Alex barely held back the laughter.

  “My nephew is studying to be a summoner, as well,” Mort said.

  Alex appeared pleased that had been mentioned.

  “My folks are hoping I’ll get bored. Fat chance of that. I want to become a forensic necromancer.”

  “What is that?” Katia asked.

  “When there’s a suspicious death, I would summon the deceased to find out how they died, and if they were murdered, who did it.”

  “Would that work? I mean, in court?” she asked, skeptical.

  “No, evidence like that is not admissible in court, at least not yet. I’m hoping to change that.”

  Alex certainly wasn’t aiming low for his new career. “I hope you can make that happen.”

  “Won’t be easy, but then change never is,” Mort added.

  The doorbell sounded, and Alex left the room to welcome the new arrivals.

  “These two rated an entirely new fiend today, courtesy of the Infernal Pest Himself.” Riley accessed the photos on her phone and showed them to the necromancer. “It looks like a giant beachball with tentacles and spits out duplicates of itself like a demented photocopier.”

  Mort leaned closer, studying the image. “How’d you get rid those things?”

  “Holy Water. Slam dunked the big one right in the mouth,” Simon said. “It exploded and took out the rest of them.” He angled his thumb toward at Katia. “She did it. I just ran interference.”

  “Well done!”

  “I got lucky,” Katia said.

  “Then stay that way,” her master replied. “You two are going to need it.”

  FIFTEEN

  Voices came from the hallway, and then a pair of angels entered the room followed by a puzzled Alex. He was far enough into his magical training to know these two were something different, but not exactly what they were.

  Mort rose in respect. “I bid you both welcome to my home,” he said. “Ori, it is good to see you again. May I know the name of your companion?”

  “I am Serrah, and I offer blessings upon your dwelling Mortimer Beaumont Alexander.”

  “We are honored to accept your hospitality,” Ori added.

  “Oh! You’re Divines! Wow!” Alex blurted, then grimaced. “Sorry!” He glanced at his uncle. “That was rude.”

  “Your greeting is probably the most enthusiastic I’ve ever received, Alexander Rowan Greene,” Ori said, clearly amused.

  “No harm, Alex,” Mort said, smiling.

  “Yeah, well, I’m still sorry.” The apology didn’t keep him from staring at the latest guests with intense curiosity.

  Riley checked her phone. “Okay, the grand master dude should be here in a couple minutes.” Alex took that as an excuse to exit the room, his face still slightly red from embarrassment.

  “Your nephew is studying with you?” Ori asked.

  “Yes. He’s smart, and he has a good heart. That’s a solid basis upon which to build.”

  Serrah looked toward the door, then back. “He will do well.”

  “I am reassured to hear that, especially from you.”

  Beck arrived while Mort was ensuring everyone had something to eat or drink. The angels declined, which Riley found curious as Ori had dined in her home on more than one occasion. Was it because of Serrah? From what she could tell they were more comfortable in each other’s presence now. What had happened to change that adversarial dynamic?

  Riley made sure her spouse was introduced to Heaven’s angel, and then to the new journeyman.

  “We met when I was at Stewart’s,” he said, smiling over at Katia. “I was horrified to discover that she thinks that Midwestern barbecue is somehow better than ours. I will be showin’ her she’s wrong about that.”

  Katia shook her head. “Not a chance.” Then added a quick, “Sir.”

  It was obvious the two had hit it off if Beck was already razzing the newcomer about his favorite food.

  Once Alex found a chair, Riley began. “Does anyone have objection if I use the magical equivalent of soundproofing? We’ll be talking about certain things that I don’t want others to overhear.”

  There were no objections, so Riley executed the spell. “That good?” Mort nodded his approval.

  “May I add to it?” Ori asked.

  “Sure.”

  He didn’t move, didn’t close his eyes, but the room’s acoustics changed somehow. The space now felt more like a sanctuary than a hollow bubble.

  “Sweet! Is it the whole house?” Riley asked.

  “Yes. It will likely attract attention since I’m involved, but what we discuss must not be overheard.”

  Riley looked over at Simon. “Please let the others know what’s going on with you and those kids.”

  Her ex-boyfriend delivered a tight nod and then laid out what had happened during the exorcism earlier that day, as well as the stakes involved. Mort grimaced at the part where the demon had snared Simon in its unholy bargain. He gave Alex a pointed look—the teacher equivalent of “see how dangerous those things are?”—and his nephew nodded his understanding.

  “Since you were there,” Beck said, looking over at Ori now. “What’s yer take on this?”

  “There’s a lot more going on than just these three mortals’ souls.”

  “Because of . . . ?” Mort asked.

  Ori traded a look with the angel next to him. “Serrah and I returned to the house where the exorcism took place. I created a means for her to witness the event as it occurred. She saw something I did not.”

  All eyes went to the other angel.

  “There was another Divine there, one who serves the Archangel Michael. Zareth did nothing to stop what happened between the exorcist and Azagar.”

  Somehow that didn’t surprise Riley. In her experience, Heaven’s politics could often be just as cutthroat as Hell’s.

  “Michael’s gopher didn’t bother to help ya save those kids?” Beck asked, his voice as sharp as his anger.

  “No. He made no attempt to indicate he was there,” Ori replied.

  “Did the demons know?”

  “I don’t think so. They weren’t acting like it. Two Divines in the same room should have made them nervous, and they weren’t. If anything, Azagar was too smug.”

  “Either they didn’t know he was there, or the angel and the fiends have some sort of agreement in place,” Riley said.

  “Zareth is not to be trusted,” Serrah admitted. “He is too ambitious. He seeks Michael’s . . . position.”

  “How likely is that to happen?” Beck asked, folding his arms over his broad chest, a frown still in place.

  “Not likely. Michael serves our Creator well, even if not all agree with his methods.” She gave her fellow Divine a glance at this.

  “I certainly wouldn’t vote for him as Angel of the Year,” Beck muttered.

  A hint of a smile played on Ori’s lips now.

  “Zareth is cunning,” Simon said. “When I was at the monastery today, he dropped by to make me an offer.” He looked over at the Fallen. “If I betray you, then he will ensure that my soul, and those of the boys’, are safe from Hell.”

  “Then I suggest you do just that. Your soul and those of the others are worth more than mine.”

  Simon shook his head even before the angel had finished. “No! Absolutely not! I know a lie when I hear it. Sartael taught me that much. Zareth sounds more like a Fallen then one of Heaven’s crew.”

  “Well, damn. So, we have demons schemin’ on one side, and a Divine schemin’ on the other,” Beck said, shaking his head.

  “Situation normal, I’d say,” Mort replied.

  Riley snorted, then looked over at the exorcist. “How do we help you save these kids without violating your agreement with the fiend?”

  “I don’t know,” Simon replied. “Azagar’s kept me . . . ” He glanced over at Katia now. “He’s kept us busy most of the day, and I think he’s just getting started. I have no idea where this final confrontation will happen.”

  Riley and Beck exchanged looks, but it was Ori who spoke.

  “I think I do. It’s my habit to watch how the fiends move about the city because they have certain patterns. For some of them, that pattern has altered today. The stronger ones are making their way toward the center of Atlanta. That is unusual.”

  “Downtown.” Beck said. He sighed and looked over at Riley. “Ya know where they’re goin’.”

  She issued a groan. “TrapperCon.”

  “What’s that?” Simon asked.

  Katia dug in her trapping bag where it sat at her feet. “It’s this,” she said, handing him a postcard. “It was on your car at the daycare center. None of the other cars had one.”

  “‘Atlanta’s first annual multi-media convention celebrating the Demon Trappers, the Demon Hunters, and their archenemies from Hell,’” Simon read.

  He looked up, stunned. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Don’t they know what could happen there? You just don’t tempt Lucifer like that, especially not in this city.”

  “We pointed all that out to them, but the organizers insisted it’d be just fine,” Beck said. “It’s like throwin’ a bunch of chicken guts in front of a Three and bein’ surprised when it decides yer dessert.”

  “You couldn’t make them cancel it?”

  “No. They have the right to hold their convention,” Beck grumbled. “Harper was gonna send down a couple trappers just to keep an eye out, but now with what Ori’s seen, Riley and I will have to be there. Probably Jackson and a few others, too.”

  “Higher level demons live to create chaos. Azagar forcing Simon to face him at this event would be the kind of thing the Prince would dearly love,” Ori said. “Nothing makes Lucifer happier than large numbers of terrified mortals.”

  “I agree,” Serrah chimed in. “If there must be a confrontation it’ll be at this gathering.”

  “Okay, so we need to be there, but not as ourselves,” Riley said. “Beck and I will draw too much attention and that’ll interfere with our jobs, at least until people need to know who we are.” She looked over at Mort now. “Glamour?”

  “That was my thought.”

  “The average person won’t notice the magic,” she explained. “Glamour for me is no biggie, but Beck will need some help because I might not always be close enough to hold his spell in place. We’ll need something like you did for me when I was hiding from the Demon Hunters.”

  “You guys will need weapons, right?” Alex asked.

  “Yeah. Swords, steel pipes, spheres, whatever works. Why?” Beck replied.

  “Because the cons I’ve been to won’t let you bring those in unless they’re peace-bonded. It’s their way of making sure people don’t channel their inner stupid and hurt each other. They usually secure swords so they can’t be drawn from their scabbard, that sort of thing.”

  “What if a weapon looked totally fake rather than like the real item?” Mort asked.

  “No harm, no foul. They’ll stick some tape on it to show they’ve checked it and you’re good to go.”

  “Okay, amulets for the weapons as well,” Mort said. “How many?”

  A quick count was generated, plus a few extras.

  “We will need no such assistance,” Serrah said. “We shall be there as ourselves. Well, without our wings, at least.”

  Mort looked over at a clock on the far wall and then at his nephew. “Give me a few hours and I’ll have what you need. Alex can deliver them to you. He’s going to be there anyway.”

  “Yeah. Don’t want to miss this one,” his nephew replied.

  Riley gave the apprentice necromancer a frown. “Really?”

  “It sounds like fun,” the young man replied, grinning. “I’m dressing up as a summoner. Go figure.”

  “That will not help you score with the girls, trust me on this.”

  “She might be lyin’ about that,” Beck said. Riley’s frown moved to him now, but he just gave her a wink.

  Simon’s phone rang and he excused himself to the far side of the room. There was a quick conversation, and once he was off the phone, Katia asked, “An exorcism?”

  “No, my mother. She’s worried I might forget about the church social on Monday. Because obviously nothing else is that important.”

  There were chuckles, at least from the mortals. “Is she still introducing you to Nice Catholic Girls?” Riley asked.

  “Yeah. They like me right up until they find out I cast out Hellspawn for a living. Funny how that changes things.” He sobered, then turned to the angels now. “Do you think I have a chance against Azagar?”

  Ori took some time before he replied. “It depends on whether your faith, and your courage hold,” he said. “You’d readily sacrifice yourself if need be, and I think that’s exactly what Hell wants. This demon’s goal is to push you into a corner where you have no other choice but to surrender your soul.”

  “Then we will do everythin’ we can to clear a path for you,” Beck said. “Without violatin’ that infernal contract.”

  “I will do what I can,” Ori said. “At least I can keep other Hellspawn from coming to Azagar’s aid.”

  “I will do the same,” Serrah said.

  Ori frowned at that. “Such an act might have consequences for you.”

  “I know. I accept them.”

  “Okay then, I’ll let all of you know when and where we’re meeting once I figure out where that is,” Riley said. “Anything else we need to discuss?”

  There were head shakes all around.

  Mort rose. “I’ll get to work so you have those charms by later tonight.” He grinned over at his nephew. “And guess who gets to assist me?”

  Alex smiled back, which told Riley he had no idea the effort, or the headache, involved in creating those things. He’d learn soon enough.

  Once they were outside walking toward the main street, Ori held back, allowing the others to go ahead of them.

  “You need to be very careful tonight, Serrah,” he said. “This may be as much a trap for you as it is for the exorcist and myself.”

  “I trust that I will know the right path when I see it.”

  “I once thought that myself. Learn from my mistakes, and for all that is holy, do not repeat them.”

  “I most certainly will not follow a lying Divine into exile.”

  “There are more ways to be deceived than by the Prince.”

  She looked as if she was going to argue, then shook her head.

  “I shall take care, Fallen. As must you.”

  He issued a grim nod and fell silent.

  SIXTEEN

  NO CHANGE.

  The text from Leah was the same as it’d been earlier that afternoon and the same message for months. Katia often wondered if her older sister just cut and pasted the two words because typing them over and over would break anyone’s heart. Reading them certainly broke hers.

  After they’d returned to Simon’s house, she’d fallen asleep on the sofa while he’d taken another shower and then made them supper. It was more like breakfast, with bacon and fluffy eggs, wheat toast and orange juice. It tasted wonderful. Her host understood that her body needed fuel so he’d heaped the eggs on her plate, and kept the toast coming.

  As they ate, Riley texted them the rendezvous time and location. Now that those had been established, Simon went to change his clothes to something more appropriate, he’d said. Katia remained on the couch, staring at the packing boxes. According to Ori, all sorts of demons were headed toward this convention thing. If it went as they thought, Simon would face the fiend that had issued the challenge.

  The next time Azagar’s offer would be about Kevin, likely delivered in the silkiest of tones: “We will make your brother well if you do whatever we ask.” That whatever we ask would mean betraying Simon.

  Her brother or the exorcist?

  Please don’t make me choose.

  Simon returned from his bedroom clad in all black—a short-sleeved T-shirt, and jeans. The cross was still in place. She wondered if he slept with it. His white shirt had been a bit baggy, but the T-shirt revealed that the exorcist must lift weights regularly. That she hadn’t expected.

  “All you need is a collar, and you could be a priest,” Katia said. He shrugged, but she wondered if that was what he’d been thinking as well. “What’s this convention going to be like?”

  “Not sure. I did go to DragonCon® once. A girlfriend dragged me to it. It was ten bazillion people, most of them in costume, and it was Labor Day weekend.”

  She could just imagine how hot it was in September down here. “How did it go?”

  “It was okay, but we broke up right after that. I wasn’t much fun back then.”

  Ouch.

  He sat on the sofa. “You know, my parents always thought I’d become a priest. It really surprised them when I became a trapper.” He grew a soft smile now. “For some reason me becoming an exorcist didn’t surprise them.”

  “I didn’t even know there were lay exorcists until I came here.”

  “It’s a new thing. There just aren’t enough priests trained in exorcism to handle the load, especially in Atlanta.”

  “What made you decide to become one?” He didn’t reply, which made her wonder if she’d asked one question too many. “Look, if you’re not comfortable talking about it, I understand. I won’t ask again.”

  “I think you need to know why because there has to be no secrets between us when we go after Azagar.” He took a deep breath, then let it out. “After I was . . . after I nearly died, I was sure I’d lost my faith.”

  He huffed. “If Simon the Self-Righteous could almost die at the hands of a fiend, and believe the lies of a Fallen angel, what did my faith mean?”