by Jana Oliver
Her good mood vanished when Riley found herself seated across from the summoner, who continued to stare at her. MacTavish sat at the head of the table, Kepler to his right and Beck to his left. There was a light sheen of sweat on Beck’s forehead, his way of showing he was nervous. She gave him a reassuring you’ll do fine look and then directed her attention to the conversation around her.
Around them, Brennan and the maid circulated with bottles of wine. When he gave her a questioning look, Riley shook her head. Even though she could legally drink in this country, her mind was just starting to clear. No reason to mess it up again.
Some sort of thick and creamy pale orange soup was delivered and her stomach growled in response. Fortunately no one else heard it. Picking up a spoon, she looked down the table at Beck, who was staring at his assortment of silverware in total bewilderment.
MacTavish said something to the druid, then pointedly picked up the proper spoon from his selection. Beck, ever the quick study, followed suit, then looked over at her.
She winked and addressed the meal.
“Miss Blackthorne? I trust you are recovered from the incident at the graveyard?” the summoner asked, lobbing the question across the table like a live grenade.
Riley nearly choked on her soup. She hadn’t expected anyone would ask that kind of question, especially here. Farther down the table, Brennan’s eyes widened as he refilled a wine glass. Beck’s brow furrowed and she could tell he was pissed.
MacTavish, however, made no move to deflect the question. Perhaps he was hoping just this kind of confrontation would occur.
Play dumb. That was the best response, especially with the monsignor at the table. The last thing she needed was for the Vatican to take a renewed interest in her life.
Riley hedged. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean,” she replied.
“Of course you do,” Fayne insisted. “My superiors told me everything.”
“Your superiors?” Beck cut in.
“Summoners Enfield and Minton. They were supposed to be here tonight, but I requested to take their place. I just had to meet Miss Blackthorne after everything I’d heard.”
“What exactly happened?” the monsignor said after wiping his mouth with a napkin.
Riley kept her groan of despair to herself.
“Someone tried to summon a demon in Edinburgh and it went wrong.” Fayne’s chilly tone indicated she wasn’t that concerned, even though three people had died. “Novices. Such things happen when they are involved.”
The monsignor’s moustache twitched in response. “It could be argued that no one should be attempting such things, amateur or expert,” he weighed in, his eyes on Riley now.
“I totally agree,” she said.
Fayne turned back toward her, eyes cagey. “Why do you think the summoning went wrong?”
“I’m not the one you should ask. I’m a Demon Trapper. I don’t do magic.”
“That’s not what I heard.” Fayne retorted.
She glared at the necromancer. “Then whoever is telling you this stuff is full of it.”
“Riley,” Grand Master Kepler cut in. “Is it true that you are compiling the history of Atlanta’s trappers for Grand Master Stewart?”
She sighed in relief. Thank you, dude. I owe you one.
“Yes, sir. It’s been really interesting. There was more demonic activity during the Civil War than I thought.”
“Hellspawn working for Sherman? I just can’t believe it,” Beck said, his tone mocking. “I mean, it’s not like the general turned a couple of Pyro-Fiends loose to burn Atlanta down or anythin’.” He paused, timing it perfectly. “Oh wait...”
That earned him some laughs, and, more importantly, shut down the summoner’s mini inquisition.
Beck caught her eye and it was his turn to wink. They were a team again and that felt so good.
What the hell am I doin’ here? Beck didn’t know a thing about this kind of get together. For him, barbecue and beer was fancy.
MacTavish picked up the farthest fork from the left and then gestured with it toward the plate that had just been placed in front of Beck.
“Looks to be a fine bit of lamb,” he said.
In his own way, the grand master was helping him navigate these uncharted waters. Helping him grow into his new skin. Beck carefully selected the proper fork from his numerous choices and began working on the food.
Though the point of the dinner seemed to be social, MacTavish and Kepler were strategists, just like Stewart. It came with being a Grand Master.
So why do they have that necro here? Why is she pushing Riley so hard? Did she have somethin’ to do with what happened in the graveyard?
At this point Riley laughed at a remark from the druid, and Beck smiled to himself. He never quite understood how her voice could be a balm to him, but it was. Looking at her now, you’d never know she’d been to Hell and back.
Maybe, if things kept getting better between them, he’d find the courage to ask his question again.
Maybe the next time she’d say “yes.”
Chapter Nine
Once the guests were gone, Riley and Beck joined the two masters in a cozy sitting room. She snuggled next to her guy on a leather sofa, utilizing Beck’s furnace feature to warm herself. As much as she loved Scotland, she really missed Atlanta’s warmer climate.
MacTavish lit a pipe, filling the air with a rich caramel aroma. That reminded her of Master Stewart, how every evening they’d share how their day went. She missed him, wished he was here. He’d know how to make things right again.
After light talk about the dinner and the guests, the topic of conversation turned to business.
“According to Summoner Fayne’s superiors,” Kepler began, “they have not been able to find out what where that demonic spell originated. In short, the necromancers have closed ranks.”
“Figured that might happen. But wouldn’t there be some sort of magical trace left behind?” Beck said.
“They claim there wasn’t one.”
“That’s a lie,” Riley said. “Our friend Mortimer — he’s a summoner — said that each necro has their own ‘magical signature.”
“Your friend is correct,” Kepler said, nodding.
MacTavish cleared his throat. “Riley, would ya give us a chance ta talk this out ... in private?”
She was being dismissed? “I have as much at stake in this as you guys do.”
“Aye, but right now ya need trust us,” he replied.
Riley shot her feet. “Okay, I’ll just go to my room and buff my nails while you guys can talk state secrets. Will that work for you?”
“Riley...” Beck murmured, shaking his head in dismay.
“We’ll talk more in the mornin’,” MacTavish replied. “Good night, lass.”
Riley resisted the urge to slam the door behind her as fury propelled her down the hall and then up the staircase.
Will it always be like this?
If she and Beck kept secrets from each other now, over the years that cancer would spread, poisoning their relationship. First he wouldn’t tell her about his work, then it’d be other things; who he’d talked to or met for a drink or...
But if I want to be part of his life, this is what I have to do.
In her room, she kicked off her shoes and changed into her jeans and a long-sleeved tee shirt. Thick, fluffy socks came next and they soothed her cold feet.
The rowdy part of her insisted she go back downstairs. The unsure part of her didn’t want to act like some little girl begging for an invitation into the big boy’s tree house.
As her temper gradually cooled, Riley checked her e-mails and found there wasn’t much new in Atlanta, which was reassuring. Beck’s neighbor, Mrs. Morton, had left a short note to report that his house and bunny rabbit were both in fine shape. And Riley’s Latin assignment for the week had been posted online.
Mort’s reply wasn’t comforting. In a few succinct paragraphs he explained how i
t was possible for a summoner to influence another’s behavior, how the magic user didn’t need to be in the presence of the victim, only that the compulsion spell was replenished every now and then.
Her contact with summoners had been limited, at least until tonight, which meant that all her confusion probably wasn’t caused by a spell. More likely it was a fundamental flaw with her and Beck’s relationship.
She felt her eyes misting.
I can’t lose him now. Not like this.
A tap came at her door. Confused as to who this might be, Riley opened it to find the maid with a tray in hand. “Excuse me, Miss. Thought you might like some hot cocoa.”
“Thanks,” Riley said and accepted the tray. The young girl retreated down the hall as she toed the door closed.
Beck had probably arranged the delivery as a peace offering, trying to make amends.
Note to self: stop being a butthead. At least to Beck.
Sinking back into the desk chair, Riley picked up the cup, savoring the heady scent of dark chocolate. Right before she took a sip, she read further into email.
‘Spells can be laid on food and liquids in such a way that the victim will have no idea they are being enchanted. It’s old tech, but it does work quite effectively.’
“Liquids?” she murmured. Then peered down at the cup. How did she know that there wasn’t something in the drink? Or what about the shortbread cookies that accompanied the hot chocolate? Or if she was really going to be paranoid, why not in the water she’d had at supper?
I’m driving myself crazy.
After three unsuccessful tries to let the cup touch her lips, Riley reluctantly dumped the delicious drink down the bathroom sink and rinsed out the cup. Staring up in the mirror revealed the underlying weariness that seemed to age her from within.
Riley pushed her hair off her face, then growled under her breath. Paul Blackthorne’s daughter should be down there with the grand masters, not cowering in her room. Beck would be angry at her for barging into the meeting, but she didn’t care. Steeling herself, she let the door slip closed behind her and headed toward the stairs.
Beck’s loyalties were badly divided: he wanted to listen to the conversation between the two masters, maybe learn more about what was happening with Riley, but the other part of him was worried about her. He’d seen the look on her face, how angry she was at being sent away. She’d never tolerated being treated like a nuisance, and he suspected that anger would be directed at him just when they were starting to mend fences.
“Look, I know you think yer doin’ what’s best for her, but I know Riley. She’s got a right to be here.”
“We’re not includin’ her because we’re not sure just how compromised she is,” MacTavish explained.
“I don’t understand. What do you mean ... compromised?”
Kepler’s aged hands knotted together in his lap. “I have a bit of magical ability myself, and I sensed an enchantment when Riley walked in the front door this morning. Your young lady is under a necromancer’s spell.”
“What?” Beck replied, caught off guard. “But...” Then it made sense. “All this paranoia stuff. You think someone’s made her that way?” Please God, let it be that.
“I’m sure of it,” Kepler said.
“So who did it to her?” he demanded, his fists clenched now. “Was it that summoner you had at dinner tonight?”
Kepler looked over at MacTavish. “Yes, it was.”
“What!?” Beck launched to his feet. “And you let her go?”
MacTavish waved him back into his chair and Beck reluctantly complied.
“We let her go free because we don’t have enough evidence against her. We arranged it so she was here tonight so Kepler could feel out her magic. Now that we know she’s involved, we can take the matter before her superiors.”
“They’re not gonna do a damned thing. Why the hell didn’t we just nail her to the wall?”
“Trust me, I woulda loved ta have sliced off her head and sent it as a warnin’ ta those damned meddlin’ fools, but sometimes ya have see the bigger picture.”
“There is nothing more important than Riley’s safety,” Beck said. The moment he said the words, he felt the indecision. As a grand master he couldn’t be that way, couldn’t limit his world to just one person.
Or could he?
“I don’t know if I can do this,” he admitted. “All the learnin’ and such, that’s been okay. But this ... damn ... I feel like I’m bein’ ripped apart.”
MacTavish gave a solemn nod. “If ya weren’t, we’d be worried. We all went through this, each one of us in our way. We had ta find peace within ourselves, negotiate the balance between our personal lives and our mission.”
Silence fell, each of them caught in private thoughts.
Was this the way it would always be for him, stuck between the grand masters and the woman he loved?
Beck slowly unclenched his fists and allowed his arms to fall free on either side of the chair. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
MacTavish nodded his approval. “I know it’s hard, lad, and it never gets easier. Especially when ya love someone so verra much.”
“So what is this bigger picture yer talkin’ about?”
“This isn’t the first time the necros have been pokin’ around in Hell. Our biggest worry is if they will ally with Lucifer. By goin’ slowly, we can keep the other necros on the straight and narrow, while dealin’ with the immediate problem.”
Beck stilled. “Then why didn’t ya tell Riley all this?”
“I’m concerned that if Fayne learns we’re onto her,” Kepler said, “she may well compel Riley to harm herself. No living witness? No charges.”
“Ah, shit,” Beck murmured. “I never thought of that.” He rubbed a hand over this face. “I knew somethin’ was wrong. Riley stopped trustin’ me, and that’s not like her. We’ve been through so much together, for her to just back off...”
“That’s why I knew somethin’ was up,” MacTavish said. “Neither of ya are lightweights when it comes to hard times. The moment ya came back from Hell, we had ta know everythin’ about ya. Even yer private life.”
“Riley’s not part of this,” Beck said, though he knew that wasn’t the truth.
“She’s as much a part of who ya are as anyone,” MacTavish retorted. “Ya’ve been readin’ our history — Hell works through all channels ta destroy us. What better way than corruptin’ one of yer own family?” MacTavish took a deep breath to calm himself. “That’s why we were so pleased ta see that ya’d found a lass who knew what ya were facin’, knew Hell’s tricks, had even beaten them at their own game.”
“Without a strong force in your life, it’s too easy to be tempted,” Kepler explained. He and MacTavish exchanged a solemn look.
“Been there?” Beck asked softly.
“Aye. All of us have, at one time or another,” MacTavish replied.
Beck frowned. “I should check on Riley. Make sure she’s okay.”
“Tell her we’ll talk over breakfast, lay it all out for her. Then I’ll contact Fayne’s superiors.”
Beck nodded and rose. He’d taken only a few steps toward the door when the maid scurried in, her face white.
“Sirs...”
“What’s wrong?” Beck said, taking a step closer. “Is Riley okay?”
“I was headed to the kitchen and ... and ... I saw her with Mr. Brennan. They were going out the side door. He had a knife at her throat.”
“Oh, sweet Jesus!” Beck exclaimed, and took off a run.
Chapter Ten
“That’s right. Just keep moving.”
Riley was outdoors, Brennan holding tight to her arm. In his other hand was a knife, the one that had convinced her to not fight him, at least not yet.
It’d been her fault; she really hadn’t been paying attention when he’d had accosted her in the downstairs hall. Now she cursed herself for not sensing the danger before he’d pulled the knife and told he
r to keep silent.
As they climbed the hill behind the manor house her mind raced with questions. How had she misread this guy all along?
Riley wasn’t wearing a coat or gloves and the crisp night air cut into her, her teeth chattering in response to the cold. There was a slight breeze as the clouds moved across the moon, alternately obscuring and then revealing its pale glow. It felt like snow was in the air.
She knew that calling out for help wasn’t an option - no one would hear her out here. “Why are you doing this?” Riley demanded.
“Because she’ll help me get what I want,” was the terse reply, the knife never wavered.
“She?”
“Fayne,” he said, sounding as if the word tasted sour.
“You have to be kidding me.” The grand masters had dined with her kidnapper and never known it. Or had they? Was this one big scheme or...
“Did MacTavish know she was behind this?”
Brennan gave her quick frown. “No, I don’t think so, but you never know with him. He’s a cagey old bird.”
As they climbed, shrubs tugging on her jeans, Riley felt magic build around them, the same dark magic that had been in the graveyard. Things began to come clear.
“She put a spell on me, didn’t she? That’s why I was so weird to Beck.”
“Yes. It was in the Holy Water I gave you.”
“What? Damn you!” she said, trying to pull herself out of his grip, but failing. “You ruined my life!”
“That wasn’t the intention,” he replied. “I just wanted...”
She glared at him. “Wanted what?”
“Nobody was supposed to die,” he said, his voice trembling now. “It went all wrong.”
“Really. And Bess’s little girl? What about her?”
Her captor shook his head. “I didn’t know Fayne put a spell on the kid until later. I was just supposed to make sure Robbie picked you up at the airport instead of Beck.”
More pieces of the puzzle dropped in place. “You did something to make Beck sick, didn’t you?”