by Jana Oliver
“But we’re going to get our tree.”
“Now,” Beck repeated.
“Maybe they decided to make me a master and he wants to tell me in person,” she said, though her gut told her that wasn’t going to be the case.
“I wouldn’t count on that.”
“Why?” she asked, growing nervous.
“Because Harper said I should drive you over and he wants me at the meeting. He sounded damned angry.”
“That’s not good.”
“No shit.”
*~*~*
Unlike most of Stewart’s visitors, the Guild’s representative was not in the living room. Instead, he was in a room in the back of the house, a location that Stewart used for people he didn’t like.
Clad in a nondescript shirt and slacks, Master Northrup sat in the corner in what had to be an uncomfortable chair, no doubt designed that way to ensure the visitor didn’t feel the need to linger. The Scottish were known for their hospitality, unless they considered you the enemy.
A messenger bag rested at Northrup’s feet. He looked to be in his mid-fifties or so, thick waisted, with bushy eyebrows that needed taming. He sported an expression that said he didn’t like much of anything. Riley bet he kicked small children in his spare time.
Stewart and Harper looked like they’d love an excuse to rip this guy to pieces. That wasn’t good news. They both held a dim view of the National Guild; the language they used to describe the masters on the board was scathing and, in Harper’s case, often foul. Given some of National’s stupid regulations and their love of useless paperwork, she could understand the loathing.
If he tells me they turned down my application . . .
Once they were settled in their chairs—Riley noted there was no offer of beverages, which was usually the gold standard in Stewart’s household—the grand master gestured at the visitor. “Ya have the floor. Make it count.”
Northrup shot him a glower, perhaps for being reminded that he was lower on the totem pole than Stewart. Nevertheless, he was and there was no getting around that.
“First of all, why is he here?” Northrup asked, pointing at Beck.
“He is here because he is a grand master and Riley’s fiancé,” Stewart replied.
“I know that,” Northrup snapped. “He has no role in this business.”
“Aye, but he does. Once Beck’s fully initiated, he’ll be takin’ my place here in Atlanta. So he has every right ta be here.”
“Yeah, I do,” Beck said, crossing his arms over his chest. It was his you’ve-already-pissed-me-off look. “What happens to Riley affects me. So get on with it.”
“I’ll remember your lack of respect,” Northrup replied.
“Good,” Beck said. “Respect has to be earned. Yer not doin’ it right.”
Northrup huffed, then opened a file folder he’d retrieved from the messenger bag. He studied it, then looked up at Riley, as if comparing her with the photo attached to the top sheet.
“Your application for master is denied.”
He hadn’t even bothered to be civil, just delivered the news like a death sentence.
“Why?” Riley asked.
“You don’t qualify,” he said tersely.
“I killed an Archfiend and I passed the exam,” she said. “Master Harper sent the results to you people. Surely you know that.”
“We have concerns as to whether the exam was administered impartially.”
“What?” Harper blurted. “That’s bull. We had Master Delaney come down from Nashville to do the test, to make sure no one thought we were being partial.”
“Delaney served as proctor?” Northrup asked, momentarily confused.
“If you’d looked at the results, you would have seen that right off,” Harper replied.
“Well, it doesn’t matter. She still doesn’t qualify.”
Riley’s anger built. “The rules state that I have to, one, kill or capture an Archfiend and, two, pass the test. I’ve done both those things. In fact, I’ve killed two Archfiends, so I should be doubly good.”
“There is no verification of that second kill.”
“I saw the corpse myself,” Beck said. “So did Grand Master MacTavish.”
“The kill didn’t occur in the U.S., so it’s disqualified.”
Which is complete B.S.
“But I killed one in Atlanta. The second one wasn’t needed to qualify,” she insisted.
“What’s the real problem here?” Stewart asked, his accent growing increasingly pronounced. “Is it because Riley’s a lass, or somethin’ else?”
“She doesn’t meet the qualifications. We have final say on the matter, and she isn’t master material.”
“How do you judge that?” she demanded.
Northrup took a deep breath and shuffled his papers. “We’re done talking about this. We’ve got other things we’re concerned about.”
Riley clenched her fists.
“We’ve received word that you’re involved in magic, working with necromancers and witches. Is that true?”
“Yes, it is.” I’m even a summoner now, but you don’t need to know that.
Northrup shook his head. “That isn’t what the Guild stands for. Because of your behavior, you’re on notice that if you continue to be involved with magic in any form, your license will be revoked.”
Her jaw fell open. He couldn’t be serious.
“Just how do ya suggest she do that?” Beck asked, his voice rougher now. Riley could feel the rage simmering beneath his words.
“No magic. That’s the bottom line,” Northrup said. “Frankly, it would just be simpler if you quit and saved everyone a lot of hassle, but we’re giving you a chance to get back on the proper path. Trappers don’t mess with magic. It’s not our way.”
The stupidity was so blatant, she didn’t know how to respond.
Beck did. He bent over, scooped a shield sphere out of his pack and held it up. “And this would be?” he asked, his voice vibrating with fury.
“I don’t understand the question,” Northrup replied.
“Magic. That’s what’s inside this thing, ya know.” He grabbed a grounding sphere, then a Babel sphere, holding them up one by one. “All of these have magic in them. Just how in the hell is she supposed to trap demons and not use this stuff?”
“That’s her problem. No more magic. No more associating with necros and witches. That has to stop.”
“For how long?” Riley asked, trying to judge the depth of this absurdity.
“For six months. Consider yourself on probation.”
Six months? “So when a Three comes after me, how am I supposed to trap it? Or a Four?”
“That’s for you to figure out. You started this by associating with those people. Consider this a detox period. If you think you can’t cut it, then hand me your license. If you want to keep trapping and using magic, move out of the country. I’m sure the trappers in Europe are a lot more into that kind of thing. But here, we do it the right way.”
Northrup wanted her to move out of the States?
Now was not the time to parse it out. Her only other choice was to follow the Guild’s rules. But how could she tell Mort that she had to quit the Society when she’d barely joined it?
“God, you’re a moron,” she said.
“Keep it up and I’ll pull your license here and now.”
“Why are you doing this? You know that not all the magic users are bad. They’ve saved trappers’ lives.”
Northrup again ignored the question, slotting his papers back into his messenger bag. He looked over at Harper. “The National Guild is not pleased with the way things are going in Atlanta. Tonight’s meeting will decide exactly what measures we’ll need to take in the future.”
“The hell you say,” Harper said, his sca
r pulled so tight, Riley swore it would split open. “What sort of measures would those be?”
“Potential change of leadership,” Northrup said curtly. “And it won’t be one of your handpicked cronies, either.”
Stewart muttered in his native language, shaking his head in disgust.
Northrup rose. “Meeting tonight at five. Tell everyone to be there. If they’re not, they’re out of the Guild.”
Riley felt her fingers reaching for her pack, the urge to throw her license at the bastard so strong she didn’t know if she could stop herself. Beck caught hold of her hand and squeezed it.
“No. Yer not givin’ in,” he whispered. “We’ll fight this.”
Northrup gave Riley the stink eye. “You have your warning, young lady. See that you abide by it.”
Stewart didn’t bother to show him out.
Once the front door banged shut, Beck growled. “Those bastards,” he muttered as he let go of Riley’s hand. “Who the hell do they think they are?”
“It’s our fault, lad,” Stewart said. “The International Guild has been too busy keepin’ an eye on Europe, and not providin’ enough oversight here. The National Guild has come ta see themselves as higher in the peckin’ order than they are. They don’t remember their history. They don’t remember they exist only because of us.”
“Then it’s time to remind them of that fact.”
“Aye, it is.”
“I can’t use magic,” Riley said flatly. “All I can do is trap Grade Ones and Twos. I can’t make a living doing that.”
“Clearly they want ya out of the business, which makes me wonder why.” Stewart looked over at Harper. “Other cities are havin’ issues with these folks, right?”
Harper nodded. “Every time I’m on the phone with one of the other masters, it’s a nonstop bitch session.”
Riley looked down at her hands, the shock setting in. The National Guild would keep finding bullshit reasons not to make her a master. Or they’d find a way to kick her out altogether. Everything she’d worked for hung in the balance.
“Riley?” Beck said.
When she didn’t respond, he touched her arm lightly. She looked up at him, then rose. “I’m . . . going upstairs for a while. I need . . . ”
Tears filled her eyes and she fled the room, not wanting the others to see them.
*~*~*
Beck groaned, knowing how badly she was hurting at this moment. He wanted to go after her, but he had to know the score first.
“What the hell is goin’ on?” he demanded.
“It’s not because of the magic,” Harper replied. “The San Francisco Guild has been working directly with a coven of witches for the last three years, and National has never said a word.”
“So the problem is Riley,” Beck said.
“Maybe,” Stewart replied, frowning. “Paul never cut the National fools any slack. He was on their case more than once about some of their asinine rules, and they didn’t like it. I suspect they’re gettin’ even by takin’ it out on his daughter.”
“She gave them plenty of ammunition,” Harper said.
“Yer blamin’ her for all this?” Beck demanded.
“No, but she’s anything but a run-of-the-mill trapper, and that makes people like Northrup nervous. You know how many of us have killed two Archfiends? Not that many.”
“Do ya think they know about her visit to Hell?” Beck asked.
Stewart shook his head. “We made sure that didn’t go any further than the Vatican, and those people know how ta keep a secret for centuries. National does know about Paul’s deal with Lucifer. I also made sure they were aware that he’s free of Hell now. Riley, as well.”
“They know she sided with Ori in the battle against Sartael,” Beck said.
“Aye, too many witnesses ta that, unfortunately.”
“We got another potential problem. As of last night, Riley’s part of the Summoners Society,” Beck said. “It’s only a matter of time before National finds out.”
Stewart nodded. “She sent me a text. Mort warned me that he’d have ta do that ta keep trainin’ her.”
“Can’t say I like her being a summoner, but it’s no skin off my nose as long as it doesn’t interfere with her job as a trapper,” Harper said. “I think we need to give National enough rope to hang themselves. Because they will eventually.”
“I agree,” Stewart said. “Paul had some worries about these fellas, whether they were on the straight and narrow. Now’s a good time ta take a closer look.”
“Like maybe Northrup or one of the others is workin’ for Hell?” Beck asked.
“Or . . . let’s look at it from another perspective,” Stewart said, shifting in his chair. “When I return ta Scotland, ya’ll take over as master in this region. Now if Riley has ta move out of the country ta keep her job, what would ya do?”
“I don’t know. Probably ask the Guild to relocate me.”
“That’s what I’d expect.”
Beck blinked. “Why would it matter? MacTavish would just send another grand master in my place.”
“Aye, but that grand master would not have been trained by Paul Blackthorne. Nor would his wife be someone who knows magic.”
“And she stopped Armageddon,” Beck said.
“Exactly. Lucifer has a stake in this city. He’ll do anythin’ he can ta get ya out of here. It’s a matter of pride now.”
“Meanwhile, Riley is gonna be trappin’ without the spheres,” Beck murmured, shaking his head. “It’s dangerous enough for her as it is. When Hell finds out she’s unprotected . . . ”
“I’m thinkin’ it’s good yer home, lad. Just keep her safe while we’ll work this out.”
“And if we don’t?”
“Then Paul’s daughter will lose her chance ta follow in his footsteps,” Stewart replied. “Lucifer will win this round.”
Chapter Twenty
Beck tapped lightly on the door to Riley’s room on the third floor. When she didn’t respond, he entered. She wasn’t in bed like he had figured she’d be, but sitting on the couch in the turret room, a thick comforter wrapped around her. Her eyes were red and she clutched a shredded wad of tissues.
Beck closed the door and joined her on the couch. What could he say? He knew how much becoming a master meant to her, knew it was her way of honoring her father. Now the Guild was trying to destroy everything she’d worked for.
Riley blew her nose, then looked over at him. “Ever since the first day my dad started teaching me how to be a trapper, I knew I was going to be a master. It didn’t matter what McGuire or anyone else said, I’d be just like Paul Blackthorne. It’s who I am, and now they’re ruining it all.”
Her shoulders shook as tears rained down. Beck pulled her into his arms, feeling those tears wet his shirt. It was his instinct to protect her, and not because she was weaker than him. In so many ways Riley was his equal and beyond. He’d eagerly face down a demon to keep her safe. But how could he combat a ruthless bureaucracy, one that threatened the life of the woman he loved?
“Ya’ve always wanted to be a master, but yer more than that. Ya can be anythin’ ya want, Riley. Anythin’. I know this is breakin’ yer heart, but it might be the beginnin’ of somethin’ new.”
She frowned up at him. “You’re saying I shouldn’t fight these bastards?”
“No, not sayin’ that at all. We’ll fight them as hard as we can, but we might not win. But that’s one battle, not the war. Yer not some wimpy little girl who’s gonna give up. Yer gonna walk yer own path, set yer own rules.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll be there for ya all the way.”
She sniffled. “I don’t know anything else but trapping.”
“Right now ya don’t, but yer learnin’ magic, learnin’ things that will make all the difference down the line. Don’t let these people destro
y yer spirit, ya hear me? If they do, then they’ve won.”
She touched his cheek. “You’re always there for me, aren’t you?”
He nodded. “That’s why no one should be messin’ with us. We will kick their ass.”
“All or nothing?” she said. “Like when we fought Sartael?”
“All or nothin’. That’s the only way to go.”
Because this war isn’t over yet.
*~*~*
The church’s meeting room was packed; word had spread that something major was going down tonight and that nonattendance would have serious consequences. Riley knew these guys wouldn’t like that bullying tactic. Given the tension in the room, any little spark could cause an explosion.
Northrup sat in the front with Stewart and Harper. From the grumbles in the audience, the assembled trappers knew who he was, and he wasn’t welcome. Somehow Riley didn’t think Northrup noticed. Or maybe he didn’t care.
Beck leaned over and whispered, “This isn’t just about you. There’s been bad blood between our Guild and National for the past few years. Yer just a way for them to get their foot in the door.”
If he thought that would make her feel better, it didn’t.
Jackson took his place behind the podium, looking pissed off. He called the meeting to order, then introduced Northrup. The man made his way to the podium and addressed the group.
“As Master Jackson pointed out, I’m from the National Guild. We’ve been getting complaints about certain issues in this Guild, and we felt it was time for us to take a closer look.” He flipped a piece of paper. “The number of Hellspawn in this city has risen over last year’s totals. You’ve had major demon assaults and an issue with fake Holy Water. To be honest, we wonder exactly what kind of leadership is allowing this to happen.”
“What the hell does that mean?” one of the trappers called out. “The Holy Water thing wasn’t our fault.”
Northrup ignored him. “First order of business: Journeyman Remmers, your application for master trapper has been approved.”
There were shouts of congratulations. Riley smiled, even as her heart broke. Remmers beamed, then gave her a worried look.
She answered him with a thumbs-up. “Go you!”