Forgiven (12 page)

Beck flipped the guy round and got in his face. His nose wrinkled in disgust: Roscoe smelt of pungent aftershave, like he was headed to a date.

‘The Guild wants to know who yer sellin’ the demons to.’

Roscoe blinked rapidly. ‘It’s . . . it’s all in my records,’ he stammered.

‘Not those, dumbass. The ones ya sell under the table.’

Roscoe’s florid face went ashen. ‘I do everything legal.’

Beck gave Roscoe a shake that rattled the loser’s teeth. ‘Wrong answer, try again. And, so ya know, I’m way past bein’ polite, Roscoe.’

‘Can’t say. Don’t dare,’ the man panted.

What now?
In the past a little more pain therapy would have done the trick, but this time was different. Maybe it was better to work on Roscoe’s mind instead of his bones.

Beck backed off. ‘Well then, sorry it’s come to this,’ he said. ‘I’ll be sure to send flowers to yer funeral.’ He turned and began to walk away, hoping his gamble would work.

‘What do you mean? Hey! Stop!’ Roscoe called out.

Beck paused and then took his time turning round. ‘I’m sayin’ that I was yer only chance. It’ll be up to the boys from Rome now. They don’t give a damn about who ya’ve got watchin’ yer back.’

‘They can’t touch me!’ Roscoe shouted.

‘They don’t care, man,’ Beck said, moving closer now. ‘If yer lucky, they’ll close yer little smut shop here. If they’re really pissed, ya’ll be six feet under and no one is gonna miss yer ass.’

Roscoe’s face was sweaty now. ‘For God’s sake, don’t do this,’ he pleaded. ‘Tell them I don’t know anything.’

‘Can’t do that, Roscoe.’

The man’s eyes darted left and right, looking for a way to escape.

‘Ya run, it’s gonna hurt, Roscoe. Talk to me. I can see yer in over yer head.’

The shop owner stared up at him. ‘You know what’s going on?’

‘Some of it,’ Beck said, trying to sound reassuring, though he really didn’t have much of a clue what was really going down.

Roscoe sagged against the door like his bones had turned to jelly. ‘This guy came to the shop and told me he’d pay a lot of money for demons. He wanted all he could get. Ones and up.’

‘What’d he look like?’

‘About your height with dark brown hair.’

‘That’s about every guy in this city. Ya gotta do better than that.’

‘There was nothing special about him,’ Roscoe complained. ‘I’d drive to a different place each time. Empty parking lots, mostly. He’d show up in a truck, take the demons and give me cash.’

‘Any idea where he went with them?’ A shake of the head. ‘How many did ya sell to him?’

‘Why does it matter?’ When Beck took a menacing step forward, Roscoe cowered. ‘About thirty of the Threes, a dozen or so Twos and a few Ones. I’ve heard some of the other traffickers sold the same amounts.’

Beck whistled under his breath. ‘That’s a helluva lot of demons.’

The system was always straightforward: the trappers sold the fiends to the demon traffickers. Both sides of the deal received paperwork to show it was all legal. The trafficker then sold the demons to the Catholic Church, in bulk. But trying to sell fiends without the proper paperwork earned you jail time and a huge federal fine.

‘Why would some guy pay way more than the goin’ rate for a buttload of demons? What is he doin’ with them?’

‘Don’t know. Don’t care,’ Roscoe said. ‘I need the money. You think running this kind of business is cheap? There’s lots of bribes to pay.’

Beck took a quick look around. Folks were going about their business, like they didn’t care if Roscoe went down. ‘What about the fake Holy Water? What do ya know about that?’

Roscoe frowned and shook his head. ‘Fake Holy Water? Why would someone do that? That’s dumb.’

The sleaze didn’t know about the scam.

‘One last thing –’ In a heartbeat Roscoe was off his feet and rammed up against the door. The jarring impact set off the security alarm and drenched them in floodlights.

‘If ya ever try to roll Paul Blackthorne’s daughter again,’ Beck bellowed inches from the man’s ear, ‘I will feed ya to a Three, a chunk at a time. Ya got that?’

Roscoe wilted. ‘No, no, I won’t do it again. I promise.’

The moment Beck released him, the loser went into a heap on the ground, quivering in terror.

Beck methodically wiped his hands on his jeans, like he’d touched something toxic. ‘Thanks, Roscoe. The Guild appreciates yer help.’

‘You’ll square it with the hunters?’ the man whined.

‘Sure.’

If I remember to talk to ’em.

When voices woke Riley out of a tormented sleep, she pulled herself up in the bed, disorientated. The room was dark except for a glowing red light on the ceiling. For an instant she thought it was a demon preparing to attack and
eep
ed in startled surprise. Then felt foolish.

You dork. It’s a smoke detector.

The mental fog parted like a stage curtain: she was still at the Westin with the demon hunters. A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand told her that it was nearly ten in the evening. She’d been their ‘guest’ for over twelve hours.

After a knock on the door, a young hunter stuck his head in, his form outlined by the light from the hallway.

Riley clicked the lamp on next to the bed. ‘What?’ she mumbled.

‘Come with me,’ he said in a noticeable German accent. ‘Now, please.’

The urgency in his voice made Riley scurry to lace up her shoes, then collect her coat and backpack. ‘What’s happening?’ she asked, trying to finger comb her hair.

In lieu of a response the hunter herded her down the hall towards the fire exit. Another hunter followed behind them, moving with military precision. Voices crackled on their radio, echoing as they entered the stairwell.

‘Where am I going?’ No reply. What if they snuck her out of town without telling Stewart? Was this a one-way trip to Rome or somewhere else?

After a quick march down countless storeys, they exited on to the street behind the hotel. One of the hunters sheared off, leaving her alone with the German dude. His dark hair was cut short and his nose had a slight bump in it like it’d been broken and reset.

‘Please, tell me what is going on.’

His attention never left the street as he answered. ‘Near here there has been a report of an Archfiend.’

That explained why the hunter was so wired. Riley had never seen one, but from what she’d heard from Beck they were only a step below a fallen angel when it came to power. An Archfiend had cost her father his soul. It’d been that or his life.

That didn’t explain why she was
outside
the hotel. As Riley was about to ask that question, Captain Salvatore exited the building, talking into his radio. When he reached their position, he gave a nod to the young hunter who promptly backed off.

‘Is it really an Archfiend?’ she asked.

Salvatore shook his head. ‘Someone with a macabre sense of humour. The fool dressed up in a devil’s costume and ran through the market in Centennial Park, setting off firecrackers and smoke bombs. People panicked. He’s in custody now.’

‘Wow. Fives are scary enough. I can’t imagine an Archdemon.’

‘Yet you stood up to a Fallen,’ Salvatore replied.

‘Ori didn’t seem so scary, at least until I told him he wasn’t getting my soul. He seemed . . . human, except for being too perfect, if you know what I mean.’

A nod. ‘A decision has been made about your situation.’

Riley searched the captain’s face for clues as to how this was going to go. He looked way grim.
Not good.

‘They don’t believe me, do they?’

‘Not completely, but the inscriptions on your palms pleaded your case to Rome more effectively than your testimony. We have received permission to release you from custody.’

What?
‘You’re letting me go?’ she blurted.
Why would they do that?

The captain smiled at her outburst. ‘I’m as surprised as you. The decision came in record time: Galileo had to wait almost three hundred and sixty years for his reprieve.’

Did he just diss the Church?
‘Then they’ve decided I’m not evil?’ she asked, still not understanding the news.

‘It’s more of a wait-and-see attitude. Apparently the Holy Father knows something about these inscriptions that we don’t. In the meantime, you are to be released to Grand Master Stewart’s care.’

Riley cocked her head. ‘What does that mean exactly?’

‘Since he has agreed to act as your guardian in the eyes of the Church, you are the master’s responsibility,’ Salvatore replied. ‘If you do anything that leads Rome to believe you are acting on Hell’s behalf, you will be arrested and tried. So will Grand Master Stewart, which will create major diplomatic issues between the International Guild and the Holy See. If I were you, I’d try hard to stay out of trouble.’

‘Stewart must have been crazy to make such a deal.’

Salvatore grunted in agreement.

Why did the Pope free me? Could Heaven have told him what I’m supposed to do?
There was no way to know.

‘So what does the priest think about this?’

‘Father Rosetti initially believed you were at the centre of Atlanta’s issues. After consulting Rome, he’s unsure. Still, he fears you may eventually pose a threat.’

‘What about the Nordic dude, the one with the attitude problem?’

‘Lieutenant Amundson is very displeased.’ Salvatore’s smile grew as if he was enjoying that fact immensely. ‘However, neither Rosetti nor the lieutenant dare contradict the Holy Father in such matters.’

What should she say now?
So long and thanks for not torturing me? You guys are awesome?

Instead Riley went in another direction. ‘Why do you think someone was messing with Simon’s head?’

Salvatore studied her more closely now. ‘It’s been known to happen after a traumatic event. Hell seeks to exploit your doubts when you’re most vulnerable. Just because someone is deeply religious doesn’t keep the temptation at bay.’

‘Heaven’s the same way,’ she murmured. ‘They knew I wasn’t going to let Simon die. They knew which button to push.’

‘So it appears. We will be taking a closer look at Mr Adler. Perhaps we can learn who has been influencing him.’

‘Why did you meet me outside the hotel?’ she asked, curious.

‘I wanted to judge you for myself before Rosetti put the fear of God into you. What I found was a young girl who was morally outraged that someone was making money at the expense of dead trappers. That told me your heart wasn’t dark, or least not completely compromised.’

‘So we could have skipped the whole anoint me with Holy Water episode?’

Salvatore shook his head. ‘Besides, I wouldn’t missed that for the world.’

Her cellphone was returned, followed by a business card. It was embossed with the seal of St George and the dragon and had his name written in Gothic script.

‘Please check in with me every twenty-four hours so we know your whereabouts. I’ll need a brief report of your activities to satisfy Rome.’

‘I will. Thanks . . . Elias,’ she said, hoping that wasn’t a breach of protocol. The man had been decent to her and she wanted him to know she appreciated that.

‘You’re welcome, Riley. You will be taken to your apartment so you can gather what you need. From there Müller will drive you to Master Stewart’s. You are to stay with him for the time being.’

Beats living on the streets.

Riley looked out into the darkness. ‘You know, sometimes I wish I’d never seen a demon,’ she conceded.

The captain sighed. ‘Don’t we all.’

Riley’s
I can’t freakin’ believe they let me go
euphoria continued during her ride in the tech-laden Demon Hunter van with Private Müller. The vehicle had more buttons and levers than a space shuttle and it was difficult to resist trying out a few of them.

‘Are any of these rocket launchers?’ she asked, waving a hand at a row of buttons on the console. Müller gave her a confused look, then realized she was joking.