Mind Games

by Jana Oliver

  He took a deep breath. “This evenin’ we share our table with his bonnie lass, Riley, and her young man, Denver. They are Paul’s legacy, and as much family as the rest of ya. Rest in peace, my friend, for ya’ll always be missed. Slàinte mhath.”

  “Slàinte mhath,” many called back.

  Her eyes misting, Riley took a sip of her wine, thinking of her father and mother. I miss you. I love you. Merry Christmas.

  *~*~*

  Once supper was done—Riley found she could barely move—their host beckoned her and Beck away from the boisterous group, who had gathered near the tree in anticipation of opening the presents.

  “I’ve got somethin’ ta show ya.”

  They ended up in Stewart’s library, where he handed over a newspaper. He tapped a finger on a particular article, one with Justine’s byline.

  Recall Election Slated for

  National Demon Trappers Guild

  Class Action Discrimination Lawsuit Threatened

  Atlanta Guild Demands Accountability

  “Oh boy. Justine’s a tigress, isn’t she?” Riley said.

  “A married one. The best kind,” Stewart said, winking.

  “Hey, I got good taste in women,” Beck said.

  Riley shot an elbow into his ribs and received a satisfying “oof” in return.

  “Can we really kick these guys off the board?” she asked.

  “We’ll find out,” Stewart said, clearly energized about the news. “The votin’ starts on Thursday. If the recall doesn’t pass, Harper has five other guilds lookin’ ta go independent. There’s a lot of shady dealin’s goin’ on; the problems we’re havin’ with this bunch are only the tip of the iceberg. It’s a shame. They were good until about five years or so ago. Then it changed.”

  “So there’s still a chance I might make master?” Riley asked.

  “Possible. We’ll see soon enough.”

  Riley nodded, setting the paper on the table.

  “Ah.” She looked over at Beck for support, and he nodded back. “When we get married, I wondered if you’d be willing to, well, walk me down the aisle?”

  The Scotsman blinked repeatedly as his eyes grew moist.

  “I’d be honored ta escort ya ta marry this fine young lad,” he said. “I’ve grown verra fond of ya this last year, Riley. Yer just like a daughter ta me.”

  Her own eyes began to brim. “Thank you. You mean so much to me, too.”

  “Ya thinkin’ of havin’ the weddin’ here? I know ya love my back flower garden so much, and we have plenty of space upstairs in the ballroom for a reception.”

  Riley couldn’t believe her ears. “Here? In the flower garden?”

  “Certainly. Mrs. Ayers can help with the cookin’. She’d love it.”

  “Oh my God, that’s perfect. Thank you, Angus.”

  She hugged him hard and he returned it, his eyes nearly as wet as hers now.

  “Ah, well, now we best get back ta the rest of the family. The bairns are eager ta open their presents.” He turned to Beck. “Later, we gotta have a taste of that whisky ya brought. Let’s see if those Welsh folks are as good at distillin’ as they claim.”

  As they walked out of the room, Beck dropped a kiss on her forehead.

  “Did you have something to do with him letting us get married here?” she asked.

  Beck shook his head. “His doin’.” Then he grinned. “So yer really gonna marry me, huh?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Then that’s another miracle in a life full of ’em.”

  *~*~*

  They shuffled into their house close to midnight, tired, happy, and still full of food. Riley collapsed on the couch, then promptly nestled into Beck’s arms.

  “That was awesome. I love his house. Yours is neat, but man, that library. I could spend my whole life in there.”

  Beck chuckled. “Spoken just like a teacher’s kid.”

  “Once you’re home for good, Stewart will be going back to Scotland, right?” He nodded. “I’m glad for him, but I’ll really miss him. He’s just so cool.”

  “It’ll be a year or so before he leaves, once he’s sure I’m ready to take it all on by myself. Then you and me have to make a decision.”

  His serious tone caught her notice, so she wiggled around until she could see his face. “About what?”

  “That house you love? Stewart doesn’t own it. The International Guild does. So once I take over his work, we can move there. That is, if you would be okay with that?”

  Her jaw dropped open as her brain seized up. Beck reached over with a finger and gently pushed her mouth closed.

  “Yeah, blew me away when he told me, too. It’s a big decision. Now, I love this place, but Stewart’s house? Damn, it’s right fine.”

  “That. Is. Amazing.”

  “Thought you’d like that bit of news.”

  “But there’s gotta be a catch.”

  “There is. Unlike Stewart, I’ll be travelin’ more, almost all of it on the East Coast. He didn’t do much of that because of his leg. Accordin’ to the folks in Scotland, they want me ‘oot and aboot,’ as MacTavish put it.”

  She laughed. “Travel, huh?”

  “Yeah. You can come with me, or stay put; it all depends on what you want to do.”

  She snuggled in next to him. “I’ll see. You know, that’s one big house.”

  “Yup. Lots of room for books. And kids.”

  She closed her eyes, trying to imagine what it would be like to live there. Mornings in the kitchen, nights in the big room with the fireplace. Someday, children running up and down the stairs, playing hide-and-seek.

  “Riley?”

  “Yeah?”

  “We’ve got a visitor.”

  She opened her eyes to find the Magpie perched on the coffee table in front of them. He looked around, nervous.

  “Hi, guy. Merry Christmas.” Then she realized that might not be what a demon wanted to hear.

  He grinned in response, showing all those nasty sharp teeth, and set his bag of loot down. He rooted around in it, then pulled out something silver and laid it in front of her, followed by a pleased squeak.

  Riley leaned over to study it and smiled. “It’s the earring I found in Centennial Park all those years ago. He likes to keep it safe for me,” she explained, though it was more like he kept stealing it. She’d find it somewhere, then he’d steal it all over again.

  The fiend rummaged around in the bag again and came up with another earring, laying it alongside the first one. It was its mate.

  “You are the bomb, demon! Thank you! How did you find it?”

  The Magpie smiled back again.

  “Hold on, I have something for you.”

  Riley pulled herself off the couch and went to the Christmas tree, picking up a small cylinder wrapped in green paper. When she returned to the couch, she found Beck watching the demon in wonder.

  “He always like this?”

  “Yup. He’s great. Just very possessive.”

  She opened the little present, popped the top on the plastic tube, and ran a line of glitter on the tabletop in front of the Magpie. It wasn’t just the usual kind of glitter, but included tiny gold stars and brightly colored crystal diamonds.

  The demon gasped, fell to his knees, and touched the offering with deep reverence.

  “I was going to get him some with little prisms in it because they were really neat, but that would have just messed with his head.”

  “How?” Beck asked, leaning forward.

  “Because he’s very OCD. See?”

  Beck watched as the small demon carefully sorted the glitter out into distinct piles according to color, then according to shape.

  “I’ll be damned. Look at that.”

  The Magpie held up one of
the little red diamonds, then hugged it to his chest. Then he squeaked at her.

  “Thank you. I’m glad you like it,” she replied. He squeaked again.

  “What did he say?” Beck asked, curious.

  “That I’m the nicest mortal he’s ever met.”

  Her fiancé laughed. “He’s got that right.”

  A second later the demon and all his loot were gone, the tiny pitter-patter of feet indicating he was headed somewhere at high speed.

  “Now I’ve seen everything,” Beck said. He nuzzled her ear. “Merry Christmas. How’s about we go to bed now?”

  Riley heard the huskiness in his voice and knew what it meant, but decided to mess with his head.

  “What about the presents? I got you some really cool ones.”

  “We can open ’em in the mornin’. We need our rest.”

  “Merry Christmas, Den,” she said, kissing his cheek.

  “Merry Christmas, Riley,” he said. Then he shot a look at the gifts under the tree. “Well, maybe just one . . . ”

  “Gotcha!”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Beck’s last few days in the States had been busy. In addition to dealing with Guild business, he and Riley had gotten their marriage license, then headed to South Georgia, where they’d spent time with his buddy Tom Donovan and Tom’s daughter down in Sadlersville. They’d also visited his ex-girlfriend Louisa, her husband, and their baby. When he’d held the little girl, he’d seen a wistful look in Riley’s eyes.

  Someday. Just not yet. There was too much to be settled before they started a family, and they were both young. When they did have their first baby, he knew he’d be ready.

  The bittersweet part of the trip had been visiting his mother’s grave, especially after she’d saved him from Hell. He’d never understood Sadie, but when he’d needed her the most, she’d been there for him. In her own way, she’d paid off her debt. If God was merciful, she’d be set free soon.

  As Beck knelt in front of the grave, he spent some time telling her how things were going, as if she could hear him. Perhaps she could. Then he wept, and it was Riley who held him as he finally vented his grief. The lost little boy wasn’t alone anymore.

  *~*~*

  Once back home, they’d made the rounds, spending time with Peter, who’d returned from his family vacation, with Riley’s other friend Simi, then visiting Mrs. Litinsky and Mort.

  Beck had gone out for a night with the trappers that involved too much beer and a designated driver. Riley had helped Simon with another exorcism.

  Beck made sure that he and his lady spent their last day together as lovers should. It was a day he would remember forever. Even when they said goodbye at the airport with a scorching kiss, it wasn’t enough.

  Never will be. Like his beloved granddaddy, Beck had found the one woman who would stand by him, and he had no intention of ever letting her go.

  Now, as he sat on the plane, his phone pinged. He smiled, knowing who it was.

  MISSING YOU ALREADY. IS IT MARCH YET?

  I’LL BE HOME SOON. I PROMISE.

  STAY SAFE. I LOVE YOU.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  Because if it weren’t for Riley Blackthorne, he wouldn’t have known what it was like to have a future.

  Epilogue

  Beck arrived in Edinburgh the afternoon of the thirty-first and checked into the hotel MacTavish had booked for them. All his superior had said was, “Get some rest. It’ll be a late night.”

  Beck did as ordered, taking a combat nap for a couple hours. When he awoke, groggy, he dragged himself into the shower. As the hot water sluiced down his body, he shook his head to clear it. As always, his thoughts were on the woman he’d left behind and how he wished she was with him now.

  As promised, MacTavish arrived at six.

  He said, “Good evenin’, lad,” and had the bellhop hand over a garment bag, which held Beck’s kilt and all the trimmings. Beck wisely kept his groan to himself. At first, he hadn’t been good with all this fanciness, but now he was beginning to like it. Not that he’d ever admit that to Riley.

  By the time he’d finished dressing—and he swore it took longer than Riley when she wore all her makeup—MacTavish was decked out as well, wearing one of his clan’s modern tartans, mostly red, blue, and black.

  “What’s goin’ on that we need to get all duded up for?” Beck asked.

  “Supper at The Witchery with two influential members of the Scottish parliament,” MacTavish replied, adjusting one of the flashes tucked into his socks.

  Beck knew of the restaurant, had even saved up money to take Riley there, though it was pricey. Given the way things had fallen out during her visit, they hadn’t had the chance. Maybe someday.

  So, on the last day of the year, he hung with Scottish politicians. He made sure to be polite as he was introduced around as Grand Master Beck from America, handed a glass of expensive single malt whisky that was older than he was, then served excellent Loch Duart salmon. It was surreal.

  The conversation remained genial and had nothing to do with demons or Hell or Lucifer. He appreciated that. They were “buildin’ bridges,” as MacTavish called it. Beck held his own as the token Yank and even generated a few laughs.

  His situation and this setting were as far removed from South Georgia and a life of poverty as he could imagine. And yet, Beck knew this was where he was meant to be.

  Silently, he offered a toast to the Fallen angel whose soul now resided on top of the Blackthorne mausoleum. Without Ori’s help, he’d have died at Sartael’s hands, and he’d never forget that. Then he took another sip of whisky in honor of Paul and Sadie.

  Once dinner was over, a quick cab ride delivered Beck and his superior to a private club on Princes Street, where there was more whisky, along with hand-rolled cigars. It was like living in a dream.

  “No doubt yer wonderin’ why we’re here,” MacTavish said.

  “More bridge buildin’?”

  “Aye, it never hurts ta glad-hand the power brokers, and there’s a few of them in this room. Someday ya might need one of these folks ta help ya, and if they remember ya as a good soul, that makes it much easier.”

  MacTavish took a deep sip of his whisky. “And this particular club has one of the best views of the castle, which will become verra important right soon.”

  Because of the fireworks.

  With that thought came a genuine flare of guilt. Beck had really wanted to stay in Atlanta with Riley and celebrate their first New Year’s together as a couple, but Edinburgh knew how to throw a party. Stewart had insisted that Hogmanay—as the Scots called New Year’s Eve—was not something to be missed, so Beck had made the difficult choice. He might not have the chance again.

  “Heard from Riley?” his superior asked, eyeing him.

  “Nope. She’s not set the weddin’ date yet. It’s drivin’ me crazy.”

  MacTavish chuckled. “Women are like that, lad. She’ll tell ya in her own good time.”

  “I made her promise to tell me by New Year’s. Doesn’t look like that’s gonna happen.”

  MacTavish just smiled when Beck’s phone pinged and he checked the text. It was from Riley, as if she’d known he was talking about her.

  LOOK WHAT WAS IN THE PAPER TODAY

  The text included an image of an engagement announcement. He caught the headline and grinned.

  “She did it!” He handed the phone to his companion.

  “So now yer really on the hook,” MacTavish said, scanning the text. Then he smiled. “Did ya read all of this?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Allow me. See if ya catch the other important bit.” MacTavish cleared his throat. “‘Ms. Riley A. Blackthorne and Mr. Denver Beck are pleased ta announce their engagement. Ms. Blackthorne is a master demon trapper in the National Demon Trappers
Guild, the daughter of—’”

  Beck snatched the phone away from him.

  Blackthorne & Beck

  Ms. Riley A. Blackthorne and Mr. Denver Beck are pleased to announce their engagement. Ms. Blackthorne is a master demon trapper in the National Demon Trappers Guild, the daughter of the late Master Paul Blackthorne and Miriam (Henley) Blackthorne. Denver Beck is a grand master initiate in the International Demon Trappers Guild, the son of the late Sadie Beck. An April 6th wedding is planned.

  “My God, she finally made master!” Beck exclaimed. He knew he was drawing attention from others in the room, but he didn’t give a damn. This was too important. Riley had achieved one of her dreams.

  MacTavish beamed impishly.

  “You knew about this, didn’t you?”

  “I did. I promised Angus I’d let her tell ya in her own way.”

  “You old fox. Both you and Stewart.”

  Then Beck looked back at the announcement. “She even set the wedding date,” he said, smiling. And she’d told him right under his New Year’s deadline.

  Beck dialed Riley’s number and she answered, laughing.

  “Hey you!” she said. “Think you can stand being married to a master trapper?”

  “Hell, yes. You deserve this, Princess. Paul and yer momma would be so proud of you. Oh, and I see we’re getting married in April, huh?”

  “Yup. Me in my dress and you in your kilt and all the extra things that go with it. Stewart will be in his, that’s for sure.”

  “Yer really gonna hold me to that?”

  “I am, Den. I love you, but I love you even more in a kilt.”

  He laughed. “Understood. Happy New Year, pretty lady. I love you. I’ll see you soon!”

  “Happy New Year!”

  He ended the call and found MacTavish’s eyes dancing with delight. The grand master pointed out the window. Above the centuries-old fortress, a curtain of fireworks exploded in the night sky, the brilliant colors raining down like angel fire.

  “Happy New Year, lad. May this one be filled with love, with peace, and with fewer demons.”

  “Amen.” Then Beck blurted, “She’s like those fireworks,” gesturing toward the night sky. “Riley. She brings light into my life. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her.” For her fierce love.