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Chapter One

2018

Atlanta, Georgia

‘What could go wrong?’ Riley Blackthorne muttered under her breath. That wasn’t the kind of question she should ask while on a demon trapping run in one of Atlanta’s train stations.

What could go wrong? Everything.

She and two other trappers were stalking a Pyro-Fiend, a Grade Two demon whose Hellish job was to set fires. So far, it’d been having a grand time dropping fireballs in front of the MARTA trains, setting alight trash containers and, in one case, firing up a train car.

Usually Riley was all about capturing demons. Her late father, Paul Blackthorne, had been a legendary master trapper so it was in her blood. She should have been jazzed about this trapping run.

Not so much. Not when she was working with two guys who didn’t want to be anywhere near her.

They were both in their early twenties, blond and handsome, but there the similarities ended. The one to her right, her blue-eyed ex-boyfriend, wasn’t quite as hostile as he’d once been. In fact, Simon Adler hadn’t tried to splash her with Holy Water or accuse her of working for Hell during the twenty minutes they’d been on site.

Simon’s battle with a ravenous demon had left him mortally wounded, and if it hadn’t been for the deal Riley had cut with Heaven he’d be in his grave. Then one of Hell’s most deceptive archangels had played hockey with his mind and his deep Catholic faith. When he’d finally found out who’d been pulling his strings and about her deal with Heaven, Riley’s ex had gone into free fall. The result was one confused guy who didn’t know what to believe or who to trust.

At least you’re not yelling at me anymore.

That privilege belonged to the guy on her left: Denver Beck, the muscled ex-military South Georgia dude who had served as trapping partner to Riley’s father until her dad’s death. Beck was usually a cool guy to work with. Today he was opting for total butthead.

He glowered over at them. ‘So what are we waitin’ for?’ he snarled. ‘Think the demon’s just gonna come up and introduce itself to y’all?’

‘It’ll show up soon enough. They always do,’ Riley replied, trying not to lose her temper. Then Beck would win.

‘Why would you think that?’

‘Because I’m here,’ she said. ‘Demons can’t resist trying to kill me.’

That earned her a sidelong glance from Simon.

‘Hey, it’s true. It’s not because I work for Hell, OK?’ Well, not entirely.

‘I didn’t say a word,’ he murmured.

‘You were thinking it.’

‘You two done?’ Beck demanded.

Riley shot the senior trapper a scathing glare and it came right back at her. Beck had been this way ever since he’d tossed her out of his house in a fit of self-martyrdom. Just when they’d grown so close, something in his past had caused him to push her away. This time Riley wasn’t going quietly, not when she knew she loved the guy.

Pushing ahead of the others, she worked her way through the crowd. It was a good time to be down here – in a few days the trains would be packed with people headed to or from the basketball games, all dressed in their favourite team’s colours. Or in the case of Clemson University, orange and black tiger tails.

Folks waiting for the next train gave her a concerned look. That wasn’t surprising since her face had been all over CNN and the newspapers in the last few weeks. It also might have had something to do with the small white sphere she was carrying.

‘You guys trappers?’ someone called out.

‘Sure are,’ Beck replied.

‘Time for me to take the bus,’ the guy said, turning on his heel and heading for an exit.

Riley sighed. Maybe it would have been better to evacuate the train station, but if this turned out to be a false alarm there’d be hell to pay at City Hall. As she continued down the platform, a train pulled in and passengers exited, including one man carrying a giant stuffed panda wearing a football helmet.

Sometimes it was best not to know the real story.

A thin plume of white smoke curled out of a nearby trash container, catching Riley’s notice. Could it be the Pyro-Fiend? She shot a glance towards Beck and he shrugged in response.

The trappers positioned themselves on either side of the container.

‘Ready?’ Beck asked. When they nodded, he kicked the can over and trash tumbled out, along with a pile of burning napkins. Apparently someone had tossed a lit cigarette inside and now they had a mess to clean up. Plus MARTA passengers laughing at them.

Riley stomped out the fire, then kicked the junk back into the can. As she worked, Beck bitched under his breath about how this whole run had been a screw-up. As she bent over to nudge an empty doughnut box into the container, she felt the prickle of something touching her mind. Something demonic.

Blackthorne’s daughter, the voice called.

She shot up into a standing position. ‘It’s close. It name-checked me.’ There was the crackle of paper at her feet and a red demon crawled out of the trash. It was about eight or so inches tall, with forked tail and sharp teeth. A flame flickered on its right palm.

‘Trapper!’ it cried, and lobbed a fireball directly at Simon. He dropped and kissed the dirty concrete as the roaring flames shot over the top of his head.

‘Hey, dumbass!’ Beck shouted, but the demon ignored him. It generated another flame to toss at Simon.

Riley stepped in its way, heaved a white sphere heavenward and waited for the snow to fall. Instead there was a cracking sound and then a shower of sleet: the magic inside the sphere had misfired. Cold rain pelted down on them and it set the demon to howling. Distracted, the fiend dropped its ball of flame and it rolled across the platform like a fiery tennis ball, past a wooden bench and two startled onlookers.

Demon or flame? Riley ran after the fire, fearing it would spread throughout the station if she didn’t contain it. Above her another snow globe cracked open and its contents swirled down like a North Dakota blizzard. The falling snow made the concrete slippery and she slid, cracking her knee. The flame ball kept rolling towards a train car and its open door.

Oh crap.

Panicking, she stripped off her jacket and threw herself on the ball of flames. Riley pounded at it with her hands as the fabric began to smoulder from the intense heat. The flames faltered and finally died.

Despite all the drama, people walked around her, one clipping her elbow as they hurried past to wherever they were headed. One couple laughed as she knelt there in the snow, her hair a mess and her jacket smoking. Someone began lobbing snowballs. After the train doors had closed, a small kid pressed his nose up against the window, eyes wide, watching her intently. She winked at him and to her surprise he shyly waved back as the train departed.

Maybe life doesn’t suck after all.

When she regained her feet, she found Simon holding a bait box containing the Pyro-Fiend and enough dry ice to keep it from playing firebug until they sold it to a demon trafficker. True to form, the thing was painting the station blue with its curse words.

A quick check around proved the train platform was devoid of gawkers except for a lone fellow with a cellphone busily recording their run. He’d probably have uploaded the video to the Internet before they left the station.

‘That was sloppy,’ Beck complained, hands on his hips. It was his ‘I’m gettin’ in yer face and you’d best listen’ pose. ‘What’s up with y’all?’

Riley would love to tell him exactly what was wrong if the guy with the cellphone hadn’t been nearby.

Simon managed a weak ‘Sorry.’

When Beck glared over at her, expecting her to apologize, Riley shook her head. She jammed her roasted jacket into his hands and whispered, ‘Bite me.’

Once they were on street level and away from the phone dude, Riley flipped over her hands to check for burns.

Next to her, Simon took a sharp intake of breath. ‘Where did those come from?’ he asked, eyes wide.

Oops. She’d forgot about the dark inscriptions on both her palms. At this point she didn’t care if the other trappers knew what they meant. Riley raised her left palm and pointed to the black crown. ‘This one’s from Heaven.’ She switched hands. ‘And the flaming sword is from Hell,’ she explained. ‘Yeah, I know, it’s wacked to have both.’

When Simon frowned, she braced herself for another torrent of accusations about her being Lucifer’s Minion of the Month.

Instead, his frown deepened. ‘Won’t they ever leave us alone?’ he asked, his voice trembling.

‘Maybe someday,’ she lied.

Riley really wasn’t paying attention as she walked to her car, eager to get away from Beck and his attitude before they got into a shouting match in front of her ex-boyfriend. That would be the ultimate humiliation.

She’d just reached her car when someone called out to her. When Riley turned, two girls approached her. They were about her age, wearing modest dresses and coats in deference to the February chill. Their hair was primly tucked into tight buns. Even more telling, they were loaded down with a Bible, a big bottle of Holy Water and a cross.

This wasn’t the first time she’d been confronted by someone keen to save her soul.

Though the Vatican and their Demon Hunters had tried to keep the cemetery battle off everyone’s radar, in particular the whole Hell vs. Heaven part, Atlanta’s citizens knew something major had happened. Some citizens claimed to have seen angels, which was probably the case. You couldn’t have a near miss with Armageddon without a few well-armed Divines flying around. Coupled with the recent demon attacks at the Tabernacle and the Terminus Market, all the blame seemed to stick to the trappers for some reason. Since Riley was always in the news for something or other, she’d become the focus of that wrath.

This duo was probably part of the team of girl exorcists who had arrived in Atlanta a couple days earlier. From what Riley had heard, they’d been trying to cast out demons 24/7, including one supposed exorcism in the middle of a bowling alley.

‘You are consorting with Hell and your soul is peril,’ one of the girls said solemnly, a petite brunette.

Riley’s soul was already the property of a certain Fallen angel, at least if Ori was still alive. She decided it was best not to mention that.

When she didn’t reply, the girl tried again. ‘We have come to save you. We will exorcise your devil and free you this very night.’

‘Look,’ Riley began, ‘I appreciate what you’re doing, but I trapped four demons today. People who work for Hell don’t do that, OK?’ Well, actually they can but . . .

‘The Enemy is keeping you from God’s grace,’ the girl replied, raising her cross.

Riley’s enemy was currently in Hell, Lucifer’s prisoner, but these girls weren’t going to buy that. She didn’t begrudge them their job, but she didn’t want to get caught up in it.

‘Sorry, gotta go,’ she said.

The chilly Holy Water hit her a moment later, drenching her. The cross was in her face next, along with some words that made little sense. It certain wasn’t Latin.

These aren’t real exorcists.

When Riley wiped the water out of her eyes, someone grabbed her left hand, the one with Heaven’s mark and the cross was pressed against it. There was no reaction. She didn’t want to find out what would have happen if they tried it on Hell’s brand.

Riley wrenched herself free and backed away. ‘Will you stop that!’

The girls seemed bewildered. Apparently they’d figured the combo of Holy Water and cross application would have caused her to cast out her devil like in some late-night horror movie.

Definitely wannabes.

‘Riley?’ Beck called out as he and Simon hustled up to the scene. ‘What’s goin’ on?’

When one of the girls tried to explain, Simon cut her off. ‘Just leave her alone. You worry about your own souls.’

‘You’re working for the devil. Don’t you know that?’ one of the girls called out.

‘No more than you are,’ Beck replied. ‘Now get out of here.’

Her tormentors retreated, noticeably disappointed that they’d failed in their mission.

Riley slumped against her car, wiping her face free of mascara. If this kept happening, she’d have to buy the waterproof kind.

‘Thanks, guys.’

‘Sorry,’ Simon replied, as if he’d been responsible for the fray.

‘Part of the job, I guess,’ she replied.

Beck’s cellphone rang and he stepped away to take the call. As he listened, his expression darkened. ‘Understood. I’ll see she gets home safe.’

Before Riley could ask what that was all about, he offered Simon his keys. ‘Follow us to Stewart’s house, will you?’

‘Wait, you don’t have to—’ Riley began.

‘Yeah, I do,’ Beck retorted. ‘Just get in yer car and don’t bother to argue.’

Simon took the keys and retreated.

Wish I could.

Beck drove, mostly because her eyes were still stinging and watering.

‘Ya gonna be OK?’ he asked.

‘Yeah. I’m getting really tired of this crap.’

‘Ya were the one who put herself in the middle of it.’

When his ‘you’s’ became ‘ya’s’ he was upset. But then so was she.

Riley glowered at him. ‘Why are you being a jerk?’

‘I’m drivin’ you to Stewart’s, aren’t I?’ Then he fell silent and glowered at the traffic.

Here we go again. Riley knew exactly where their problem lay and it wasn’t her: it was his ex-girlfriend, the reporter chick, and whatever dirt she’d uncovered about his past.

‘I don’t see Justine backing off,’ she retorted. ‘You know, if you hadn’t slept with her, you wouldn’t be in this situation.’

She knew it was a mistake the second after she let her jealousy off its leash. Beck reacted instantly, his foot jamming hard on the brakes as they reached a stop sign. Only the seatbelt kept her from launching into the dash.

‘Yer just like her, always tryin’ to screw with my head,’ he said, the veins sticking out on his neck. ‘I’m startin’ to regret the day I met ya.’

That stung after all they’d been through. ‘You. Are. Lying. Tell me what Justine knows that has you so scared. Come on, spill it.’

‘It’s none of yer damned business,’ he said, surging through the intersection, narrowly missing a slow-moving station wagon. ‘Give it a rest, will ya?’

Riley stared out of the side window, surprised the glass didn’t melt from her fury.

One of these days I’ll know the truth.

Chapter Two

Beck pulled into Stewart’s driveway, then bailed out of the car though the engine was still running. Simon had barely pulled up to the kerb when he was rousted from driver’s seat. A moment later Beck turned his truck round in the street and drove away, without ever looking back at Riley.

What a drama queen.

Riley turned off the car and gave herself time to calm down. These sorts of confrontations would continue until one of them cracked. If she was lucky, Beck would break first.

She gazed up at Master Stewart’s home while the car made funny tick-tick noises as the engine cooled down. Not every window in the grand Victorian structure was illuminated, but those that were gave off a welcoming glow. Her apartment seemed so empty now that her dad was gone and, in stark contrast, this place was full of life. With its fancy gable fretwork and the multi-storey turret, Riley swore this building had been transported to Atlanta from another century. Love felt real here, along with the promise that it could be nurtured and protected from a violent world.

Until the Vatican’s Demon Hunters said otherwise, she was to remain under Grand Master Stewart’s wing. It wasn’t a bad thing: Stewart was a nice older Scottish guy, his house was huge and his housekeeper was an awesome cook.

The master was in his sixties with silver hair and penetrating dark eyes. A member of the International Demon Trappers Guild, he’d lived in Atlanta for a decade, spoke a number of languages and carried a lot of weight with both the local trappers and the Vatican. Behind the jovial smile was a clever mind and a ready wit. Her father had apprenticed with Stewart and had always spoken of him with genuine affection. Now she knew why.

After locking the front door behind her, Riley kicked off her shoes and laid the scorched jacket on top of them. She really didn’t know why she’d kept it.

‘Lass?’ a voice called out, a rich timbre overlaid with a muted Scottish accent.

‘Coming,’ she said.

It was a habit now: when she arrived home in the evening, she would spend some time with Stewart before she went to bed. He’d be in that big den of his, sitting near the fire in the stone hearth. They’d talk about school, about everything. It was something her father had done over breakfast every morning and after he’d died, she missed that so much. Though this wasn’t her dad asking the questions or gently guiding her through life’s mysteries, she looked forward to this time.

As with previous nights, she found the owner of the house in his favourite chair with a copy of a Scottish newspaper in his lap and a glass of whisky at his elbow. A pipe rested in a stand near a fat pouch of tobacco.

Though Riley was actually apprenticed to Master Harper, it was Stewart who had come to her aid when the demon hunters had arrested her, using his rank with the International Guild to plead her case. When the ‘Inquisition’ was over, an agreement had been struck – Stewart was responsible for her behaviour and would pay with his life if she strayed too far off the path.

Riley settled into one of the overly comfortable chairs, placing her backpack at her feet.

‘Good evenin’, lass.’

‘Master Stewart,’ she said politely. ‘Is there some reason you told Beck to drive me home?’

‘Aye. The Guild received a death threat today.’

If it’d been against the entire Atlanta Guild, Stewart wouldn’t have called Beck.

‘It was for me, wasn’t it?’

‘Aye.’

What could she say to that? Someone hated her enough to threaten to kill her, all because she’d stood between the armies of Heaven and Hell and talked them out of the Big War.

‘A few folks have figured out what happened and they’re talkin’. Some still believe ya helped those demons attack the Tabernacle. Yer just too high profile right now.’

‘I won’t hide,’ Riley protested. ‘I have to work to pay my bills.’

‘Aye. We’ve passed the letter on ta the police and hopefully they’ll find whoever is behind it.’ Stewart loaded his pipe with tobacco and then tamped it down. ‘Give me the run report,’ he added. ‘Harper’s at an AA meeting, so I’ll pass it on ta him.’

It wouldn’t do her any good to freak out about the threat, so she delivered her report.

‘It wasn’t a clean capture,’ she explained, ‘but we did trap that Pyro at the Five Points MARTA station.’

‘How did Simon do?’

‘OK. He didn’t freeze up or anything.’

‘How about Beck? Is he still bein’ a bear with a sore bum?’

He’d totally pegged Backwoods Boy.

‘Definitely.’

‘Are ya willin’ ta tell me what happened between the two of ya ta make him that way?’

I swear this guy is psychic. ‘How’d you know it was about us?’ she asked, puzzled.

‘I’m good at readin’ people. It’s part of bein’ a Grand Master.’

Riley could try to avoid the question, but that wouldn’t work as Stewart would get the answer out of her eventually. Maybe he could help her figure out how to break through Beck’s defences.

‘We had a huge argument after the trappers’ wake. I thought everything was fine between us after we . . .’ Riley’s cheeks warmed at the memory. ‘. . . kissed at the cemetery.’

Sure they were both going to die, Beck had let down his guard, admitted he couldn’t live without her and delivered a heart-melting kiss that had completely rocked Riley’s world.

‘I was the one who told him not ta let the moment pass,’ Stewart said. ‘I told him he might not have that chance again.’

‘Oh, so that’s why he did it,’ she said, disappointment welling up inside her. ‘I thought . . .’

‘He took that bold step because he’s verra fond of ya, lass. That wasn’t a kiss between friends and ya know it.’

‘Noooo . . .’ It had been epic. Everything she’d ever hoped for.

Her host was still waiting for an explanation.

‘The morning after the wake, I went to see him. When I got to his house, that skank of a reporter chick was just leaving. Whatever she said to him set him off. He was furious.’

‘Ah, Justine Armando again. Do ya know why she was there?’

‘Beck said she’s writing another article about him and he was really worried about it.’ Riley shook her head in dismay. ‘Then suddenly he tells me to leave, says that he doesn’t want to see me ever again. At first I thought it was something I’d done. Then he said I deserved someone better than the bastard son of a drunk who couldn’t read or wr—’

Oh crap. She’d let one of Beck’s biggest secrets loose in front of a master. That was very bad. ‘Oh, man, you didn’t hear that.’

‘I know he’s semi-literate, lass,’ Stewart replied. ‘Yer father told me.’

Riley sighed in relief. ‘He’d be way mad if he knew I’d said anything to you.’ Then she rolled her eyes. ‘Like it matters. He’s pissed off at me anyway.’

‘Aye, and that troubles me. There’s somethin’ else goin’ on or Beck wouldn’t be treatin’ ya this way. Not when he was so keen with ya at the cemetery.’

‘Maybe it has something to do with his mom.’

‘I’m sure he’s upset about her illness, but it’s more than that. Beck’s a warrior at heart and he will always protect those around him. In your case, it’s even more than that, which makes me think the reporter knows something he feels will harm ya. Or change yer opinion of him. Either way, his protective instincts would come inta play.’

It was a shrewd analysis of the situation and a lot freer of emotion than Riley could manage.

‘He won’t tell me anything about his life before he came to Atlanta. It’s like he’s embarrassed or something.’

‘Paul told me a bit, but even he never got the full story.’ Stewart flicked his lighter and took a few puffs of the pipe. The sweet scent of caramel and lemon filled the air. ‘Anythin’ else?’

Riley told him about the near exorcism outside the MARTA station. He didn’t seem surprised.

‘I want ya out of sight for the next little bit. Beck’s mother is much worse and he’s leavin’ for his hometown tomorrow mornin’. Harper and I both agree – we’d like ya ta go ta Sadlersville with him.’

Riley shook her head. ‘I’m not the best choice. He’s so mad at me I’ll only make it worse.’

‘Beck has confided in ya more than any other person I know. Though he might be actin’ like a total arse, he truly cares for ya.’ Stewart paused. ‘Even loves ya in his own way.’

Riley’s breath caught. Maybe it hadn’t been her imagination.

‘He’s not real stable at present, and when his mother passes over it’ll be worse. He needs ya at his side, Riley, even if he denies it.’

She knew the master was right. ‘All right, I’ll go.’ Luckily her black funeral dress was upstairs in the closet rather than at the apartment. There never seemed to be an end to the mourning.

‘Bless ya,’ Stewart exclaimed. ‘That’ll ease my worries a notch. Keep an eye on things down south. I want to know more about Beck’s background and what’s causin’ him so much anxiety.’

Now I’m a spy. ‘He’ll go ballistic when I tell him I’m coming with him.’

‘That’s why I’ll be the one doin’ the tellin’.’

As he materialized in a pitch-black alley in Demon Central, the angel wept in despair.

‘No!’ Ori cried, raising his fists in defiance. ‘Damn you, Lucifer! Why?’

He was not supposed to be alive. He'd been ready to journey into the nothingness that awaited a Fallen when they took their last breath. He had even agreed to Riley Anora Blackthorne’s outrageous terms for her soul simply because he was convinced he would die that day and she would be free of Hell’s chains.

But his master had denied him that solace. Though Lucifer could not create new life, he could sustain those who were in his thrall and he had healed Ori even as he’d begged to die. He could still hear . . .

‘You will die when I permit it and no sooner. Slay my enemies. Do not think to cross me again, for the peace of death will not be your reward.’

‘How dare you?’ Ori cried, his fists tightening. He had willingly followed Lucifer into exile, cut himself off from the Light and the love of Heaven, and now he was being treated as if that sacrifice was nothing.

When Ori’s eyes opened, he lowered his arms and ensured that his wings were hidden. There were no mortals around to see him at present, but that would change. They were far too curious for their own good. If he encountered one now, one who challenged him, he may well kill it.

Turning, Ori strode down the alley until he reached one of Atlanta’s main streets where the city’s populace flowed around him, unaware of what he was or who he served or the growing darkness within him. As he walked, he passed a necromancer bristling with magic, then a street preacher exhorting people to rid the city of devils.

He had no choice but to do his master’s bidding, hunting rogue demons who defied the Prince’s rule. Ori would never find the respite death offered as long as Lucifer reigned in Hell.

Perhaps it’s time to change that.

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