The Demon Trappers: Forgiven

by Jana Oliver

  ‘Thanks.’ She pulled on her coat and dropped the battery into a pocket. Then froze. Something was inside. Something sticky. Riley carefully removed the object and held it up, then nearly gagged: it was a three-inch-long bloody demon tooth, probably from the monster she’d batted off the roof.

  ‘Yuck,’ she said, ‘that’s gross.’

  There was a sharp hiss of fright from the small demon on the bookshelf.

  ‘It’s OK. The thing’s dead. Well, mostly dead I guess.’

  The demon kept hissing and pointing at the tooth. ‘It’s not going to hurt you.’ She placed it on her palm and held it out to him. ‘See?’

  The fiend was frantic now, backed into a corner near an old dictionary. The loot bag was on the other side of the shelf. His eyes darted to it and then back, growing more agitated with each passing second.

  Klepto-Fiends never let their loot out of arm’s reach.

  ‘Is it because a Grade Three will eat you little guys?’

  The demon shook his head, eyes bright red saucers.

  Riley closed her fist round the tooth, confused. ‘Then why would this scare you? All you guys work for Lucifer,’ she said.

  The demon cringed and cried out at the name of his master. Like they always did. Except for the ones on the roof.

  ‘OK, I’ll put it away,’ she said, dropping it back into her coat pocket. ‘Better?’

  It must have been because the Magpie flew to its bag and clutched it to his chest, rocking back and forth in profound relief.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know it would scare you.’

  Reality check. You just apologized to a demon.

  The Magpie finally ceased shivering and hoisted its bag over a shoulder.

  ‘You never call me Blackthorne’s daughter like the others. Why?’

  There were more high-pitched noises and then the fiend was a blur of nothing.

  ‘You did, huh. Somehow I missed that.’ Why didn’t the demons in the old building? Why are those so different from the rest?

  Now that the Magpie was gone, Riley pulled out the tooth, letting it rest on her palm. A tingling sensation tickled her skin, skittering down her fingers.

  Magic.

  Riley decided to take the problem to a supernatural expert, in this case Mort. At the same time she could reassure her father that she was in one piece.

  But first there was the matter of returning Mrs Ivey’s missing battery. She wondered just how long it would be before the Magpie stole it again.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Little Five Points was as full of humanity as usual, but Enchanter’s Way, the street where Mort lived, was unusually empty. Riley had a quick look in the café – there was only a bored waitress sitting at a table reading a magazine. Further down the street at Bell, Book and Broomstick, the witch store, her friend Ayden busied herself sweeping the front steps of the establishment. She was dressed in a long black shirt and a low-cut white blouse overlaid with an embroidered red vest. When you added in her curly russet hair, she looked like she’d escaped from a Renaissance Faire. Ayden was probably in her late forties, but it was hard to tell. Once again, she’d used her magic to alter the huge tattoo on her neck and chest – this time it was a line of grim-faced fairies marching across a field in full battle gear.

  As Riley approached, Ayden stopped sweeping and leaned against the broom. They studied each other for a time as if neither had any idea what to say.

  Riley tried for something benign. ‘You’re not at the market today.’

  ‘No. We rotate. I’ll be at the market stall tomorrow.’

  More awkward silence. Apparently Mort had let the witch know about Riley’s time with the demon hunters.

  ‘Ah, look, if it’s not good for you to be seen with me, I understand,’ Riley said.

  ‘That’s not it.’ Another pause. ‘Thank you for having –’ Ayden angled her head down the road towards Mort’s home – ‘let me know what was going on. I was really worried about you.’

  ‘Me too.’ Riley waved her friend away from the front door, in case there was someone inside who might overhear them. Then she flipped over her palms. She couldn’t see the inscriptions any more, but she was wondering if Ayden would.

  The witch stared, then a lone eyebrow rose in surprise. ‘I understand why you have the one from Heaven. What did you do to earn the one from Hell?’ her friend asked.

  Can’t hide much from a witch. ‘I owe Lucifer a promise. And I slept with a fallen angel.’

  The eyebrow went stratospheric. ‘Goddess, girl, are you insane?’

  ‘I thought he worked for Heaven.’ I thought I was in love.

  Ayden blew out a long stream of air as she mulled over that reply. ‘Was it Lucifer who raised Paul?’ Riley nodded. ‘Where is your dad now?’

  ‘At Mort’s. He knows the Prince is my father’s summoner.’

  ‘Can it possibly get any more bizarre?’ Ayden grumbled.

  ‘Oh yeah. Someone is raising demons from the dead now and the hunters can’t kill them.’

  The witch’s eyebrow reversed direction, joined the other and formed an impressive frown. ‘What damned fool necromancer thought that was a good idea?’ Ayden retorted. ‘Why do they think the next life is their personal playground?’

  Whoa. Riley knew there was little love lost between the witches and the necros, but Ayden’s bitterness seemed pretty harsh.

  She removed the demon tooth from her pocket. ‘This is from one of the weird demons. Can you –’

  Ayden waved it away. ‘Go talk to the summoners’ advocate,’ the witch said. ‘I do not want to get into the middle of it.’

  Riley dropped the tooth back into the safety of her jacket pocket.

  ‘Do the hunters know about those inscriptions on your palms?’ Ayden asked.

  ‘Yes. Apparently it took the Pope to figure out I wasn’t a threat.’

  ‘Riiiight.’ Ayden’s frown lessened. ‘No matter what, be careful. Something’s going down, something nasty. Watch your back, OK?’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘No more messing around with Hell. They play for keeps.’

  ‘So does Heaven.’

  As Riley crossed the threshold into the summoner’s house, she felt her nerves slowly unwind. She’d come to think of it as Mort Magic because she always felt better here. She found her dad in the summoner’s office with his bottle of jazzed-up orange drink, much brighter than the last time she’d seen him.

  His eyes lit up the moment he spied her. ‘Riley!’ he called out.

  ‘Hey, Dad,’ she said, hurrying into his arms. The hug was off the scale. She knew he’d been concerned about her, but the embrace told her it was more than that.

  ‘Beck was here this morning,’ he announced.

  Backwoods Boy hadn’t said a word to her about his visit. ‘Did you tell him about your deal with Hell?’

  ‘No. It’s not time for him to know that yet.’

  There was a slight whooshing sound a second before Mort walked through the illusionary magical wall that led to the back of the house. Their host had pulled that stunt the first time she’d visited, so this time she wasn’t surprised.

  ‘Riley. Good to see you’re finally free from the Vatican’s clutches,’ Mort said. He settled on the bench seat opposite her and her dad, a smile filling his face.

  She was about to ruin his good mood. Removing the tooth from her pocket, Riley set it on the picnic table in front of their host. The summoner’s attention went to it immediately. The frown came next.

  ‘Where did you get that?’ he asked.

  ‘From a Grade Three demon. It thought it was going to eat Beck, so I hit it with a steel pipe.’ Like every girl her age thumped Hellspawn on the head for a living.

  ‘Is Beck OK?’ her father asked, concerned.

  ‘He’s good.’

  Mort went to reach for the tooth and then snatched his hand back like it had encountered a blow torch. His eyes rose to hers. ‘This is riddl
ed with necromantic magic.’

  Riley beamed. ‘I knew it. I didn’t think Lucifer was that crazy.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  Riley ran down the events at the abandoned building, skipping most of the ‘here’s where we could have been eaten’ parts so as to not upset her father. She stressed the ‘demons that wouldn’t stay dead’ portions instead.

  ‘That’s . . . that’s so against the rules,’ Mort stammered in shock.

  In contrast, her father was silent. In fact, he didn’t seem surprised at all.

  ‘Dad?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said solemnly.

  ‘Did you know this was going to happen, the undead demons thing?’

  No reply.

  ‘Come on, stop dodging my questions. We need to figure this out. Does Ozy have something to do with this?’

  Her father’s hand touched hers and then he suddenly embraced her, catching her off guard. He whispered, ‘I love you. No matter how this plays out, that will never change. Always remember that.’

  His seriousness frightened her. ‘Dad, what’s wrong?’

  When the sound began, a barely noticeable low frequency hum, Mort surged to his feet, knocking the bench seat over in his haste to rise.

  ‘No!’ he said. ‘You wouldn’t dare!’

  The hum grew in intensity, higher in pitch, causing the china cups on the picnic table to rattle. It built, stronger and louder, until Riley’s whole body vibrated along with it. The tea pot jostled off the table, smashing on to the wood floor, followed by the cups and Mort’s books. Riley scrambled to move the old volumes away from the flowing liquid.

  ‘What is happening?’ she called out.

  In lieu of an answer, the summoner raised his hands at chest level, palms out. Blue waves of magic swept around him, arcing to the ceiling and deep into the floor. If it hadn’t been so eerie it would have been pretty.

  Mort chanted in Latin, his face beet red. The hum became unbearable, then exploded in sharp fragments, like musical shrapnel. Riley covered her ears, but it did no good. The power drove into her skull, into her bones. Glass shattered somewhere in the house.

  Then nothing – magic on, magic off – like someone had flipped a switch.

  Had one of Mort’s magical spells gone wrong?

  Riley’s father rose and walked a few paces away, seemingly unconcerned with the chaos.

  ‘Dad?’

  He shook his head, indicating she should stay where she was.

  What’s going on here?

  Fresh air poured into the room. As Riley’s vision cleared, she realized the magical wall was gone and there was a clear path to the back door and the alley beyond. Mort crumpled on to the floor like a tired doll. His entire body quaked.

  ‘Mort! Do something!’ she pleaded.

  ‘Can’t,’ he moaned. ‘Too strong.’ He pressed his hand against his nose and it came away bloody.

  There was movement in the hallway as a figure strode towards them out of the late afternoon sunlight. Something flowed behind it, like a cloak. Or a duster. Ori had worn one of those.

  Were the Fallen free of Lucifer’s bondage? Was he here to exact his revenge?

  The figure that entered the room wasn’t the least angelic. Lord Ozymandias’s flowing cloak was the empty black of midnight and his silver hair set off the stark and pulsating green sigil in the centre of his forehead.

  ‘Ah, Summoner Alexander. Good day,’ he said in a jovial tone, obviously pleased his efforts had been a success. ‘Sorry about this. Your magical wards were better than I anticipated.’

  ‘What are you doing?’ Riley demanded.

  Those bizarre eyes turned to her and ceased being amused. ‘I would think that was obvious.’ His attention moved to her father. ‘Time to go, Paul Blackthorne. I’ll skip the threats. You know what I’m capable of.’

  ‘You can’t take him,’ Riley protested. ‘He’s not yours.’

  ‘Of course I can. Mortimer is out of the fight and you were never in it.’

  Riley lunged forward and impacted a solid wall of . . . nothing. Careening backwards, she tried again and bounced off something invisible, but impenetrable. Magic scratched against her skin like razor blades.

  ‘Dad! Don’t go with him!’

  ‘It’ll be OK, Riley,’ her father said. ‘Trust me.’

  Her panic mounting, she rammed her fists against the invisible barrier, but it wouldn’t yield. ‘Dad, no!’

  Ignoring her attempts to escape, Lord Ozymandias clapped a hand round her father’s shoulders and led him towards the back of the house. ‘Tell me, master trapper,’ he said, ‘who summoned you from your grave?’

  ‘Lucifer, the Prince of Hell,’ her father replied, not missing a beat.

  The necromancer’s deep laugh echoed throughout the building. ‘I was so hoping you’d say that.’

  The moment after Ozy and her father vanished through the back door, the magical barrier fell and its disappearance caught Riley unawares. She sprawled to the floor in a heap. Crying out in despair, she curled up into a heap, but this time the scalding tears wouldn’t come. Instead they burned deep inside her, trapped by a grief that she couldn’t possibly exorcise. She’d lost her father, over and over. There was no peace for Paul Blackthorne, not in this life or the next.

  Mort hadn’t moved. Pushing her grief aside, Riley hurried to the summoner. As she reached out to him, he shook his head, flinging blood in all directions.

  ‘Don’t touch me!’ he said. ‘Wards broken. Inside me.’

  ‘What can I do?’ she asked, panicking.

  ‘Too weak . . . to ground magic.’ His face was alabaster now, his breathing hoarse. Mort wasn’t going to survive this if she didn’t get help quickly. Maybe one of the other summoners might know what to do. But how do I let them know?

  ‘Riley?’ a voice called out

  Ayden. ‘Back here!’ Riley cried.

  A few seconds later Riley’s witch friend stormed in. Her eyes swept the scene.

  ‘Oh my Goddess, it’s as bad as I thought.’ She shooed Riley away and knelt in front of Mort. ‘Summoner? Can you ground yourself?’

  Mort shook his head. ‘Can’t focus. Can’t see the spell.’

  The witch sucked in a deep breath. ‘Riley, go get an ice pack.’

  ‘But what about him?’

  ‘Go!’ her friend commanded.

  Riley took off, suspecting that Ayden was about to do something she didn’t want her to see. In the front hall, Tereyza, Mort’s dead housekeeper, cowered near the open door. Mort’s reanimate cook was in the same pitiful state, hiding under the table. Riley had to rummage through the drawers to find a plastic bag. After scooping up heaps of ice from the freezer, she wet a kitchen towel and ran back towards Mort’s office. She was almost there when the world lurched underneath her feet, flinging her into a wall. Riley clutched the ice pack to her chest and waited for the quaking to cease, then took off again at a sprint.

  When she skidded into Mort’s office, the room felt different now. Less . . . volatile. Ayden stood behind the summoner, a hand on each shoulder, her eyes closed. Her eyes snapped open at the same time as the summoner sat upright. They were brilliant blue. She blinked a few times and they returned to their usual brown.

  Whoa . . .

  ‘You can touch him now,’ Ayden said, then shook her head like she had a hive of bees trapped inside her skull. Her fingers still pulsed with magic. When she noticed, she leaned back against the wall. Brilliant spiky green halos formed round her body then embedded themselves into the individual bricks.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Riley asked.

  ‘Grounding the magic.’

  Riley gave the summoner the ice pack and he pressed it against his forehead. She knelt and delicately began to clean his face with the wet towel.

  There was a lot of blood on his shirt. ‘Are you going to be OK?’ she asked.

  There was a nod. The ice pack lowered, revealing two bloodshot eyes.

 
‘Help me up, will you?’

  Riley righted one of the bench seats and helped the necromancer rise. He tottered to the seat and sank on to it with a weary sigh.

  ‘I’ll have to file a formal complaint with the Society,’ the necromancer said.

  Ayden snorted. ‘You know that won’t do a damned thing.’

  ‘I have no other recourse,’ Mort replied. ‘Do you have any idea what it’s like to have your wards torn away, have your house violated by some . . .’

  ‘Don’t get pissed at me, summoner,’ the witch snapped. ‘I wasn’t the one who did this.’

  Mort’s shoulders sagged. ‘I know. It’s just . . .’ He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. His bloodshot eyes rose and fixed on Riley. ‘I can’t help you with the demon tooth, even if we can find it in this . . . mess. Everything is drenched in Ozymandias’s magic now, so I won’t be able to pinpoint who is enchanting the demons.’

  ‘So that’s it? The bad guy gets my dad and nobody will do anything?’ Riley demanded, her voice rising.

  ‘I’ll do what I can, Riley, but I think we’re out of options.’

  You might be . . .

  Riley had a wish on hold with Lucifer. She’d planned on using it for her dad’s soul, but getting him back from Ozymandias was almost as good.

  How do I find the Prince of Hell? It wasn’t like he was on speed dial.

  ‘I know that look,’ Ayden said. ‘Promise me you won’t go after your father.’

  Riley shook her head. ‘I won’t make that promise.’

  ‘Come on, think it through,’ the witch urged. ‘If it was so important that Paul remain free, why didn’t the Prince protect your father when the necro came for him? Has it occurred to you that Lucifer might want your father with Ozymandias?’

  Riley hadn’t considered that. It made sense, though. Her dad hadn’t looked the least surprised at Ozymandias’s sudden arrival. In fact, he’d appeared resigned to his fate.

  You knew he was coming for you. That’s why you said goodbye.

  The feeling of helplessness that poured through her at that moment was nearly overwhelming. Knowing if she remained here any longer she’d be on the floor, sobbing, broken beyond repair, Riley picked up her backpack and fled. As she ran down the alley that led to the street, she swore she heard Ozymandias’s mocking laughter.