She headed off into the night, using the screen of her cell phone as a makeshift flashlight to aid in her search. He could see a rip in the back of her shirt and the blood that had soaked into it.

  Simon made it to his feet, his calf still complaining, then gingerly pushed open the door. A large pile of ash on the floor was all that remained of the once mighty Azagar.

  “Deo omnis Gloria,” he said, making the sign of the cross. Glory to God.

  Katia returned with the remnants of the container, which looked as if someone had torn it apart with a crowbar. Parts of it were scorched, the crosses blackened. But what she held in her other hand was worse.

  Simon took hold of the long white feather.

  “It was near the box. That’s not from a bird,” she said. The pause went for some time. “So, which angel tried to get us killed? Was it the Prince?”

  “No, it wasn’t,” a voice said.

  Two Divines stood a short distance away. Neither Simon nor his companion had heard their arrival, so focused on what Katia had found.

  “Fallen,” Simon said, his eyes narrowing.

  Ori nodded in his direction. “Exorcist. I am pleased to see that you and Katia Allyson Breman survived this night.”

  “Are you?”

  “You believe I did this?” he said, gesturing at the shattered box.

  Did he? Simon immediately shook his head. “No. Well, I did for a second or two, then I realized how stupid that was. You’ve done nothing but guard us from harm. If you wanted us dead, you would have done it yourself, not using Hellspawn. That would have only benefited your former master and you would never do that.”

  Ori nodded again. “Someone wanted you to perish. Someone Divine.”

  With an oath that only the other angel was likely to understand, Serrah began to pace back and forth. The words issuing from her mouth made no sense to Simon, but apparently they did to Ori, who immediately created some sort of shield bubble around them. It was like the one he’d made at Mort’s house, ensuring that no one outside of it could hear their conversation.

  Only then did Ori answer her. The argument grew heated, with him gesturing and Serrah pointing a finger at him and arguing back.

  “Azagar offered me anything I wanted in this world,” Simon said as the two Divines continued their agitated discussion.

  “Like having all the peaches in the world suddenly disappear?” Katia asked.

  He grinned at that possibility. “Tempting. No, he offered to make me pope. Like it works that way.”

  “You’d look awesome in all white,” she said. The argument continued inside the bubble. “You know, it’s never pretty when Mom and Dad fight.”

  “Do you think they even remember we’re here?”

  Both angels turned toward them now.

  “I’d make that a ‘yes’,” Katia replied.

  “Who does this feather belong to?” Simon asked, though he had his suspicions.

  Upon Ori’s agitated gesture, the bubble expanded to include both of them.

  “You already know,” Serrah replied.

  “I do, but I want to hear it from you two.”

  “Zareth,” the angels said in unison.

  “The one who wanted you to betray Ori?” Katia asked, looking back and forth between him and the Divines.

  “Yes. One of Heaven’s own tried to kill us,” Simon said, his voice rising. “Zareth risked all our souls.” His fists clenched. “Why?”

  Ori looked over at the other angel. “He’s right. Why?”

  “I don’t know,” Serrah replied, anger blazing in her brilliant blue eyes. “I don’t know, but I will find out.” She gestured toward the feather. “I need that.”

  Simon’s anger slowly deflated. It wasn’t like he could speed dial the Archangel Michael and put in a complaint about one of his employees.

  “But I can,” Serrah said, reading his mind.

  He handed over the feather. When Serrah gave the Fallen a pointed look, Ori removed the shield around them, and then she abruptly vanished, evidence in hand.

  After a deep breath, Simon asked, “If she challenges Michael, is that going to get her in trouble?”

  “I’m not sure. If he is feeling threatened, it could go hard on her. It’s one of the reasons I don’t miss being part of Heaven.”

  “So, you came down to hang with us mortals because that would be easier?” Katia asked.

  The angel winced. “Good point.”

  “Is my brother still safe?”

  “Yes, he is. I might have encouraged a certain master to put a demon trapper in the room with your brother, at least until Azagar was dead.”

  Katia’s eyes narrowed. “That wouldn’t be Master Kelly, would it?”

  “The very one.”

  She broke out in laughter. “Oh my God, that had to be great. I can just guess what it was like having an angel in his face telling him what to do.”

  “I can be very persuasive,” Ori replied. “I believe my flaming sword settled the argument. Not that he’ll remember that part, of course.” He frowned. “I would have been here immediately when Azagar escaped, but I was kept busy in Atlanta, on purpose it would seem. We came as soon as possible.”

  “Azagar was a pawn, used to get us here. Once Zareth released him, Katia and I would lose our souls. Or was it more than that? What else is at stake?” Simon pressed.

  Ori didn’t reply, his frown deepening.

  Katia gave the Fallen a long look. “I expect Hell to screw me over, but not Heaven. Makes me wonder why I risk my life day after day.”

  “I cannot explain why this has happened,” Ori said, “but you are right: Lucifer has a grander goal in mind. Perhaps we will learn what that is.” The Fallen looked back toward the city now. “I must go. There are more fiends that need my attention, as is always the case.”

  Simon stuck out his hand, and to his surprise, the angel shook it. “I owe you so much. If you ever need my help, let me know. I mean it.”

  “Same here,” Katia added.

  “I am honored,” Ori replied. “Truly, I am. We must trust that Serrah will find a way to settle this issue with Heaven’s traitor.”

  The Fallen walked a short distance away, bent his knees and shot into the air. A few seconds later they could barely see his wings in the moonlight as he flew toward the capitol.

  “Go to Atlanta, they said. It’ll be fun, they said,” Katia murmured. “Riley was right—it sure as hell isn’t boring.”

  “Well, it better get that way. I need to write a long, and incredibly detailed report to my superior in Rome. Father Rosetti is not going to believe this one.”

  “Yeah, I have to write this all up, too. I can just imagine some clerk at the National Guild making sense of this mess.”

  Maybe now was the best time to ask about the future. “Would you be okay working with me from now on? I mean, offering backup for my exorcisms?”

  She didn’t answer right off and that made Simon’s heart sink. Why had he thought she’d agree? He was the reason she’d ended up in the Pit. What possible benefit would she gain from being his assistant?

  “Work with you, huh?” Katia looked at the building, then back at him. “Would this be like what we’ve just been through?”

  “Hopefully not, but it’s certainly not a safe job. The Prince will always remember we got the best of him.”

  She seemed pleased by his honesty. “Okay, let’s do this exorcism thing together, Simon Michael David Adler. I’d like that a lot.”

  His spirits immediately rose. “So, would I, Katia Kickass Breman.”

  Her laughter lit up the night. He and the lady trapper were still alive, their souls intact. There was so much to be thankful for, even if a visit to Waffle House wasn’t in their future.

  TWENTY-THREE

  “You ready for this?” Riley asked, giving Beck a concerned look.

  Now that Azagar was headed to his brutal end at the monastery, and the teens were reunited with their parents, it was time for the other big event of the evening—their panel with the Demonland crew. She hadn’t wanted to do this, but in the end, she realized it had to happen.

  They were still glamoured, waiting a decent distance from the meeting room where the panel was to be held. From the long line of people queued up, the room was going to be packed. And from the hopeful faces, they’d better make sure this went well.

  Beck still hadn’t answered her question.

  “I’m sort of ready. How about you?” She received a huff in response.

  Riley had finally convinced the usually fearless grand master that they needed to be on the panel, and that decision had required a long and testy discussion. In the end, he’d reluctantly agreed she was right.

  It had always been Riley who’d visited the high schools to do the Demon Trapper 101 presentations, as she called them. The first few had freaked her out, but now they were just part of the job. Beck’s job, now that he was a grand master, was to attend the endless meetings that the city, the state, and the federal government seemed to demand. The first few had freaked him out as well, but now he was more confident. Still, Beck felt out of his element here, and she could tell it was worrying him.

  It didn’t happen as often as in the past, but every now and then the young man from South Georgia, the one who never thought he’d amount to anything, surfaced. His body language told her this was one of those times.

  “What’s this gonna be like?” Beck asked, adjusting the strap of his trapping bag on his shoulder for the third time. That was uncharacteristic fidgeting.

  “According to Alex, a moderator will ask us questions, and when that’s all done, the audience gets to do the same. Blaze is a cool lady so no hassles with her. Her real name is Susan. Jess Storm is a bit self-absorbed, but you’re used to dealing with those types. I don’t know much about Raphael, except that he’s cute.”

  That earned her a frown, which had been her aim to get his mind off his worries. “Cute huh?” She nodded. “That’s all we have to do?”

  Time to reveal the other event. “Then we’re going to sign some autographs.”

  The frown turned darker, one that would have made anyone else whimper, which was why she hadn’t mentioned that part until now. “After the panel we are signing with the Demonland actors. It’s for charity. Well, at least our part is.”

  Beck’s frown faded a few notches: Charities were his soft spot.

  “The Orphan’s Fund?” She nodded. “Okay. Then let’s get this done.”

  Riley popped up on her toes, dropped a kiss on his stubbled cheek. Then, ignoring the line, she walked them up to the staff member checking badges at the door. The moment she removed her glamour the guy smiled, recognizing her. Beck pulled off his amulet, and the staff member’s smile grew wider.

  “Look! It’s the trappers!” someone called out. “Riley Blackthorne is really here!”

  “Holy Water’s in place,” Beck said. She glanced down to see a damp line on the carpet just inside the door.

  “Jackson said he and Remmers would make sure the room is secure.” Hell might be done for the night, or it might just be getting started. Until they heard from Simon, she’d assume it was the latter.

  As expected, the room was jammed, almost every seat occupied in a space that would accommodate about two hundred people. The attendees milled around, and every one of them looked jazzed to be here. There was a strategically placed video camera, and someone messing with it, so apparently the panel would be broadcast to those outside the room as well. Then posted on the internet because everything ended up there eventually.

  Riley had never been comfortable when the trappers had somehow shifted from everyday people to celebrities. Not because they wanted to be, but because the public nature of their work, the constant danger involved in capturing demons, elevated their efforts to something special in the minds of the public. Add in the major battles the city had witnessed between Lucifer’s forces and the trappers, and it all took on mythic proportions. As Angus had said, “Myths have a life of their own.” She and Beck were now part of that myth, and there was no way they would ever be free of it. It was a truly sobering realization.

  The elevated stage at the far end of the room had five chairs behind a long cloth draped table. The Demonland actors were on one side, while she and Beck would be on the other. The buzz of conversations and the occasional flash of a phone camera followed them all the way to the stage.

  “Sweet Jesus,” Beck muttered under his breath, looking out at the room full of eager faces. She watched as he called up that inner reserve of strength that made him so incredible as a grand master, and a human being. Then his tension fell away as he shifted his gaze to a young boy in the front of the room in a wheelchair, his right leg in a cast that extended above the knee.

  “Dude!” he called out. “Look at you!” He shot him a thumbs up. “Thanks for comin’ tonight.”

  The kid beamed, enthusiastically returning the gesture, his whole day made because of this one moment.

  Grand Master Beck was in the building.

  Riley let her own smile loose as she headed for the empty chairs. Susan, aka Blaze, jumped up, gave a squeal and headed toward her for a hug. Her long blonde hair was in loose curls and she wore a tight black tank top and even tighter jeans. But she also had on a red leather sleeveless vest, something that she’d adopted as Blaze became more of a fighter, and less of a sex object. The Vatican still didn’t want anything to do with the television series, but Riley had heard that even Father Rosetti would watch an episode every now and then. He just wouldn’t admit it.

  “Riley!” Susan called out, her embrace intense and genuine. She’d been at the battle when Sartael had tried to claim the city, and helped save a number of innocent lives. For that alone, Riley would always admire this woman.

  “You’re looking great!” Riley said.

  “Same for you.” She eyed Beck and waggled her eyebrows. “Man, your husband is a hottie,” she said. “You go, girl!”

  Riley grinned. “He sure is.” She smiled over at the other two actors, said hello, and then took her seat next to Susan. Beck sat to her right.

  As a staff member delivered bottled water to all the participants, Riley searched the room until she spied Remmers and Jackson, each guarding a door just in case Hell made it across the Holy Water barriers. She received nods from both of them.

  A ping from Beck’s phone made him check the display, then he smiled. He tapped out a reply, then handed it over to her. It was from Simon.

  Azagar is dead. Will tell you more tomorrow.

  “Thank God.”

  Beck nodded, stashing away his phone. “Somethin’ must have happened out there. Simon thought that might be the case.”

  Before Riley could reply, the moderator came on stage. A slim young man, he looked as wired, and tired, as she felt. The moment he picked up the mic, he smiled at the five members of the panel. Clearing his throat, he began, looking out at the crowd.

  “Welcome!” he said, then waited for the noise to recede. “Welcome to the first ever TrapperCon. Have you guys been having fun?”

  A throaty cheer echoed through the room, along with a significant number of fist pumps.

  “Good deal! Tonight we have two special events. First up is this panel: Demonland: Reality or Make Believe? Our panelists are Susan Dempsey, Jeff Campbell, and António Fontes, but you know them as Blaze, Jess and Raphael in the series.” He waited until the cheers, wolf whistles and applause ended. “On the reality side of the panel we have Atlanta’s own Master Riley Blackthorne and Grand Master Denver Beck.”

  More cheers and applause, along with more wolf whistles.

  “Those are for you,” Riley said quietly, shooting her husband a glance.

  “Not a chance, Princess.”

  “After the panel, these five panelists will be signing autographs in the main lobby. Blaze, Jess and Raphael will be charging for photographs and autographs to help cover their expenses for attending this new con.” He paused and added, “Help them out, will you? They were so awesome to be here tonight, let’s send them home knowing Atlanta is the place for conventions. Our favorite trappers will not be charging for autographs, however a donation to the Demon Trappers Orphan Fund would be very much appreciated.”

  He looked down the row. “Now let’s get started.”

  Riley leaned back in her chair, wishing her dad were here. What would Paul Blackthorne think of an event like this? Knowing him, he’d like the idea. Anything that helped people understand more about the war between Heaven and Hell was a plus, even if it required costumes and a little too much alcohol to get the job done.

  After a quick introduction of each of them, the moderator began.

  “First question: What is the one thing Hollywood does in Demonland that drives you trappers nuts?”

  She looked over at Beck and winked. A wink came right back at her.

  The grand master raised an eyebrow now, leaning toward the mic so all could hear him. “Y’all really wanna go there?” he said, playing up his Southern roots. There were laughs now.

  “We do!” someone called out from the crowd.

  And so they went there.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Once they’d swept up the remains of Azagar and tossed his not-so-arrogant ashes on sanctified ground, they returned to Simon’s car, weary. After he treated the claw marks on her back, offering his sincere apologies as he did so, and she’d done the same to his leg, they headed back to town. The only reason Katia remained awake was because the fiery burn of her wounds.

  Simon yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth. “I’m so tired.”

  “Right there with you. Even if we had gone to Waffle House, I wouldn’t have stayed awake long enough to eat,” she admitted. Since she had the appetite of a termite nowadays, that was saying something.