Valiant Light, page 25
He was also a conscientious one. He’d have made arrangements with her family so she could serve as his housekeeper for however long she could handle the job. With his expert after-death care, that usually came out to about a year. For that service, the family received excellent compensation, and at the end of that term, Mort arranged a tasteful reburial, covering all the expenses. From what Riley had seen, he always chose families that desperately needed the cash. Riley might not like the idea, but she knew he would treat the woman humanely. That was better than some of the necros.
“Hi, I’m Riley. I’m here to see Mort.”
“He said you would be arriving. I’m Letitia,” the woman replied. When she’d been among the living, Letitia had probably been in her late fifties and quite statuesque, the opposite of her new boss.
“Nice to meet you.”
Letitia studied her for a moment. “You know what I am?”
“Yes.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“Nope. Not really,” Riley replied.
Her answer seemed to make Mort’s newest employee happy. Letitia seemed sharp for a reanimate. Riley’s dad had been that way, but needed frequent naps to maintain that level of intelligence. She also took her job seriously and insisted on escorting Riley to the owner of the house, even though Riley’d been here many times.
Walking down the hallway, she sensed another presence and groaned. Lord Ozymandias. He seemed to be spending more time with his fellow necro.
As she entered the room, Riley steeled herself.
“Senior Summoner Alexander,” she said, then turned to the other man. “Lord Ozymandias.”
“Summoner Blackthorne,” His Lordship replied, an unreadable expression in place. He wasn’t in his robes, and the strange sigil on his head was muted. It was almost like this was the real guy, not the one he portrayed in public.
To Riley’s relief, there was a cheery fire in the fireplace, a fireplace that hadn’t been there the last time she’d visited. She concentrated and saw the blank wall. “Nice illusion.”
Mort smiled. “You’re getting a lot better at spotting those.”
She chose the only available chair. “I’m guessing you’ve involved him,” Riley said, angling her head toward the senior summoner, “because what I did this afternoon isn’t normal.”
Mort’s mouth twitched, holding back a smile. “Yes, though what you did isn’t quite as unusual as you would think.”
“Indeed,” Ozymandias said as he settled back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Tell us exactly what happened.”
Riley took a deep breath and gave her report. Unfortunately, trying to read either summoner’s expression while she did so proved futile. These two would be daunting poker players.
“Is what I did wacked?” she asked.
“A few questions first,” Mort replied. “What were you feeling when you cast the spell? Was it fear for yourself?”
“No, it was a strong Four, but I’ve taken down stronger demons.”
“The apprentice who was with you—were you afraid for him?”
“Not really. The fiend couldn’t get a foothold in Richard’s head, and he’s smart enough to know when to back off if things go bad.”
“What was your major concern when you cast the spell?” Ozy asked.
“The dog. The thing was about to rip it apart.”
The two men traded looks.
“You were afraid the dog would be killed,” Mort said.
“Killed and probably eaten,” Riley said, shaking her head. “If the demon had just fought me or Richard, that would’ve been fine, but it went after something that couldn’t protect itself.”
Mort nodded as if she’d just confirmed something. “That’s why your spell was so strong. Your emotions augmented the magic.”
“Emotions?”
“We all have our hot buttons. I’m particularly sensitive to bullies because I was harassed all through school.” Mort huffed. “Even after I became a summoner.”
“Bet they don’t do that now,” Ozy said, an eyebrow quirked. If he’d been anyone else, he would’ve been grinning.
“No, not as much,” Mort replied. He turned back to Riley. “You appear to have a couple hot buttons. One is your intolerance of irresponsible authority and the other is your fear of innocent people being harmed. You will sacrifice yourself to save anyone you deem a noncombatant. Your anger at what the demon was about to do—in this case, murder and devour a harmless pet—pushed your spell far beyond its normal parameters.”
“Okay,” Riley murmured. “How do I not do that? What keeps me from blowing someone to atoms?”
“Nothing,” Mort said, “only your control of the magic.”
“But I’ve never done it before. Why now?”
“You’re learning how to channel your spells more effectively,” Ozy said. “For some, this is a normal stage—at least for those of us who have a strong will. Now that you know you’re capable of such a thing, it’s up to us to teach you how to calibrate your spells in those particular situations.”
“You two do this?” Both nodded. “And if I do want to kill something?”
“Then you’re all set,” Ozy replied dryly.
She winced. “Why do I think this control thing is going to require a buttload more magic practice and another family-sized bottle of aspirin?”
The wide grin that formed on Mort’s face confirmed her suspicions.
“Great. Just great.”
“Tomorrow night, out in the woods,” Ozymandias said. “We’ll keep annoying you until you snap.”
She eyed him. “Going to use the ‘sacrifice the kitten’ trick again? Remember, the one you tried on me when you were trying to get to my father’s body?”
“Maybe this time I’ll use a real one rather than an illusion.”
He was jesting. At least, she hoped he was. “I doubt it,” she said. She’d seen cat hair on his black clothes, and that told her there was a feline in his life somewhere.
“Tomorrow night,” Ozy repeated. “At eight. You know the location. Bring along that grand master of yours. You’ll be far too exhausted to drive home.”
That sounded like a dismissal, so she rose, gave Mort a nod, and left the house. Trudging back to her car, she could just imagine what Beck would think about hanging with the magic slingers. Still, if she pitched it right, convinced him it was a way to keep them both safe, he’d go for it. It was kinda cool that she knew how to steer him in the right direction. It was very likely he was using the same technique on her.
The only good thing about all the upheaval in her life? She wasn’t freaking about the wedding. Simi had warned her that if she became a bridezilla—and who had thought up that term?—there would be an intervention, and not one that Riley would like.
Fortunately, that hadn’t been needed. She’d decided to panic the night before the wedding, but no sooner. Because by that time, there was nothing she could do if anything wasn’t going right. Now, if the rest of the universe would be as mellow, they might just pull this off.
*~*~*
Riley’s intention to scoot home and spend time with Beck had been short-circuited by a text from a dear friend. A friend she hadn’t seen in almost a month, which was embarrassing on so many levels.
Peter King was waiting for her in her favorite booth at the Grounds Zero, a cup of coffee at his elbow. He was an avid collector of T-shirts and the one today said, “Here, Hold My Beer!” He rose and gave her a lengthy hug, then ruffled her hair just to annoy her.
“Someone probably just took a video of that and will be posting it later,” Riley said as she slid into the booth opposite him. “My fiancé is the jealous type.”
Peter grinned. “You know, I can see the headlines now: ‘World Famous Demon Trapper Ditches Fiancé for Handsome Nerd.’”
Riley let loose a laugh. “I’ve missed you, my friend.”
“Same here.”
Peter’s hair was still the same length, but a little bit darker now, and there was a hint of a goatee. Despite his hefty academic load, he looked good. Happy.
“Been watching your exploits on YouTube,” he said, pulling his coffee cup closer. “You’ve been busy.”
There was so much he didn’t know, so much she needed to share. “Ah, there’s more going on than just that.”
With a quick look around to ensure no one was close enough to overhear her, she leaned over the table. Lowering her voice, she brought her best friend up to speed. By the time she finished, Peter’s face was ashen. He took a few gulps of air to steady himself, then heaved a sigh.
“Killer angel, huh?” Riley nodded. “I really don’t know why I bother with online gaming. It seems all the scary crap is for real nowadays.” She gave a grunt of assent. “Any chance of this thing coming here?”
“Nothing is keeping it from doing just that.”
“Of course,” he muttered. “What are your chances of stopping the thing if it comes here?”
“Little to none.”
“Okay, situation normal, then.” Peter grew serious. “Well, no matter what, my best friend is getting married on Saturday.”
“Peter—”
His eyes remained riveted on hers. “I repeat, my best friend is getting married on Saturday. A best friend who is more like a sister to me, because all I have is brothers and they’re driving me crazy. Right now, everything but her wedding is secondary in my world.”
Sister? He’d never told her that before. “Okay, you’re my honorary brother, but if your sis says to get the hell out of town, you do it.”
He stared at her, probably because she didn’t swear that often, and then frowned in thought. “If this angel was an online game, it’d say it’s glitching,” Peter said, falling back on gamer terminology. “Fix the glitch and then it’s all good.”
Clearly, he wasn’t getting in tune with reality here, so she gave up. “Saturday it is.”
He squeezed her hand. “You’ve got this. I know you do.”
Riley wasn’t convinced. If something happened in Atlanta, would she have the guts to stay and fight the thing? Why wouldn’t she just grab Beck and the bunny and make a run for it? Who would fault her?
It’s not who I am.
Long ago, a frightened young girl had made a stand against the Darkness, to honor her dead father’s memory. Now that commitment was as much a part of her as the blood in her veins. Her fiancé was no different.
Peter must have seen something on her face, because he leaned across the table and gave her a hug, even though he came perilously close to upsetting his coffee. “Well, I’m off to see Simi and then I’m heading home. Do me a favor—unglitch this thing.”
Peter’s mention of his ex-girlfriend caught Riley’s notice. “How are you two doing? Simi and you?”
He beamed. “Good. Really good. We worked out our problems and we’re solid now.”
Solid? How had she not known that? But then, just how good of a friend had Riley been, at least recently? She was so focused on being a master trapper and a summoner, and all the stuff for the wedding, that, stupidly, she’d let some of her friendships drift. Peter being one of those.
Studying him now, she remembered when he’d been an odd little kid who’d told her silly jokes and seemed to know everything that was on the internet. Now he was a young man, whip-smart and full of promise. A friend who had stood by her, no matter what.
“We’ll do everything we can, Peter, but there are no guarantees.”
“There never were, Riley. You know that as well as anyone.” He rose from the booth. “Tell Beck I’m thinking of him.”
As he walked out of the coffee shop, she vowed to be a better friend, because sometimes there was no tomorrow.
*~*~*
After making sure Rennie had been fed, watered, and sufficiently fussed with, Beck had opened a beer, settled in, and brooded. He’d been at it for an hour—though still on the same beer—trying to get a handle on what was headed their way.
Four more days until the weddin’.
It felt selfish to ask for that time, what with all those people dying. It was just that he and Riley had put their lives on the line so many times—he just wanted something for himself. In this case, to hear his fiancée say, “I do.”
His gut, which was rarely wrong, told him that wasn’t a sure bet.
Beck heard the car pull into the drive, but didn’t move from his position on the couch. Eventually, the key turned in the lock and the door opened to reveal the young woman he loved. Unfortunately, Riley looked as tired as he felt, moving slower than usual. Since, by their internal clocks, it was somewhere near one thirty in the morning, that wasn’t unexpected.
“Sorry,” she said when she saw him. “I stopped to talk to Peter and then I got called out for a trapping. One of the guys hurt his ankle during the run, and they needed backup.”
“Which trapper?”
“McGuire.”
Beck snorted. “The asshole give you any grief?” McGuire had been in Riley’s face ever since she’d become a trapper. In fact, he’d been the one to call down the National Guild on them late last year. That move had almost cost Riley her trapping license.
“No, he was actually civil,” Riley said, shutting the door behind her. “He was in too much pain to be an ass. Color me surprised.”
“Catch the demon?”
“Yup,” she said, head in the entryway closet, methodically refilling her trapping bag. It was a habit you acquired from the moment you became an apprentice—a demon trapper always restocked their bag before doing anything else. That way, if a run came in the middle of the night, you weren’t fumbling around half-asleep. Beck hadn’t followed that rule once and had earned a couple scars for his oversight.
Once the closet door was shut, Riley looked over at him.
“You look wiped,” he said.
“I feel it.”
She removed her shoes and joined him on the couch, curling up next to him with an afghan tucked around her.
“Today has been strange,” she said. “Like, ‘boy do I have some news for you’ strange.”
“Would some of that be an angel whose name begins with ‘o’ and ends in ‘i’? The one that’s no longer on top of yer family’s mausoleum?”
She raised her head and stared at him. “Yes. But how did you know that?”
“He was sittin’ on our front porch steps when I came back from my run this mornin’. Smug as ever. Well, maybe not quite as smug.” No, something about Ori had changed since his death.
Riley leaned back, frowning. “When I talked to Martha this morning, she said my prayers had been answered. Since one of those was about Ori, I did a quick gargoyle count and found he was gone.”
“And?” Because there was definitely an “and” after that sentence.
She laid her head back down on his chest. “It looks like Heaven brought him back to life to kill the Destroyer.”
“That’s what Ori said. He also didn’t act like his chances of doin’ that were great.” Beck hesitated, unsure if he should tell her the rest.
Riley raised her head again. “What are you leaving out?”
Damn. She was just too quick, even half-asleep from jetlag. “I know you made me promise—”
“Ori guilted you into helping him, didn’t he?” Riley demanded, pushing out of his arms. “You think you owe him because he told you how to kill Sartael.”
It was far more complex than that.
“I owe that . . . feathered bastard because he taught you how to fight demons, how to be so badass you’ve killed three Archfiends all on yer own. I owe him because yer still alive.”
Riley’s eyes widened.
“And yeah, he did tell me how to take down Sartael.”
“He’s guilting you. He’s really good at that, Den,” she said, quieter now. “Don’t ever forget he’s a Fallen.”
“I won’t. I know I promised not to go after this thing, but I see now that there’s more to this than just some crazy-assed angel. Heaven didn’t bring Ori back from the dead just because they were bored.” He shook his head in resignation. “One thing you learn as a grand master is that some of these events have been in motion for a very long time.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you find it odd that it’s us three in the middle of all this?” He held up a finger. “Lucifer’s former executioner.” He held up a second finger. “A grand master.” Finally a third finger rose. “And Paul Blackthorne’s daughter. I swear we’ve been set up all along.”
Her brow furrowed. “You really think that?”
“Yeah, I do,” he said. “I know that if I don’t stand by Ori when the time comes, I’m gonna lose everything.” He took one long, deep breath, desperate for her to understand just how much she was at the center of his life. His future. “All I have in this world is because of you. You were the one who never doubted that I could be whatever I wanted. As I see it, I have to do this or I’m not worthy of your love.”
Riley looked away, toward the window, though it was pitch black outside. “Looks like grand masters are really good with the guilt too.”
“Don’t mean to do that to you, but it’s important that you understand where I’m comin’ from.”
Her eyes returned to his. “You did the same for me—you never doubted that I could be whatever I wanted to be. You might not have liked doing that, but you were there for me.”
“Just watchin’ yer six,” he said.
“It was more than that. I was a kid, scared, just trying to find some meaning in my dad’s death. You stood by me, kept me from getting myself killed because I was too stubborn to listen. You made sure I knew that there was more in life than just demons.”
