He stared at the far wall for a time, then touched the wooden cross on his chest. “I almost lost it all, Katia,” he said, the ache in his voice palpable.

  “What did you do?”

  “I went on a Sabbatical, traveled all over the world.” He was still focused on the wall, not looking at her. “I did a lot of thinking, about myself, what being Catholic meant to me, about where I’d gone wrong. I talked to people of many different faiths, even with those who didn’t believe in a god. You know what I realized?”

  She shook her head.

  “Pride really does go before a fall.”

  She could imagine what it took for him to admit that to her, someone he barely knew. “Yet you kept your faith.”

  “The truth is I have a different kind of faith now, one that is less rigid. I still believe in the basics, but now I see how the Light and Dark interact, more of what it all means. Which is why I became an exorcist.”

  Simon leaned back against the sofa. “The priest in charge of the Demon Hunters in Rome knew how to counsel someone who’d faced a test like mine. Father Rosetti said that perfection is not something we humans will ever attain, nor is it required among the faithful. We are fallible, no matter how religious we believe ourselves to be. He also said that the greatest error I could make was not examining my conscience and learning from my mistakes. Because if I walked away from the Light, Hell would win.”

  He cleared his throat. “After a lot more soul searching, and a lot of time on my knees, I got my heart and head in the right place.”

  “Has it helped you being an exorcist instead of a trapper?”

  “Yes, and no. People have died during my exorcisms, and those deaths are so hard to accept. I will always wonder if I did enough to save them,”

  Simon picked up his phone off the coffee table, searched through it, and then handed it to her.

  “Whenever I am most troubled, I remember one little girl. Her name is Carrina. That’s her picture.”

  The child was maybe six, if that. She was cuddling a calico kitten and smiling as if the world was wonderful.

  “Carrina is alive today because with God’s help I exorcised a vicious demon from inside her. I was able to do that because of my faith, and also because Riley and Beck were there to watch my back.”

  “Faith and friends,” Katia murmured. She returned the phone. “Why would a demon go after a little kid like that?”

  “It was after her parents’ souls. It failed.”

  “Thank God,” she said.

  “I do, every day. Carrina has put that bad time behind her. In fact, Riley says that little girl will probably be a Demon Hunter when she’s older.”

  “I thought the hunters don’t accept women.”

  “They don’t right now, but all things change. Even stubborn self-righteous guys like me.” He glanced down at his phone again. “It’s almost seven-thirty. We should head downtown. I’m not sure how long it’ll take to find a place to park.”

  “Thank you for telling me your story,” she said. “I mean that.”

  “It felt good to share it.”

  “Everything here is so different,” she said as she rose. “One day I’m in Lawrence, now I’m in Atlanta. I think I have the bus equivalent of jetlag.”

  Simon chuckled as he locked the door behind them. “Maybe you’ll find a home here.”

  “I’m not sure yet,” Katia replied. She didn’t have anywhere else to go, but that thought was just as depressing.

  “Make sure the job and the city are right for you. If you don’t like it here, tell Riley and she’ll find you somewhere that might fit you better.” When Katia didn’t reply, he added, “I’m serious. She will help you. That’s what she does.”

  “I’ll see,” she said, filing that information away.

  “Me? I’m hoping you’ll stay,” he said, then climbed into the car.

  You won’t if I sell you out to the demon.

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  The downtown parking lot Riley had chosen as a meeting place was nearly full. Simon had managed to find an open space in the back row, and he carefully slotted the car in place. His passenger had fallen silent ever since they’d driven away from his house, and he let Katia have that respite because he needed it as well.

  Tonight, he’d either save those kids, or lose it all. The grumbling he’d done about attending the various church functions over the years seemed so insignificant now. If he was alive on Monday, he’d be pleasant to all the church ladies, smile at their daughters, and thank God that none of them knew the horrors he witnessed in this job.

  Riley, Beck and Master Jackson stood near the open tailgate of Beck’s truck. As they joined the group, the grand master gave him an up-and-down glance. Probably making note of the fact he wasn’t wearing his usual white shirt. Lying on the tailgate were trapping bags, various weapons, and an assortment of amulets. The summoners had delivered the goods.

  “I have been informed that the angelic portion of this team will be making their own way to the convention,” Riley announced. “Time to hide what we want to hide, and join them.”

  First were the amulets to disguise the weapons. It was fascinating to watch how Beck’s short sword went from the real deal to one of those plastic kind kids tote around on Halloween. Worse, it was a screaming neon orange.

  “Now that’s just embarrassin’,” he said, shaking his head.

  When the other trappers’ steel pipes turned into short, lime green pool noodles, Katia began to chuckle, then she lost it, breaking out in laughter.

  “We appeared to have amused our newest trapper,” Riley said, smiling.

  “Sorry, it’s just so silly. Which is point, I know, but . . . ” Katia said, shaking her head. There were a couple more chuckles and then she regained control.

  Riley picked up an amulet, checked its tag and then dropped it over Beck’s neck. He immediately winced. “Just breathe through it. It’ll pull a little energy from you, but not too much,” she advised.

  At first there was the grand master, all muscles and brawn in his T-shirt and jeans, then the transformation began. Too quickly he became someone’s idea of what Denver Beck might look like if he had lost most of his bulk, added forty pounds, and had a noticeable beer belly. A scraggly beard was just the right touch.

  “Damn,” Jackson said, shaking his head. “That’s not a good look on you.”

  The grand master eyed the changes, touched the beard, and then glowered at his wife. “Really?”

  “Yeah, really. They’ll think you’re trying to look like Beck but not quite making it. No one would guess it’s actually you.”

  He took a deep breath, then nodded his agreement. “Yeah, yer right. What about you, Princess?”

  Not needing an amulet, Riley’s change went swiftly. She appeared taller now, her hair coal black and secured in a tight bun at the base of her neck. The Vatican’s Demon Hunter uniform fit her perfectly. All business, much like the hunters themselves.

  “That works!” Jackson said, nodding his approval.

  Riley looked over at him. “You sure you want to be yourself? I’ve got an amulet if you need it.”

  “No, thanks. You’d put me in a tutu or something.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, I would. Simon?”

  He shook his head. “No magic, not for me.”

  “I figured you’d say that.”

  There was a quiet moment between them, words left unsaid, then the master trapper turned her attention to Katia. “What about you?”

  His companion chewed on her bottom lip. “I’d like something different. I just don’t know what.”

  Riley picked up an amulet. “Mort didn’t set any particular glamour on this one so whatever you think of will be what you become. There will be a bit of an energy drain, but you’ll adjust to it.” She walked over and placed the amulet over Katia’s head. “Just close your eyes and think of how you’d like to appear, and it’ll happen. Just be cautious what you choose.”

  Her forehead wrinkling in concentration, Katia did as ordered.

  Simon watched in anticipation. What would she choose? For a few seconds nothing happened, then Katia began to transform.

  “What in the . . . ?” Jackson began. “Oh man, that rocks!”

  Gone was the skinny trapper, and in her place was a nun. But not like any holy sister Simon had ever seen.

  Katia looked down at her costume and burst into a smile. She hadn’t been sure her imagination was strong enough to create this particular glamour, but here it was. She’d seen a picture on the internet, thought it was incredibly cool, and now that’s what she wore.

  It began with a long, black nun’s habit which had been shortened in the front to reveal a pair of flat soled, black knee-high boots. A traditional black veil and snow-white wimple covered her hair. There was even a silver cross, like the one her grandmother had given her when she was small. At her waist was a thick black belt to which she could attach her steel pipe, a quart bottle of Holy Water, one of the smaller spheres, and her folding knife.

  She closed her eyes to deal with the sudden wave of weariness, but it quickly passed. Eyes open again, Katia did a quick turn to see how the costume moved, and was pleased it wouldn’t get in her way if she had to bash on a demon. Then she remembered who she was working with tonight.

  “You okay with this?” she asked.

  As the others watched in uneasy silence, Simon examined the costume with a closed expression.

  He hates it. Why did I think this would work? He probably has sisters who are nuns and I’ve just dissed them. Good move, Breman.

  “Am I okay with this?” To her astonishment his smile broke free. “This is badass, Katia! Seriously badass. This is exactly what we need tonight.”

  “Then it’s all good?”

  He studied her for moment, then winked. “Yes, it is.”

  They high fived.

  “So why did she get the cool costume and I look like . . . this?” Beck asked, gesturing downward.

  Riley smiled like she’d been waiting for that very question. “I’m sooo glad you asked. Remember that joke you pulled on me last month?”

  Beck looked puzzled for a moment, then he went, “Oh, that one.”

  “Yeah, that one. Consider this payback, Grand Master.”

  “Ah. Got it. Could have been worse,” he said.

  “Way worse. So now we’re even.”

  “Doubt it,” he whispered, then acted like he hadn’t said that.

  “You going to share what the joke was about?” Jackson prodded.

  “No,” they said simultaneously.

  “Well then, I’ll just have to try to guess, won’t I?”

  “Good luck with that one,” Riley said as she looped an amulet over the top of Katia’s pipe and knife, then gave one to Simon for his weapon.

  “The con guy gave us these ahead of time so you don’t have to stand in line,” Beck said, distributing the badges.

  “They know you two are officially going to be at the convention?” Jackson asked, clipping his badge to his T-shirt.

  “Beck called them today and said there was something going on that required us to attend. The con chair was ecstatic, to say the least. Oh, and for those of us using glamour the badge names are magically altered so they don’t know who we really are,” Riley replied. Hers said Captain B. Thorne.

  Katia checked out the others. “Father Simon,” she grinned at that. “Sister Badass.” Then the grand master. “Denver Beck Wannabe.”

  That elicited more good-natured razzing, and to his credit, Beck took it well.

  “Are we done yet?” he asked, but Katia could tell he was trying to hold back the laughter.

  “Yes, we are,” Riley said, handing him a trapping bag and then closing the truck’s tailgate. “Let’s pray the demons are too spooked by Atlanta’s finest nerds to hang around.”

  “The chances of that happening are . . . ?” Katia asked.

  “Zip, zero, not a chance,” Jackson replied, falling in step next to her as they headed down the sidewalk, the others trailing behind. “Still, miracles happen in this town so who knows?”

  “Considering what I’m wearing, I’m all over those miracles.” She hesitated and then asked the question that had been plaguing her. “Are you guys always this crazy?”

  “Pretty much. Hell’s Chief Asshole has made Atlanta his primary target, so we’ve learned how to enjoy each day. Mostly because tomorrow we might not be here. Comes with the territory. Not like that in Lawrence?”

  “No. We had bad demons, but nothing nuts like this.”

  “Welcome to the Big Leagues, Sister Badass. Don’t worry, you’ll do fine. You didn’t get those scars because you’re a wimp.”

  No, she hadn’t. She’d gotten them because of her brother, but tonight that might not matter. Tonight, there’d be a reckoning, one way or another.

  SEVENTEEN

  During the walk to the hotel the group shuffled around, and Katia ended up paired with Simon. He’d noticed her talking to Jackson, how much she was focusing on whatever the master had been saying. Hopefully, it was something that gave them a chance in this fight.

  Now he was curious how she’d react to their trek through the heart of Atlanta. He caught her glancing up, then further up, at the skyscrapers, then turning and staring at something even as she continued by his side.

  Though certainly not as crowded as during DragonCon, when it was tough to find a straight path on the sidewalks, the streets were busy nonetheless. There were the usual buskers here and there, a guy with a trombone, someone with a guitar. Whenever Simon encountered one, he’d drop some coins into whatever was serving as the busker’s cash box, be it a hat or a guitar case. A glance over at Katia caught her smiling at him.

  “Thanks for thinking of them. If I had some change, I’d do the same.”

  “I’ll put in double from now on,” he replied, and she nodded her appreciation, along with a wider smile.

  The hotel finally came into view. There were more people now, and most were in costumes. Since this was Atlanta, a street preacher was exhorting his fellow mortals not to fall into Hell’s hands by being part of this latest abomination.

  “You must be wary! Demons walk among you!” he cried. “See them! See all of them!”

  It didn’t help his case that when he pointed at the nearest fiend, the little girl giggled and tossed a handful of wrapped candies at him. But then that’s what you’d expect a three-year-old to do.

  “I love her hot pink tail,” Katia said. “And the glitter on the pitchfork is way cute. Hell should get with the plan here. Their usual red, black and armor theme is out of date.”

  Caught up in the moment, Simon began throwing out ideas of his own. Soon they had devised an entire new wardrobe for Hellspawn, one that involved stilettos, corsets and garish blue wigs.

  “You’re being silly now,” Katia said. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  “Neither did I. You are ruining a perfectly somber exorcist, you know that?” he said.

  A thumbs-up came his way, along with a mischievous grin. This was the real Katia, the one most people never saw. Unfortunately, the preacher regained his composure and began exhorting the masses again.

  “He’s not getting anywhere,” Simon said, frowning over at the man. “You say something is forbidden and it’s guaranteed someone will give it a try. Which is why he might actually be working for the other side.”

  Katia’s eyebrows rose. “Hadn’t thought about that. My first master told me there is nothing that is plain black and white.”

  “He was right.”

  The hotel’s entrance was tucked behind a circular drive, which allowed guests to be deposited right at the front doors. It was certainly serving that function now as luggage carts rolled inside in a steady chain.

  “Hey, guys!” a voice called out. A glance around found Alex tucked away from the main entrance, but still close enough to be visible. He was clad in a light gray robe, but this one had glowing silver stars woven into the fabric.

  Riley eyed it as she walked closer. “I don’t think this,” she gestured at the stars “is going to catch on with the Summoner’s Society.”

  “Not a chance,” Alex said, grinning. “I didn’t dare wear my real robe or my uncle would freak. This one he actually liked.” The apprentice checked out their costumes. “You guys are great.” His scrutiny paused on Beck. “Well, most of you.”

  The grand master’s eyes slid over to his wife. “Ha ha.”

  She smirked, then turned back to Alex. “How’s it looking here?”

  “Well, we got lots of people. I figured it’d be about three hundred, now they’re saying it’ll be closer to the mid-four hundreds or even higher, probably because of the rumor that certain famous Demon Trappers are going to be here,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “The attendance bumped up a lot off that.”

  “Wonderful,” Riley muttered, shaking her head. “The convention was supposed to keep our part quiet.”

  “Riiight.”

  “The bad news is that TrapperCon isn’t the only event here this weekend. There’s the Ferguson wedding reception, and some church is having a revival.”

  “Oh great,” Beck said. “More civilians to worry about.”

  Jackson angled his head toward someone about thirty feet away. “Looks like at least one demon is here. The real kind.”

  Grade Fours usually had a talent for blending in, except in this case. The Mezmer felt that the long black dress and the black pointed hat were perfect for this crowd. The deep green skin, hooked nose and strategically placed wart let you know exactly what it was trying to mimic. It even carried an old-fashioned broom just in case it decided it wanted to fly.

  Riley whistled under her breath. “Talk about a stereotype. That thing better hope none of Atlanta’s real witches see it, or it’s going to get nailed.”