Mind Games

by Jana Oliver

  *~*~*

  Beck slept in, the jet lag and the overnight trapping punching his clock. He woke late, close to nine, which meant it was two in the afternoon, Scottish time. For a moment he was disoriented until Riley’s soft breathing reassured him. She was tangled up against him, her hair spread across his bare chest.

  Neither had spoken much as they drove home, too weirded out by what had gone down in the park. After showering, they’d climbed into bed, curled up in each other’s arms, and fallen asleep, too exhausted to make love again.

  Now, as he studied her, he again wondered what he had done to deserve her, deserve their future together. Stewart had once told him that true love could sneak up on you, hit you between the eyes before you even saw it coming. It’d been that way with Riley. Beck had always seen her as Paul’s little girl, until suddenly, she’d become a young woman.

  Now she’s mine.

  She mumbled under her breath and rolled onto her side, away from him. He resisted the urge to wake her so he could make love to her. If fate was kind, he’d have a lifetime of her curled up against him each morning.

  Fifteen minutes later he poured ink-black coffee into a mug. As he turned toward the living room, he spied the calendar on the refrigerator and smiled at the big red heart that had been added to the date he’d been originally scheduled to return home.

  His stomach demanded food—it was way past lunchtime by his internal clock—but instead he sat on the couch and studied the Christmas lights arranged carefully around the picture window. Then the sacks of Christmas ornaments Riley had bought at a thrift shop. The empty spot where the tree would stand.

  He realized this wasn’t his place anymore, and in some ways that was disconcerting. Riley was slowly changing it, putting her mark on his house. It troubled him that she didn’t seem that eager to set the wedding date. Was it just cold feet? Or something else?

  Maybe he could do something about that while he was home.

  It felt strange to allow another person so close to him, into his life, under his skin. Beck closed his eyes and tried to picture what Christmas would be like if they had children, but he had no real frame of reference. He thought maybe there’d be the heavenly smells of roast turkey or ham, the excited shouts of little ones as they opened their presents, the love that would fill this house on that day. On every day.

  It wasn’t only about being able to love someone else, it was about the love that came back to you in full measure. God knew he was an empty well, but in her own way Riley was filling him up, bit by bit.

  A movement near the sack of ornaments caught his attention. To his astonishment, a small black-clad body crawled over the side of the sack, toting a long strand of tinsel and a small black bag. A Klepto-Fiend.

  What the hell?

  The demon reached the floor, then carefully tucked its prize away in the bag. Once its treasure was safe, it clutched the bag, hugging it like it was the best thing in the entire world. Finally, it seemed to realize it was being watched. Its eyes popped open, then widened in shock.

  “Mornin’, demon,” Beck said, keeping his voice low.

  A single squeak of fright erupted from the fiend’s mouth, and it fled in a blur of motion.

  Before Beck could react, a soft padding of footsteps came from the hallway, then the sound of Riley extracting a coffee cup out of the cupboard.

  “Did you know we have a demon in our house?” he asked quietly.

  There was a clunk as the cup connected with the countertop.

  “Ah . . . maybe?”

  “As a grand master, do you know how bad it looks if there’s Hellspawn runnin’ around my place?”

  “Not good, huh?” When he didn’t reply, she added, “Yeah, not good.”

  Riley joined him, but instead of snuggling up next to him, she sat at the other end of the couch. Her coffee mug was cradled in her hands and her hair tousled. She wore his Runrig T-shirt, a memento from one of the Scottish rock band’s concerts. It nearly reached her knees. A baggy pair of his sweatpants and thick socks completed the outfit.

  She looked over at him, puzzled. “When did you see him?”

  “Just now. He was stealin’ tinsel.”

  “Oh.” Riley set her cup on the side table. “I was hoping he’d stay hidden.”

  “Why don’t you ward the place, run him off?”

  “Because . . . he was the one I trapped in the apartment building the night Dad died. You sold him and he came right back.”

  That didn’t sound like all of it. “And?”

  “He warned me when the Demon Hunters were after me and he told me how to free Ori so we could defeat Sartael.”

  Beck leaned back against the couch, trying to figure all that out in his head. “He works for our enemy.”

  “Well, duh,” she said. “Wherever I go, he finds me. So I gave up.”

  “Riley . . . ” He sighed. “This won’t work.”

  “It’s worked for almost a year, Beck. I found him sleeping next to Rennie the other night, all snuggled into her fur. He’s not evil. He’s just obsessed with bling.”

  Then he cycled back through the conversation. “Was he at Stewart’s place too?”

  “Yes. Angus doesn’t ward his house. Besides, I tried warding here and the little guy still found a way in. He knows not to spy on me when I’m in the bathroom or in the bedroom. Mostly, he just collects shiny stuff and spends hours counting it out in little piles.”

  Beck shook his head. Did Stewart know he’d had a wee fiend in his house? Of course he did, and apparently it hadn’t bothered him. Which meant maybe it shouldn’t bother Beck either.

  “So . . . ” Riley began, seemingly eager to change the subject. “Other than the little guy, you okay? You’ve been a lot quieter than normal.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No need to apologize. I’m just worried. Is everything okay with us?”

  He hadn’t intended her to fret. “It’s not you or anythin’. It’s all the changes.”

  “You don’t like what I did to the house?” she asked, quieter now.

  “No, no,” he said, realizing he’d given her the wrong impression. “I like it all, I’m just not used to anyone goin’ to this much trouble for me.”

  “It’s what real families do, Den.” Then she winced. “Sorry, that was kind of harsh.”

  “It’s true, though. I never knew what I was missin’ until now.” He gestured toward the empty space in the corner. “Like a Christmas tree and all the decorations.”

  “From now on, you won’t miss any of that. We’ll celebrate birthdays and anniversaries and holidays like families should. You deserve that joy, Beck. God knows you’ve had your share of pain.”

  Just like that, she made him feel better.

  Riley rose, laid a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll make you some breakfast. You have to be starved.”

  His stomach took that opportunity to tell her she was correct.

  “Can we have pancakes?” he asked, looking up at her.

  “Sure. Whatever you want.”

  Whatever I want.

  He could get used to that, little demon and all.

  Chapter Sixteen

  For the second time in one week, Riley was at Stewart’s house, telling the masters that things were wrong. This time it involved demons going poof.

  Since it was nearly noon, they were in the kitchen. Stewart’s housekeeper, Mrs. Ayers, had left them ham and cheese sandwiches, and thick slices of peach pie. Riley picked at her food, but Beck dove right in. When she didn’t eat the second half of her sandwich, he devoured that as well. She’d forgotten just how much food he could pack away, and made a note to adjust her grocery budget while he was home.

  “You saw the demons vanish too?” Harper asked Beck, as if Riley might have somehow been hallucinating.

  “Yup, and so
did Jackson. The apprentice didn’t because he was too busy trying to pack up the Three he’d trapped.”

  “Kid do okay?” Harper asked.

  “Kurt did well,” Riley said. “He needs more practice, but he’s on track. I think we should give both him and Richard more experience with the Threes before we move on to the Mezmers.”

  Harper nodded his approval.

  “There is nothin’ in the International Guild archives that talks about this kind of thing, Stewart said. “And especially not disappearin’ Threes. They’d never leave a meal behind.”

  “I think . . . ” Riley began, then sighed. Whatever she told Stewart could end up in a report to the Vatican. Dare she risk it?

  “Lass?” he prompted.

  After a quick look at Beck, she explained, “I think those demons were an illusion.”

  “Why would ya think that?”

  “Mort’s been teaching me how to determine if something is real, an illusion, or hidden by glamour. Those demons felt off. I know that’s not a great explanation, but they just weren’t right. And I felt . . . ”

  Here we go.

  She told them about how she sensed the threads and detected a lavender one at the park.

  “For once, I hope you’re lying, Blackthorne,” Harper said, pushing his empty plate away.

  “No, sir, I’m not. Ayden taught me how to pick up that energy. I think there was someone else in the park with us, and they left just about the time the demons did.”

  “A summoner, maybe?” Stewart said.

  “Or some other sort of magic user,” Beck said. “I know I saw three demons, and only one was left when we were done.”

  “If someone is conjurin’ these things up, that’s a dangerous distraction,” Stewart said, pensive. “Ya’d be splittin’ yer forces, thinkin’ ya’ve got more Hellspawn than ya do.”

  “But why? What’s the point of fakin’ a demon? Is it some sort of prank?” Beck asked.

  None of them knew the answer.

  “For right now, let’s not share this with the rest of the Guild,” Harper advised. “I’ll talk to Jackson and ask him to keep it quiet. If someone else says this has happened to them, we can let the rest know.” He looked over at Riley now. “Since you were involved, it’s best we keep this under our hat.”

  “Because some will think I’m doing something to cause this?”

  Harper nodded. “You have enough enemies as it is. No need to give them even more fuel.”

  “While I’m home, I’ll try to be Riley’s backup if I’m free,” Beck said. “If I’m not with her, whoever she’s trappin’ with has to be someone she can trust.”

  Harper nodded. “Already done. Oh, and one other thing.” He paused for only a moment. “Master Northrup of the National Guild is flying in this afternoon.”

  “We’ll try ta get an answer out of him about yer application for master status,” Stewart said.

  “What about the Vatican?” Riley asked, her voice quieter now. “Do they know I’m learning magic?”

  Beck and the other grand master traded looks.

  “They know what yer up ta,” Stewart said. “They don’t like it, but so far they’ve not made any moves that threaten yer freedom.”

  She couldn’t help but notice that her fiancé was avoiding her eyes now.

  “That’s why you’re home early, isn’t it, Den?”

  His eyes turned toward her, followed by a guilty expression.

  “Yeah. Elias Salvatore came to the manor to let me know that Rome is gettin’ skittish about yer studies.”

  “Just. Great. I asked you why you’re home early, and you didn’t say a word about the Vatican. You want to tell me why that is?”

  Stewart cleared his throat. “I’m thinkin’ this is a conversation best held in private. So off ya go, ya two.”

  He was right. Because this was likely to turn into a major argument, one they’d had before and one she’d thought resolved.

  Riley thanked the masters, then clamped her mouth shut and was out the door, headed for Beck’s truck, before either had a chance to reply.

  “Riley.”

  She whirled around to find him close on her heels. “Why didn’t you tell me? Is MacTavish having you spy on me so he can report back to Elias and Rosetti?”

  Beck frowned. “It’s not like that.”

  “The hell it isn’t. Every time I sneeze, a report goes flying off to Rome. I’m sick of it. Do you understand?”

  “I do, but there’s no way out of it. You made a mistake with that damned Fallen angel and you’ll be payin’ for that the rest of yer life.”

  “You can’t still be jealous of Ori.”

  “I’m not. Well, not much. But it’s the truth. Yer either one of the most talented trappers the world has ever seen, or yer one helluva threat. Rome doesn’t know which, and they’re tryin’ to figure it out.”

  “And you? What do you think?”

  “Ah, Riley,” he said, stepping closer. He touched her cheek. “You used yer boon from Lucifer to help Ori. You put yerself between me and Sartael, riskin’ yer life against an Archangel to try to save me. You couldn’t be evil if you tried. It’s just not in you.”

  Her anger tamped down a bit. “How do I convince others of that?”

  “Keep doin’ what yer doin’. There’s some reason you can sense these thread things. There’s also some reason yer trainin’ with both a necro and a witch. But don’t be surprised that it’s scarin’ folks. That’s just the way of it.”

  She looked away, still angry. “Next time, tell me what’s going on. I don’t like not knowing. Makes me feel stupid. It makes me feel like a kid.”

  “That wasn’t my intention. I’ll try to be more open from now on.” He cocked his head. “But keepin’ secrets goes both ways. Anythin’ you need to tell me?”

  She frowned. “No.”

  “How about a weddin’ date? That’d be a good place to start.”

  Riley huffed and turned away from him. “There’s no rush.”

  From the hurt expression on Beck’s face, that wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear.

  Chapter Seventeen

  That evening Riley found herself at the Summoners Society’s headquarters, a three-story, gray stone building, lit up like some big party was in progress. Except tonight it was all about her being “inducted” into the society, provided that everyone played nice. Mort had already warned her that might not happen.

  Beck studied the building as he leaned against the side of his truck. He was slightly more dressed up than usual, in nice slacks and a black sweater, even though he insisted he wasn’t going inside for the ceremony. “Hasn’t changed at all,” he observed.

  “Nothing much does with them.”

  “Are we okay?” he asked, looking over at her now.

  Which explained why he’d been so quiet this afternoon—he was still brooding about her refusal to set a wedding date.

  “We’re good.” She looked toward the building again, wanting to change the subject. “Remember the night my dad showed up in the middle of their meeting?”

  “I’ll never forget it.”

  Lord Ozymandias had stolen her reanimated father away from Mort’s care, and then returned him to her at the summoners’ meeting. Her father had been a mental mess, under a confusion spell, one that conveniently vanished right before the battle at the cemetery. Now, she knew it had all been part of Ozy’s plan to defeat the rogue angel Sartael, but at the time, it had broken her heart.

  “I don’t know how long this is going to take,” she admitted. “Could be a couple hours. You don’t have to wait out here for me.”

  “That’s okay. I brought a book. I’ve got a thermos of coffee and a blanket if I get chilly.”

  Her own smile caught her unawares. “Do you realize how amazing that sounds?
You sitting in your truck with a book?”

  Beck thought about that, then nodded. “I catch myself sometimes just readin’ along like it’s no big deal. I know how much of a blessin’ that is. How much of my whole life is a blessin’ now.” He touched her cheek. “Sorry I acted like a jerk this afternoon. I don’t like keepin’ stuff from you.”

  Now she felt guilty because she sure hadn’t told him about her chat with Lucifer in the cemetery.

  When she didn’t say anything, Beck continued, “You go mess around with the corpse stealers, and when it’s all over, we’ll get some barbecue. Okay?”

  “Sounds good.” Riley tipped up on her toes, gave him a kiss, and set off for the big stone mansion, the guilt still present.

  “Lookin’ fine,” he called after her.

  She wiggled her butt at him.

  “No, I was wrong. Yer lookin’ mighty fine, Princess.”

  She laughed and kept walking. I love you so much.

  Just like the last time, Riley was met at the door by a dour butler. He had lost weight, but she didn’t think it was right to mention it. Some folks could be touchy about that. Apparently this was also a holiday party, as he wore a Santa hat. It made him look silly, but again, she didn’t mention that.

  “Blackthorne, Riley,” he said, checking her name off a list and taking her coat. “Summoner Alexander is already inside.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  With a deep breath, Riley headed toward the ballroom. She’d made a point of wearing a dress, the green long-sleeved one she’d taken to Edinburgh in October. Along with the pretty earrings Beck had given her, knee-high black boots, and makeup, she looked good. Mortimer was putting his reputation on the line for her, so she’d repay that gesture with respect.

  Though it was against Ayden’s instructions, Riley had left the amulet in the truck. She knew better than to wear a witchy item in the midst of a bunch of summoners. They’d scent that magic like hounds after a hare, and the reaction would be about the same: lots of howling.

  Nevertheless, she hadn’t taken off her demon-claw necklace. In fact, she’d left it outside her dress, right there for all to see. She was a trapper first and foremost. If all went well tonight, she’d become a member of the Summoners Society so she could keep studying with Mort. If not, she’d just have to find another way to keep herself and Beck safe.