Valiant Light, page 22
No, not many got a ringside seat as the Grand Game played out in front of them.
*~*~*
Ori’s disorientation had manifested itself in aimless wandering. He’d retraced his steps through Atlanta until he found himself at the exact spot where he’d died. It didn’t look any different, though there was new concrete nearby, no doubt to cover the gaping hole Lucifer had created when he’d dragged one of the traitors back to Hell during the purge.
Here, Ori’s death had severed the bond between him and Blackthorne’s only child. Her soul had been set free. Somehow, he knew that this fact remained unchanged, that his sudden “rebirth” had not touched her, at least not in those terms.
“Why am I here?” he murmured. None of the people walking near him could hear him, and he was certain that if they had, they wouldn’t know the answer. Ironically, that was one of the questions often rattling around in the mortals’ heads. A query that he used to take full advantage of, allowing him to move one step closer to claiming their soul.
Not anymore. Lucifer had released his hold on him, so Ori was no longer one of the Prince’s servants. Yet he didn’t feel as if he belonged in Heaven, either. He felt . . . unmoored.
A pair of young women walked by, one of them giving him the eye. She smiled at him and winked, clearly interested in what she saw. He smiled back before realizing what he was doing. Old habits die hard, even for Fallen angels.
Ori hadn’t lied to Rahmiel, the one the mortals called Martha. Well, not entirely. He had been at peace, savoring the morning light from his perch on top of the mausoleum. The awareness of his surroundings had fled in only a matter of days, and yet he always knew when the sun’s rays hit his prison. Yet he sensed nothing else, unaware of the passage of time or the events around him.
Now he was alive, again. Some might rejoice at that second chance, but Ori did not. All the temptations that had cost him so dearly were still out there. It would be so easy to talk some unsuspecting mortal into giving up his or her soul. As easy as taking a breath.
He walked away from where he’d died now, though he had no destination in mind. That he’d been called back to life by the Creator wouldn’t sit well with the Chief of the Fallen. If he wasn’t careful, didn’t guard every step, he could find himself in Hell, suffering from Lucifer’s wrath. Because if he’d learned one thing over the countless millennia, it was that the Prince held a grudge.
He paused now, ignoring those who walked around him without realizing they were close to an angel. He closed his eyes, hunting, and then found Riley Anora Blackthorne in the country the mortals called Italy. She was with the man who would be her husband. The one who had become a grand master.
Even as he tried to get a sense of her life now, something pricked at the corners of his mind. Something ancient and familiar, laced with a fanatical purpose. Slowly, the shocking realization set in.
Now he understood why he’d been rousted from the grave.
*~*~*
International Guild Manor House
Scotland
Riley stared out the side window as she and Beck were driven back to the manor. She’d readily agreed with his suggestion that they stay at the cottage tonight. While she’d been dropped off near the loch, Beck had begun to pack up his belongings for the flight home tomorrow. He also needed to carve out a time to sit for his formal portrait, something that had to be done before they returned home.
Oddly ill at ease, despite the fact that she loved this place, Riley started a fire in the stove to warm up the cottage. Then, as if driven out of that warmth, she went out to sit on a rock in the snow to watch the sun cast gold beams on the loch. For one disconcerting moment, the scene around her turned to blackened ashes, but then, with the blink of an eye, it went back to pure white snow.
“Why are you letting this happen?” she whispered. “What’s the point of all these deaths? What do you want us to do?”
If it was just a matter of being less wicked, then why allow the angel to destroy a whole town? Because all that did was make people fearful and angry—more likely to turn away from the Light than toward it.
“Help me understand. There has to be a way to stop this.” Without losing the man I love.
Riley blinked away tears as the water in front of her turned darker gold. In the distance, she swore she could hear a bagpipe, low and mournful. Its haunting notes cracked open her emotions, finally allowing them to spill out like sand from a damaged bucket. The first tear rolled down her cheek, chilly in the twilight air. Then another and another. Finally, she was openly sobbing, hugging herself and rocking back and forth in agony.
“I can’t do this anymore,” she cried.
It’d been too much, too quickly. The death of her mother, then her father. Being loved and then betrayed by both Ori and Simon. The lethal cunning of Sartael and the Prince. The deaths, the battles. The choices.
Oh God, the choices. Riley had tried to make the right ones and then paid the price, over and over. Now she was teetering on the edge of that abyss again.
“I’m not strong enough,” she pleaded. She was only eighteen. Most people her age were just testing the waters, learning who they were, what they wanted in life.
She’d had no chance to come to grips with herself, her strengths and weaknesses. She’d been shoved into this role, half-formed and yet expected to lead.
No one ever thinks they’re strong enough. But you are. You always have been.
Riley gaped in astonishment. It was her mother’s voice in her head now, soft and reassuring.
“But I don’t know what to do. If we fight this thing, we’ll die—”
Or you’ll win. Trust your heart, Riley. Because everything happens for a reason. Everything.
Her mother’s voice faded out and with it, Riley’s tears. Her mom had always told her how much she was loved, how she’d make mistakes but that was what being human was all about. Now, from beyond the grave, Miriam Blackthorne had reinforced that message.
The last of the sun slowly bowed out behind the distant hills. The piper’s last note hung in the air, then faded away, heralding another day gone.
“Thanks, Mom,” Riley said. As she stood, a light breeze touched her hair, like her mother had always done. “I miss you too.”
*~*~*
As Riley approached the cottage, she saw that more lights were on, which meant Beck had arrived. She found him on the couch, his boots off, feet up, and eyes distant.
“Den?”
He looked over at her and smiled, the connection between them instantaneous. That smile was what drew her in every time. A bit of bad boy, all good man.
“You doin’ okay?” he asked as she removed her own boots and heavy outer clothes, stashing them in their proper places.
“Better. Just puzzled. And very overwhelmed.”
He gave a jerky nod and now she noticed the sheen in his eyes. He hadn’t been crying, but he was feeling the same emotions nonetheless.
“I brought some supper up from the manor. It’s in the oven, staying warm.” Which explained the enticing scent of roasted chicken she’d noticed when she’d first entered the cottage.
Food sounded good, but not right now. Riley walked over to stand in front of him and offered a hand. Beck rose, no doubt seeing the troubled look in her eyes. He drew her into his arms.
“If you go after this thing, we do it together.”
She felt him tense under her fingers. “Riley, that’s—”
“The only way it’s going to be,” she said, not looking at him now. If she did, she’d start to cry again. “Because if you die, I die right along with you.”
“No,” he whispered, touching her hair.
“Promise me,” Riley insisted. She could have put a magical push behind that command, but she didn’t. This had to be his decision.
He ground his teeth, then let his jaw relax. “Ah, hell. I promise. But it goes both ways—ya don’t go after this thing on yer own.”
She raised her head from his shoulder. “I won’t. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
That seemed to mollify him. “Well, no matter what we face, we’re stronger together. Always have been.”
“Always will be.”
The touch of his lips to hers filled her with an unexpected peace.
When the kiss ended, he whispered, “Our last night in Scotland.”
That made this moment even more poignant. “I love you. I always will.”
“Then show me,” he whispered. “Because time is growin’ precious, even for us.”
*~*~*
Beck’s House
Atlanta, Georgia
Their house had weathered their absence quite well. A little stuffy, but a good airing out would fix that. While Riley pulled clothes out of their suitcases and dropped them into the washer, Beck retrieved his rabbit from the neighbor’s. That task usually took some time because Mrs. Merton liked to catch up on their lives. Since she was always good about watching both the house and Rennie, he never rushed his visits. In fact, he looked forward to them.
Once the washer was running, Riley called Angus. He’d returned to Atlanta the day after Beck’s investiture, since no one had been sure exactly how long Riley and her fiancé would be Rome’s guests.
“We’re home,” she said, closely followed by a huge yawn.
“Good ta hear it. I still canna wrap my mind around Heaven bein’ the cause of all this destruction.”
“Neither can I.”
A long sigh came down the line. “I sent an e-mail ta Beck with the details on the two meetin’s he’s got first thing tomorrow. Can ya make sure he sees that?”
“Sure.” Meetings. The newest grand master was going to be thrilled about those.
“Oh, and Harper’s been missin’ ya, not that he said so in plain English, mind ya.”
That made her smile. “The apprentices doing okay?”
“They are, but he’s got some concerns about the lass, Jaye.”
“What’s going on?”
“Best ta ask him. He was his usual bitchy self taday, so I didn’t press him on the subject.”
Some things never changed. “I will. Thanks, Angus.”
“I ken that it’s hard ta think of good things right now, but soon ya’ll be married.”
“I wish it was tomorrow.”
“It’ll come soon enough. Now go ta bed. Ya sound knackered. Send my regards ta Beck.”
“I will. Bye, Angus.”
When the call ended, she sent a quick text to tell Harper the same news and was stunned when he replied immediately.
NEED TO TALK TO YOU FIRST THING TOMORROW.
“Ohhhkay.” That didn’t sound good. With a groan, she acknowledged the text and set the phone aside.
Still no Beck, which meant Mrs. Merton probably had new pictures of her grandkids to share. With a yawn, Riley wrote a sticky note and tacked it on the bathroom mirror so her fiancé would read his e-mail. It sounded as if things weren’t right in Atlanta, either.
Chapter Twenty
To Beck’s astonishment, Riley was up before him. At six in the morning. He stared at her as she leaned against the kitchen counter, clad in jeans and a navy T-shirt. “You sick or somethin’?”
“Nope. My brain says it’s eleven, not the crack of dawn,” Riley replied as she poured hot water in a mug. When she gave the contents a stir, he realized it was hot chocolate. An empty cereal bowl sat nearby, as well as an orange rind.
“Long as yer okay, I’m goin’ for a run. What’s yer day look like?”
“Harper wants to talk to me first thing. Something to do with one of my apprentices. And Mort sent me a text reminding me that we need to do more warding practice.”
“Bet you can’t wait,” he replied. Bending over, Beck re-laced one of his shoes, then straightened up. “Wanna join me for a run?” he teased, already knowing the answer.
“Ha! Like I’m that crazy. I’ll stick with the weights this morning.”
“Weights?” he asked, confused. She nodded in between sips of hot chocolate. “So who are you and what happened to my delicate little Princess?”
Riley shot him an expression that told him he wasn’t as amusing as he thought. “I’ve been working out since you left in December.”
“Any particular reason, other than just gettin’ stronger?”
“My left shoulder was too stiff from all the scars. Lifting weights loosens it up. Cheaper than going to a physical therapist.”
That made sense. “Is it workin’?”
“Yes, I can lift it above my head now,” she said, demonstrating. “At the first of the year, I had trouble doing even that. Hard to thump Hellspawn on their furry little heads otherwise.”
Now he knew why she’d seemed more toned than in December. He grinned, tapping her nose with his finger. “Yer amazin’.”
“Not really. It’s just that sometimes I feel forty rather than eighteen. That sucks, so I’m trying not to go there.”
“Yeah, I hear you. I’ll be back in a bit. You gonna be here?”
“Don’t know. Figured I’d make a run by the cemetery and visit the folks’ graves before I go to Harper’s.”
“Okay, then I’ll see you tonight.”
Popping up on her toes, she gave him a kiss and then retreated to the bedroom.
“Liftin’ weights, huh?” he murmured to himself. “Anythin’ that keeps you alive, I’m all for it.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Beck saw a small blur race across the kitchen counter, the pint-sized Klepto-Fiend who insisted on living with them.
“Yeah, I saw you. That weddin’ ring better be where I left it, you hear me?”
An irritating demonic snicker came from behind the loaf of bread, suggesting that his warning was too late. No doubt the ring was stashed in the Magpie’s little bag along with all his other loot.
“You do realize I’m a grand master now, right?”
Another snicker, this one bordering on a laugh.
“Keep it up and I’ll ward every damned door and window.”
A blur retraced its steps across the counter and in its wake was a ring. Beck smiled until he picked it up, only to realize it wasn’t the one he’d bought for Riley.
“Hey!”
Another round of laughter, then there was nothing but silence.
“Damned demons.”
*~*~*
Riley took a deep breath and savored the morning air as she trudged from the parking lot into Atlanta’s most famous boneyard. Scotland might still be in the throes of winter, but Oakland Cemetery was courting spring like a besotted lover. Crocuses and hyacinths bloomed in enticing colors, and trees were already showing their leaves. Birds flitted here and there, animated and noisy in their hunt for nesting materials and food.
That activity and beauty seemed to clear the cobwebs from her brain and make things a little less gray. Riley had been struggling with that grayness, as she called it, since she’d seen the dead city in Italy. Her near breakdown at the loch hadn’t helped. She usually wasn’t so emotionally labile, but recently everything seemed to hit harder than usual.
What continued to haunt her was the carnage the angel had caused, both now and in the past. It was so unfathomable. She’d read that passage in Exodus when she was a kid, even attended a friend’s Passover Seder in grade school. It just hadn’t registered exactly how devastating such an event—the deaths of hundreds of thousands of citizens—would have been to a nation.
The pharaoh made a compelling bad guy, the ideal villain, refusing to set the Israelites free despite an ever-increasing run of horrific plagues. But Heaven had a role in that tragedy as well, for God had “hardened” the ruler’s heart, which had ultimately led to the slaughter of the firstborn. The Destroyer had been the one to deliver the killing blow.
Now, even more depressed by thorny theological issues that scholars had debated for centuries, Riley frowned her way up the path into the cemetery. As she neared the gatehouse, she spied a familiar figure on the small structure’s steps, apparently waiting for her. Martha wasn’t knitting, but just staring off into the distance, her hands clenched in her lap.
She knows about the Destroyer. I bet they all do.
In Hell, a rogue Fallen would rally followers to overthrow Lucifer. Could it be like that in Heaven?
“No,” Martha replied, plucking the question directly from Riley’s mind.
She sat next to the angel, or next to an older woman in orthopedic shoes and dowdy clothes, if you didn’t know who she really was.
“Why isn’t God stopping this angel from killing people?” Riley asked.
Martha shrugged. “I asked that very question of Michael the other day and he ignored me. I don’t think he knows, either.”
It almost sounded as if she and the Archangel Michael were buddies, though Riley suspected that wasn’t the case. Michael was too much of a jerk to have many friends.
“You’d be right about that,” this angel said, reading her thoughts again.
Riley stared at her companion. “That’s . . . honest. Usually you’re very careful about what you say to me.”
“True, but things are changing,” was the swift reply.
“You folks going to do something about this? Or are you just going to watch us die, one town at a time?”
Martha looked toward her now, her frown slowly vanishing. “Something has already been done.”
Riley’s hope surged. “The Destroyer’s dead?” That hope crashed with a single headshake. “Then what do you mean?”
“The prayer you made at the church caught the right ears.”
The only church she’d been in recently was St. Peter’s Basilica. She’d stood in front of the saint’s tomb and asked that Heaven give her some help with the city killer.
“No, the other part of your prayer,” Martha said. “About the one who fell.”
