Forsaken (40 page)

Riley didn’t want to think about what might have been. Not ever.

He finally got the front door open and tapped away at the alarm panel. The beeping ceased, then he limped into the front room.

Riley was greeted by dark hardwood floors and a braided rug to clean your feet on. There were pegs to hang coats and tan walls with pictures of Okefenokee Swamp. He’d surprised her again. The house was way clean by guy standards. There were no moldy chunks of pizza on the counter or dirty underwear lurking on the floor. In fact, the place was as clean as her own.

She pointed him to a kitchen chair and asked, “Where’s your Holy Water?”

“Hall closet. Get a bottle for yerself and carry it with ya from now on.”

“Why?”

“If ya need a quick ward, pour a circle and get inside it. It’s better than nothin’.”

“You’re thinking the demons aren’t done with us.”

“I’d say they’re just warmin’ up.”

Other people’s closets held stuff they never used like ice skates, Christmas ornaments, old pairs of shoes that were long past their prime. Beck’s held his trapping supplies. Everything was methodically organized, shelf by shelf, and included several pints of Holy Water, steel bags, coiled rope, spheres—you name it. Even a spare length of steel pipe.

Riley found the freshest bottles, verified the labels with the wet finger test, and returned to the kitchen. She put one in her bag. Beck still stared at nothing about twelve inches in front of him.

“Time for some more pain,” she said.

“Is it the good stuff?”

“Oh, yeah.”

He slowly stripped off his jacket, then his shirt. He took the pint from her. “I’ll do it.”

Works for me.

After washing her hands, Riley rummaged around inside the refrigerator and found eggs and some sausage links. More hunting helped her locate a frying pan, which she set on the gas stove. A sharp yelp came from the bathroom, then a stream of swear words, most of them starting with
f
. Then another yelp. The shower began to run.

That’s the good stuff.
Riley turned the heat down under the links, suspecting it might be a while before he emerged. While Beck showered, she used his home phone to call Peter’s cell.

“Hello?” a wary voice asked.

“Peter, it’s Riley.”

“Riley! Where have you been? Omigod, you scared me,” he said, his voice thick with worry.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. My phone got fried, and I spent the night in the cemetery.”

“They had it on the TV all night. I thought I might see you in one of the pictures and then I’d know you were okay. When I never saw you…” His voice trailed off.

“I’m so sorry, Peter.”

“You knew all these guys who died, didn’t you?”

“Most of them.”

“What about Beck? Is he okay?” She told him a few details but left out the worst stuff. Peter didn’t need her nightmares.

“So that’s it, isn’t it? They’ll have to close the Guild?” he asked.

He almost sounded hopeful. “No. They’ll have trappers come in from other cities. We’ll start over.”

“Oh.”

“Peter, I’m not giving up on this. I want to be a trapper. Even more now!”

“I know,” he said softly. “It’s like watching you play tag with ravenous wolves. One wrong step and they rip you apart, and I can’t do a thing about it. I don’t know if I can take that anymore.”

Peter might not have known it, but he’d drawn a line in the sand. On one side was the way their lives used to be—chatting about school, complaining about their parents, all of that stuff. On the other side was Riley’s new life. The one that could get her ripped apart.

“We can talk about this later, Peter.” No way could she handle this on top of everything else.

Silence.

“Peter?”

“The point is we never do talk it out. That’s not the way a friendship works. I can’t take this anymore. I mean it.”

Then he hung up on her.

Riley felt sick inside. When she dropped the phone back into its cradle, she found Beck watching her from the hallway.

“He hung up on me. He can’t deal with me being a trapper.”

“It’s hard for them,” he said, his voice rough. “They don’t understand what we do, why we do it.” He shook his head in regret. “It tears ’em apart worryin’ about us.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way. My mom was okay with Dad’s work,” she protested.

Beck arched an eyebrow. “Sure about that?”

Riley wanted to argue, but she’d overheard her parent’s hushed conversations. Her mother had worried every moment her husband was out of her sight, afraid that one day Paul wouldn’t be coming home.

Beck slumped in the doorway. “When I first started I thought I could have it all. Now all I see is a life on my own, at least until I get too old to trap or some demon makes a meal of me.”

Riley shivered, running her hands up and down her arms. “God, that’s so … brutal.”

“It’s the price we pay for takin’ on Hell.”

Her breath hitched at the thought.

To his credit Beck stayed out of the way as Riley cooked the rest of the meal. He ate what she put in front of him without bitching that the eggs were overcooked and the toast too brown. She found herself hungrier than she’d expected and cleaned her plate, wondering how she could eat after what she’d seen the night before.

Does that make me a ghoul?

It wasn’t until Beck finished a second helping of toast, lighter this time, that he started to talk. “Jackson’s injured, but should be back pretty soon. Stewart’s up and goin’, though I don’t think that’s a good idea. Harper’s ribs are banged up.”

“Is he in the hospital?”

“No, he’s at his place. He’ll need help for a time.”

“What comes next?” Riley asked, sipping on the coffee. It was too strong, but then she’d never been good at making the stuff.

“Funerals. Then we’ve got to do all that damned paperwork for the national office. They’ll have to send us a master to start trainin’ replacements.” His voice trailed off. “It’ll be a couple years before we’re back to full strength, unless other trappers move here.”

“Will they?” she asked, brushing the last of the crumbs off her sweater.

“I sure as hell wouldn’t move here, not with that happened last night,” he replied. “Be lucky if we can keep the ones we got.”

He was probably right. “I’ll keep an eye on Harper, help him if I can,” she said.

That got her a long look. “Thought ya hated him.”

“Doesn’t keep me from looking after him.”
As long as I keep out of range.

“Well, that makes sense,” he said, indicating the meal. “Ya did the same for me.”

Why did he make everything so personal? “Beck, I don’t hate you; it’s just that…” She had no idea how to explain how much he rubbed her the wrong way, or how good it had been that day when they were trapping together. How much she wished it was always that way. “I want it to be okay between us, but I’m not giving up Simon just because you don’t like him.”

“He’s okay.” Beck stared down at his empty plate. “Truth is, yer right. I’m … sorta jealous of him. He’s lucky ya like him so much. Any guy would be.”

I like you too, but you don’t see it.

Not knowing how to tell him that, Riley rose and shoved her chair under the table. She reached for the plates, but he stopped her.

“Please call yer aunt, let her know yer okay. I’ll get ya a bus ticket to Fargo.”

Back to that again.
She shook her head, her fingers digging into the back of the chair. “I’m not leaving, not with Simon the way he is.”

Beck rose, face set. “I know ya care for him, but he’d want ya safe. The demons shouldn’t know yer name, but they keep callin’ ya out. That Five was willin’ to kill every last trapper to get to ya. That’s real bad, Riley.”

She heard fear in every word. Fear for her. “It doesn’t matter what the demons are doing, I’m not leaving.”

“Somethin’s goin’ down in this city, girl, and yer in the middle of it.”

“Doesn’t matter if I’m in Fargo or wherever. If the Five wants me, it’ll find me. Game over.” When he opened his mouth to argue, she waved him off. “You’re wasting your time. I’m staying, and that’s the end of this conversation.”

“Yer one damned pigheaded fool,” he growled.

“You would know what that’s like.”

With a snarl, Beck swiveled on his good leg and limped down the hall. A door slammed. Then there was a loud thump, like someone had struck a wall with his fist.

Buy all the bus tickets you want. There’s no way I’m leaving.

THIRTY-NINE

The ICU nurse in the blue scrubs took one look at Riley and went wide-eyed. “Are you okay, miss?” he asked, rising from his chair.

Riley could only imagine what she looked like. She hadn’t taken time to change her clothes, hadn’t even thought of it. Then she caught her reflection in the waiting room window. Her jacket was dotted with scorch marks, and one sleeve had a long slit in it. Her hair hung limp, frizzled at the ends from the heat. Both her sweater and jeans were caked with a thick layer of dried blood.

“Ah, yeah, I’m okay,” Riley said. “I’d like to see Simon Adler.”

Don’t tell me he’s dead. Please, don’t …

“Are you family?” the nurse asked skeptically.

“Ah…”

“She is,” a voice called out. It belonged to a young woman standing in the waiting room door.

The nurse still appeared skeptical. “Okay, but five minutes only,” he advised.

The young woman took Riley by the hand and led her farther down the hall. She was blond with blue eyes, about Riley’s height. There was a slight thickness at her waist. A baby bump.

“You’re Riley, aren’t you?” she whispered. “I’m Amy, Simon’s sister. He told me about you.”

“You got married last summer,” Riley said.

The girl nodded. She put a protective hand her stomach. “I’m going to have a baby,” she said.

They walked in silence until Amy paused outside a room.

“How bad is…?” Riley began, then lost the will to finish the question.

“They say he lost a lot of blood, that it hurt his brain. They say he’s not there anymore. That we have to decide if we keep him on the machine or…” Amy’s eyes brimmed.

Oh, God.

They hugged, sharing tears.

“He’s the greatest brother ever,” Amy said between sobs, her head buried in Riley’s shoulder. “Why did this happen to him?”

The images of lacerated bodies, ferocious demons, and all that blood steamrolled through Riley’s mind. She could hear the screams, the snarls, the crisp crackle of the flames as if she were inside that building once again.

“Are you okay? You’re shaking,” Amy said, pulling away.

“I’m okay,” Riley said, but that was a lie.

Amy took her arm. “Bro told me how much he liked you. He said you were special. I thought you should know that.”

“Thanks, I … he’s special to me, too.”

After she squeezed Riley’s hand Amy made her way back to the waiting room.

He’s not there anymore.

Riley gingerly pushed open the door to Simon’s room. A nurse looked up, gave her a nod, and then finished hanging a new IV bag. It had blood in it. She left without offering a word of encouragement.

Which means there isn’t any hope.
Riley had learned that when her mother lay dying.

Simon was so pale he’d qualify as corpse, and the medical equipment seemed to dwarf him. A ventilator kept him breathing. Air in, air out. A long green line sprawled across a monitor, registering every heartbeat. Tubes were everywhere. One snaked out from under the covers and into a bag to collect his urine.

Riley swallowed hard, moving slowly to the side of the bed. Just last night they’d been kissing, holding each other, talking about the future.

She slipped her hand between the cool metal rails. Simon’s felt like lukewarm marble. He didn’t twitch when she touched him, didn’t squeeze back. She remembered the soft look in his eyes. How he’d treated her like she was the only girl in the world. Bending over, she pushed a piece of hair off his forehead and then kissed him.

“Hurry and get well,” she whispered in his ear. “We’re getting behind on the kissing.”

No response, not even a flicker of an eyelid. The ventilator continued to push air into his lungs and the heart monitor beeped, but no one was home. Even Riley could tell that.

“You can’t be like this,” she said. “You can’t leave me alone. I don’t care what it takes, but you have to get better, Simon Adler. I’ll do anything, you hear? Just don’t die on me!”

Nothing. Her tender hope began to disintegrate into tiny wounded shards.

Simon had told her his faith had never really been tested.

Now he was serving as a test for those who loved him.

This one I’m not going to pass.

*   *   *

As she cried
at the elevator, Riley saw the angel in the hallway. Nobody else seemed to notice it, despite the white robe and the feathery wings neatly tucked behind its shoulders. In fact, a nurse walked right by it, then ducked into a patient’s room intent on her own business.

The ethereal messenger beckoned to Riley, then pointed toward the chapel down the hall. Riley hit the down button again, hard.

“You are a stubborn girl, aren’t you?” the angel said. The voice sounded so familiar. So Martha.

The knitting-addicted cemetery volunteer was an angel?

“You’re kidding me,” Riley said. “Why didn’t I see you like this before?”

“I didn’t want you to,” Martha replied. She pointed toward the chapel again.

“What do you want?” Riley replied, not willing to budge.

The angel puzzled on that, scratching a wing in thought. “Some fine alpaca hand-dyed yarn would be a good start. Oh, and I’d love to have a pair of rosewood needles.”

Riley tried again, her frustration rising. “What do you want
with me
?”

“A chat, dear, before it all goes to Hell.”

Feeling really dumb talking to something no else seemed to notice, Riley gave in and shuffled her way toward the chapel. Pushing open the door, she found Martha in the front pew, but now she was dressed like an old woman, orthopedic shoes and all.