by Jana Oliver
“Riley,” Mort said, waving her in. “That didn’t take long.”
“Bad news never does,” she said. “Lord Ozymandias.”
She usually wasn’t that polite to this dude, but she was a member of the Summoners Society now and someday she’d be studying with him. No reason to piss him off too soon. No doubt her mouth would get that job done eventually.
“Ms. Blackthorne. I realized that I’ve failed to congratulate you on your engagement to that young man who killed my Hellish tormentor. So, congratulations. If Beck can handle a raving-mad Archangel, he’ll do fine with you.”
Which sounded like a compliment, but . . .
She grinned. “Thanks. I’ll let him know you said that. Somehow I don’t think he’d disagree.”
“No doubt.”
Riley chose an overstuffed chair and sank into it, surprised at how tired she was. “What’s up, guys?”
“I gather Rada told you about what the National Guild is planning?” Ozy said.
Rada? He was on a first-name basis with the oldest witch in the city?
“Yes. It wasn’t hard to figure out that it’s a totally dumbass move, either.”
“Indeed. Makes me wonder why they’re even considering it.”
“Some trappers just can’t deal with magic,” she said.
“And some trappers are wise enough to know they need it anyway,” Ozy shot back. “Like you. I understand your superiors have warned you away from us. Clearly you are ignoring that order.”
“I don’t obey stupid people.”
Ozy actually smiled. “Good for you. The problem is, if they refuse to use magic, that is just the opening gambit. What’s next? Will there be a backlash against those of us who do? Will there be laws passed requiring that no magic be used on the Sabbath, for example? Or that it be regulated by the state or local authorities? We have enough of that when we’re summoning the dead.”
“You think this is a war against magic?”
“Yes, and I think this is just the opening salvo.”
“So what are you guys going to do about this?” Riley asked.
Mort shrugged. “Not much we can do. It would only backfire on us if we were seen to be meddling with trapper policies, no matter how ignorant those policies may be.”
“You’re absolutely correct,” Ozy said, looking back at her now. “Which means . . . ”
“Let me guess,” Riley said. “It’s all on my shoulders, right?”
“How thoughtful of you to volunteer,” he replied smoothly.
“I’m not volunteering, and you know it. I’m stuck in the middle again, and that means it sucks to be me.”
“And that is different . . . how?” Ozy said, a hint of uncharacteristic humor in his voice.
She opened her mouth and closed it again. Then began to grin. “Yeah, situation normal, all screwed up.”
“That being said, you do have leverage, and I’m sure that Rada has already pointed that out.”
“I got jack, Ozy; come on, you know that.”
Mort twitched at her shortening of his superior’s name, but His Lordship didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she thought he kind of liked it.
“On the contrary, you have some powerful allies. The witches, us, a number of trappers, the grand masters. You just need to learn how to use all of that to your best advantage.”
“Yeah, well, it looks like I don’t have a choice. But if I can make National back off and not do this stupid thing, you’ll owe me a favor as head of the necromancers.”
“Such as?”
“One of you and one of the witches will need to actually talk every now and then. Compare notes, that sorta thing. Build a bond. Stop being enemies.”
“Did you demand the same of Rada?” Ozymandias asked.
Riley nodded. “She agreed to my terms.”
“Then I shall as well.”
Riley had to fight to keep the astonishment off her face. That had gone far too easily, which meant Ozy had some sort of ulterior motive for playing nice.
She rose, really wanting to get home to Beck and away from all the stupid politics.
“Any luck figuring out who summoned the Five?” Mort asked.
“No. Stewart thinks it might have been a higher-level demon, which is not good news.” I’d rather it be some lovesick witch.
“Have you been practicing the techniques I taught you?” Mort asked.
“Yes, I have.” In between all the drama.
“Good. It may be the only way to keep yourself safe. If a demon can walk right up to you, and you have no idea it’s not what it appears to be, then you have no chance at all.”
Tell me about it.
Chapter Thirty
It wasn’t until Riley was snuggled in bed next to Beck that she confessed where she’d been and what had gone down.
He didn’t seem surprised. “Anyone see you?”
“I’m at the point where I don’t care anymore. They pull my license or they don’t. Like you said, I’m more than just a demon trapper.”
He kissed her on the forehead. “So why were those folks so eager to talk to you?”
First she let him know about Mrs. Litinsky, and was pleased to learn that Beck had been as clueless as she’d been.
“I’ll be damned. I just thought she was some sweet little old lady.”
“She is, but she rules those witches with an iron fist. Now, for the bad news.” Riley let the bomb drop about Northrup’s plan to ban magic.
Beck abruptly sat up in bed. “Are they fuckin’ crazy?” he demanded. He rarely swore like that, but in this case it was justified.
“Maybe. I’m not sure yet. I might have an idea of how to handle them.”
“Such as?” he asked, staring down at her with such a deep frown, she wondered if he’d ever smile again.
“I think they’re trying to use me as their ‘here’s why magic is bad’ poster child. That’s why they’re setting me up to fail.”
“And?”
“I also think if National’s plan is revealed before they’re ready, it’ll explode in Northrup’s face. The other board members won’t want to take all the heat and they’ll back off. Especially if the everyday folks find out exactly how much magic they use without realizing it.”
“How will you pull this off though? It’s not going to be easy.”
Riley had to agree. “I have an awesome weapon, one that is tenacious and in-your-face and can’t be bought off, even if she does have a clothes budget that would bankrupt a small country.”
Beck caught on immediately. “Justine? You go there, and there might not be any way back into the Guild for you. They’ll see you as a traitor.”
“Better a traitor than allow those morons to get more trappers killed.”
“It’s still a dangerous move.”
“I know. That’s why I’ll do it, not you or any of the others. Northrup and whoever’s supporting him already hate me. Might as well go for the gold.”
He whistled under his breath. “We need to let the masters know.”
“You warn them; just keep your distance so if it does explode, none of the crap hits you.”
Beck’s lengthy sigh told her he wasn’t happy about her falling on this particular metaphorical grenade. He pulled himself free and slipped out of the bedroom, headed toward the front of the house. Riley heard him rooting around in the supply cupboard, the one where they stored their trapping supplies. When he returned to the bedroom, he was carrying a short sword in a scabbard. He set it on the nightstand.
She leaned up on her elbows. “I promise I’ll stop stealing the covers. Honest. No need to arm yourself.”
He didn’t laugh. “That’s for you. You know how to use a sword—the angel taught you. I want you to carry this with you from now on. The demons aren’t your onl
y enemies.”
“Ohhkay . . . ” Riley knew it was better not to argue with him when he was in protector mode.
She waited until he was back in bed, then tugged on his arm, pulling him close. “I’ll be careful.”
Beck touched her cheek, then kissed her.
“You are anythin’ but careful, Riley,” he whispered. “And I love you more than I can ever say.”
“That’s exactly why I won’t let these fools win.”
*~*~*
Riley met her former nemesis at the cemetery early the next morning. It was the kind of place where if anyone was following her, they’d stand out; and she wouldn’t have to worry about demons here. Given what had gone down with the witches last night, Riley felt pretty safe from them as well. That left the National Guild and a certain Prince.
Justine exited her rental sports car wearing jeans, a short leather coat, and an Atlanta Braves T-shirt. No matter how much she dressed down, she’d always look like a fashion model. Just good bone structure, maybe.
She slept with Beck. Judging from the bad-boy smile that used to creep onto his face nearly every time she was mentioned, back before he and Riley became a couple, his time with Justine must have been off the charts.
Riley sighed. There was no way that history would go away, so she just had to deal. Now she knew exactly how her guy felt every time she mentioned Ori.
“Good morning,” the woman said, joining her on the steps of her family mausoleum.
“Thanks for coming to talk to me. I think what I have to tell you will be of interest.”
“Can I record the interview?”
Riley shook her head. “No. Not because I’m worried about me, but there are other people involved.”
Justine nodded and put the recorder away. “Is this about the National Guild?” she asked.
“Yes. You’ve heard things?”
“I’ve heard some rumors that I find really outlandish. So what can you tell me?”
Riley laid it all out, what she’d heard from the witches, how their source had an inside track to what was happening at the National level.
Justine didn’t seem surprised. “That’s the rumor I heard. You sure it’s legitimate?”
“Yes. The witches are spooked, and so are the necromancers.”
“Why the latter?”
“Lord Ozymandias wonders if this is just an opening play to add greater restrictions on the use of any kind of magic.”
Justine tapped her chin with her gold pen. “That is a possibility. There is a new group of ‘concerned citizens’ who want all magic banned, even something as simple as wearing a talisman or carrying a rose quartz. They’re still very small, but gaining influence.”
“I’m willing to bet a year’s worth of hot chocolate that a certain Hellish Prince is behind this. It’s just his style.”
“I’ll defer to your knowledge on that,” Justine replied. Her meticulously plucked brows furrowed in thought. “I’ll make some phone calls, see what I can scare up.” She hesitated. “What will you do if you no longer have a trapper’s license?”
“Not sure. I could go freelance, but those guys are rough and it’d be even more dangerous. I could help Simon out until the Vatican assigns him his next location.”
“I’ve heard the Vatican is thinking of allowing women to join the Demon Hunters somewhere down the line, though not soon enough to solve your problem.”
Riley stared at her. “Really?” Justine nodded. “Well, I’m not Catholic so that won’t be much help.”
“At the speed Rome moves, it could be a decade or more before any changes occur. Nothing goes fast with those people.”
But it would be fast enough for Carrina.
“Demonland finally get to them, did it?” Hollywood’s idea of the Demon Hunters drove the Vatican batty, but then, it did Riley as well.
Justine smiled. “Partly. But I think it’s more than that. You have made ripples in Rome.”
“Not always in a good way, either.”
“You might be surprised,” Justine said. Since the captain of the Demon Hunters was an ex-boyfriend, she might not be exaggerating.
Justine rose and dusted off her jeans. “I’ll let you know what I find out. If this is what the National Guild is planning, you’re up against some very powerful people.”
“I’m not worried.”
“You should be. For the record, I see why Beck loves you.”
“And for the record, you have to know I hated you like crazy.”
“Hated as in past tense?”
“You’re growing on me, Justine,” Riley said, grinning.
“The ring on my finger helped, didn’t it?”
“A little. It’s more that I found out you can get just as dirty as me.”
The reporter laughed and headed for her car. “I’ll be in touch. Be careful.”
“Same to you. If they’ll try to stop me, they’ll do the same to you.”
“They can try,” the woman replied.
Chapter Thirty-One
When Northrup entered Harper’s office, Riley was head-down in Guild paperwork, rocking away to the tunes coming from her earbuds.
“Where’s Harper?”
“Good morning to you too,” she said.
Her boss stepped out of the kitchen, coffee cup in hand. “I’m here. What do you want?”
“I’ve been told this trapper was in the company of a necromancer last night.”
Crap.
“When?” Harper asked.
“The time doesn’t matter, it’s the—”
“It does to me.”
Northrup fluffed up. “At about seven.”
Which was a total lie, since she’d been with the witches at that point.
Harper raised an eyebrow at her. “Blackthorne?”
“Seven? Nope. Where was this meeting supposed to have happened?”
“In what you call Demon Central.”
“I wasn’t down there last night. I wasn’t on call.”
“Then where were you?”
“Anything else you need?” Harper cut in.
Northrup scowled. Had he been enough of an idiot to think her master would just believe his lie? Apparently so.
“I got called by a reporter named Armando this morning, and she asked all sorts of questions that told me someone’s been blabbing about what’s going on in our meetings. Would you know anything about that?”
Harper sat at his desk, placing his coffee near a stack of papers. “I know the woman. She reported on the demon battles we had last spring.”
“So you’ve been talking to her?”
“Not since last spring.”
That was cagey; Stewart had been chatting with her, but Harper didn’t bother to mention that.
Northrup’s eyes narrowed. “I spoke to the archbishop about you,” he said, pointing at Riley.
“Okay.” There wasn’t much else she could say.
“If the Church has a problem with Blackthorne, they need to come to me,” Harper said.
Northrup ground his teeth, which indicated that maybe his time with the archbishop hadn’t been as successful as he’d hoped. “I’m calling a Guild meeting tonight at eight. Make sure all your people are there. Every one of them. There are going to be some changes made.”
“I’ll let them know,” Harper said, acting bored.
The National Guild’s representative left, purposely allowing the door to slam behind him.
“So who were you talking to at seven last night?” her master asked.
“The witches, so I didn’t lie to that fool.”
Harper guffawed, a sound so rare she suspected Lucifer had just completed a triple Axel on his new skating rink in Hell.
“Why did he call a meeting?” she asked.
“Stewart thinks this asshole’s next move will be to disband the local Guild.”
“What? He wouldn’t!”
“He most likely will. Let’s just hope that reporter lady can crack this mess wide open, so we can demand a recall election.”
“And if not?”
“Then the Atlanta Guild may well go freelance.”
“The entire Guild?” she said, astounded. That was radical even by Harper’s standards.
“It’s the worst option, but I sure as hell am not sending anyone out to trap demons unless they’ve got magic in their bags. I will not bury any more of my people. This shit has to end.”
Spoken like a badass master who was willing to do anything to keep his people safe. Riley’s respect for the man nudged up another notch.
“Amen,” she murmured, then stuffed her earbuds back in and returned to reconciling the run reports. All Hell might break loose tonight, but the paperwork always had to be done.
*~*~*
Riley pulled into the church parking lot early, her gut churning in worry about exactly what would happen during the trappers’ meeting. She’d talked to Justine and they’d made their plans, but as she saw it, there were only a few scenarios, none of them good. The more she thought about it, the more she agreed with Stewart—Master Northrup would strip the city’s Guild of its official status.
Northrup had the right to do just that, but only in extreme cases, where the master was completely ineffective or compromised by Hell. Neither of which applied to this situation.
What did he and the other National Guild officers gain by pissing off the local trappers? Why did they want to separate Atlanta from the herd?
Before she could work through potential answers, her phone lit up. “Hey, Den. So where are you?”
“Runnin’ a bit late. I’ll be there in about ten minutes. The masters and me were plannin’ some strategy. You talk to Justine?”
“Yeah, we’re set.”
Riley pulled herself out of her car, more tired than she had a right to be. As she hiked across the parking lot, she heard a noise behind her and turned. It was Kurt. She waved at him, but he didn’t respond. She didn’t see his car, so he must have walked to the meeting.