Soul Thief-Demon Trappers 2 (25 page)

Bet there’s more to it than that.

“It made for hard feelings with Harper when I first came here,” Stewart confessed. “Ten years ago, he was barely holdin’ his own against some of the other masters here in Atlanta. They were a bad lot. Takin’ bribes in a protection racket. If ya didn’t pay their price, they’d set a Pyro-Fiend loose ta burn yer place ta the ground.”

“What?” Beck spouted, horrified. “That’s damned evil.”

“Aye,” Stewart said, nodding sagely. “One of the masters went after Harper and cut him up. That’s how he got that wicked scar. While he was healin’, the National Guild asked me ta come over and clean house.”

“So that’s how he got to be senior master—by ya kickin’ out all the others?”

“Pretty much. Truth be known, he wasn’t happy when I showed up. Felt like the National Guild hadn’t given him enough time ta straighten things out.”

“And now?” Beck asked.

“We’ve learned ta tolerate each other,” the Scotsman said with a wry smile. “I tried ta recruit Paul when I first came ta town, but he turned me down flat. Then his teachin’ job was gone and he was willin’ ta listen.”

The master rose slowly from the chair and refilled his drink. “More?” he asked.

“Not yet, thanks.” No way he’d keep up with a Scotsman.

Stewart recapped the bottle with a
thwack
of his palm, then returned to his chair. “Back in the day, most demons were dealt with by the church. The priest would exorcise them. Some began ta hunt them, mostly as sport. The bishops encouraged that, partly because those men could be used as muscle when the Church felt the need.”

Another long sip of the whisky. “As time passed,” Stewart continued, “the hunters gained a reputation for bein’ damned ruthless. There was a dispute between one of my ancestors, a Malcolm Stewart, and one of the local hunters. Somethin’ about a bit a’ land. The hunter claimed that Malcolm and his family were conspirin’ with Hell, so the local bishop gave orders ta solve the problem.”

“Solve it, how?” Beck asked. He suspected it didn’t involve a lot of praying. These were Scotsman: They settled their disputes with lethal steel.

“A team of hunters descended on Malcolm’s home in the wee hours and butchered everyone they could find. Hacked them ta death, even the bairns. Malcolm they burnt at a stake, claimin’ he was a warlock.”

“Sweet Jesus,” Beck said, his gut twisting at the thought.

“Aye,” Stewart replied. “Malcolm’s son, Euan, had the good fortune ta be in Edinburgh that day. Knowing he’d be next for the stake, he came up with a brilliant scheme. He ordered the rest of the family ta trap demons and deliver them ta their priests, as many as possible in the shortest period of time.”

“Smart,” Beck said, seeing the plan clearly. “The Stewarts couldn’t be workin’ for Lucifer if they were trappin’ demons.”

Stewart nodded. “Euan was a canny one. After he’d trap a demon, he’d leave a few coins behind. Word got around. It was better ta get some brass for yer demon rather than havin’ the hunters burn yer house and put yer family ta the sword.”

Beck couldn’t stop the grin. “Way smart.”

“Aye. Because of that, the trappers became verra popular. That’s why there’s always been demon trappers in our family, even when some went Protestant.”

Beck retraced to the beginning of the story. “What happened to the hunter who led the raid?”

A wolfish smile filled his host’s face. “He vanished a short time after the massacre. They found him up in the heather. It took four men over an hour ta gather enough pieces ta bury.”

“Righteous,” Beck replied. He took another sip of the whisky, surprised at how things were playing out. Stewart wouldn’t be sharing this knowledge unless Beck was going to make master. That stirred a rare feeling of pride.

“So that’s why the hunters don’t like us much,” his host said. “That hasn’t changed in over eight centuries. If anythin’, it got worse once they came under the Vatican’s thumb.”

Beck’s cell phone rang. He swore at the interruption and flipped it open. “Yeah?”

“It is Justine,” a light voice said.

He didn’t bother to hide the smile. “How ya doin’?”

“Very well, thank you. Is it possible for us to meet tonight?”

He shot a look at Stewart and then said, “I’m kinda busy.”

“I am about to finish the article, and I have a few more questions.”

Beck gave in. There was a triumphant lilt in Justine’s voice as they worked out a time and a place to meet.

After the call ended, the Scotsman eyed him intently. “More whisky?”

“Yeah. I think I’m gonna need it.”

T
WENTY-TWO

Riley was met at the door by one of Simon’s younger brothers, but which one she wasn’t sure. Like his elder sibling, he had the trademark blond hair and deep blue eyes of the Adler clan. He said “the grump” was in the den and that no one could watch the television because of it.

“Have some of the other trappers been here?” she asked. Maybe they could get through to Simon, help him get back on track.

“A few. You just missed one guy, but I don’t think he was a trapper,” the boy said.

“Who was it?” Riley asked, curious.

The boy shrugged. “He visited him at the hospital, too. I wish he wouldn’t come here: Simon just gets weirder after he talks to him.”

“What’s this guy look like?” Another shrug.
Maybe it was McGuire. He’d make anyone grumpy.
“So Simon’s still not himself?” Riley asked. She got a sullen shake of the head. “Then it’s time to change that.”

“Good luck,” his sibling muttered and then disappeared into the kitchen to raid the refrigerator.

Riley took a moment to check herself out in the hall mirror. She’d spent extra time on her hair and makeup and wore the nicest sweater she owned. It was bright blue and did good things for her complexion. She paused again outside the room, unusually nervous.

Please let him be better.
She’d do anything to see that golden smile, know that everything was right between them again.

To her relief she found he had the lights on and the curtains open, but a tense frown settled on his forehead as she entered the room. In his lap was a Bible, its pages dog-earred, thin strips of ribbon bookmarking different sections. On the table next to her boyfriend was his rosary, an uneaten sandwich, and a can of soda. A bright red afghan sat over his lap, the fringe tickling the carpeted floor. Probably his mother’s handiwork.

“Hey, Simon,” Riley said, “I brought you cookies from the coffee shop. I thought you might like some.” She placed the bag on the couch near him. He ignored it as his blue eyes flickered in irritation.

“What’s going on?” he demanded. “No one is telling me anything. I want to know what the Guild is doing.”

So much for the “How are you, I’ve really missed you” part of this conversation. Riley gave in and delivered the news bulletins. “Beck and I did the paperwork so the life insurance policies will be paid. Harper is healing pretty well. He’s wondering when you’re coming back to work. Oh, and the demon hunters arrived today. Downtown traffic’s a mess because of it.” She’d have been down there, too, just out of curiosity, but Simon took precedence.

“That wasn’t what I asked,” her boyfriend retorted. “I want to know how the demons got through the Holy Water. I want to know what the Guild is going to do about it.”

Back to that again.
She’d tried to explain this before and he’d blown her off.
One more time.
“Father Harrison says there were too many of them, that they overwhelmed the ward. It’s been known to happen.”

“He told me that, too. I don’t buy it.”

He doesn’t believe his own priest?
“You saw them; they kept pushing until the ward broke.”

“I didn’t see that. I saw them swarm us. I saw them kill and…” He looked down at the Bible in his lap, his hands quivering now.

She knew how that was. Did he get panic attacks, too? His blue eyes rose to meet hers. There was no tenderness in them, not like in the past.

“Why did the Five come for you?” he asked in a low voice.

Simon had been too badly hurt to see the Geo-Fiend himself.
So who told you it was after me?

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s the same one that killed my dad and tried to destroy the library. It must have this thing for Blackthornes.”

There was a long pause as Simon shifted in his chair, his face suddenly flushed. He leaned over the side of the chair and picked up a pint water bottle, but he didn’t take a drink from it. When he finally spoke, his voice was acidic, full of accusation. “Lucifer has sent his devils after you. What have you done, Riley?”

“Huh?” she spouted. “I haven’t done anything.”
Except save your life.

“You’re lying. Hell has you in its sights. Why else would your father be at the Tabernacle?”

“Whoa, what are you saying? My father has nothing to do with Hell.”

“Your father was summoned by evil magic. That you can’t deny. He was researching Holy Water. Why? Was he trying to find a way to break the ward for his unholy master? Did he tell you how to do it?”

Riley gaped at him, astounded at the venom coming from her boyfriend’s mouth. “You’re accusing my dad of killing those trappers? How can you say that?” She sucked in a hasty breath. “I don’t even know if he made it out of that furnace.”

He sneered. “Why would it matter? He’s dead, or have you forgotten that?”

Riley’s mouth fell open, astounded at his callousness. “What is
wrong
with you? You were never like this before. You actually cared about people. Now you’re just … mean.”

“I’m seeing things for what they really are. You, for instance,” he said, his hands gripping the water bottle tighter. “If you’ve sold your soul to Lucifer, just admit it.”

Sold my soul?

Riley pointed an accusing finger. “You know, I’ve cut you a lot of slack, but are you listening to yourself? You’re, like, totally paranoid.”

“He said you’d say that.”

“Who has been talking to you? Is it McGuire?”

“It doesn’t matter. All I can think of is what you told me before the meeting started.”

“What did I say?” She just remembered the kissing.

“You said it was all part of your cunning plan. Now I’m thinking that’s really true, that Lucifer is destroying the trappers from within, using you and your father as his weapons.”

She’d only been joking with him that night; there was no plan other than falling in love with this guy. Now he was trampling on her heart, grinding it under his feet.

Riley grabbed the bag of cookies off the couch. “I’ll keep these. You’ll probably try to exorcise them or something. When you decide to be the old Simon again, give me a call.”

He shook his head, resigned. “That Simon is gone. My eyes have been opened to the battle that lies before us. You have sold your soul, or you’re a…” He took a shuddering breath that hitched at the end. “I have to know the truth.” A second later she was drenched in water, launched at her from the bottle Simon held in his hands. Riley shot to her feet, stunned, liquid dripping off her face, chest, and hands. It tingled in a way she knew so well.

“That’s Holy Water!” He’d just tested his girlfriend to see if she was a demon.

Immense sadness filled Simon’s eyes, like he knew he’d crossed a line from which there was no return, but he wasn’t willing to admit the mistake. “It’s best we don’t see each from now on. I can’t be with someone I don’t trust.”

“What?”
He’s breaking up with me? He can’t do this. I saved his life.
Maybe if she told him about Martha, about the deal she’d made.
He’ll never believe me.

He waved her away. “You need to leave now, Riley. You’re not welcome here anymore.”

Tears broke loose and she didn’t bother to wipe them away as they threaded down her already damp cheeks. Dropping the bag of cookies, Riley fled the house.

The demons had killed more than just trappers that night. They’d destroyed her future with the boy she loved.

*   *   *

Beck worked on
his second cup of coffee, trying to burn off the Scotch before he met Justine in an hour. He had one final question to put to the old trapper before he left, the one that had been nagging at him since the meeting with the hunters.

“What did the priest mean?” he asked. “Who guards our kind?”

Stewart was silent for a long time. Finally, he nodded to himself. “It’s only right ya know.” He took a lengthy gulp of his liquor. “More history,” he said. “Sorry.” Another long sip, like he was preparing to deliver bad news. “Some of the angels weren’t happy when man was created, not likin’ the competition for God’s affection. Lucifer, in particular, refused ta bow his knee ta somethin’ made of clay.”

Beck nodded encouragingly, hoping to keep the man talking.

“God doesn’t like someone challengin’ Him, so He cast out Lucifer and all of the Divine who’d opposed man’s creation. I’ve heard it was over a third of them; some say over two hundred; others believe it was in the millions.”

Beck whistled. “That’s a lot of damned angels.”

“Aye. The demons first appeared when Adam and Eve gained the knowledge of good and evil. Not too many ta start with, but as we moved ta the cities they came with us and grew in number. The fiends serve a purpose, they’re part of God’s plan.”

Stewart shifted his weight in the chair, gathering his thoughts. “Back at the beginnin, God told Lucifer, ‘If ya think these humans are so awful, then test them for me, winnow out the wheat from the chaff. Find those whose faith is unshakable.’ So He made Lucifer His Adversary, His
hasatan.
It’s the Prince’s job ta test our love of God, like a prosecutin’ attorney, and he uses the demons for just that purpose.”

Beck took a deep breath to try to clear his mind. It had to be all the whisky. Stewart couldn’t be saying that Lucifer was on the level, could he? “But he’s the Devil.”

“There’d ya’d be wrong,” Stewart said. “Now mind ya, there
is
a Devil and he’s damned evil, but Lucifer is under God’s thumb … more or less.”