Mind Games by Jana Oliver
“So we’re all sparks, then?” Riley asked.
“Me? I think I’m the guy who keeps the sparks safe from the darkness, so they can multiply and light the way,” he replied.
Riley liked that just as well. “So how did you connect up with the Vatican?”
“Father Rosetti texted my parents, asked how I was doing. Mom told him I was headed to Rome next, so he invited me to lunch.”
“That had to be a surprise.”
Simon smiled. “Oh, it was. Rosetti asked how I was doing, where I’d been, what countries I’d visited. All sorts of questions.”
“He was feelin’ you out?” Beck asked.
“Definitely. He wanted to know where I was in my spiritual journey, had I turned away from God entirely or was I at least still ‘in the tent,’ as he put it. I told him I’d found some peace in some very strange places.”
“Like?”
“I went to Nepal, spent time with the monks. Did some hiking and a lot of thinking and praying.” He smiled over at Riley now. “I listened to your advice and spoke to an imam and a rabbi. I spent an entire day with an Indian holy man. I even sat in one of those stone circles Ayden likes so much.”
Nodding, Riley thought of how much she missed her friend.
“In the end,” Simon continued, “I realized that I’d been tested and failed big time. My faith had been too rigid. Instead of a strength, it was a straitjacket.”
“Good analogy,” she replied, marveling at how far Simon had come since last spring.
“Hell didn’t break you,” Beck said quietly.
“No, but they came really close. Once I knew that, I could deal with some of the guilt.” Simon looked over at Riley now. “The fact that you forgave me for what I did to you meant a lot. I owe you.”
“As you forgave me. It had to be hard for you to see me at Ori’s side before that battle downtown.”
“It frightened me, because I knew that meant your soul was his. But I also knew you wouldn’t have given it up unless it was for a just cause.”
“Ori taught me how to kill demons, and that kept me and others alive. That’s all he wanted, for me to survive. In the end, he got his wish.”
Beck nodded. “In the end, Hell didn’t get any of us. I’d say that’s somethin’ good to remember, no matter how bad it gets.”
“Amen,” Simon said.
His phone rang at that point and he took the call. As he listened he began to smile. “That’s very good news. Thank you so much for letting us know. It means a lot.”
When the call ended, the smile came their direction. “Carrina’s parents had her checked out by a doctor—she’s got a lot of bruises and lost some weight, but nothing else is wrong.”
“Thank you, God,” Riley murmured.
A while later Simon left, genuinely happy, as though he’d had the best night of his life. Maybe he had. As he pulled out of the driveway, he waved. Riley and Beck returned it.
“Good guy,” she said. “He’s way lonely, though. I hope he finds someone someday. He deserves happiness.”
“I used to be that way, but not anymore. Not since you.”
Riley turned toward her guy, feeling the warmth of his love. “There’s a couple more brownies left. We could split them with the rest of the ice cream.”
Beck shut the door, locked it, and pulled her close. “I have a much better idea.”
As he kissed her, all thoughts of brownies and ice cream vanished.
*~*~*
The next day brought a ton of paperwork at Harper’s place—somehow His Snootiness Master Northrup hadn’t bothered to take all that on. The usually grouchy Harper was even worse, his conversation liberally seeded with swear words, most of them overlapping each other.
Northrup was conspicuously absent; rumor had it he was meeting with the local archdiocese for some reason. That made Riley nervous. Was he spreading lies about her to the Church, in hopes of keeping her away from Simon and the exorcisms? For that matter, did he even know about them?
There you go again, borrowing trouble. Ayden always warned her about that.
When the offer of a trapping run arose, Riley eagerly snapped it up, keen to get her apprentices out of Harper’s way. Since she couldn’t serve as a full backup, Beck agreed to step in—mostly because she’d texted him and said that Harper was one swear word away from a full meltdown.
The Gastro-Fiend they needed to trap had decided to chomp its way through some restaurant dumpsters in Virginia-Highland, a trendy neighborhood near Piedmont Park. It was easy to track the thing, since it had tipped the trash containers over and spread debris everywhere. It was like following a stinky road map.
Beck was in teaching mode, so she stepped back and let him handle Richard and Kurt. It reminded her of what it’d been like when she’d been the apprentice and he’d taken her trapping. While he coached Richard on how to capture the gluttonous Three, who’d found nirvana in the dumpster behind a noodle place, Riley kept an eye out for trouble.
She couldn’t escape the feeling that they were being watched. As she concentrated, a faint green thread appeared in her mind and slowly grew stronger. A movement at the end of the alley brought her around to find Jackson walking toward them.
What’s he doing here? It was his day off.
Beck shot him a quick look and called out, “Good timin’. Richard is about to take this thing down.”
The man didn’t reply, just kept moving closer. As he did, the thread shifted, growing muddier. Darker.
“Beck?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t think this is Jackson. We might have another demon.”
“Real or an illusion?”
She focused on it, feeling the immediate headache kick in. “I don’t think it’s real. But if it is and we ignore it . . . ”
“Understood. You and Kurt deal with it. Richard and I will get this one. Just be careful.”
So calm. Not a hint of “what the hell is happening here?”
Kurt took a stand about eight or nine feet away from her, a Babel sphere in one hand and a Holy Water sphere in the other.
“Good move,” she said, nodding. “We have no idea what this thing is. One thing for sure, if this is an Archfiend, you and Richard are running for it. Got it?”
He gave her a frown.
“Got it?” she repeated, more forcefully now.
Kurt nodded unhappily.
“If this is a Four, its strength is getting into your mind and molding it like Play-Doh.”
Jackson’s image vanished, replaced by that of a Three.
“Hey, that’s good, right?” Kurt asked.
“No, it’s not. Higher-level fiends can mimic lower-level fiends. This could still be a Four.”
“Then what do we do?”
“You nail it with the Holy Water sphere and see what happens.”
Kurt nodded, his jaw tensed and shoulders tight.
Rather than let the demon get closer to the others, Riley walked out to meet it, Kurt next to her.
“Lucifer!” she shouted.
The fiend cocked its head but kept coming.
So it was either a very high-level fiend, or . . .
Its thread began to pulse in her mind now, shifting through colors like a rainbow.
“Nail it,” she said.
Kurt’s toss was perfect, hitting it mid-chest. If there’d been an actual chest to hit. Instead, the sphere sailed through the demon and smashed on the pavement.
“It’s not real,” he said, furious. “And I just wasted a sphere.”
“You good?” Beck called out, right after a snarling howl cut through the air.
“Fine. You?”
“It’s down and going in the bag. Richard did you proud.”
She smiled at that news. “I’ll be righ
Riley broke into a sprint down the alley, following the thread, which had now morphed into pure lavender. When it grew thinner and finally vanished, she began muttering a couple of the expletives Harper had used that morning.
This time, the thread had been strong enough that she’d felt something else.
Witch magic.
By the time Riley rejoined the others, Richard was all smiles at his latest trapping, while Kurt remained pensive. As the two apprentices hauled the bagged demon to the truck, she dropped back to talk to Beck in private.
“Illusion?” he asked.
“Yeah. I felt witchy magic.”
He blinked over at her. “Why would one of them do that?”
“No clue. I can’t ask them or I’ll lose my license.”
*~*~*
Once the snarling fiend was delivered to Fireman Jack, Beck took off on her. Apparently he needed to talk to Stewart, though he didn’t say about what. Riley polled her apprentices, and burgers were the odds-on favorite choice for an early supper. She took them to her favorite burger joint, and they indulged in an orgy of carbs, salt, and fat.
Richard was still boisterous, in a great mood; Kurt less so. When Riley asked him what was up, all he said was, “Girlfriend problems.”
“As in . . . ?”
“As in when I asked if we could get back together again, she said we couldn’t date if I was a trapper. It’s . . . ” He struggled for a word.
“Complicated?” Riley supplied. He nodded. “Probably always will be. Where does she work?”
“At one of those New Age shops. She’s a witch.”
That was interesting. “Her people aren’t happy you’re dating?”
“So. Not. Happy. Eslee’s family is giving her all kinds of grief, saying I’m not the kind of guy she should be hanging with. I think she’s way cool. She’s like a bright spring day. They tell her the only thing worse than dating a trapper is dating a necromancer.”
Riley groaned. “Sorry. That happens more often than we’d all like.”
“It’s not like we’re enemies. It seems more territorial than anything,” he observed.
Which was right. The prejudices were deep and inexplicable and really needed changing. But how?
As if the universe, or at least the witches, had been listening to her thoughts, a text message arrived on her phone. As she popped the last of her fries into her mouth, she gave it a quick read.
WE WISH TO SPEAK TO YOU ABOUT MAGIC & YOUR ROLE WITH THE SUMMONERS. BELL, BOOK & BROOMSTICK. TONIGHT. 7 P.M. AYDEN WILL BE THERE.
It was from someone named Rada. Ayden had mentioned the woman before; she was a very senior witch who only involved herself in things when they needed an arbitrator. No matter who she was, if Riley attended she would be in direct violation of Northrup’s edict.
Carrina’s lost little voice surfaced in her mind at that moment, asking questions, wanting answers. Why was it possible for a child to seek knowledge and not her? When had she given over control to someone else, allowed them to dictate her actions?
“Wow, look. A sure career breaker in one simple text.” She held up the phone so her apprentices, in particular Kurt, could read the message.
“You going?” Richard asked. They all knew what was on the line.
“I don’t know yet. I’m not sure why they want to talk to me now, when before I was total pond scum.”
“It could be a trap. Something Northrup set up,” Kurt replied.
“Possibly.”
The meeting location sounded kosher: Bell, Book, and Broomstick in Little Five Points. Whoever had sent the text knew one of her weaknesses—she’d get to see Ayden again.
If, down the line, Riley finally regained permission to deal with the magical folks, and she’d blown off the witches’ invite, that’d just make it harder. If she accepted it and someone found out, she’d be booted from the Guild.
Her stubbornness reared its head. Knowing she’d probably regret it, she sent a quick text accepting the invite, then a message to Beck that she had a special errand tonight, she might be late, and he shouldn’t wait up for her. That she’d be fine.
Riley had just sent her apprentices on their way and was exiting the restaurant when her phone rang.
“Let me guess,” Beck began. “Yer off doin’ somethin’ I won’t like, right?”
“Pretty much something National wouldn’t like, but it doesn’t involve demons.”
“That’s a start. Anythin’ you can tell me?”
“No. It’s one of those plausible deniability things.”
“Let me know when yer done doin’ whatever National wouldn’t approve of.”
“I will.”
“By the way, when Remmers was trappin’ with yer apprentices the other day, they had another phantom demon.”
Which neither of her newbies had mentioned. Maybe it was becoming routine for them.
“Any of the other trappers have a problem?”
“Nope.”
“Since I wasn’t there, this might not be about me.”
“Hate to break it to you, but it’s not always about you, Princess,” he jested.
She rolled her eyes. “Bite me, Backwoods Boy.”
“Lookin’ forward to it. Later, Riley.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
There were a number of ways to get into the heart of Little Five Points. Riley opted for the one most folks wouldn’t expect. She climbed over a low wall at the end of a side street, then worked her way back to the Bell, Book, and Broomstick. If this was a setup by Northrup’s crew, she wanted to know that before she bumbled into a trap.
If she’d been any good at illusion spells, she’d have cast one, Guild be damned. Although with her luck, and her lack of skill in that department, she would probably end up looking like a giant walking orange. Still, she wore Ayden’s amulet, hidden away under her clothes. No reason to tempt fate.
As Riley trudged past Mort’s house, she ignored the urge to stop in. She missed him, missed his lessons. He’d taken the news of her no-magic thing fairly well, but had warned her that she had to show progress in the next month or so, or the Society would take notice.
It was more than just the magic. Not having any contact with Mort or Ayden had reinforced how much she cared for those two, how much they were part of her life now. To Northrup and his cronies, it was just about the magic. For her, it was about the friendships that had sustained her during some of the worst times of her life.
One way or another, she was going to get this settled with the National Guild. But first, there were the witches.
The shop was closed, so she rapped on the door and waited. It was quickly answered by a girl about her age, with long, wavy blond hair in a braid that reached her waist.
“I’m here for the meeting,” Riley said.
The girl nodded, beckoned her in, and locked the door behind them. As she led her through the darkened shop, Riley remembered the first time she’d come here. Funny how smells could trigger memories.
Something nudged at her senses, but she couldn’t quite decipher it. Too many magical items around. She and the witch went out the back door into the garden behind the shop. It was only then, under the security light, that Riley could see a quartz crystal woven into the plait of the girl’s hair. She wore a long teal skirt and a plain white T-shirt with no tattoos visible. Since she appeared overly nervous, whatever was going down tonight might not be good.
The yard behind the shop wasn’t like most green spaces inside the city—this one had a solid wall enclosing it, and in the center, a genuine stone circle. Candles had been lit, but no bonfire. A brazier served just as well, sending flames and ashes into the air.
Since the last time Riley had been here, the murals on the wall had increased in size, now stretching almost halfway around the enclo
Though she noted all that, her eyes weren’t riveted on the scenery, or on anything else but the barren spot just behind the stone circle. It was too easy to imagine a twenty-foot-tall dragon surging out of that ground, all fire and anger, just like it had the night Ayden had summoned her father’s spirit. Paul Blackthorne had come, but so had the being that had pulled him from his grave.
Lucifer. Prince of Hell and CEO of All Things Infernal.
Riley shivered in the night air and the young witch noticed.
“The circle has a lot of power. That’s probably what you’re feeling.”
No. In this case, the power of memories was stronger than that of the old magic.
As Riley approached the group of witches, her mind tracked off in safer directions. The collective noun for witches was coven; however in this case, given the piercing glowers she received, perhaps a storm of witches was more appropriate.
There were eight of them, two of whom she knew: Ayden and Morgaine. Her friend wore a frown, but somehow Riley didn’t think it was aimed at her. Morgaine seemed put out, which told Riley that this meeting wasn’t her idea. They were both in long skirts and cloaks. Seemed it was a fancy-dress evening and Riley hadn’t gotten the memo, as usual.
“Demon trapper,” Morgaine said evenly.
“Witch,” Riley replied in the same flat tone.
Ayden smirked, a flare of amusement in her eyes now.
“Why is she here?” asked one of the others, an older woman with fiery red hair—a color that had to have come out of a box. Mother Nature had better taste than that.
“Riley was invited,” Ayden replied.
“You dared to—” the woman began.
“She didn’t. I did,” a familiar voice said.
Riley turned in shock as an elderly woman walked toward them, clutching an oversized purse. “Mrs. Litinsky?” she blurted.
“Hello, Riley dear,” the woman replied.
Her former next-door neighbor—the diminutive silver-haired matron who had taken care of Riley after her father’s death, and after her own near death at the hands of a Three—was a witch. And Riley hadn’t known it.