Soul Thief-Demon Trappers 2 (3 page)

What am I doing?
She really shouldn’t be checking out other guys when she was dating Simon, especially when he was in the hospital.
Still, it can’t hurt to look.…
That wasn’t being unfaithful.

“Ori,” she called out. “What are you doing here?”

“Still trying to find a proper sword,” he said.

Riley smiled at that. The first time she’d seen him he was at the tent that sold all sorts of sharp pointy objects. He’d been holding a sword, looking like a hero out of a romance novel.
He still does.

“How are you doing after last night?” he asked, his full attention on her now.

“I’m okay.” It was her default answer.

Ori’s jet-dark eyes searched her face. “Try again,” he said softly.

She sagged. “The truth? Life sucks. There’re lots of dead trappers, and, just to make things really special, my dad’s been reanimated.”

Her companion looked surprised. “By whom?”

“No clue,” Riley said, holding up her hands in defeat.

“I’m truly sorry.” Ori moved closer to her, sending little tingles through her skin. She never understood why that happened, but it felt good. He sounded genuine, which caused her conscience to nag at her. Many of her memories of the previous evening were hazy, however one in particular was crystal clear: Ori pulling her out of the crater as he threatened the Grade Five demon, making it back off. If he hadn’t, she’d be lying next to her parents now. One of them at least.

Feeling awkward, she dug the toe of her tennis shoe into the dirt. “Did I … thank you for … well … saving my life?”

“No, but you just did,” he replied, like it wasn’t a big deal.

“Don’t go all modest,” she protested. “You saved me. I owe you.”

A twinkle appeared in his eyes. “You do.”

“I know it sounds weird, but I don’t remember what happened after I reached the car. Next thing I knew I was at the cemetery.”

“It happens. When the mind is confronted by something too big for it to deal with, it shuts down.”

“Wish it worked that way with the nightmares.”

His hand touched hers. It was warm, and she could feel the heat radiate through her skin. It wasn’t a grabby sort of gesture, more a gentle one.

“Not many apprentice trappers would challenge a Geo-Fiend,” he said.

“I just wanted it to stop killing the others.”

“Which was really brave. Don’t sell yourself short.”

She felt a rush of warmth on her cheeks.
He thinks I’m brave. How cool is that?

“Don’t worry; the next time I will kill it,” Ori said, his voice rougher now.

“Do you think it’ll come after me again?”

A determined nod. “I’m counting on it. So don’t be surprised if you see me hanging around a lot.” He delivered a sexy grin. “The only thing I’m stalking is the Hellspawn.”

She couldn’t stop the smile. “Why didn’t you just nail it last night?”

“I wanted you out of harm’s way,” he replied. “And I won’t show off in front of the trappers. It’ll be
my
kill, on
my
terms.”

“I know you don’t like them, but the Guild is shorthanded right now. I bet you could get a job really easy.”

Her companion shook his head. “I work alone.”

Which is what she expected he’d say since Ori was a freelance demon hunter, a Lancer. Trappers couldn’t stand Lancers because they didn’t play by the Guild’s rules. Rome’s Demon Hunters didn’t like them, as they wouldn’t pay homage to the Vatican. They were a force all their own, each Lancer his own master, and they dealt with demons as they saw fit.

In a few years maybe she would go out on her own. The trappers didn’t like her anyway; she might as well work for herself.

“How is your boyfriend doing?” Ori asked.

Riley blinked. “How did you know Simon and I are dating?”

“I saw you with him right before you went after the Five. You weren’t crying over any of the other trappers, so I assumed there was something between you.”

She couldn’t argue with his logic. “Simon’s much better today. He’s going to make it.”
Because of me and the angel.
A warm glow fluttered through her chest at the thought.

Ori paused near a bookstall. After a moment’s hesitation, he reached into a display and removed a paperback. It was Dante’s
Inferno
. He glanced at a few of the pages and frowned.

“He got it wrong; the Ninth Circle of Hell is
not
a skating rink.” He thumped the book closed in disgust and returned it to the rack.

“Have you ever seen angels before?” Riley asked.

“Lots of times.”

“Oh.” Maybe it was just her. She’d only seen one in her entire life.

“You’re talking about the ones from last night, aren’t you?” Ori asked, somber. When she nodded, he explained, “Those were the…” He paused and searched for a word. “Warrior angels. It’s been a long time since they’ve been deployed.”

Deployed?
Military guys used terms like that. Had Ori been in the Army?

He glanced away at that very moment, frowning as if something had distracted him. “I’d best be going. It’s good to see you again, Riley,” he said.

It was like he was suddenly keen to be somewhere else. Had she said something stupid?

“Thanks … again. I won’t forget what you’ve done for me.”

“It was my pleasure.”

Riley watched him head down the row of tents, his duster flapping behind him. Women turned and watched him pass; he had that kind of magnetic pull. She had a lot of questions about this guy, but there was no one she could ask. She’d promised Ori not to tell any of the trappers that he was in Atlanta, which seemed odd, since he’d definitely been right in the thick of the action last night.

“I’ll think about that later.” Her dad came first. Then she’d figure out Mr. Hunky Mysterious Dude.

Riley kept moving toward Bell, Book, and Broomstick, the witches’ store. It was easy to find, the gold and silver stars on the midnight-blue canvas glittering in the late-afternoon sun. To her relief, Ayden was arranging bags of incense at the end of the counter. The witch wore her usual Renn Faire garb—peasant blouse with a laced bodice, a full skirt, and a heavy emerald-green cloak in acknowledgment of the chilly January weather. Most prominent was the large dragon tattoo that began at her neck beneath her russet brown hair and went all the way down into her ample cleavage. In the midst of the market, she seemed ageless, like a fairy queen.

“Ayden?” Riley called out, stopping a few feet away.

The witch looked up then raced out from behind the counter, springing at her like a mother does a missing child. The embrace wasn’t a quick one, but the kind that tells you the embracer is thrilled to see you’re alive. Riley returned it with just as much fervor.

“Goddess, you had me worried,” the witch said, releasing her.

“Sorry. My cell phone got toasted so I didn’t have your number. I’m using my dad’s phone now.”

“And you lost my business card, too?” Ayden chided.

“Ah … no.” It was at the bottom of her messenger bag somewhere under all the other stuff. “I didn’t think of that.”

“It’s okay,” Ayden said. “You’re alive. That’s what counts.”

“Dad’s gone. Someone pulled him out of his grave last night. He was there, at the Tabernacle, and he…” Riley’s shoulders began to heave.

There was another embrace, and this time her tears soaked her friend’s shoulder. When they broke apart, Riley fumbled in her messenger bag for a tissue.

“Come on. There’s a guy down the way who sells hot cider. I think we both need some.”

Riley blew her nose while following her friend through the winding paths of the market. The cider merchant’s tent reminded Riley of a Turkish bazaar. Red fabric, possibly silk, hung underneath the traditional canvas, and it was shot with gold threads. An incense burner sat in the corner wafting something aromatic into the air. The vendor was dark-skinned, Middle Eastern, maybe, and she could tell he had his eye on her friend by the way he smiled at her. Ayden returned the smile, but not quite as warmly, collected the drinks, and herded her toward the back of the tent away from the other patrons. They sat on large, plush pillows near an electric heater. The cider tasted wonderful and warmed Riley from the first sip. Not quite as luscious as hot chocolate, but still good.

“Tell me what happened with your dad,” Ayden said.

Riley settled the thick mug on her lap. “I had to go to the meeting, so the cemetery had this new volunteer sit vigil. A necro sprang a huge magical dragon on the guy. He was dragon-phobic, so he freaked and broke the circle. The cemetery people don’t have any idea who did it.”

“It was probably Ozymandias, especially after you dissed him.”

Riley groaned. A couple nights earlier Ayden had been sitting vigil with her at the graveyard, watching over her father’s grave while they shared a bottle of the witch’s potent homemade wine. Riley had gotten seriously ripped, and when Ozymandias, the creepy necromancer who resembled one of the evil dudes in
The Lord of the Rings,
showed up, she’d smarted off to him. She was inside a protective circle, so what could he do?

Steal my dad, that’s what.
“I was sooo stupid,” Riley admitted.

“No argument.”

“Hey, it’s partly your fault. I blame your wine; it was wicked strong.”

“I blame your mouth,” Ayden retorted. “Either way, your dad’s on the loose for the next year. There’s not much you can do about that.”

“I’m not letting him stay aboveground.”

“Don’t even think you can tangle with a necromancer and come out ahead,” the witch scolded. “Especially if it’s Ozymandias. I wasn’t blowing smoke when I told you he’s into the dark stuff. Just let it be, okay?”

Not okay.

Riley fell silent to avoid an argument. Ayden took that silence as acceptance and turned her attention to the remainder of the cider in her mug.

“Do you want to talk about what happened inside the Tabernacle?” she asked in a low voice.

Riley shook her head immediately. How do you explain what it was like to see people you know being ripped apart and eaten? What it felt like to think you were going to die the same way?

Ayden’s comforting hand touched her arm. “When you’re ready, I’ll listen.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be,” Riley admitted. “It was too … horrible.”

“Is Beck okay?” her friend asked.

“He got clawed up, but he’s alive. Simon—” Riley jammed her lips together. Just thinking of him made her want to cry.

“Is he going to make it?” the witch asked. Her hand was still on Riley’s arm, warm and reassuring.

“I … yeah. They didn’t think he was, but now he is.”

Ayden frowned, like she didn’t understand Riley’s verbal gymnastics. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

Riley couldn’t hold it back. Someone had to know her secret. “Ah, well, you see, I made a deal with this angel, and…”

The witch’s frown deepened. After a quick glance around to ensure they weren’t being overheard, she leaned closer. “What do you mean by
deal
?”

Riley told her about the agreement with Heaven.

“My Goddess,” Ayden murmured. “You sure it was an angel?”

Riley nodded. “And she came through. Simon’s getting better.”

“Once Hell finds out you’re on Heaven’s team, it could get complicated,” her friend warned.

Riley snorted. “More complicated than last night? That Five was after me. It was the one who killed my dad and the same one who tried to flatten me at the law library.”

“Which happened before your deal with Heaven,” Ayden said. “Oh, Goddess, you are in trouble, aren’t you? Have you told Beck any of this?”

“No, and I’m not going to. I’ll work it out on my own.”

“It’s not showing weakness to ask for his help.”

“No way, not from Beck,” Riley retorted. “End of subject.”

*   *   *

Ayden walked with
her as far as the witches’ store. “Try the Deader tent two aisles over,” she suggested. “The man there might have heard about your dad.”

“But you said I shouldn’t go near the necros.”

The witch raised an auburn eyebrow. “I know you’re not listening to my sage advice, so I might as well steer you in the right direction.”

“And if that guy doesn’t know anything?”

“Then work through the summoners who were hounding you at the cemetery. Minus Ozymandias. Do not go near that man, do you understand?”

“Got it.”

“Really got it or just saying that to make me happy?” the witch pressed.

“Don’t know yet.”

Ayden rolled her eyes, then reached for something on the counter. After giving Riley another hug, she handed her a small plastic bag full of herbs. “Brew yourself a cup of tea with this right before bed; one teaspoon should do it. It helps clear your head and might keep you from having nightmares. I’m thinking you need that right now.”

Riley smiled. “Thanks, Ayden, for everything.”

The witch traced something in the air between them. It looked like a complex symbol.

“What was that?”

“Just waving away a mosquito,” Ayden replied.

In January? You are so lying.

F
OUR

The Reanimate Palace, as it was called, wasn’t doing much business. Four Deaders stood in a row, staring at nothing, a grayish tint to their wan faces. From what she’d heard, if their bodies were treated carefully they could remain outside the grave for almost a year.

If her dad’s body had been in pieces after his battle with the Five, no necro would have wanted him. Instead he’d died from a single shard of glass driven into his heart by the demon’s windstorm. A pristine Dad meant a potential reanimate. Her father was one of a kind: It was rare any trapper ever made it onto the reanimate market.

Riley cocked her head, studying the four forlorn figures—two males, two females. One of the guys was about her age. One minute he was dead, then he was standing inside a tent while people decided whether to buy him or not.

That so has to suck.

The government outlawed slavery in 1865; that date had been drummed into her head by her father, the history teacher, but the dead were another matter entirely. Recent court cases had ruled the deceased had no civil rights, so there was a bill in Congress to rectify that big hole in the law. It was stalled in committee, the victim of a well-financed lobbying campaign by the necromancers. Meanwhile people like her dad were stolen out of their graves and trafficked to those who could afford to buy them.