“So what do you guys call him?”

  “We have a number of names for the Morning Star,” the angel replied tartly. “Many of them are not polite.”

  Then Riley understood. “Lucifer tests angels, too, not just us mortals.” A nod came her way. “What happens when you fail one of those pop quizzes? Do you all become statues?”

  “That’s not for you to know.”

  Frustration set in. Heaven’s messenger never seemed that helpful except when it suited her boss. “What can you tell me?”

  “Ask the Fallen about another of his kind. One named Sartael. Listen carefully how he answers, and you will learn a great deal. Enough to make it worth your time on this cold morning.”

  “But who is—”

  Martha cut her off. “Go talk to the traitor, dear, or he’ll start shouting again. It makes the squirrels nervous.” She rose and tucked her knitting away in her bag, walked a few paces, and vanished. She’d never bothered to answer Riley’s question about Lucifer.

  All I want to know is the truth.

  Riley took her time walking to the statue, savoring the morning. From what she could tell, Ori hadn’t changed since yesterday other than bird droppings on one of his wings. I bet that bugs him. She positioned herself at the base of the marble angel, waiting impatiently for the sun to rise. Rather than stare like some gawking tourist, she closed her eyes and listened to the birdsong and the occasional skitter of something in the trees around her. Probably the nervous squirrels.

  Riley sensed more than saw when Ori came alive. Heat poured through her, as if she were reawakening along with him. When she opened her eyes, he stared down at her. What would it be today? More wrath? More seductive lies?

  The angel shook out his wings. “Back again?” he said.

  “You keep calling me, remember? I have better things to do than hanging around watching you go from stone to creep to stone again.”

  “You can ignore my call if you’re strong enough,” he replied

  That she doubted. “Then what? You send the flying monkeys after me?”

  Ori frowned, confused. “I do not command primates. I only command mortals,” he said loftily.

  Apparently the angel wasn’t a fan of The Wizard of Oz.

  “Wow, that’s an oversized ego for a stupid statue. I know it’s all bluff—you can’t order me to free you, or you would have already.”

  Ori didn’t appear pleased that she’d worked that out on her own.

  “Right before Lucifer turned you into a pigeon roost, you were about to tell me why it was so important that I give you my soul. What were you going to say?”

  Ori’s dark eyes bored into hers. “Free me, and that knowledge is yours.”

  “Will you give it a rest? It’s not happening.”

  “Someday, you’ll have no choice,” he shot back.

  “Answer my question, or I’m outta here.”

  Ori cocked his head. “You’ve changed. You’re harder now, less…”

  “Innocent? Trusting? That would be your doing, angel.” Riley’s patience was history. “Who is this Fallen you guys call Sartael?”

  Ori went totally still, as if he had instantly become a statue again. “How do you know of him?”

  She decided to turn the tables and not answer the question.

  “Did he turn Simon against me? Is he the one who gave you bad advice and set you up to take the fall?”

  “Yes.” The single word came out as a venomous hiss. “Sartael lied to me, told me our Prince wished me to do something that he did not.”

  That something was bedding Riley.

  “He was the reason I arrived late at Master Harper’s that night you were attacked by the Five. At the time, I did not realize he was the Five’s demilord. That was why Astaring was so difficult to kill.”

  The demons have names? Oh goodie. “Why is he doing this?” Riley quizzed.

  “Power. He seeks the Prince’s throne.”

  Riley leaned against a headstone, which was probably disrespectful, but she was tired.

  “Why does everyone want to rule Hell?” she grumbled. “It looks a sucky job to me. You’re up to your eyes in demons, and you have to test mortals and angels, who all hate you.”

  Ori carefully tidied the wing that had been sullied by a bird. After brushing it off, his dark eyes met hers again. “Sartael will not test anyone. He will destroy. He will start a war with Heaven.”

  The one I’m supposed to prevent.

  “Indeed,” Ori replied.

  She’d forgotten he could read her mind. “Why doesn’t Lucifer take him down? I mean, he’s the Prince of Darkness. That can’t only be a job title.”

  Ori scrutinized her, puzzled. “You carry my master’s mark but your soul is your own.”

  “He said he didn’t want it. I owe him a favor instead. It got me in a ton of trouble with the Church.”

  “Yet it has kept you alive,” Ori said, nodding now as if he understood. “Only the most foolish among us would cross the Prince and destroy his pet.”

  “Pet?” she spat. She was done with this jerk. “Don’t call me again. We have nothing to talk about.”

  “You’ll be here, at the last,” Ori said. “Then you will listen to me, Riley Anora Blackthorne. You will have no choice.”

  “We’ll see about that, angel.”

  Riley spun on her heel and marched away, her temper pushing her along. It wasn’t until she reached the Bell Tower that she looked over her shoulder. Ori was stone again, his eyes open, gazing at the dawn. His arms were at his sides, hands palm up as if in supplication.

  It had been a productive sunrise: She knew the name of the angel who’d been pulling everyone’s strings, the Fallen who had brought chaos to both the blessed and the damned.

  * * *

  After a big breakfast and a long nap, Riley reluctantly dragged herself to Stewart’s library. With a few hours to burn until class, that would be the quietest place to do her Fallen angel homework. Hopefully, the library’s owner wouldn’t mind.

  The moment Riley turned on the overhead light, she sighed in envy. This wasn’t a crowded nook, but a full-size room that told her that Stewart was serious about his scholarship. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves greeted her, along with a round wood table, two padded chairs, and a Tiffany-style desk lamp. It appeared as if the library had been magically transported from another century.

  Wonder if my dad ever saw this? Probably not. If he had, he’d never have left.

  Riley placed her notebook, phone, and pen on the tabletop and began her search through the shelves. She quickly realized there was a system in place: paperback fiction all in one bookcase—Stewart seemed to prefer military fiction and mysteries set in Victorian or Edwardian England—then nonfiction by topic. She moved from shelf to shelf, trailing her fingers over the books’ spines in nearly religious awe.

  In a corner were two bookshelves stocked with tomes about angels, demons, Heaven, and Hell. Riley had no idea which to pick, so she let her fingers do the choosing.

  Rebellious Angels: Lucifer’s Descent from Heaven

  That sounded promising. When she removed the book from the shelf, she found that it was bound in brown leather and creaked softly when she opened it. The ink was muted with age. It’d been published in 1898. She was holding a book that was one hundred and twenty years old.

  Riley reverently carried it to the table and placed it on the bookstand. After removing the thick green afghan from the chair, she settled in, the cover around her legs: The library might be truly awesome, but it was chilly.

  The book’s first chapter began with the creation of man (Adam) and the ire that stirred within the ranks of the angels. It was written in awkward, hard-to-read prose, but Riley worked through it nonetheless. Her dad had read some pretty dense books in his time and always insisted on quoting passages to her. In his own way, he’d prepared her for this moment.

  Many argued against the creation of the clay creature, as they called Adam. That God would spare His love for such a lowly being did not set with the angelic host, chief among them being the Morning Star. When God ordered that all bow their knee to Adam and his descendants, a rebellion arose among the angels, and they did depart Heaven.

  After four more pages about that departure—these types of books never got to the good part that quickly—there was a multipage list of angels who’d sided with Lucifer against the Almighty. Riley traced down until she found the one who’d tried to steal her soul.

  Ori: an angel of the higher realm known for charm and seduction.

  “Tell me about it.”

  It went on to say that once Ori had taken residence in Hell, he served as an agent of retribution, executing those who challenged Lucifer’s authority. That tallied with his claim of why he was in Atlanta.

  Farther down on the page she found:

  Sartael (also known as Satarel): a devious archangel who works hidden deceits. Said to be one of the prime movers behind the Fall of Lucifer. Is known for corrupting the minds of mortals and bending them to his will.

  Tucking the lap robe tighter around her legs, Riley dug into the text to learn more about the angel who had done his best to destroy her life.

  * * *

  The next morning brought thick Scottish oatmeal, bacon, more mushrooms, tomatoes, and hot scones. If I stay here much longer I’ll have to buy larger jeans.

  Master Stewart was eyeing the newspaper, muttering under his breath every now and then. When he looked up at Riley, the frown was so deep she figured she’d done something wrong.

  “What?” she asked, lowering her spoon.

  “How’s yer classes goin’?”

  “Fine. I got an A on my math homework and aced a test on the Civil War.”

  A grunt. “Did ya talk ta the red-haired reporter?”

  What? He’d done it again—changing topics midstream. “No, I did not talk to that skank.”

  “Ah, well, she’s gettin’ creative then.” He shoved the newspaper across the table. The photograph made her heart ache—an injured Beck hunched over in a refuse-strewn street that had to be in Demon Central. She checked out the headline.

  TRAPPER INJURED DURING RUN–IS THE GUILD JINXED?

  The article recounted Justine’s version of how Beck and Jackson had found themselves “outmatched” by a Three. At no time did she indicate she’d been the root of the problem.

  “This is total crap. Beck wouldn’t have gotten hurt if she hadn’t been there. He was playing hero. He always does that.”

  Stewart nodded thoughtfully. “Third paragraph down.”

  Riley hunted for the text and felt her jaw clench. There was a quote from an unnamed source that the Guild was cursed because they’d allowed a female into their ranks. Riley jerked her head up, her blood boiling. “Do they really think that?” she demanded.

  “Some. Like havin’ a woman on a ship. Same thing.”

  Riley shoved the paper away in disgust.

  “It’s only gonna get worse,” the master warned. “Prepare yerself for that.”

  She nodded grimly and went back to her oatmeal. If she ever saw Justine Armando again, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

  A cell phone rang, then footsteps approached as Harper entered the kitchen.

  “We can do that,” he said, uneasily. “How many will you need?” A pause. “Okay, I’ll send two trappers over.” He ended the call and placed the phone on the table, pensive.

  “Trouble?” Stewart asked.

  “Not sure. The hunters got a phone tip there’s demons inside that abandoned building on Forsyth.”

  “The hunters asked for our aid?” Stewart asked.

  Harper grinned. “Yeah. Suddenly we’re useful, at least when it comes to Demon Central. It seems Rome wants us to play together like good boys and…” He looked over at Riley. “Girls.”

  “Who ya sendin’?”

  “Beck, if he’s up for it. He’s the best choice since he’s trapped in that building a number of times. Most of the others wouldn’t go near it.”

  “He’ll not turn ya down, even if he’s hurtin’,” Stewart advised. “That’s not his way.”

  “Then he needs to learn his limits,” Harper replied. His eyes moved to Riley. “You’ll go with him, Brat.”

  “What?” she yelped, nearly dropping what remained of her scone.

  “Good learning experience,” Harper replied with a sneering grin. “You’ll have three hunters and a journeyman watching your back. What could go wrong?”

  “This is me, remember?” she protested, wiping her hands on a napkin. “I take a breath, and something goes wrong.” I shouldn’t be anywhere near the hunters. In case they change their mind about me.

  “I’m not buying that. You need to learn how to do a building search, and this way you’ll get to see the big boys in action.”

  She would have continued to argue, but Stewart hadn’t disagreed with the assignment. That meant she really should be going on the run.

  “I’ll go change my clothes.”

  NINETEEN

  Beck swung by and picked Riley up at Stewart’s house, then drove toward downtown.

  “What the hell is Harper thinkin’?” he asked, giving her a stern look. “Ya shouldn’t be on this run. I’ve been inside this buildin’ before, and it’s brutal.” It’s no damned place for a girl.

  “According to my master, I need the experience,” she replied. “Speaking of which, how’s your head and your shoulder?”

  Better she not know I’m hurtin’. “They’re okay,” he lied. “Doc says I can take the pain pills again, so that’s helped a lot.”

  Riley scowled at him and that told him she wasn’t buying his lie. “Carmela also said no trapping.”

  “One out of two isn’t bad,” he conceded.

  Beck found the Demon Hunters’ van on Forsyth Street and slotted his truck in right behind it. Three of the Vatican’s team waited for them: Captain Salvatore, along with Müller and the one named Corsini. They stood alongside their vehicle, staring up at the dilapidated building across the street. The structure was five stories of brick and marble, with faded gang graffiti decorating the upper sections and windows covered in warped plywood. The ones that weren’t covered sported sooty scorch marks. There was no front door now—that entrance was walled off in concrete blocks, as were all the windows at street level. Which meant they’d have to go in through one of the second-story windows or come in through the back of the building.

  “A friend of mine used to live here,” Beck remarked.

  “Here?” Riley asked, incredulous. “Before it was like this you mean?”

  “No. Ike’s homeless, so anythin’ out of the weather works for him. Right now, he’s at one of the shelters, but sometimes he isn’t so lucky.”

  “That has to be scary,” she said. “Never knowing where you’re going to be from one day to the next.”

  “He takes it in stride. He was in the Army, like me. Ya learn to deal.”

  “You served together?” She actually sounded interested.

  “No. He was in the First Gulf War, back in the early nineties. I wasn’t even born yet.” He zipped the duffel bag shut. “Ike said he saw ya that night ya trapped the Three down here.”

  Riley thought for a bit. “The old black guy who walks funny?”

  “That’s him. I’ll introduce ya someday.”

  “I think I’d like that,” she replied.

  Is she bein’ polite or does she really mean it? Why do I care? Why does it matter what Paul’s daughter thinks of me?

  Beck pushed that thought away as he climbed out of the truck. Riley joined him, shouldering her backpack. As they approached the team, the captain greeted them.

  “Captain Salvatore,” Beck replied. “What’s the news here?”

  “We’ve been told there’s increased demon activity in this area, in particular around this building. We thought we’d work the location and see what we could flush out. Do you know the place?”

  “Paul and I trapped Pyro-Fiends in there. It’s also a good place to find a Three.”

  “You armed?” the hunter asked.

  “Yup,” Beck said, tapping the end of the steel pipe sticking out of the bag.

  “I meant a firearm.”

  “I prefer this kind of cold steel,” Beck replied.

  “Your choice.” The hunger looked over at Riley. “What about you?”

  “I’ve got Holy Water. The real stuff,” she replied. “And I run fast.”

  The captain gave a half smile. “Well, with talents like that, how can we fail?”

  “Are we it, or is the rest of the team on the way?” Beck asked.

  “They’re handling a call north of town. It’s a full sweep, so takes more men. If we encounter too much resistance, we’ll fall back and call for reinforcements.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Beck pointed. “There’s a way in at the back. Saves havin’ to climb to one of the upper windows.” So my shoulder doesn’t kill me.

  “You will need this.” A black baseball cap came his way, one with a St. George and the dragon logo on the front of it. “It’s got lights built in. Keeps your hands free.”

  Beck checked it out. There was one main light in the brim and two under the bill. He clicked them on and off and nodded his approval. Stripping off his Braves cap, he stashed it in the duffel bag, then put on the new one. He found it amusing when Riley got one of her own.

  “Y’all do have really fine toys,” he admitted.

  Salvatore smiled in response. “One of the perks of working for the Holy See.”

  “I’d never make it with ya guys. I swear too much.”

  A twinkle appeared in the captain’s eyes. “So do we when our bosses aren’t around.”

  Beck took them down the sidewalk to the west side of the building, ignoring the curious stares of passersby. There was a covered entrance on that side, though it was blocked off. Above it was a window, which was the best way in.

  Out of habit, Beck did a 180 to check their surroundings. A few nosey people. He gritted his teeth as he hefted his bag, then himself, onto the overhang over the entrance. A slicing jolted down to his fingertips, numbing them. He shook feeling back into his hand.

  The canopy shifted under his weight. “Be careful,” he cautioned. “This thing is on its last legs.”