“Riley sent me pictures of those new demons. Damn, those mothers are ugly. You and Simon did good work there. Never easy when Hell starts screwin’ around like that.”

  Katia gave another nod. He sounded like some guy you’d meet on the street. No ego, just another trapper.

  “You need a ride somewhere?”

  Her voice finally reappeared. “No, but thanks for asking. Simon’s at the monastery getting rid of the fiend he exorcised. He’s going to pick me up when he’s done. Should be pretty soon.”

  “Good. Didn’t want you stranded or nothin’.” He paused. “You know, our guild isn’t like any other place,” he added.

  “How so?”

  “Well, some say we’re misfits. We got Master Harper, one of the toughest SOBs on the planet. He’s a hardass. But then you already know that.”

  “He’s, well, scary.”

  Beck chuckled. “That’s a polite way of puttin’ it. We also have two grand masters in this town. Since there’s only thirty of us in the whole damned world, that’s a bit of overkill. Angus—Grand Master Stewart—is teachin’ me the ropes. In time, he’ll go back to Scotland and it’ll just be me.”

  She had to ask. “You like being a grand master?”

  To her surprise, he sighed.

  “I like kickin’ demon ass, and that’s the God’s honest truth. Every time I take one of those monsters down, I feel I’m evenin’ the score, you know? Then I became a grand master, and I see it all differently now. I still like to take the things out, but I know they’re not the root problem.” He paused, then asked, “What do you think the world would be like if there were no demons and no Prince of Hell?”

  It wasn’t a question she’d ever considered. Her first response would be “Great!” But there was more here. Everything about this man said so.

  “Not an easy question to answer, is it?” he said.

  “No. It’d be simple to say that the reason everything is bad is because of the Prince. That he’s the cause of all this evil stuff. But he isn’t.” She frowned, rubbing the scar on her left arm now.

  He nodded. Beck’s laidback smile told her why people liked him. Why Riley had married him.

  “Yeah, got that right. Lucifer’s one mean bastard, but he can’t make everyone be evil all the time. That’s our choice, right or wrong.” He looked at the street, then back at her. “You got thrown in the middle of this thing with Simon. Riley says yer not that trustin’ because of what happened to you in Kansas. From what I hear, that distrust is righteous.”

  There was more coming, she could feel it.

  “Hell’s lookin’ to put the screws to you the first time they can. Am I right?”

  Katia nodded. They already had. “I’m not sure I’m the one who should be watching the exorcist’s back.”

  “The fact yer worryin’ about that tells me yer a better choice than some. Also, the only Fallen angel I trust says yer here to help our friend Simon. I know I’m not supposed to trust a Fallen, but that one saved Riley’s life. Gave her back her soul. Taught me how to kill angels.” His eyes went back to her now. “So, I’m gonna trust him. Which means I’m gonna trust you. Don’t mess this up, you hear?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Good. Nice to meet you, Journeyman.” He was three steps down when he turned around, his face pensive. “You like barbeque?”

  The question was so out of the blue she answered without thinking. “Depends on what kind. Kansas City barbecue is the best in the world, and you won’t convince me otherwise.”

  The grin that spread across the grand master’s face said her challenge had been accepted. “When this is over, I will take you to Mama Z’s. My treat. Then we’ll find out who’s is the best, and it won’t be from Kansas, that I can promise.”

  She smiled back. “You’re on, Grand Master.”

  After a thumbs up, he climbed into his truck and was gone.

  Katia blinked a few times, then shook her head. Two legends in one day. Then she snorted. “You’re going to lose that bet, dude. KC barbecue rocks.”

  After another minute or so processing that whole conversation, she glanced down at her phone, knowing she’d put it off too long: It was time to text her sister.

  NO CHANGE had been the quick reply, and once again her heart hurt.

  Their brother remained in his coma, hadn’t done anything but act like no one was home inside his brain. His caregivers would exercise Kevin’s muscles, feed him through a tube, keep him clean, but that was it.

  Only rarely did he act like he was regaining consciousness, and the moment he did, Kevin went right back down into the blackness that held him hostage. Katia would do almost anything to see him chattering at them again, being the active kid he’d always been.

  And Hell knew that.

  At least her sister was still talking to her, although Katia hadn’t told Leah she was no longer in Kansas. She also hadn’t notified her parents because no way that would go well. They’d been furious when she’d refused to give up trapping when Kevin had been injured. They were convinced it was her fault that their only son was ill. In some ways, she felt the same.

  “Lass? Ya doin’ okay?”

  Grand Master Stewart’s voice made her jump, and then she felt stupid. He’d opened the door behind her, and she’d not heard him, so caught up in her own thoughts.

  “Sir?” she replied, looking up at him. “I was texting with my sister to find out about my brother. Kevin’s in a coma. He’s in an extended care facility.”

  The grand master walked farther out onto the porch, then leaned against one of the carved posts. With his leg brace it would be difficult for him to sit on the steps.

  “How’d that happen?”

  Something about this man felt truly genuine, so she found herself telling him how Kevin had been hurt, and how everything they’d tried to bring him back to consciousness had failed.

  Stewart nodded. “First, ya have my sympathies. It’s very hard ta watch someone ya love be so sick.” It sounded as if he knew that personally. “But never give up hope. He may still come back ta ya.”

  “God, I hope so.”

  He straightened up. “It’s also possible that Hell is usin’ yer brother as leverage against ya which is why he’s not awakened.”

  “I’m nobody,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Everyone is someone, lass. If yer brother remains in that condition, then Hell can always offer ya his complete recovery. Of course, there will be some sorta debt ya’ll need ta pay. Not necessarily yer soul, not ta start with, but that’s where they’ll be headed.”

  A car drove by, followed by a convertible with its top down. The people inside it looked happy. She wasn’t sure she could remember what that was like.

  “I know how this goes,” Stewart continued, “because when my wife was so terribly ill, an offer was made ta me: My soul in trade for her life. It would have been quite the thing—Hell would have owned a grand master.”

  “You didn’t . . . ?”

  “No, I didn’t, and it ripped my heart out ta know my beautiful Lollie would die because I couldn’t . . . I just couldn’t.” His eyes were shiny now, and he blinked frequently. “I told her of the offer, and my decision. She said she’d never loved me more.”

  “God, that had to be hard.” Katia swallowed to ease the tightness in her throat. “My first master warned me that Hell would do that. That even if I agreed, Kevin still might die.”

  “His fate is in Heaven’s hands, not yers, or Hell’s.”

  “I know. It just hurts so much. I feel like I should be doing more.”

  He nodded. “Keep prayin’, lass. Things may well change for the better.”

  A honk announced Simon’s arrival as his car pulled into the driveway. As she rose, slinging her pack over her shoulder, Katia smiled over at the grand master.

  “Thank you for what you said. I needed to hear that.”

  “Thank ya for listenin’. Stay safe, lass.”

  “I will, sir.”

  Stewart waved at Simon, then returned inside the house.

  The interior of the car was cool, and it felt good, but there was tension in the air.

  “Did you get some sleep?” Simon asked.

  “Yes. And another shower. I think I could take like ten of them and still feel dirty after those exploding demons.”

  She clicked her seatbelt in place, then remembered he hadn’t had a chance to clean up. At least he hadn’t been splattered with fiendish remains like she had. “Everything go okay?”

  “It did. It’s a very strange thing to watch, the power of good destroying evil,” he said as he drove away from the house. “The next time I’ll take you with me.”

  He sounded okay, but his voice was still more tense than usual, not like she’d expected if everything had gone well.

  “What’s happening now? Another exorcism?”

  “No, a meeting. Riley called. She wants us to join her at Mort’s house in a half an hour.”

  “Mort?”

  “Oh, sorry. Mortimer Alexander is a necromancer. A powerful one.”

  She shuddered. “I’ve always thought them creepy. Necros, that is.”

  “They can be. I didn’t trust them at first, but getting to know Mort has changed that.”

  “You think it’s okay that they can summon the dead?” she challenged.

  “No, I think the dead should be left alone, but that’s not the way it is. Seeing how Mort handles that issue has taught me not to be as judgmental.”

  From anyone else that would have been a slap down, but Simon wasn’t that way. She frowned out the side window.

  “What’s this meeting about?”

  “Don’t know, but from Riley’s tone, something is up. Something not good.”

  “Like Hellish not good?”

  “Is there any other kind?”

  FOURTEEN

  Simon drove them to an area of Atlanta he called Little Five Points and parked on a side street. It was an eclectic kind of neighborhood with unique little shops and kitschy restaurants.

  “It feels different here than in downtown Atlanta,” she said.

  “There’s a reason for that. I’ll explain why in a bit.”

  After a few turns they reached a pedestrian-only street demarcated by a tall metal arch. An arch that seemed to vibrate on its own.

  “Ah, Simon? What’s going on here?” she asked. “That arch thing is, well, kinda moving. Well, not moving, but it seems like it is.” Then she frowned because that sounded crazy.

  He paused, then followed her eyes up to the metal structure. “There’s a reason for that. This is the entrance to a street of magic users, mostly witches and summoners. If you’re magic sensitive,” he gave her a knowing look at this point, “you will feel something different than the rest of us.”

  “That’s why I feel a lot of power here. Not the scary kind, but the ‘you mess with us and your life will go bad in a heartbeat’ kind.”

  “Exactly. If you’re not comfortable—”

  “No, no, I’m good.” She frowned over at him. “We don’t have this kind of thing in Lawrence. Well, at least we don’t have a whole street full of it.”

  They continued down a passage with multi-colored flowers and deep green vines streaming along the stone walls. It had a European feel to it. Her parents had taken them to Italy one summer and this reminded her of the small town they’d visited. A café sat on the right, patrons at various inside tables sipping coffee, then a store on the left. The name of the business—Bell, Book and Broomstick—was a dead giveaway who shopped there. A little further on a hand-lettered sign propped in a window proclaimed a bookstore would be opening soon.

  Further on, as the passage split into two small alleys, the magical presence seemed to grow in intensity. Then there were the mailboxes.

  “Those are . . . different,” she said, being polite just in case any of the magical people were listening to them at this point. No reason to annoy them in their own backyard.

  The mailboxes were arranged at various heights, composed of assorted colors, and each one decorated. One had a pinwheel, and another was painted to make it appear the mailbox was a dragon and the hinged door its mouth. She wondered if it belched fire if you tried to put bills in it.

  “You should know that Mort might have a reanimate answering his door. He usually has one as his cook, and sometimes one as his housekeeper.”

  Katia pushed that bit of information around her brain and found it all kinds of unfathomable.

  Her silence spurred Simon to explain. “He only reanimates with the family’s approval, and he pays them really well for the service the reanimate performs. Then he ensures they have a dignified burial. Or reburial, I guess.”

  “Why would people do that?” she blurted.

  “Usually, the families are poor or have major medical bills. Sometimes the reanimate made arrangements with a summoner before they die so the money is left to their family sooner, rather than later. It’s sort of an insurance policy. It’s non-taxable so the family receives all the money.” To his credit, Simon winced at this point.

  “It sounds awful.”

  “It can be if the necro isn’t honest. Mort? No problem. He’s friendly, polite, and yet can be downright lethal if you’re a threat to anyone he cares about.”

  Katia inhaled deeply. “Then I shouldn’t piss him off.”

  “Honestly, I doubt you could. He’s very forgiving. But once you cross that line, God help you. I’ve seen him kill Archfiends with his magic, so I’m not exaggerating the kind of power he has.”

  Archfiends? Those were only a step down from a Fallen.

  “Thank you for the warning. And the information.”

  “Not a problem,” he said, then led her down the left passageway. They continued to a purple door with a shiny plaque on the wall next to it which announced that this was the home of the Summoner Advocate of Atlanta. It appeared that Mr. Mild Mannered Mort was also someone of importance in the necro world.

  Simon knocked, and a short time later the door was opened by a young man. He was probably about twenty or so. His T-shirt was beige, and his jeans looked comfortably worn, like they were his favorite pair. His brown hair curled at the ends. What caught her notice was his eyes, light brown and expressive.

  This guy did not look dead.

  “Hey, Simon. Good to see you again,” he said with a big smile.

  “Alex. It’s been a while. This is Katia Breman,” he said, gesturing her way.

  “Please tell me you’re a female exorcist. I’d love it!”

  “Nope, I’m a Journeyman Demon Trapper,” she replied.

  “You know, you couldn’t pay me enough to do your job,” he replied, shaking his head. He must have read Katia’s expression and added, “No, I’m not a reanimate. Anya is in the kitchen working on a cake. I’m told it will be chocolate. That’s all I needed to hear.”

  Katia nodded. You couldn’t go wrong with a nod. Hopefully.

  Alex waved them into the house. “My uncle is in the fountain room. Or the fireplace room depending on the season. Home decor is a lot easier when you can do magic.”

  He chattered along like they were family, and everything was completely normal. She still hadn’t quite processed what was going on here, but if Simon was good with these folks, she’d trust his judgment. At this point, she had no other choice.

  The house was pleasantly arranged, the occasional potted plant here and there, a few pictures on the walls. None of those were illusions. Maybe Mortimer Alexander was like anyone else, except that the Summoner Advocate could kill powerful Hellspawn with his hocus pocus.

  The illusionary fountain burbled away in the room where Alex led them. The space was welcoming, with a large skylight allowing in just enough light, but none of the heat. Their host had been prepared for them as there were comfy chairs and a cedar table set with refreshments.

  In one corner of the room, Riley sat next to a large man clad in slacks and a blue shirt. There was some sort of spellwork going on if the swirling air in front of them was any indication. They looked up and the magic immediately vanished.

  “Hey, guys.” Riley gestured, “Mort, this is Katia Breman, our newest trapper. She just arrived from Kansas.”

  “Welcome, Katia,” the necromancer said, giving her a warm smile.

  “Hi.”

  “You know, I think there are about,” he scrunched up his face in thought, “twenty some summoners in that entire state, so I’m guessing you might not have met one of us before.”

  “Only one. He was . . . ”

  “Odd?” Mort suggested.

  “He was way odd. I don’t know if it’s a thing for you guys, but he wore a robe with glow-in-the-dark plastic skulls sewn onto it. Scared the little old church ladies, that’s for sure.”

  Mort chuckled. “His robe was pale gray?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “He was so new to the profession that he had little or no magic to speak of. Some try to compensate for that by looking scary.”

  “I thought the skulls made him look, well, stupid.”

  “I won’t argue that,” he replied as she and Simon chose places to sit.

  “A summoner’s magical abilities are indicated by the color of robe they wear,” Riley explained. “Beginners wear light gray, then proceed up to deepest black as they acquire more skills.”

  “Your master has attained a dark blue robe,” Mort said with pride. He sent Riley a mock frown. “Would have gotten it sooner if she had focused on her levitation spells.”

  A groan returned. “Yes, I suck at levitation. You’ve known that since the first time I tried it.”

  “Just how badly do you suck at that?” Alex cut in. “I ask only for information.”

  “I levitate, and then I immediately flip upside down. And stay there. It’s like my internal gyroscope is totally screwed up. I used to do that every time. Now it’s one out of every five. Did I mention I suck at levitation?”