Riley stood alone in a field of crisp, freshly fallen snow.
There was nothing around her, no buildings, no people. High above a blood-red
moon held court in the sky, thousands of stars paying homage.
A breeze tugged at her hair and it smelt of
deepest midnight. She felt Ori’s presence even before his arms slid round her
waist, drawing her back against him. She knew it was a dream, but she didn’t
want to wake. Here it would be perfect. There would be no Heaven or Hell, no
one to tell her what she was doing was wrong. It would just be Ori and her
forever.
Turning in his arms, Riley gazed up at his
black hair and those bottomless eyes. Eyes that had seen the beginning of the
cosmos.
‘I am sorry,’ Ori murmured, his voice just as
she remembered it. ‘I hurt you and that is not what I wanted.’
‘It didn’t have to be that way,’ she said. It could
have been so different.
‘Let me make it right between us. Let me show
you what your future can hold.’
He gestured and a scene appeared in the air in
front of them. It was Riley, older now. She had a grace and strength that she
never thought possible. She was teaching two apprentices how to trap demons and
they were riveted on her words. This Riley was strong and confident, no hint of
the troubled girl that lay within.
‘You’ll be a renowned master trapper, like your
father,’ Ori explained. ‘The trappers will be in awe of your skills. All the
while, my protection will keep you safe from harm.’
She could trap and be successful and everyone
would think she was the best there was. Just
like my dad . . .
His kiss reignited her desire for him. Her need
for love, for someone to care for her. She melted against his body, savouring
the touch and scent of him.
‘I am yours,’ the angel said. ‘Give me your
soul and we can be together forever, Riley Anora Blackthorne.’
‘Do you love me?’ she asked. That was what she
wanted, what she craved. To be loved by someone as magnificent as an angel.
Ori did not reply, his face tormented. As if he
wanted to lie, but could not. He tried to smile, but failed. ‘Come with me,’ he
said, offering a hand. ‘We will have eternity together. Is that not enough?’
Riley hesitated, her heart pounding hard. If he
doesn’t love me . . . Was she so desperate that she’d settle for an
empty life? Caught in her doubts, she looked away and found that the field
wasn’t empty any longer. Her family’s mausoleum now stood a short distance
away, cloaked in snow and moonlight. Solid red stones, stained-glass windows,
all testimony to the Blackthorne legacy. The lion-winged gargoyles on the roof
glared down at her, brilliant yellow flames pouring from their mouths, as if
she was a threat to the dead within.
The double brass doors swung open and, instead
of the stone interior lit by dancing candlelight, there was semi-darkness.
Figures moved around inside, all talons and teeth and glittering ruby eyes. The
emissaries of Hell awaiting her decision.
It was so tempting. She’d spend forever with
her father. The demons couldn’t hurt her and –
A voice cried out her name. She searched across
the field and found Beck running towards her at top speed. He cried out again,
his voice ragged as if he’d been shouting for hours and she’d not heard him.
‘Do not listen to the trapper,’ Ori warned. ‘He
is jealous of us. Of what we have.’
She hesitated, confused.
‘Riley!’ Ori called, more forceful now. ‘Pledge
me your soul. I promise you will never suffer another moment of your life.’
‘What will we have?’ she demanded. ‘Some
promises? None of which you will keep.’ She shook her head. ‘You never loved
me. You only loved my soul and what it will buy you in Hell.’
‘You are wrong,’ the angel retorted. ‘This was
always about you.’
‘Lies!’ she shouted.
A searing cramp dug deep into her belly and she
doubled over in agony. Riley forced herself to straighten up, holding her
stomach. The area around her had become a minefield of skulls, each inhabited
by a demon. They taunted her, threatened her, spoke of the endless tortures
that awaited her soul in Hell.
Ori was no longer near her but at the edge of
the skull field now, pacing in agitation. ‘You have to give your soul. It is
the only way, Riley! Please, I beg of you!’
The snow around her turned crimson and began to
boil.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I have lost too much already.’
As the skulls massed for an assault, Beck
charged into the minefield, bent on her rescue. He only made it a few steps
before he cried out her name once more, then died in tormented agony as the
demons tore him apart.
‘NO!!!!’
Riley lurched upright in the bed, sweat pouring
off her in streams. Her chest felt heavy and each breath only brought in a tiny
stream of air. She bent over, clutching her stomach. Swallowing repeatedly to
keep from vomiting, she struggled to regain her senses and break free of the
nightmare.
With a groan, she wiped sweat off her brow. A
vicious headache pounded in the very centre of her forehead. The room around
her was quiet. There were no demons, no angel, no dying Beck. As the nightmare
receded, the horror of it still clung to her.
Was this a sign of what her future held? Would
Ori continue to push at her mind until she screamed for release? Would Beck
throw away his life to save her soul?
With another groan, Riley rooted in her
messenger bag and excavated two Advil and a bottle of water. She washed the
tablets down, hoping they’d stay put, then leaned back against the headboard.
‘This seriously sucks.’ The verbal
acknowledgement only made her head thump harder.
Once she’d shaken off the
worst of the dream, she headed for the bathroom and made a totally useless
attempt to do something about her hair. When she pulled on her clothes, she was
relieved they smelt less like the lying angel now. It was a pity that the
memory of his touch wouldn’t fade as easily.
Out of habit she retrieved her cellphone, but a
second before powering it on she hesitated: did she dare check her messages?
Would the hunters be able to track her here?
‘Better not,’ she said, leaving the phone off.
It felt weird to be so out of touch. How would she let her friends know what
was happening? Her best buddy Peter freaked if he didn’t hear from her
regularly. Simi, her barista friend at the local coffee shop, would wonder what
happened to her, especially since she insisted on updates every couple of days.
Staying with Mort was too dangerous for all of
them. Eventually the hunters would come here. The only choice was for her and
her dad to make a run for it, hide out until the Vatican’s boys got bored and
returned to Rome. We’ll have to start over. Find a place to live.
I’ll have to get a different job. If they survived all that, eventually she’d
have to convince Lucifer to put her dad back in the ground.
All
because I wanted someone to love me.
*
While some would argue that the Westin Peachtree Plaza
wasn’t a jail, the earnest demon hunter parked near the hotel room’s door told
Beck he wasn’t free to come and go as he pleased. Since it looked like he was
here for the time being he made his way to the bathroom. Running a wet
facecloth over his hair took most of the dirt out of the blond strands. He made
sure to keep the bandage dry.
Riley’s selfish actions had brought the hunters
to his doorstep. That angered him, not only because of what she’d let that
Fallen do to her, but because he’d promised her father he’d keep her safe.
Still, Beck’s wounded pride was the least of his worries: what would the
hunters do to Paul’s daughter when they caught her? Would they put her on
trial? Lock her up? Or worse?
Knowing that his questions were not going to be
answered by staring into the bathroom mirror, Beck returned to the bedroom. The
hunter tracked his movements, vigilant as ever. Dusting himself off, which left
a trail of dried grass on the carpet, Beck unlaced his work boots and dropped
on to the king bed. It was one of those fancy ones you find in expensive
hotels. He’d learned to sleep on some of the world’s hardest surfaces during
his stint in the army, so something this soft made him uncomfortable.
By his count there were two hunters guarding
him: one in the corridor and one in the room with him. He could try to escape,
but it’d probably buy him a bullet. Captain Salvatore had promised to call
Master Stewart, and for some reason Beck trusted him to do just that. If he was
patient, the Scotsman would get him out of here.
The guard in the room was Hispanic with dark,
intense eyes and a fighter’s bulk. He kept his attention riveted on his
prisoner’s every move.
‘Can ya not do that?’ Beck growled. ‘Yer
drivin’ me crazy.’
The guy gave a shrug then settled back in the
rolling chair, his attention a few feet to Beck’s left. That was some improvement.
‘How long is this gonna take?’ No reply.
Knowing he wasn’t going to be told anything of
value until his captors were damned well ready, Beck pulled himself off the bed
and went through his exercise regime to blow off steam. Fifty push-ups followed
by fifty sit-ups. Then another fifty push-ups, a number of those one-handed. As
he worked up a sweat, he tried hard to block the memories: Riley crying in his
arms, the knowing smirk on that fallen angel’s face. How disappointed Paul
would be if he knew his daughter had been deceived like that.
Dammit.
I did what I could, but it wasn’t enough. It’s never enough.
He lost count of the push-ups and finally
slumped to the carpet when his arms grew too weak to support him and his back
felt like it had been scorched by molten lead. The pain did as he’d hoped,
blocking things he didn’t want to think about. Muscles quivering, he returned
to the bed, tucked his arms behind his head and stared up at the pebbled
ceiling.
Someone had known Riley was at his house this
morning and that list was pretty short unless one of his neighbours was a spy
for the hunters. Master Stewart knew she was there: Beck had called him the
moment he’d left her at the house, seething in anger at what had happened
between her and the angel.
Then there was Justine Armando, the woman he’d
been with overnight. Justine was a new addition to Beck’s life, a freelance
journalist who’d arrived in Atlanta at the same time as the hunters. She
trailed after their teams as they did the Vatican’s dirty work across the
world, writing up glowing newspaper accounts of their exploits. Beck had been
interviewed by her . . . twice. Then they’d taken it a step further and he’d
landed in her bed. That’s where he’d been this morning, in this same hotel,
when Riley’s panicked phone call had reached him. When he’d heard that
terrified voice, he’d bailed out of Justine’s arms and bolted out of the door,
sure Paul’s daughter was in grave danger.
Had Justine told the hunters where Riley was?
He had to admit he wasn’t sure. All Beck could remember was the petulant frown
on her face as he bent over to kiss her goodbye.
Couldn’t
be her. He wasn’t willing to accept that, though he knew Riley would believe it in
a heartbeat. He could still hear her warning him about Justine and how he was
going to get hurt.
He huffed at the thought that he was
responsible for Riley’s problems. If she’d taken his advice, she wouldn’t be in
this world of hurt. He’d be the first to admit his words were at war with his
heart. Everyone made mistakes and most didn’t end up with Hell or the Church
breathing down their necks.
When there was a knock at the door, the guard
cautiously checked the peephole, then opened it, revealing Lt Amundson.
‘Master Stewart knows you’re in custody and
that you’re not leaving until we have the Blackthorne girl,’ he said in his
heavily accented English.
At least
Stewart knows where I am. ‘If that’s the case, how about some breakfast?’
There was a grunt from the lieutenant and then
the door shut behind him. Staring up at the ceiling, all Beck could think of
was Paul’s daughter, of her bitter tears and his unrelenting fury. How sick
he’d felt when she’d told him what she’d done.
It was best he had no idea where Riley
Blackthorne was hiding. The way he felt right now, he’d hand her over to the
demon hunters himself.
