“Too late,” Beck said. A pair of genuine witches, both scowling, fell in behind the fiend as it entered the hotel.

  “Do they need any help?” Jackson asked.

  “No. I know them. They’ve got more power than that thing, and it’s about to learn that the hard way.”

  “Well, that’s one fiend off our plate,” Jackson replied. “I’ll go wandering around and see if there’s any others we need to worry about. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

  “We’ll do the same,” Beck said. He looked over at Simon and Katia. “You two want to stick with us?”

  Simon shook his head. “It’s best we’re on our own so Hell doesn’t think you’re helping me.”

  “Got it. Stay safe. Give a yell if something goes wrong,” Riley said, and then they headed off into the crowd.

  By his side, Katia fiddled with her wimple, then adjusted the belt on her hips. Finally, she fanned her face with a hand.

  “Hot?”

  She nodded. “I know it’s only glamour, but it feels real.”

  “Mort knows his magic.”

  Simon looked at the entrance, then at his phone. It was just after eight-thirty. The deal with the demon had to be settled by midnight. Had they guessed right, and this is where the final confrontation would be? They’d learn soon enough.

  “Facilis descensus Averni,” he whispered to himself. The descent into Hell is always easy.

  Once inside the hotel Katia and Simon were immediately shifted to the right by a series of signs and roped stanchions, where they joined a line to have their badges checked and their weapons inspected. Ahead of them were two Merlin lookalikes and right behind them was the Grim Reaper, complete with a fake scythe. Katia shivered at the sight, especially when the reaper winked at her and licked his lips.

  The noise level steadily increased as they kept shuffling forward, foot by foot. Someone in a hotel uniform rolled a cart crammed with luggage past the line. The lobby was full, almost everyone in costume. Katia found herself checking out each one, looking for signs of a glamour spell in case someone was hiding their appearance. To her relief, she didn’t see anything suspicious.

  “I heard they’re going to be here!” one girl said. “I can’t wait to see her!”

  She wore ripped and stained jeans and held a small glass ball. Her wig was shoulder-length brown, close to Riley’s hair color, and dirt was smeared on one cheek. When she turned around to call out to a friend, the back of her T-shirt said Girl Trappers Rock!

  “I know a certain master trapper who is going to scream if she sees that,” Katia murmured. “Look at all the work they put into these costumes. Like that Three over there,” she said, pointing. “It even has dirt embedded in its fur, just like the real thing.”

  “I’m not sure how I feel about this,” Simon replied, shaking his head.

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  Finally, they reached a member of convention security who checked their badges, eyed their magically obscured weapons, stuck pieces of tape on each, and then waved them on. Once they were cleared for entrance, Simon immediately cut back toward the lobby.

  “This hotel is big and spread out. Downstairs is where most of the exhibit halls are, this floor has the hotel registration, and one floor up is the bar area and more conference rooms. There is a connecting skywalk to some of the other hotels.”

  Lots of space to play hide and seek with a fiend. “If you were a big, bad demon where would you be?”

  Simon stopped so abruptly she almost ran into him. “I have no clue.” He hesitated, then admitted, “I have no damned clue if I can do this, Katia. I’m—”

  “Ohhh! Wow! Look!” a young woman said, pointing at Katia. Dressed as a fairy, a few bits of strategically placed greenery barely making the costume PG, she fumbled with her smartphone. “That’s soooo cool! Can I take your picture?”

  “Sure!” Katia said, earning a frown from her companion. “Blend in,” she whispered. “We can’t have people think we’re for real. Just go with it.”

  He grudgingly nodded, then took a deep breath.

  As the fairy backed up to get a good shot, barely dodging people as she did, Katia added, “Smile, okay?” Then it occurred to her that maybe he was nervous for another reason. “Are you worried what the Vatican might think?”

  Her companion shook his head. “At this point they’re the least of my worries.”

  “Then smile, Father Simon, because she thinks we’re awesome.”

  Katia pulled out her pool noodle/pipe and acted as if Hell’s worst fiend was right in front of them. Simon just looked saintly. It wasn’t a stretch.

  After the fairy was done gushing about the costumes, more would-be photographers took her place. This was fun. How long had it been since she’d actually enjoyed doing something other than trapping?

  Not since Kevin’s injury. And she’d bitched at Simon about not having a life? Oh, the irony.

  Once the initial flurry of photos was over, she and Simon wandered through the crowd, then up the escalator to another level. There were even more people here and they joined them with no particular idea where they were going.

  Somehow, they’d moved into an area with various rooms, each with a placard denoting exactly what panel was happening inside. As they wandered, they encountered angels, demons, trappers, hunters, just about any costume you could think of. Another Grim Reaper, this one all in red, someone dressed as a nun, the more conventional version, two priests and finally a small band of elves.

  “Oh look,” she said, pointing. “A Magpie!”

  The Grade One Fiend was a puppet creatively tucked into a small bag of loot that rested in a trapper’s hand. The thing was well made and moved exactly like a Klepto-Fiend. It was evident the puppeteer had met one somewhere along the line.

  “That’s really cute, in a bizarre sort of way,” Katia murmured.

  “It is,” Simon replied. “Not quite like Lawrence, right?”

  The way he said it irritated her, though she suspected he wasn’t dissing her hometown. “Well, no, but we’re not hicks, though everyone likes to think so. My hometown has a center dedicated to the study of science fiction. It’s a part of the university.”

  “And I thought Kansas was just tornadoes, witches and cowardly lions.”

  She delivered a frown, then saw the glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “You like messing with me, don’t you?”

  “It goes both ways, Journeyman Breman.”

  Yes, it does. She noticed a sign near the closest door, and pointed. “They’re showing movies. Let’s check it out.”

  Curious, they stepped inside the room and quickly realized these weren’t movies, but videos. The room was packed, and every eye was on the screen at the front.

  “Riley really hates these things,” Simon whispered.

  Katia had watched most of these, some over and over. The current video was from the Demon Trappers’ channel, one especially created to share Master Riley Blackthorne’s exploits, as well as those of the other trappers. This one had Riley, Beck and a third trapper taking on a Grade Five demon, a Geo-Fiend. The room’s occupants ooh’d and ahh’d as the debris swirled around the fiend and buildings toppled. Then Beck managed to roll one of the grounding spheres under the fiend and sent it back to Hell, twisting and bellowing as dirt fountained around it.

  An enthusiastic cheer went up, along with equally enthusiastic clapping.

  “Trapper Scores,” Simon said, looking over at her. “Ever taken on a Five?”

  “No. We had one last year, but I didn’t see it. Don’t want to, either.”

  “They’re as bad as they look,” he said. “Worse, actually.”

  They watched a few more videos, cheering along with the others when the trappers captured a demon. Katia particularly liked the one that showed Simon killing an Archfiend.

  “Dude!” she said, amazed. “Now who’s badass?”

  Simon shrugged. “I got lucky.” Then he abruptly rose and headed out of the room.

  She caught up with him in the hallway. “You okay?”

  He nodded. “I didn’t want to watch the part when Beck killed Sartael. He was so badly wounded. He almost died.”

  His tone told her to let the subject drop.

  They continued down the hall, passing a room full of merchandise—the dealer’s room—where you could buy pretty much anything related to the trappers, Heaven or Hell. Apparently, people wanted their own set of fake Holy Water spheres or a lighted set of demon horns. Those, in particular, made Katia cringe.

  The room just beyond pulled at her for some reason, so she stuck her nose in. Then swore. Popping back outside, she tugged Simon away from the door.

  “There’s a Mezmer there. The whole room is hooked into it. It’s telling them how wonderful Hell is.”

  Simon nodded, then typed out a text message, along with the room’s location. A ping came back almost immediately. “Jackson will handle it.”

  Katia reluctantly moved on, and as she passed a table strewn with papers, she dug around until she found a pocket schedule for the convention. A quick glance at her phone gave her the time, and then she ran her finger down the programming grid.

  “Okay, we’ve got some panel options coming up. Angel Spotting in Real Life, Demon Trapper Tours: Crass or Cool, What’s a Soul Worth? Oh, we just missed the Dressing for the Apocalypse: Clothing for the End Times one.”

  Simon’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nope. They’re all on the schedule,” Then she couldn’t resist. “Look, there’s an Exorcism for Dummies panel, too.”

  “What?” He snatched the schedule out of her hand and began to hunt for that one. “Do they have any idea how dangerous that would be?”

  Time to confess. “I’m joking, Simon. Really, honestly, joking about that last one. I figured you might need to lighten up a bit.”

  For a moment, he seemed mad at her, then the exorcist heaved a sigh of relief. “I should have guessed you were screwing with my head. I’m a little too wired to think straight.”

  “I never would have guessed.”

  Simon handed the schedule back, then pointed down the hall. “Bio break. I’ll be back in a bit.”

  As he headed to the restroom, Katia leaned against a wall and people watched. There were so many happy ones here, laughing and joking with each other. Not at all like her own life, at least until she came to Atlanta. In the short span of a half a day she’d had more interesting conversations with her fellow trappers than in the last six months.

  The gentle whir of a robot made her grin as R2D2 rolled by. Just about anything you could think of was here. Maybe this city was where she belonged.

  The enticing tang of woods, moss and rain invaded Katia’s nose now. A light tap came to her shoulder, and when she turned, she found the source.

  It was a female of about her height, clothed all in white, with auburn hair piled loosely on top of her head. Streaks of white and silver were interwoven around the strands, as well as flowers and small ferns. Her skin was alabaster, her eyes a translucent blue, and her lips a deep blood red.

  This certainly wasn’t a costume. “What are you?” Katia asked.

  Amusement shown in the figure’s eyes. “I am what others do not see.” Then she raised a single finger to her lips, and winked, as if they had shared some special secret. Floating down the hall, feet never touching the carpet beneath her long dress, she vanished into a solid wall. No one else seemed to notice her exit.

  Katia blinked a couple times, then shook her head. The figure had been real, not an illusion or a glamour spell. And it certainly hadn’t been an angel or a demon.

  Did she dare ask Simon what that was? No. His expertise was Heaven and Hell and now was not the time to give him anything else to worry about. Besides, would he even believe her?

  She filed the encounter away and resumed people-watching, still on edge. A minute or so later Simon exited the restroom. He had just suggested they move on when a sharp tug on Katia’s belt made her turn. It took her a moment to register what had happened.

  “Hey, he’s got my phone!” she shouted, and charged after the thief.

  EIGHTEEN

  As Serrah hadn’t spent as much time with mortals, Ori found himself explaining them to her. In some ways that was good, he thought. The more Divines who comprehended these confusing creatures, the better.

  “I do not understand them,” Serrah said, taking care that those same mortals did not hear her. They were in a large, open area of the hotel filled with them. Some wore exotic costumes; others were only here to watch the show, take photographs, and then share those images. This latter effort seemed to involve the use of a myriad of electronic devices.

  “They do know how to entertain themselves,” Ori observed as a group came together for a photo. These mortals were dressed like the little fiends, the ones who hated books, though these versions were much, much larger.

  “I do like the angels, though,” his companion added as a pair of them walked by, all clad in white. Their wings were made of countless real feathers and their hair long and golden. “How do they—”

  “Greetings, you two,” Riley said as she and Beck joined them. “Anything we should know about?”

  Ori looked over at Serrah, figuring she might as well give the report.

  “We’ve found thirteen fiends so far. They range from the small ones to the kind you call a . . . Five?”

  “Four, I think you mean. If we have one of those big mothers here, we’re in deep shit,” Beck replied.

  “Katia found a Mezmer and Jackson took care of it,” Riley announced. “None of the people were hurt, just tired, so they’ll be okay.”

  “This place is perfect for them. They can wander around, suck on someone’s energy for a bit, and then wander off,” Beck added.

  “Growing stronger with each little meal,” Riley muttered, her attention elsewhere. She frowned. “That’s Katia. Something’s up.”

  “Come back here!” Katia shouted, pelting through the crowd. The way the guy was moving it felt like he was leading her somewhere rather than trying to escape. When he skidded to a halt, and waited for her, she knew her instincts had been correct. Rather than race into a trap, she slowed as well, allowing Simon to catch up with her. Her senses told her the thief was Hellspawn, though it looked human. A lower grade Four, she guessed. As they grew closer, the fiend tossed the phone toward her. With a cry, Katia barely caught it, then heaved a sigh that it hadn’t been damaged.

  Why had it led them here? This part of the hotel was huge, the room’s ceiling many, many floors above them. The balconies on each floor were attached to the main elevator shaft like ribs off a spine. Multiple elevators rose and descended in the center of the space, like something out of a science fiction movie. There were so many con goers here, most of which were gathered into distinct groups. A cluster of Star Wars storm troopers were hanging together, as well as a zombie ballerina, a tall cowboy in hot pink, and a man dressed as the pope. Nearly anything her imagination could conjure up was here.

  To their left was a portable stage, currently empty. Someone dressed as a Gastro-Fiend kept flailing around near it, the costume hampering their movements. The fake fiend seemed silly, not dangerous. Maybe that was the point—taking one’s fears and making them laughable in some absurd way.

  Near the bar, people in business suits sipped drinks with Captain America while Wonder Woman played catch with two small kids. A bride and groom formed their own universe, surrounded by smiling family members. The pair kissed amid cheers from well-wishers. Most out of place were the group of church ladies, dressed in their finest, watching their surroundings with a variety of expressions that ranged from curiosity to outright shock. One or two looked like they really wanted to join in the fun, but group pressure held them in check. To the right of them, on one wall, a giant video screen flashed up announcements, then switched back to YouTube videos of the local Demon Trappers.

  Why here? Was it because this was one of the busiest areas of the convention? If that was the case, where were Azagar and the boys?

  Katia’s phone buzzed, and out of habit she checked the screen. It was lit with an incoming message and what she saw chilled her blood: her brother, Kevin, lying in his bed at the care center, oblivious. A picture she’d never taken.

  The thief laughed now, and she could hear it over all the other noise. This was a warning—she played by Hell’s rules, or Kevin paid for her defiance. She glowered over at the demon, but it didn’t care. Instead, it grinned, displaying an unholy number of sharpened teeth, and a second later it was gone, weaving through the crowd, its task complete.

  Hell’s message had been delivered.

  As he watched Katia and the demon who had taken her phone, there was no warning before the scars across Simon’s stomach flamed red hot, causing him gasp in pain. Only one thing could bring on agony that strong.

  “This is it,” he said, lowering his bag to the floor, grimacing. The agony vanished as quickly as it had arrived. Retrieving his vial of papal Holy Water, he uttered a quick prayer and anointed himself. When he offered it to Katia, she did the same, then returned the vial.

  He’d just put it back into his jeans pocket when shouts erupted and people around them began to point. In the nearly fifty-story atrium, a figure slowly descended without the benefit of an elevator. It was the kind of grandstanding you’d expect from a Fallen, not one of Lucifer’s Hellspawn.

  Ori’s voice filled Simon’s mind. Azagar is arrogant. Use that to your advantage. Good hunting, Exorcist.

  “Thank you for everything you’d done,” he whispered.

  I hope it will be enough.