine is going to summon my dad’s spirit so maybe we can figure out who stole him.”

“Wow. Ah, can I come along?” Peter asked, his face alight.

“It could be kinda weird,” Riley hedged.