by Jana Oliver
Just as she reached her gate, a text came through from Beck.
NEVER DOUBT I LOVE U.
Sinking into a seat near the window, Riley gave in and let the tears fall.
Epilogue
Four days after Riley returned to Atlanta she found herself headed down an alley in Little Five Points. On either side of her were doors of various colors, each home to either a witch or a summoner. This time she was visiting one of the latter, her dear friend Mortimer.
The young guy who answered the door had short brown hair and was dressed in worn jeans and a red tee-shirt. Unlike Mort’s usual domestic help, he wasn’t a reanimate.
“Oh, hi,” he said, checking her out while leaning in the doorway. “You’re Riley, right? Uncle Mort said you’d be coming by.”
Uncle Mort?
Before she could reply, he continued. “I’m Alex,” the boy said and waved her in. “I’m staying here for a while, taking time off before I start college.”
That meant he was about her age, though he appeared older. “What’s your major?”
“Physics.”
“Okay, that’s hardcore. I’m just taking a Latin course and that’s totally kicking my butt.”
“Latin, huh?” he said, smiling now. “No wonder my uncle thinks you’re cool.” Alex gestured down the hallway. “He’s in his office. You know the way, right?”
Riley nodded and set off, recalling the first time she’d come here, how nervous she’d been. How during one visit she’d found her reanimated father waiting for her.
It seemed like decades ago.
The house wasn’t any different — the same tasteful pictures on the walls — only she had changed.
When she entered Mort’s office, a curiously circular room, he looked up from the picnic table that served as his desk.
“There you are,” he said, beaming. Mort rose and they exchanged hugs. He was a short and wide fellow, but a good friend and the kind of dude you wanted watching your back.
“Beck sends his love,” she said.
“Master Stewart says he’s doing really well.”
“He is. He’ll make a fine grand master.” She smiled at the thought.
“Good, this world needs people like him.” Mort pointed at the ring at her hand. “I hear you two made it official.”
Riley grinned, holding the ring up for closer scrutiny. “No complaints. It’s all really good right now.”
“And you want to ensure it stays that way,” Mort hedged.
She sobered. “Yeah, that’s exactly why I’m here.”
They sat across from each other at the picnic table.
“You see, I have no real choice,” she began. “The only way people are going to leave us alone is if we’re so badass they won’t touch us. Beck is doing his part by becoming a grand master, but I have to be just as strong or they’ll keep messing with us. Someday ... we might not make it.”
Mort nodded sagely. “I was wondering when you were going to come to that conclusion.”
“It wasn’t easy,” Riley admitted, then nervously cleared her throat. “I can’t spend the rest of my life having people dropping spells on my head, trying to use me as bait to summon angels, demons or the monster of the month. I need to learn...” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I need to learn defensive magic.”
Mort leaned forward on his elbows. “This is hard for you, isn’t it? You never wanted to go down this path.”
“No, I don’t. I’m a trapper, not a summoner.”
“Okay, then I won’t teach you how to raise the dead, though you would be good at it.”
“No way. Don’t want to go there. Not after what happened to my dad.”
He nodded his understanding. “Stewart told me you broke a compulsion spell while you were in Scotland. Put the summoner right on her butt. That means you know how to channel magic.”
“Yes, but I don’t know how I did it.”
“You have an incredibly strong will,” Mort replied, “and that’s very important.”
She wasn’t sure about that.
“It seems that Lord Ozymandias had a very terse conversation with a summoner named Enfield. Her report of what happened over there has intrigued his lordship, to say the least.”
That wasn’t good news. “Did she tell them I threatened them?”
He chuckled. “Yes. His lordship found that very amusing. Oh, and word is that you won’t be returning to Scotland for a trial.”
“What? Why not?”
“Summoner Faye is dead. They placed a restraining spell on her. As long as she didn’t try to do any magic, she was fine. Of course, she ignored their warning and tried to bespell her way out of jail. That was a very fatal mistake.”
“Wow,” Riley murmured. She’s dead.
Which meant it was all over, since Bess had pled guilty to a lesser charge than kidnapping. Her lawyer had wisely pushed the “mitigating circumstances” defense, like the fact she thought her only daughter was dying. It had worked.
Riley pulled herself back to the present. “So how do we do this?” she asked, her palms suddenly sweaty. She wiped them on her jeans, but it didn’t seem to help.
“I’ll teach you the basics,” Mort said. “Then Ozymandias will teach you the stronger protection spells.”
“What? Oh no, I couldn’t—” Not him.
“He’s the best,” Mort insisted. “I know you don’t like him because of what he did to your father, but if you want to keep you and Beck safe, it’s the smartest way. Besides the new Ozy isn’t like the old one. I think you’ll be surprised. He actually has a sense of humor, believe it or not.”
It was the first time she’d ever heard Mort shorten the high lord’s name. Apparently her friend was loosening up. Or Ozy was.
“I’m not sure about him,” she admitted.
“Then we’ll tackle that problem when we get to it. You ready to dig in today, or do you want to wait?”
Riley thought of Beck in Scotland. Of his smile, of his unconditional love. How she wanted all that for the rest of her life, no matter what it cost.
“Today works for me,” she announced.
“Okay then, we’ll start with the basics. Put your palms flat on the table.”
Riley did as she was told, nervous, as Mort collected a candle, lit it and then placed it in front of her. He settled back on the bench seat.
“Focus on the candle flame. Let it fill you.”
As she let the light enter her mind and her heart, she heard her father’s soft voice. I am so proud of you.
She smiled to herself and focused harder.
This is for you, Den. For us. For our future.
Thank You!
Thanks for reading Grave Matters. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it.
On the following pages you will find some BONUS CONTENT which includes demon illustrations and two Demon Trapper short stories. Please be sure to check them out.
Reviews allow other readers to find my books. If you could help me get the word out about Grave Matters, that would be great. Please tell other Demon Trappers fans about the novella, post reviews (either positive or negative) on Goodreads and the various online booksellers’ sites, etc. I would really appreciate it.
If you’ve never read the other books in the Demon Trappers series, please check out the following websites for details:
www.DemonTrappers.com
www.DemonTrappers.co.uk
If you’d like to stay in touch with me about new books, guest appearances and just about everything else:
Facebook: www.Facebook.com/janaoliver
Twitter: @crazyauthorgirl
Or at my website: www.JanaOliver.com
Thank you for sharing in another Riley and Beck adventure!
Bonus Content
Demon Illustrations
by Mark Helwig
Denver Beck Short Story
Personal Demons
Riley Blackthorne Short Story
Retro Demonology
/> Klepto-Fiend
by Mark Helwig
Biblio-Fiend
by Mark Helwig
Gastro-Fiend
by Mark Helwig
Archfiend
by Mark Helwig
Personal Demons
A Denver Beck Short Story
**Set three years before the first book in the Demon Trappers Series**
August 2015
Atlanta, Georgia
Denver Beck knew he had to prove himself on this run, or call it quits. Every apprentice demon trapper faced this test: today he would trap his first Grade Three demon. If he succeeded, he would be one step closer to becoming a journeyman trapper. If not, he’d have proved so many people right — that he was nothing more than a waste of space.
For the last few months he’d been under the watchful eye of a master demon trapper, learning the ins and outs of the trade. In truth, Paul Blackthorne was more like a father than a teacher, a role that began when they’d first met in Paul’s high school history class. Beck had always respected the man, an easy-going widower in his early forties. Even after Paul had lost his teaching job and become a demon trapper, their friendship continued. Now it was Beck’s chance to show him just how good he could be.
Though Hellspawn could be found anywhere in Atlanta, they liked to congregate in the Five Points area just south of downtown. The trappers, a mismatched crew of men from all walks of life, called it Demon Central. It was the best place to find one of Lucifer’s more ferocious Hellspawn, a Gastro-Fiend. Threes, as the trappers called them, were dedicated killings machines.
He and Paul had been called out to trap such a beast. As they descended the first of three lengthy escalators into the depths of Peachtree station, Beck shifted the strap of his heavy trapping bag to keep it from digging into his shoulder. It was loaded with the usual trapper supplies: a two foot length of steel pipe, a bag of chicken entrails, magical spheres and a few bottles of Holy Water. With the heat, the chicken was beginning to smell.
From below them came the characteristic whine of one of the trains entering the station. Though the city was bankrupt, the MARTA trains kept running, though erratically. The Peachtree station was on one of the main railway lines, located underground in the heart of the city.
The August heat made his tee shirt stick to his skin. Beck skimmed a hand through his military-style short blond hair. He had a history with this particular station and it hadn’t been a good one. The last time he’d been here he’d tried to trap a Pyro-Fiend, a fire-loving demon. He’d seriously botched the capture and a Hazardous Materials (Hazmat) team had been summoned to deal with the cleanup. Both he and Paul had taken a lot of grief from the Demon Trappers Guild for that screw up. It had nearly cost him his apprentice licence.
If he screwed up this time, he was history.
Why am I doin’ this? I gotta be crazy. Unfortunately there wasn’t much else a twenty-year-old veteran could do unless he wanted to break the law, or live on the streets.
A kid on the opposite escalator let out a war hoop and Beck instinctively crouched down, his heart pounding and his mouth dry. When he realized the source of the noise, he rose to his feet, feeling like a fool.
He’d only been home from the Middle East for a few months. Everyday noises, the kind that other people ignored, he had to process through his war-heightened senses. He found himself automatically scanning faces, looking for enemies, folks who might want to shoot him in the back or trigger a cache of explosives.
In Afghanistan, that extreme caution had saved his life. Though the war was supposedly winding down, there was always someone who’d love to kill a bunch of Americans, especially if they wore uniforms. On one afternoon, a roadside bomb had come very close to killing him.
No matter how he tried, Beck was still too keyed up to let down his guard.
His mentor noticed. “The only bad guys here are the demons,” Paul said softly. “No need to be so jumpy.”
“I can’t help myself. It’s the way I am right now.”
“It’s not a bad habit, Den,” Paul continued, “it’s just that it takes your attention away from the real threats.” His friend smiled at him. “Don’t worry, you’ll do fine.”
“Glad one of us thinks so.”
The Guild categorized demons according to their lethality and their general intelligence. Fortunately Gastro-Fiends weren’t that bright, but they made up for that with pure ferocity. Threes stood at about four feet tall, their bodies covered in fur, usually solid black. The younger ones were plump and had a single row of teeth, both top and bottom. The mature ones had more teeth and highly aggressive.
Though Paul wouldn’t let this thing eat him, but there was nothing to stop it from ripping out Beck’s entrails before his friend nailed it with a Holy Water sphere.
“The fiend could be hiding in the tunnels or on one of the trains,” Paul remarked, always in teacher mode. “How do you propose we find it?”
“Listen for the screams?” Beck joked.
“Sometimes it isn’t that easy.”
Then the screaming began.
“Ah, damn!” Beck said and took off at a trot, hurrying past other passengers on the escalator. Once he and Paul reached the platform, they found a knot of civilians all trying to get somewhere else in a hurry. The reason for their panic was about ten yards away — a Gastro-Fiend. This one was leaner, with thick muscles underneath the rank fur, and it sported two crooked layers of teeth. Six talons protruded from each paw and its eyes were laser red.
He’d seen them before, but Paul had been the one trapping them. Now this was his.
“It’s one of the older ones,” Paul warned. ‘It’ll move faster than you’re used to. Keep it away from the civilians and I’ll hit it with the Holy Water.”
Beck’s hands shook as he eased his trapping bag to the concrete. Adrenalin stormed through his body and he forced himself to take a deep breath. This was the part of the job that scared the hell out of him, and the part he lived for.
“You be careful, okay?” Paul said.
“Yes, sir,” Beck replied. He quickly removed pipe and the entrails, which would serve as bait. Paul already had a Holy Water sphere in hand, ready to deliver it the moment the demon went after Beck. If he hit the fiend in the face with the glass sphere, it would be rendered unconscious long enough to secure it. It wasn’t a perfect take-down system, but it usually worked. When it didn’t, trappers got hurt… or killed.
No longer fascinated with a trash container’s contents, the demon had taken an unholy interest in a teenage boy. The kid was busily snapping photos of the monster with his cell phone, no doubt to impress his friends.
Idiot! “Get the hell away from it!” Beck shouted, already on the move.
Startled, the teen peered over his shoulder at him, a deer in the headlights. The fiend chose that moment to launch its attack.
Beck picked up speed, legs pumping in a bid to cover the distance in half the time. As he ran, he heaved the bag of entrails so it landed some distance to the left of the kid. The Three ignored it, homing in on the much larger meal.
Shouting to attract its attention, Beck put himself between the teen and the Three. He hip-checked the boy toward an open train car.
“Go!” he shouted.
The kid stumbled, hit the floor of the train and slid, his fingers still locked around the phone. Though the civilian was out of the way, Beck found himself out of position. He tried to turn fast enough to ward off the demon, but it raked his arm with its toxic claws as it charged by. He bellowed in pain.
With a startling crash, a Holy Water sphere shattered against the side of the train, splattering liquid and glass fragments in all directions. It’d just missed the demon’s head.
To Beck’s relief, the car doors closed and the train rolled of the station.
At least the kid’s safe.
Its departure distracted the fiend long enough for Beck to back away and assess the situation. The Three was doing the same
as drool rolled down its chin. It glared at him with flame-red eyes. He flinched at the sight of his blood and flesh on the thing’s claws.
Beck tightened his grip on the pipe. It felt warm to the touch.
“Trapperrr!” the demon cried as it flung itself at Beck. He slammed at it with his pipe, but his timing was off. Instead of a solid blow, the Three hooked a paw around the weapon, using it to pull him closer. Before he realized what was happening, its teeth snapped inches from his neck, its foul breath scorching him as the stink of putrid fur filled his nose.
A glass sphere slammed into the demon’s shoulder, but it had no effect. Beck released the pipe and lurched to the side. Instead of dropping it, the demon sent the weapon flying across the open space directly at him. When he raised an arm to shield himself, it bounced off the bone, clipping his forehead as it passed. Beck’s head exploded in a burst of pain and he almost went to his knees. If he did, he was dead.
“Get out of the way!” Paul called out, panic in his voice now.
When Beck complied with the order, another Holy Water sphere flew through the air, but it missed. He grabbed up the pipe, but the fiend was already on the move, taking a running leap at him. They tumbled onto the concrete and rolled, their combined momentum carrying them off the platform into the dirty pit below.
He landed hard on his back, the wind knocked out of him, costing him precious seconds to regain his breath. Looking around wildly, he cursed when he saw that his pipe hadn’t made the journey with him. He also realized he was next to the covered rail, the one that supplied the electricity to run the trains. He quickly scooted away from it.
No wonder Paul hadn’t thrown another sphere, not with Beck so close to that massive power source. Get fried was never his idea of fun.
“Den?” his friend called out, his face peering over the edge of the platform. “You okay?”