Soul Thief-Demon Trappers 2 (6 page)

She took a deep breath, feeling the cold saturate her lungs, causing her to cough. Her mouth still tasted of soot. Blinking to clear the tears, she whispered, “Sorry, Dad. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

He was supposed to be alive, teaching her how to be a trapper, laughing at her jokes and taking her out for pizza. Calling her a sleepyhead when she woke up late. Being there for her. Now there was just an empty hole in the ground that matched the one in her heart.

Riley remained silent for a time, pulling memories from the corners of her mind like someone might detangle yarn. She never wanted to forget her father’s gentle voice, his face, how his hair refused to behave. As long as she held those memories close, he wasn’t really gone.

Then she began to talk to him. Though his body was missing, maybe somewhere his spirit would hear her. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been close to her mom, but her father had been a trapper, so she told him what had happened over the last twenty-four hours. She knew he couldn’t answer, but somehow the talking seemed to help.

“I saw some of them die,” she said, shuddering. “Beck’s okay but pretty beaten up. Simon’s—” Her voice caught. “He’s going to make it, but only because, well … just because.”

There was a sigh of wind in the trees around her, like her father had heard her and was offering his sympathy. His calm voice floated through her mind.
It’ll be okay.

When she was a child she’d believed him. Not anymore.

Once she’d talked herself out, Riley rose, dusted off her knees, and headed back down the road to the Bell Tower, where the cemetery had its office and gift shop. She would wait there for the volunteer who’d failed her and her father so spectacularly.

Boredom quickly took hold, and she dialed her best friend. She didn’t have many friends, at least none like Peter. He was more like a big brother than a buddy. Unfortunately, the last time they’d talked they hadn’t parted on good terms.

“Hello?” her friend asked, his voice hesitant.

She’d forgotten she was using her dad’s phone and he wouldn’t know the number.

“Hi Peter. It’s me.”

“Hey. Where are you?”

“The cemetery.”

“Still grave-sitting?”

Peter didn’t know. They’d last spoken when she was at Beck’s place the morning after the Tabernacle fire. Upset that she’d nearly gotten herself killed, Peter had hung up on her and she’d never had a chance to tell him about her dad.

“No, I’m done with that.” Then she told him why.

“That bites. You go to all that work and…” He swore into the phone. “I’m so sorry, Riley.”

“Yeah, it sucks. I’m trying to find him but none of the necros are talking.”

More silence on the other end of the phone.

“So what’s up with you?” she said, hoping to spark more of a conversation.

“Not much. It’s tense here right now. I really should go.”

“Ah, okay. Maybe we can talk tomorrow.”

“Sure. That’ll work.” He hung up.

Was he upset because of her nearly dying at the Tabernacle or was it something else? No way she would know unless he was willing to talk, which didn’t seem to be the case. She shelved that away as another potential problem.

A quarter of an hour later—Riley kept checking her watch every few minutes—the cemetery dude arrived. He was younger than she’d expected, about twenty-five, and wore glasses. His heavy coat hung off a thin frame. He moved up the road like someone who’d been viciously mugged and expected to be a victim again.

This was the volunteer who’d failed to keep her father safe. Last night she could have happily thrown him to a demon, and tonight wasn’t much better. Still, she’d almost broken the circle twice herself, only catching Ozymandias’s clever ruses at the last moment.

The guy stopped a good ten feet from where she was sitting on the steps that led to the cemetery office. It was easy to see the look of devastation on his ruddy face. He was a walking apology. They stared at each other for a time, neither willing to speak first. At any little noise, he jumped, casting a worried glance in the direction of the sound. What had it taken for him to come here tonight?

This was too painful. “Tell me what happened,” she said.

He winced. “I … did everything like I was supposed to.”

Oh, God.
He sounded just like her after the disaster at the law library. She’d used those exact words when Beck had demanded an explanation.

The volunteer kept fidgeting, and finally she beckoned him to sit next to her on the stairs. He did so with great reluctance, as if it were physically painful to be anywhere near her.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Richard.”

“I’m Riley,” she said, keeping her voice neutral. This was hell for her, and it couldn’t be any different for him. “Tell me what happened.”

He sighed and adjusted his leather gloves before answering. “I set the circle like I always do. No problems. Necros came and necros went and—”

“Which ones?” That could be important.

He pondered on the question. “Mortimer and that guy who dresses all flashy. I think his name is Lenny.”

“Anyone else?”

He shook his head. “I was reading a book, and then the wind picked up. I ignored it. That happens sometimes, and usually it’s a summoner playing with my head. Then the ground in front of the circle began to glow like it was a pool of lava. It was a real strange red and gold.”

“And?”

“Then
it
blasted out of the dirt like a rocket,” he said, throwing his arms out like an explosion.

“It? You mean the dragon?”

“Yeah. I’ve always been afraid of them ever since I was little. My parents bought me a stuffed one because they thought it was cute. I was sure it was going to eat me, so I hid it in the back of the closet.”

She’d expected him to blame someone else, but this guy was taking it all on his shoulders.

“Did you tell anyone that you were afraid of dragons, I mean like one of the necros?” she asked. Maybe that might give her a clue.

“No,” Richard replied. “It’s not something you go around telling people.”

He had a point.

“What did it look like?”

He rubbed his face, his fingers making a scratchy noise on the stubble around his chin.

“It was huge, at least twenty feet tall. It had these thick mirrored scales that changed color when it moved. I could see all the candle flames in them. It was really eerie.”

“It didn’t fly into the graveyard,” she said, more to herself than him.
Like you’d think a dragon would.

“No. It came right out of the ground. You should have seen its claws. They had to be at least three feet long. It kept staring at me, hissing. I could hear it in my mind, telling me to break the circle or it’d roast me alive.”

“And you did?” she asked, working to keep her anger out of her voice.

“No!” Richard retorted, shaking his head instantly. “I closed my eyes and tried to think of anything else but that damned thing.”

“So how did the circle get broken?”

“When I didn’t do what it wanted, it leaned back on it rear legs and roared,” he said. “I saw tombstones shatter, and the roof exploded off the mausoleum. Then this wall of flame came right toward me.”

Richard was shaking at this point, so Riley hesitantly put a hand on his arm. It seemed to comfort him.

There was no evidence of destruction near the mausoleum. “All illusion,” she said.

Richard took a deep breath and then pushed on. “When the flames hit the circle, the candles began to rock. It got so hot I thought I was being baked alive. I dove under a blanket and tried to hide, but somehow I must have kicked over one of the candles.”

Once the circle was broken nothing kept the necromancer from summoning her father.

“What was it like when my dad…” she began, tucking her hands into her lap.

Richard looked over at her. “The dirt flew everywhere, and there was the crack of wood. I think it was the coffin lid. Then your dad just rose out of the ground. I tried to stop him, but he shook his head and pushed me away.”

“Did he … say anything?”

“Yes, and that was
really
creepy. Your father walked up to the dragon, stared at it, and said, ‘It just had to be you.’” Richard swallowed hard. “Then the thing just vanished, taking your father with it.”

“But you never saw the necromancer?”

“No.”

“How about a swirling bunch of leaves?” That was Ozymandias’s favorite disguise.

“No.”

Richard was no longer shaking, as if telling the story had somehow exorcised a portion of his fear.

“I’m really sorry,” he said. “I feel really bad about this. If I hadn’t been so frightened…”

She could blame this guy for everything or let it go. Hating on him for the rest of her life wasn’t going to help. Well, maybe just a little hating, but he didn’t need to know that.

“I understand. I almost fell for the ‘Let’s sacrifice a kitten’ trick.”

At his puzzled look, Riley explained Ozymandias’s brilliant scheme, how he’d threatened to cut a kitten’s throat if she didn’t break the circle. Luckily the cat wasn’t real, nothing more than a bit of his dark magic.

“Wow. I’ve heard about him. You think he’s the one who took your dad?”

“Maybe.”

Silence fell between them for a time. Finally Richard cleared his throat and rose. “Thanks for listening. I was afraid you’d be too angry to talk to me.”

“You did what you could.”

The young man shook his head. “All I did was let your dad’s body be stolen. I don’t deserve your gratitude.”

He slumped down the road. Riley watched him until he took the turn toward the entrance. She wondered if he’d guard anyone else’s grave or whether Paul Blackthorne had been his last gig.

“It just had to be you.”
Her father had known who had summoned him. Was it Ozymandias?

“Doesn’t feel right,” she said. Ozy would want
her
to make the mistake, not a cemetery volunteer.
So he could gloat.

Her phone rang deep inside her messenger bag. She was tempted to ignore it, but it might be Amy giving her an update on Simon. It was Beck. She groaned.

“Ya on hallowed ground?” he asked without bothering to say hello.

“Yes.” She was, though she wouldn’t be once she crossed under the cemetery archway.

“Stay there.” It wasn’t a request.

“You know, I’m glad I never had brothers.”

“Why?” he asked, clearly puzzled.

“If they’d been like you I’d have run away from home.”

“Go ahead. Just make sure it’s to Fargo,” he shot back.

Jeez, you just don’t quit.
He’d been on this “Move in with yer aunt” kick ever since he found out she had a relative in North Dakota. It didn’t seem to matter that her aunt had hated her dad and disliked Riley by default. Once Beck got something into his brain, it was as immovable as a lump of dried concrete.

Time to change the subject.
“I’m sleeping in my own bed tonight,” she announced, knowing that would set him off.

“I’m sure yer neighbors will really like that when they get barbecued.”

“Huh?” He wasn’t making any sense.

“Nothin’ would keep a couple Pyros from torchin’ yer apartment buildin’ just so that Five can get ya.”

She hadn’t thought about that. It seemed pretty far-fetched, but fiends attacking the Tabernacle hadn’t seemed like a possibility either.

“I want to be in my own place, Beck. I’m tired, I need a shower, and I hurt all over.” Her dad’s things would be around her at home. Maybe that way she wouldn’t feel so alone.

“I hear ya, girl, but that’s not the most important thing in the world.”

He was lecturing her again like he knew all the answers to life’s questions.

“Good night, Beck.”

“Riley…” he said in warning.

“I got the message,” she said, hanging up.

And I’m so ignoring it.

*   *   *

Though she hadn’t
seen anyone when she’d climbed into her car at the cemetery, she was unnerved when a motorcycle fell in behind her. It followed her until the next intersection, then it pulled even with her driver’s side door.

Oh, crap, now what?
The motorcyclist flipped up the helmet’s visor.
Ori.
He replaced the visor and fell in behind her again once they cleared the intersection. It felt strange having an escort, but she had to admit he totally owned that bike. Absolute bad boy. The kind you dream about but really shouldn’t date because you know it would never work out.

They couldn’t have been more different—saintly Simon of the most holy kisses, and Ori, who stirred primal emotions she didn’t understand. Riley shook her head again.
Can’t go there. Simon’s perfect for me. And he’s
all
mine.
Even her dad had liked him. She suspected that wouldn’t have been the case with the hot guy on the bike.

When Riley parked in the lot near her apartment, Ori pulled into a slot next to her.

“I hope I didn’t frighten you,” he said, walking over to her car.

“A little. I’m not used to having guys follow me around.”

“I’m surprised to hear that,” he said smoothly.

Riley felt the warmth creep onto her cheeks. Luckily the parking lot wasn’t well lit, so he probably didn’t notice. “Just demons follow me around.” How many guys could handle that statement? Only trappers, and most of them weren’t that cool.

“Ah, well,” Ori replied, “I’ll just have to deal with that problem.”

“You know, you don’t carry a duffel bag or anything. How do you kill fiends without any weapons or Holy Water?”

He gestured toward the saddlebags. “I’ve got a few things tucked away.”

But you don’t carry them with you all the time, not like Beck.

“So this is where you live?” he asked. It was like he’d wanted to change the subject. He did that a lot.

Riley went along with the shift of topic. “This is it. It used to be a hotel. Now it’s an apartment building with lots of dinky rooms.”

Ori studied her home. “It’s got a roof and four walls, so that’s all you need, right?”