“Stop it!” she commanded.

  He blinked at her, his eyes still not focusing properly. “Yer real?”

  “Sure am.”

  “No, you can’t be. Yer with that damned angel.”

  Ray hunched down near the trapper, laying the duffel bag on the ground.

  “Hey, guy, we found you,” he said, smiling broadly. “Just in time, I think.” He traded a worried look with Riley.

  “Ya are for real. Oh, thank God,” Beck murmured, then began to shake. “I thought ya’d forgotten me.”

  “Never,” Riley said, touching his burning hand. “We’ll get you back to the boat, then to the hospital. You’ll be okay.”

  “I’m not goin’ anywhere,” Beck said, shaking his head, each movement exaggerated. When he gestured toward his left foot, Riley stared in horror at the thick log chain around his ankle.

  “What the hell?” Ray blurted.

  “Demon did it,” Beck said. “That damned McGovern was gonna kill me and—”

  “We know. We’ll get you out of here, don’t worry,” Riley said, more for his benefit than because it was the truth.

  She noticed a dark stain on Beck’s jeans below the left knee and knew what it was on sight: The fiend had injured him. That explained his fever and his disorientation. The demon must not be that powerful if it had to resort to such a bizarre trap. With Beck unable to escape, it had given him a wound, one that would keep pumping toxins into his system. Even if he were hallucinating, he could still hand over his soul and it’d be a one-way trip to Hell’s front door. Trappers would no doubt rate special treatment down there.

  That’s not going to happen. Not to him.

  “Any way we can get that chain off?” she asked, the joy of having found her guy fading.

  “I’ve got some tools in the boat,” Ray said. “I’ll go fetch them. One way or another we’ll get him free.”

  That’s what she’d wanted to hear.

  Riley pulled a Holy Water sphere out of her backpack and handed it to the guide. “If the demon gives you any trouble, hit it with the sphere. The Holy Water will burn it like acid and it’ll back off.”

  The man nodded and headed toward the canal.

  “Hang in there, Backwoods Boy.”

  Beck’s eyes were closed now and he was quaking with the fever. Seeing him so ill freaked her out. It’d probably been the same for him when he’d found her dying in her apartment after she’d tangled with a Three. Riley pushed down her fears and began laying out supplies to treat his leg. Once that was done, she’d try to get some water into him before they began the long trip back to the landing.

  When Ray eventually returned there was nothing in his hand but the sphere.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The tools are gone. Every one of them.” He looked around, nervous. “And my cell phone isn’t getting a signal. That’s not normal. What’s going on?”

  Riley did a quick check of her phone. Same issue. “It’s the demon, it’s messing with us.”

  It took a moment to locate it near one of the trees, a mud-colored and hairless monster with those blazing red eyes she’d come to despise.

  The fiend moved a few steps forward, its head cocked. “Blackthorne’s Daughter,” it hissed.

  “Give us back those tools!” she demanded.

  It laughed, shaking its head. “The trapper is mine. Leave him or you will die.”

  “We’ll have to get some help,” Ray whispered, his attention never wavering from the Hellspawn.

  Beck stirred. “Get out of here,” he said, waving them away. “Leave me some water and . . . I’ll be fine.” As if to prove he was lying, his body began to quake from another spike of fever.

  By the time we come back, you’ll be dead. There was only one way to do this.

  “I’m staying here,” Riley announced. “Please go get us some help.”

  Ray stared at her like she was a lunatic. “That’s crazy,” he protested. “I can’t move through the water that fast in the dark. It could be tomorrow morning before I can get back. I know you’re a trapper, but spending a night in the swamp with one of those things is . . .

  “What a trapper does,” Riley replied, her voice amazingly calm. “Beck won’t make it on his own. I can treat his wound and keep him alive while you get those tools.”

  “You sure about this?” the guide asked.

  She nodded, her insides fluttering like a bird trapped in a cat’s claws.

  “Ah, damn,” he said, agitated now. “You both better be alive when I get back.”

  “It’ll be okay,” she replied. Now I’m sounding like my dad. “You should get going. It’s almost dark.”

  With one last look at Beck, Ray began to edge his way out of the clearing. The fiend tensed, hissing again. The moment it launched itself at the guide, Riley was on the move, her Holy Water sphere arcing toward the rushing Hellspawn. The demon shrieked in agony as the sacred liquid impacted its chest, scalded its skin, and with a snarl it whirled and vanished into the undergrowth.

  “Go!” she cried.

  Ray took off at a run toward the canal, feet pumping and a sphere in hand. If he didn’t make it to the boat, she and Beck were in even bigger trouble.

  Riley dug in her backpack, knowing she didn’t have that much time before the fiend returned. Tucking a bottle of Holy Water under her left arm, she used the steel pipe to inscribe a circle in the dirt around Beck and the tree. She made it at least fifteen feet in diameter to give her room to move. Every few feet she’d pause and fill in the circle with the liquid, building a sacred barrier as she went. It was hard going. Her back cramped, her knees trembled, but she kept at it.

  Beck roused and began to sing about a good old boy who went to war and whose family made moonshine, his voice cracking at the higher notes. Riley smiled at the tune, but kept constructing the holy barrier.

  About halfway around she ran out of Holy Water. After collecting another pint, she kept digging in the dirt, pouring the liquid, over and over. Another bottle gone and she’d only brought four. Once the circle was completed, she took the third bottle and walked the line, filling in any gaps. When she was sure the Holy Water barrier was as strong as she could make it, Riley sank on the ground near Beck. As long as there was only one Hellspawn, it’d hold. If it brought back friends, it would get ugly.

  In the distance she heard the sound of a boat motor revving up, signaling Ray had made it to the canal. Or it was the demon making her think help was on the way.

  We’ll know in the morning.

  Riley twisted open the lid on a bottle of water and offered it to Beck. He grabbed onto it with both hands and began to drink in earnest.

  “God, that’s good.” Another long swig.

  With her knife, she cut the seam of his left pants leg, beginning at the ankle. The demon wound was a long slice on the outside of the calf and Riley shuddered at the copious drainage. Once the wound was completely exposed, she gave him the warning.

  “I need to treat this with the Holy Water. You ready?”

  He gave a faint nod and she let a stream of the liquid drop onto the wound. As the infection bubbled in reaction, Beck sucked in a sharp gulp of air. Then he swore, long and loud.

  Sorry.

  Once the wound looked fairly clean, she rinsed it with clear water, then applied a light bandage. She’d be repeating the task every two hours until the infection was gone. After she stashed away the supplies, Riley insisted he take some aspirin and finish off the water. He still had a high fever, but that would disappear with the infection.

  As Beck dozed fitfully and the night deepened, Riley sat vigil, her nerves on a razor’s edge. She was prepared for the demon’s return, the magical knife her friend Ayden had given her in the sheath at her waist. The steel pipe sat to her left and a Holy Water sphere to the right. Now that she’d found the man she loved, there was no way Hell would have him.

  I will die first.

  But wasn’t that what love was all about, the realization that someone else mattered more than you and that you’d do anything to keep them safe? Even if they didn’t love you in return.

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  When Beck struggled back to consciousness, he was pleased to find he felt better. He raked his nails over his chest in broad swipes. His fever was dropping and he was hungry, all of which was good news. But when he saw Riley, he growled under his breath.

  “What the hell are ya doin’ here?” he demanded, cloaking his concern in anger. “This isn’t some damned picnic.”

  She ignored his question and fired one back. “Why are you itching?”

  “Bug bites. The things are in my shirt, eatin’ me alive.”

  “That I can fix,” she replied.

  Between them they managed to pull off his jacket and shirt. After shaking her head at the mass of red marks on his chest, she handed over a packet of handwipes. Beck was going mad from the itching, so he gave in. Though the wipes were cold they felt good, and he used them to clean his hands, face, arms, armpits, and chest. Riley did the honors to his back. By the time she was done, he was shivering in the chilly night air, his skin dotted with goose bumps.

  She pulled off her jacket, then a sweater, revealing a heavy sweatshirt. It was his, and as it came off her shirt rode up and the edge of a pink bra peeked out. He knew better than to mention it. Riley helped him dress and the sweatshirt felt good. It smelled of her, and he liked that.

  “Stealin’ my clothes while I was gone?” he asked.

  “Only the sweatshirt,” she replied. “Your jeans didn’t fit that well.”

  God, he’d missed her humor. She wasn’t freaking like some girls would. Instead, she was meeting the challenge head-on. As he studied her, he noted fresh bruises on her face and asked about those.

  “McGovern,” she replied. “He wanted to bring me out here to keep you company because I wouldn’t stop trying to find you. He’s in jail now.”

  Beck felt a ball of fury ignite in his gut. It was best that the bastard remained behind bars or he wouldn’t be aboveground long if Beck had his way.

  “What the hell was this all about? He wouldn’t tell me.”

  “He was covering his tracks.” Riley leaned back against the tree and spun him the whole tale. The longer she spoke, the more he worked out for himself.

  “He killed Nate and Brad, didn’t he?”

  “That’s what Donovan thinks,” she replied. “He would have killed you too if he’d known you were sleeping it off in the boat. You would have just disappeared like the other two boys.”

  Beck moved his gaze to the far tree. Were their bodies under those leaves? Had the demon done them all a favor without intending to?

  When she offered him his jacket, Beck shook his head. “The critters are in that too. They’re from the Spanish moss.”

  “Alright.” Riley set the garment aside and unpacked a large, thin silver blanket from her backpack, then laid it out about five feet away from where he was sitting. “Let’s move you over here. This will keep you warm and get you away from the bitey things.”

  Though he was already too warm from the fever, it seemed like a good idea. He made it to his feet with her considerable help and then hobbled over to the new location, his leg throbbing with every step. The moment he was settled she tucked the silver blanket around him.

  “What about you? It’s gonna get colder,” he said.

  “I’ll be okay.” She wouldn’t be in a couple of hours, but they’d cross that bridge later.

  “What else ya got in that pack of yers. Any food?”

  “I thought this wasn’t a picnic,” she retorted, arching an eyebrow.

  He frowned at her. Why did she have to challenge him all the time?

  “Ya scare me when ya do this kind of crazy stuff, woman.”

  “I scare myself too,” she admitted.

  A few moments later he had an unwrapped power bar in his hand. It vanished within seconds, followed by a handful of orange slices and some beef jerky. He took a healthy chug from a bottle of sports drink, then leaned back against the tree in relief. His stomach wasn’t happy that he’d eaten so fast, but that couldn’t be helped.

  “What’s the story with the rifle? Is it McGovern’s?”

  “No, I found it here,” he said, unwilling to get into whose it was or what that might mean. “No ammunition, so it didn’t help me much.”

  He closed his eyes. He could hear her moving around, then he caught the scent of wood smoke. She’d built a fire without his help—he didn’t think city folk knew how to do that. Finally he dozed, images of his mother and the dead boys haunting his dreams.

  TWENTY

  When the demon returned a few hours later it was evident the Holy Water had hurt it. Its chest looked like it’d been attacked with a flamethrower and every now and then Riley could hear a whimper cross its lips.

  “You will die here,” it growled, glaring at her. “You will pay for my pain.”

  She ignored it, refusing to allow the thing to get a foothold in her mind.

  “Remember, Denver Beck? Remember how I told you of her angel lover?” the fiend taunted.

  “Give it a rest, demon,” Beck mumbled.

  “Has she told you of her soul? How it is ours now? How she gave it to him . . . forever?”

  There was a rapid intake of breath behind her as Beck digested that bit of news.

  “Thanks for that,” she muttered. Riley had intended to reveal her secret when the time was right, if there ever was such a thing. Now it was out in the open, flopping around like a dying carp.

  “Tell me it’s lyin’,” Beck demanded.

  She couldn’t meet his eyes. “No, I gave my soul to Ori.”

  “Oh, girl,” he murmured.

  The demon barked in triumph. “Why is she here? Is it for you, trapper, or for her demi-lord? Did he order her to find you? Did he order her to kill you?”

  Riley exploded off the ground. “Where do you come up with this stuff? Do you losers have a giant book of lies and you choose which ones sound good?”

  She took a couple of steps forward, her knife out of the sheath now. Then she halted. The Mezmer was baiting her, trying to get her to break the circle.

  “Is that what’s happenin’ here?” Beck asked. “That angel tell ya to kill me?”

  He’s sick and this damned thing is playing with his mind.

  “No.”

  “How can I believe ya?”

  She shot a look over her shoulder at the wounded man. “But you’d believe this piece of Hell crap?”

  The fiend chortled to itself, then blended into the brush. It had sown the seeds of doubt and now it just needed them to grow.

  You’re history, demon. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but you’re dead.

  Beck went silent after that, refusing to talk to her. In time, he fell back asleep, but he wasn’t resting easily. He kept jerking awake, his eyes wide, then he’d close them again. She’d just stoked the fire when he lurched out of a dream, his eyes filled with fear as his breath came in short pants.

  “Beck? What’s going on?” she asked, moving closer.

  “Demon. It keeps pushin’ on my mind. I hear it over and over tellin’ me what that damned angel did to ya and—” He jammed his palms against his ears. “Oh, God, make it stop!”

  Panicking, she knelt next to him. Singing country songs to block the Four’s mind games wasn’t going to do it. They needed something stronger than Hell’s lies.

  Love.

  Riley didn’t know whether he loved her, but she knew he adored her father. She gently guided his hands away from his ears. “Beck, hey, look at me.” His eyes tracked to hers, pleading. “Tell me about my father. You know, how you met and what he was like.”

  “What?” he said, bewildered.

  “Talk to me about my dad,” she ordered. “The demon can’t screw with you when you’re thinking about someone you love.” She wasn’t sure if that was true or not, but it was the only weapon they had against the dark voice in Beck’s mind.

  “Yer playin’ with me, tryin’ to get me to—”

  “No! I’m trying to help you. Please listen to me. I would never do anything to hurt you, Beck. I swear that on my father’s grave.”

  He blinked, then nodded his head, the message getting through to him. “I did love Paul. He was so good to me. He was like the daddy I never had.”

  “Tell me about the first time you guys met. It was in class, right?”

  Beck gritted his teeth as if the fiend had tried to cut across his thoughts. “It was . . . in American history class. I’d only been in school a few days and I was still pissed at Donovan for haulin’ my ass up to Atlanta.”

  Riley sat next to him, tucking her jacket around her for warmth. “Go on, I want to hear it all.” Keep talking.

  He took a deep inhalation then let it out slowly. “I told Paul that I would’t do any effin’ homework, that there was no point. He said I should stay after class. I figured I was goin’ to the principal’s office and then maybe get detention. If I did that enough times they’d kick me outta school, and then I could do whatever I wanted.”

  “Then what happened?” Riley executed a quick demon check. It had to be out there somewhere.

  “Instead of bustin’ my ass, Paul sits me down and asks me a bunch of questions—where I’m from, what TV shows I like, stuff like that. I couldn’t figure out what he was doin’.”

  Beck grimaced again.

  “Don’t listen to that other voice. Tell me the story,” she urged.

  “I . . . I told Paul to go screw himself. I figured that’d get me tossed out of class, maybe the school. Instead, he gives me an assignment: I was to write a paper about the one person in the whole world I thought was awesome. I told him there wasn’t anyone like that. Then he said I should write down what that person would be like if there was one.”