Forgiven (27 page)

‘Do ya trust me?’ he’d asked.

I do.
That didn’t mean her trust wouldn’t end in tears.

The bus trip to her apartment complex was tolerable, except for a scruffy teen and his mp3 player. It was one of the really nice ones and he was seriously rocking to the tunes. So was Riley, six rows back. When she’d boarded the bus, she noticed a wet line at the bottom step and a jug of Holy Water stashed near the driver’s seat. When she’d asked about it, the guy said it was a city by-law now. All buses and trains had to be warded against demons.

Oh, crap.
That meant sneaking small fiends on public transport had come to an end. Hellspawn on the buses and trains had always been illegal, but trappers usually ignored the rules and no one complained, at least for the small Grade One fiends. No one would dare haul a Three on to a MARTA train and not expect some blowback.

Once she reached home, Riley went through the motions: retrieving the bills from the mailbox, looking at the notices posted on the corkboard near the entrance. Sometimes you could score cheap furniture that way when someone was moving out. The newest note was from Mrs Ivey on the fourth floor who was missing her hearing-aid battery (again). Being a cranky old woman, she was convinced someone had stolen it.

She might be right.
If the battery had any shininess to it, it was a good bet it’d been thieved by the fiend that shared Riley’s apartment. If the demon showed his face, maybe she could convince him to give it back.

The apartment smelt stale, but Riley wasn’t staying there often enough for it to be any other way. Despite the chilly air she popped open a window then cycled through her voicemails. The most important message was from Fireman Jack, a demon trafficker who doubled as the Guild’s lawyer. It was bad news: the Consolidated Debt Collection people had set their sights on Riley’s car. However, if she was willing to give up her father, they’d be happy to leave the vehicle in her possession.

Blackmail?
After all the hell she’d been through in the last few days the car problem was barely a flicker on her problem meter. Jack would sort it out. He was good with that kind of thing.

After her shower and clean clothes, Riley dropped on to her couch. For some reason Mrs Ivey’s problem resurfaced in her mind. It had to be awful not being able to hear.

Was the little demon in residence?

‘Hello? Are you here?’ There was a flash on one of the bookshelves and there he was, all of three inches of light brown fiend with a forked tail and tiny red eyes. His ears were peaked and he dressed like a ninja. He even had the little tabi shoes ninja assassins wore. Except this guy was a thief, not a killer. Sitting next to him was a bag of loot, prizes he’d liberated from other people’s apartments. She often wondered if Lucifer regretted creating such a stealthy kleptomaniac.

‘Did you take someone’s hearing-aid battery?’ She got a shrug in reply. Maybe the demon had no idea what she was talking about. ‘Can you check? Please? Mrs Ivey needs it back. She can’t hear without it and she’s a grouchy old lady on good days.’ Riley had learned that when she’d left her clothes in the communal dryer a few seconds longer than was necessary.

The fiend dug in his little bag and began to haul out pieces of loot, each one shiny or sparkly. That was a Magpie’s weakness – they were all about the bling. The pile of loot kept growing and included earrings, a small toe ring, gold tone paperclips, tie clip,
I LUV Las Vegas
key ring. There had to be demon magic involved as his loot bag wasn’t large enough to hold all the goodies inside. He pulled out a battery, held it up and squeaked at her. The demon equivalent of: ‘Is this it?’

‘Yes, I think it is. Can I have it, please?’

The demon issued another squeak. ‘In return for what?’ she guessed.

Riley dug around in her backpack and came up with a slightly dented chocolate kiss from the coffee shop. How it’d survived in one piece, she had no idea.

‘How’s about this?’ she said, turning it so he could see the shiny tinfoil.

The trade happened even before she could blink her eyes, the battery lying on her palm, the silver-wrapped kiss in the demon’s hands.

‘Thanks.’ She pulled on her coat and dropped the battery into a pocket. Then froze. Something was inside. Something sticky. Riley carefully removed the object and held it up, then nearly gagged: it was a three-inch-long bloody demon tooth, probably from the monster she’d batted off the roof.

‘Yuck,’ she said, ‘that’s gross.’

There was a sharp hiss of fright from the small demon on the bookshelf.

‘It’s OK. The thing’s dead. Well, mostly dead I guess.’

The demon kept hissing and pointing at the tooth. ‘It’s not going to hurt you.’ She placed it on her palm and held it out to him. ‘See?’

The fiend was frantic now, backed into a corner near an old dictionary. The loot bag was on the other side of the shelf. His eyes darted to it and then back, growing more agitated with each passing second.

Klepto-Fiends never let their loot out of arm’s reach.

‘Is it because a Grade Three will eat you little guys?’

The demon shook his head, eyes bright red saucers.

Riley closed her fist round the tooth, confused. ‘Then why would this scare you? All you guys work for Lucifer,’ she said.

The demon cringed and cried out at the name of his master. Like they always did.
Except for the ones on the roof.

‘OK, I’ll put it away,’ she said, dropping it back into her coat pocket. ‘Better?’

It must have been because the Magpie flew to its bag and clutched it to his chest, rocking back and forth in profound relief.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know it would scare you.’

Reality check. You just apologized to a demon.

The Magpie finally ceased shivering and hoisted its bag over a shoulder.

‘You never call me Blackthorne’s daughter like the others. Why?’

There were more high-pitched noises and then the fiend was a blur of nothing.

‘You did, huh. Somehow I missed that.’ Why didn’t the demons in the old building?
Why are those so different from the rest?

Now that the Magpie was gone, Riley pulled out the tooth, letting it rest on her palm. A tingling sensation tickled her skin, skittering down her fingers.

Magic.

Riley decided to take the problem to a supernatural expert, in this case Mort. At the same time she could reassure her father that she was in one piece.

But first there was the matter of returning Mrs Ivey’s missing battery. She wondered just how long it would be before the Magpie stole it again.

Little Five Points was as full of humanity as usual, but Enchanter’s Way, the street where Mort lived, was unusually empty. Riley had a quick look in the café – there was only a bored waitress sitting at a table reading a magazine. Further down the street at Bell, Book and Broomstick, the witch store, her friend Ayden busied herself sweeping the front steps of the establishment. She was dressed in a long black shirt and a low-cut white blouse overlaid with an embroidered red vest. When you added in her curly russet hair, she looked like she’d escaped from a Renaissance Faire. Ayden was probably in her late forties, but it was hard to tell. Once again, she’d used her magic to alter the huge tattoo on her neck and chest – this time it was a line of grim-faced fairies marching across a field in full battle gear.

As Riley approached, Ayden stopped sweeping and leaned against the broom. They studied each other for a time as if neither had any idea what to say.

Riley tried for something benign. ‘You’re not at the market today.’

‘No. We rotate. I’ll be at the market stall tomorrow.’

More awkward silence. Apparently Mort had let the witch know about Riley’s time with the demon hunters.

‘Ah, look, if it’s not good for you to be seen with me, I understand,’ Riley said.

‘That’s not it.’ Another pause. ‘Thank you for having –’ Ayden angled her head down the road towards Mort’s home – ‘let me know what was going on. I was really worried about you.’

‘Me too.’ Riley waved her friend away from the front door, in case there was someone inside who might overhear them. Then she flipped over her palms. She couldn’t see the inscriptions any more, but she was wondering if Ayden would.

The witch stared, then a lone eyebrow rose in surprise. ‘I understand why you have the one from Heaven. What did you do to earn the one from Hell?’ her friend asked.

Can’t hide much from a witch.
‘I owe Lucifer a promise. And I slept with a fallen angel.’

The eyebrow went stratospheric. ‘Goddess, girl, are you insane?’

‘I thought he worked for Heaven.’
I thought I was in love.

Ayden blew out a long stream of air as she mulled over that reply. ‘Was it Lucifer who raised Paul?’ Riley nodded. ‘Where is your dad now?’

‘At Mort’s. He knows the Prince is my father’s summoner.’

‘Can it possibly get any more bizarre?’ Ayden grumbled.

‘Oh yeah. Someone is raising demons from the dead now and the hunters can’t kill them.’

The witch’s eyebrow reversed direction, joined the other and formed an impressive frown. ‘What damned fool necromancer thought that was a good idea?’ Ayden retorted. ‘Why do they think the next life is their personal playground?’

Whoa.
Riley knew there was little love lost between the witches and the necros, but Ayden’s bitterness seemed pretty harsh.

She removed the demon tooth from her pocket. ‘This is from one of the weird demons. Can you –’

Ayden waved it away. ‘Go talk to the summoners’ advocate,’ the witch said. ‘I do not want to get into the middle of it.’

Riley dropped the tooth back into the safety of her jacket pocket.

‘Do the hunters know about those inscriptions on your palms?’ Ayden asked.

‘Yes. Apparently it took the Pope to figure out I wasn’t a threat.’

‘Riiiight.’ Ayden’s frown lessened. ‘No matter what, be careful. Something’s going down, something nasty. Watch your back, OK?’

‘I will.’

‘No more messing around with Hell. They play for keeps.’

‘So does Heaven.’

As Riley crossed the threshold into the summoner’s house, she felt her nerves slowly unwind. She’d come to think of it as Mort Magic because she always felt better here. She found her dad in the summoner’s office with his bottle of jazzed-up orange drink, much brighter than the last time she’d seen him.

His eyes lit up the moment he spied her. ‘Riley!’ he called out.

‘Hey, Dad,’ she said, hurrying into his arms. The hug was off the scale. She knew he’d been concerned about her, but the embrace told her it was more than that.

‘Beck was here this morning,’ he announced.

Backwoods Boy hadn’t said a word to her about his visit. ‘Did you tell him about your deal with Hell?’

‘No. It’s not time for him to know that yet.’

There was a slight whooshing sound a second before Mort walked through the illusionary magical wall that led to the back of the house. Their host had pulled that stunt the first time she’d visited, so this time she wasn’t surprised.

‘Riley. Good to see you’re finally free from the Vatican’s clutches,’ Mort said. He settled on the bench seat opposite her and her dad, a smile filling his face.

She was about to ruin his good mood. Removing the tooth from her pocket, Riley set it on the picnic table in front of their host. The summoner’s attention went to it immediately. The frown came next.

‘Where did you get that?’ he asked.

‘From a Grade Three demon. It thought it was going to eat Beck, so I hit it with a steel pipe.’ Like every girl her age thumped Hellspawn on the head for a living.

‘Is Beck OK?’ her father asked, concerned.

‘He’s good.’

Mort went to reach for the tooth and then snatched his hand back like it had encountered a blow torch. His eyes rose to hers. ‘This is riddled with necromantic magic.’

Riley beamed. ‘I knew it. I didn’t think Lucifer was
that
crazy.’