by Jana Oliver
How do I get into this mess? ‘If it destroys the demons, I’ll do it,’ she said.
‘Your soul . . .’ Rosetti began.
‘Is mine. Why do people keep telling me what to do with the thing? If I choose to barter it away to save people’s lives, it will be my choice,’ Riley said, flushing with anger.
‘Then you will bear consequences,’ the priest warned. ‘The terms of our agreement with Master Stewart precluded you from participating in any activity that put your soul in jeopardy.’
‘I got that,’ she said. ‘I don’t see any other option. Do you, Father Rosetti?’
Riley expected a lecture, maybe even handcuffs. Instead, the priest shook his head in dismay.
‘I fear you are correct,’ he replied. ‘As is often the case, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.’
Stewart snorted. ‘So is the one ta Heaven, I’ve heard.’
It took another half hour of haggling over the details, but when all the talking was done they’d agreed it should go down at dawn the next day. The location shouldn’t have been a surprise: Oakland Cemetery. There’d be a strategy meeting tonight, but Riley wasn’t going to be there because she’d be learning rudimentary Latin pronunciation.
‘Come over to the house about at three thirty,’ Mort said as she walked him to the front door. ‘We’ll work for a few hours, you can rest, then we’ll do more.’
‘How hard is it? I mean, is the spell really difficult?’
‘It’s not the hardest, but it’s certainly not the easiest.’
Which in Mort-speak meant it was a big deal, but he was trying not to scare her.
She changed subjects. ‘How’s my dad?’
‘Not much better,’ the summoner admitted. ‘He keeps raving about the demons. His mind is lost, Riley. I’m not sure if it’s ever coming back.’
‘Ozy will pay for that, right? He has to,’ she insisted.
‘I wouldn’t count on it.’ The summoner let himself out.
Confused as to what the future might bring, how bad it might become, Riley took the stairs up to her room, trailing her hand along the smooth wooden banister. There was no sunlight in her life now. Instead it grew darker by degrees, like approaching nightfall. Maybe that was the way it was supposed to be for the one who would stand between the eternal armies of Heaven and Hell.
There was only one consolation.
Her father wouldn’t notice that the world had ended.
If Riley had ever made a list of what she would do on her last day on earth, it wouldn’t include watching her clothes tumble dry in a dryer that squeaked with every turn. Still, she refused to leave dirty underwear behind, or a grubby refrigerator or a messy apartment. Even if the rest of humanity wasn’t going to be around to appreciate her tidiness.
Once that task was complete, Riley returned to her apartment and stuffed money into envelopes to pay for various bills. The world might survive, but if she didn’t she wanted her slate clean. With the Consolidated Debt creeps out of her hair now – they’d even left a snarky ‘thank you for paying off your loan even though we had to hound you to the ends of the earth’ message on her answering machine – that left the everyday bills. In the background, the television news ran special reports about the citywide Holy Water distribution plan. With Rome’s assistance, the local diocese had figured out a way to bless entire tanker-loads of water and distribute the sacred liquid around the city, for free.
That should keep people from freaking out.
Her cellphone pinged a new message from Peter. NO SCHOOL TODAY!!!
Riley sent back her THANKS for the update, but didn’t bother to tell him she’d have cut class anyway. No way she could become a Latin scholar and take a pop quiz on Sherman’s military tactics at the same time.
Her ears caught the faint sound of little feet pattering across the kitchen counter. Funny how her demon roomie could choose to be stealthy or not. She waited until he came into sight.
‘Hey, guy.’ The wee fiend observed her for a moment, then leaped on to the table, his bag in hand.
How does he do that? It would have been the equivalent of a human jumping the Grand Canyon. The Magpie dropped the bag of loot in front of him and began to root around inside. Out came all sorts of items, including a steady stream of multicoloured glitter. Finally he found what he was hunting for and came forward toting her silver seashell earring. The one he’d taken from her dresser. Standing on his tiptoes, he offered it up to her. If this hadn’t been one of Lucifer’s minions, it would have been way cute.
‘Thanks,’ she said, but she didn’t take it from him. ‘You keep it. I’ll need the good luck.’
The demon smiled, revealing pointed teeth, then gave her a nod. She didn’t have to tell him twice: the earring was back inside the bag in an instant. Then he zipped out of sight.
Riley sighed. ‘I’ll miss you. Even if you work for . . . him.’
When she looked down at her list of bills to see who was next, the paper had glitter all over it. Right before she was about to brush it off, Riley realized the sparkles formed words in bright reds and golds.
Free the angel.
‘What? You mean Ori?’ Riley called out, feeling stupid she was talking to what appeared to be an empty kitchen. A squeak came from the top of the refrigerator. The fiend equivalent of a ‘you betcha, sister’.
‘I don’t know if I can trust him.’
Another squeak. She guessed it was: ‘That’s your problem.’
Once freed, Ori might try to gain his revenge against the Prince who’d imprisoned him. Maybe side with Sartael. But Lucifer would know that. He’s playing with my head again.
Unable to decide the best course, Riley dumped the glitter into the trashcan and continued to pay her bills. Bills made sense.
The rest of my life? Not so much.
Peter’s face lit up in surprise when he found Riley on his doorstep.
‘Hey!’ Then his joy faded. ‘What’s up? You’ve never come to my place before.’
‘Can we go for a walk?’ she asked, trying not to sound all gloomy and totally failing. He grabbed his coat and they headed down the sidewalk in a suburban neighbourhood stocked with small kids on bikes and barking dogs. The kind of neighbourhood Riley had never known.
‘Did you get any of the Holy Water they’re giving out downtown?’ she asked.
‘We’re OK. The stuff we have is good. I checked it.’
‘I’ve got a couple gallons in the car for you. Use it anywhere you think a demon can get in.’
Peter stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. ‘What’s going on, Riley?’
She gave him the latest, except for the End of the World part. Sometimes it was best not to be that honest. Peter’s eyes widened when she admitted that she was going to be spell casting.
‘The hunters went for that?’ he asked, dubious.
‘Not really, but they’re cornered like the rest of us. The attack at the market means the demons are going after everyone now, not just the pros. If the spells work, everything will be good again.’
‘If it doesn’t?’
Atlanta will become a killing ground.
‘You’ll need the Holy Water,’ she urged. ‘And swords. That’s what kills them, just like you said.’
‘Oh my God, you’re serious.’ Peter looked away for moment, trying to master his growing panic. ‘At least Mom and the twins are in Illinois. It’d be really bad if they were here.’
‘I wouldn’t tell your dad,’ Riley advised. ‘He’ll freak. You know what to do. You’re really good at taking care of your peeps.’
Her friend wasn’t listening. ‘I can sneak out early in the morning, be there with you. Maybe I can help.’
He would do it too. But I won’t let you. If this battle led to Armageddon, Peter should be home in those last moments. Home with the people he loved, not being savaged by a demon in a graveyard.
‘No. You have to guard your family. The trappers will watch out for me.’<
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Peter shook his head in resignation. ‘You’re right. What can I do? Throw a hard drive at the things? Beck will watch your back.’
Until he’s dead like all the others.
They circumnavigated the block, talking about subjects that weren’t so final, like homework assignments and if Peter would get a chance to visit his mom this summer. Things that had little chance of coming true. Like Peter’s love life.
‘You should talk to Simi. I think she’d like to go out with you.’
Peter gave her a sidelong look. ‘Seriously?’
‘Yeah. She thinks you’re cute.’
‘Cool. Consider it done.’
By the time they’d made it back to his house, it was nearly three.
‘You call me when this is over, OK?’ Peter urged. ‘Please let me know what’s going on.’
‘I will,’ she replied, hoping she could keep that promise. ‘You stay inside, keep the Holy Water wards up. We’ll do the rest.’ She felt like she was delivering lines in some film. Don’t worry, we’re the good guys and we always defeat evil. But life wasn’t like a movie.
They embraced right in front of his house. It was a friend type of hug, but the emotion was there. When they broke apart, she began to turn away, but he caught her elbow.
‘If anyone can pull this off, it’s you. You’re really amazing, Riley. Remember that.’
She had Peter and Heaven pulling for her. Maybe that would be enough.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
She found her father huddled against the wall in Mort’s circular office. He sat on a fat pillow, a blanket over his shoulders. A bottle of the orange stabilizer was within reach. The only thing her father didn’t have was his brilliant mind.
‘He’s under a confusion spell,’ Mort said quietly. ‘I can’t break it. I don’t understand why Ozymandias felt the need to cast it.’
‘So we wouldn’t know what he did when Ozy had him?’ Riley suggested.
Mort nodded his agreement. ‘Approach him slowly. He’s easily frightened.’
Riley did as the summoner advised. It took time, but eventually she sat on the floor next to her dad. He looked over at her then went back to studying nothing. At least he wasn’t raving at the demons any longer.
‘Dad,’ she said. No reaction. She’d known this was going to be hard, but this was awful. So she began to talk to him about everyday things, like how she’d paid the bills, that her grades were good and how she’d visited Peter’s house. She talked until her throat went dry.
‘Schoooool?’ her father asked.
Leave it to a teacher to know when she was skipping class.
‘They cancelled it because . . . just because.’
He didn’t seem to realize that made no sense.
When Riley handed her father the bottle of orange liquid, he drank from it. That was progress.
‘I’m here to learn Latin from Mort,’ she explained, figuring he might like to know that.
Her father murmured something.
‘What?’ He repeated it, but she didn’t understand what it meant.
When he finally fell asleep, she tucked the blanket around him and sought out the summoner. Mort had chosen the garden as their study location. It was fairly warm in the afternoon sun and birds were trying to drive a squirrel away from the feeder in a frenzy of wings.
‘We’ll start with the simplest words,’ the summoner said. ‘You repeat them after me and I’ll correct your pronunciation. We’ll do that over and over until your brain seizes up.’
She couldn’t hide the smile. ‘Is there any chance this will work?’
He shrugged. ‘Only way to find out.’
It was only at the very end, after three hours of work that she figured out what her father said.
‘What does alea iacta est mean?’
‘The die has been cast,’ Mort replied. ‘It means that events have reached a point of no return.’
Her father knew what she was going to do and that her chances of surviving were nil.
After her brain could hold no more Latin, Riley said her final goodbye to Paul Blackthorne. As she stumbled through her farewell, he stared at an invisible horizon, a slight frown in place like the world wasn’t playing fair. When the time came, she kissed him, straightened his hair and then left him behind. Instead of crying, she kept whispering Latin words.
I’ll do what I have to do to save the world. Then she would try to save her dad. Because what was the point of a sacrifice if it wasn’t meant for the ones you loved?
Though it was nearly midnight, Riley couldn’t sleep. She took her Latin and stress-induced headache to the back stairs of Stewart’s old house. The grass was beginning to green and the porch light cast shadows on the daffodil leaves poking up through the soil. In a few weeks those flowers would be blooming. Maybe.
Stifling a yawn, Riley’s brain began to catalogue trouble. What if there were more demons than they thought? What if she screwed up the spell? What if she wasn’t alive when The End came? Would someone else prevent Armageddon or was she the only one this time round?
To her relief, the door behind her creaked open, then Beck joined her on the stairs. In his one hand was a napkin topped by a huge cookie while his other held a bottle of water.
He passed the cookie over, then set the bottle near her leg. ‘Figured you needed fuel about now.’
‘Thanks,’ she said. He had a broad smile on his face, something she wouldn’t have expected to see given the way things were going.
‘What’s up?’
‘Jackson and me, we caught the guy buyin’ the demons,’ he said, the smile growing wider. ‘The dude rolled over on the one who was running the operation, some suit in Mayor Montgomery’s office.’
‘That’s great news.’ The mayor part caught up with her. ‘It was that high up?’ she asked, astounded.
‘It was Montgomery’s assistant and it was a Mezmer,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘It went down perfect: we cracked open a Babel sphere and the thing turned into a Four just like that,’ Beck said, snapping his fingers for emphasis. ‘Damn, it was righteous.’
‘Wow. Wish I’d been there.’ That would have been so cool.
‘It was the two masters, Salvatore and me. It was great,’ he replied, still jazzed. ‘Shoulda seen the mayor’s face. I thought he was goin’ to hurl.’
‘But don’t they ward the city offices?’
‘The demon was in charge of buyin’ the Holy Water, so it made sure it wasn’t the real deal.’
‘In charge of the Holy Water . . .’ Her mind whirled. ‘Could it have been behind—’
‘It’s all tied together. The fake Holy Water paid for buyin’ the demons. The mayor had no clue what was goin’ on but he couldn’t deny it – the laptop I lifted out of that warehouse came from his assistant’s office.’
No wonder he was sporting a ten megawatt smile. Riley raised her hand and they did a high five. ‘You guys rock.’
‘The mayor’s very helpful now. Seems he doesn’t want the voters to know there was a Hellspawn in city government.’
‘Makes you wonder how many of them there really are.’ This has to be Sartael’s plan. But how could she prove it? ‘Any chance the Four will tell us who’s behind all this?’
‘No. Won’t say a word.’ Beck pointed at the cookie that lay ignored in her lap. ‘It’s chocolate chip. Pretty good too.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Not as good as yer momma’s oatmeal cookies she sent me in the army. Those were the best.’
He’d summoned a positive memory. Her and her mom spending a full afternoon baking dozens of cookies, packing them up and shipping them overseas.
‘The guys loved them,’ Beck continued. ‘Yer momma kept havin’ to send more and more each time because I’d pass ’em around.’
‘I used to help her make them.’
‘I know. That made them more special,’ he replied.
Riley felt warmth blossom in her cheeks. To keep from blurting something she’d regret, s
he turned her attention to the cookie. Oh man, I have it bad.
‘I sent Rennie to the neighbour’s house,’ he said. ‘If I’m not around when this is over, I told Mrs Merton that she should go to you.’
The guy was bequeathing her the one thing he adored more than anything else in the world. ‘Ohhhhkay. I’ll watch over her. I promise.’
‘Good. Oh, and I put yer daddy’s cheque in my bank and rewrote my will,’ he added. ‘Ya get it all if somethin’ happens to me. Stewart can help ya open a bank account of your own.’
That she didn’t want to think about. Still . . . ‘What if neither of us are around?’
‘It goes to the trappers’ fund to help out their families. I figured ya wouldn’t mind that.’
It’s exactly what she would have done.
Beck fussed with a shoelace, though it was double-knotted like always. Something else was on his mind. ‘Maybe, when this is all over, will ya . . . you make me some of yer momma’s cookies?’ he asked.
There was much more to it than that. He was hoping that when all the fighting was done she’d be there to bake him cookies, and he’d be alive to eat them.
‘Sure,’ she said, smiling over at him. ‘How many you want?’
‘A couple dozen will do it. I’m sure the other trappers will want some.’
No way could she tell him about Heaven’s job assignment now. He needed that glimmer of hope. They all did.
‘Riley, I . . .’ Beck looked deeply into her eyes. ‘If this doesn’t go right . . .’
You’re not going to have to worry anyone will find out about your rabbit or the fact you can’t read or write. You won’t have to worry about anything for eternity.
‘No matter what, you be careful,’ he said.
‘Of course I will,’ she replied, wondering what else he might have said if he’d had the courage. ‘I’ve got a baking assignment.’
Beck smiled at that. He brushed a cookie crumb off her face. For a second, she thought he might try to kiss her, but he didn’t.
‘It goes both ways,’ she urged. ‘You have to stop playing the hero.’ I don’t want to watch you die.