She steeled herself and pushed open the front door to the building. The interior smelled more of garage than it did demon, but that would change over time. Harper’s new office was bigger than the old one and her master had positioned his battle-scarred desk so he could take advantage of the space. Some of his old furniture had made the move—the battered filing cabinets crouched in a corner—but there was a new office chair. The grubby recliner was gone, and Riley did not mourn its loss.

  The door to her right led into the old service bays. The hydraulic lifts were noticeably absent, probably sold for scrap by the previous owners, and in their place were four cages that were specially designed to hold Grade Three demons. All were occupied and the demons set up a chorus of howls when they spied her, including their usual Blackthorne’s Daughter greeting.

  Harper looked up and grunted at her arrival. He was in his late fifties with a long, wicked scar running from his left eyebrow down the side of his face. Given the warmer weather, he was in a T-shirt so the skull tattoo on his arm was partially visible. A full bottle of water sat next to him now, instead of a bottle of booze. Next to it was his can of chewing tobacco, telling Riley that he’d not abandoned all his vices.

  “Blackthorne,” he said evenly.

  That was new. He usually called her Brat, or worse.

  “Master Harper.” She gestured at the space around them. “I like this place. It’s nicer than the old building.”

  “So do I. It’s got a couple decent rooms upstairs so I can spread out.”

  Then he leaned back in the chair and studied her intently, like a lion waiting for a gazelle to make a fatal error. “I hear you killed a Four down in the swamp. That true?”

  “Yes.”

  “You killed it on your own?” When she nodded, his expression grew pensive.

  It was time to end this one way or another.

  Riley placed her trapper’s license on the desktop. He eyed it, then looked back up at her. “Giving up?” he asked.

  “You said we were going to have a little talk if the world didn’t end. Well, it’s still here, so—”

  “If I take your license away, you’ll go freelance, right?”

  She nodded. “I have to make money somehow.”

  “Damn,” he muttered, then shoved it back her way. “We’ll have that talk when I’m ready and not until then.”

  “But—”

  “Stewart and I will be keeping an eye on you.” He leaned forward now, the scar standing out on his jawline. “You go dark on us . . . ” He left the threat unspecified. It was far scarier that way.

  “Understood.” All she had to do was stay on the straight and narrow and maybe she could avoid being shipped off to the Vatican for punishment. Or worse.

  As Riley returned the license to her wallet, Harper shuffled some papers.

  “That TV show will start filming tomorrow night. I need you there. Reynolds will be there too. Watch yourself with those people and don’t tell them a thing about what went down in the cemetery. You got that?”

  “Yes, I got it.” The last thing she needed was for Hollywood to do their version of the showdown between the Archangel Michael and Lucifer. Knowing them, it’d involve a car chase and a trashy love scene.

  Harper pushed a trapping order across the desk. “There’s a Magpie at the convention center. Good luck with that one. The place is huge.”

  She sighed and took the order.

  “I’ve got two new apprentices, they’ll be here pretty soon. Tomorrow we’ll go down to Demon Central. I’ll have you and Adler show them what it means to be a trapper.”

  Riley opened her mouth to protest that he was going to spook the newbies too soon, but he waved her off.

  “Might as well have them see what’s it’s really like. If they can’t stomach it, we need to know that now.”

  Before she could reply, the front door swung open and two young men entered. The taller of the pair had curly brown hair and dark glasses. His T-shirt was something like her friend Peter might wear, proudly proclaiming ACTUALLY, IT IS ROCKET SCIENCE. The other guy was shorter and had a little more meat on him. His hair was about the same color, but it was straight and ended at his collar. Both were in jeans and work boots.

  The newbies.

  Harper pointed at the taller one. “That’s Fleming. The other is Lambert.” His finger veered toward Riley. “This is Blackthorne. Listen to her and you might live through the first week.”

  While Fleming seemed taken aback at Harper’s blunt pronouncement, Lambert adopted a bored expression.

  He’s going to be the problem child. There was always one in every crowd.

  “Start them at the bottom,” Harper ordered. His grin told her exactly what he meant.

  “Come on, guys,” she said, waving them toward the garage. “Let me show you the wonders of demon poop.”

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  The old Starbucks’ parking lot was nearly full up by the time Riley pulled in, and, to her relief, she was a few minutes early despite all her fretting about being late. Harper had been right—finding a Klepto-Fiend in the middle of a peach producers’ convention had been anything but a slam-dunk.

  Three hours in she’d finally caught the little fiend as it’d slowed down long enough to collect some glittering pins at one of the producer’s booths. She’d also scored four jars of peach preserves. Those would be yummy on Mrs. Ayers’ homemade scones.

  Peter sauntered over the moment she exited her car. “The wandering Riley returns,” he said. “And look, no gator bites either.”

  A magnificent bruise encircled his left eye, shading from brown to green. “Peter! What happened?” she demanded.

  “Your stalkery ex said something I didn’t like, so I told him to jam his head up his butt. It didn’t end well.”

  “Allan? I warned you he’d try to get even for you dissing him,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

  “You had enough going on down south you didn’t need to know about my problems.”

  Getting in Allan’s face felt like a plan right now. He couldn’t hit her best friend and not incur her wrath. Riley’s eyes swept the various knots of students as they clustered around talking or texting before class began. “So where is the jerk?” she asked.

  “He’s suspended until Thursday. I only got a warning.”

  There was only one reason Peter might receive that. “You hit him back?”

  “Sure did,” he said, holding up his skinned knuckles as evidence. “My dad gave me props once he heard what happened. He said he was proud of me, but it had to be top secret so Mom doesn’t come unstuck.” He waggled an eyebrow. “Simi thinks I’m cool because of it.”

  “She’s jealous of your hair,” Riley replied, pleased her barista friend had finally begun to take Peter’s interest seriously.

  “Maybe, but she thinks I’m so cool we’re going to the dance together.”

  That works. Simi would encourage his wilder side while he mellowed her out. Then the other part of his statement registered.

  “What dance?” Riley asked, hefting her backpack on a sore shoulder. Her muscles still felt as if someone had stomped them into a pulp.

  “It’s the annual citywide ‘dress like an adult’ thing. It’s this Saturday.” Peter fell in step next to her as they walked toward the building.

  “You mean the prom?” A nod returned.

  With the school system bankrupt, the dances were sponsored by local businesses. To accommodate all the juniors and seniors there were a series of proms, and it appeared theirs was going to be way early this year.

  A pang of envy shot through her. “You guys have fun.” She would probably be trapping smelly Hellspawn in a MARTA station or in the bowels of Demon Central.

  “You can come, you know?” Peter suggested. “I’m sure I could spare a dance for you.”

  “No. It’s . . . It wouldn’t feel right.”

  “Just ask Beck to the dance.”

  “What?” she sputtered. “No. Not happening.”

  “Ah, I got it. You’re chicken. You’ll take on a horde of Hellspawn, but when it comes to the one guy you’re really hot for—”

  Riley glowered at him. “Don’t. Go. There. The subject is closed, Mr. King.”

  He raised his hands in surrender. “Whoa, you are grouchy. I was looking forward to seeing you . . . why?”

  “You don’t understand. It’s complicated with me and Beck.”

  “Bogus!” he said. “It’s totally simple—you guys just have to stop being idiots. You’re driving each other crazy, along with the rest of us.”

  “I don’t think it’s salvageable, not after I—”

  “After you what?” he pressed.

  Tugging her friend away from the stream of students headed to class, she related exactly what had happened at the bus station and how she hadn’t heard a thing from Beck since she’d left Sadlersville. That it was all her fault.

  “A public display of affection? Awesome,” Peter replied.

  “No, I spooked him big-time. He’ll back off. I know it.”

  “I’m guessing he won’t. Trust me on this.”

  Maybe he was right. “I hope so. If not, I looked like a complete dork.”

  “Time will tell on the dorkdom.”

  When Riley followed him inside the old coffee shop nothing much had changed since she’d been gone—same lovely ground coffee aroma, same Mrs. Haggerty, same mismatched desks and students. No, there was one difference since the desk that Allan used was empty. Her mood soared. She might not have a date to the prom, but the bully was gone, at least temporarily. Peter had proved he wasn’t a wimp. In the past he wouldn’t have had the courage to take on a bully.

  Brandy, her former nemesis, shifted around in her chair once Riley was seated. “Have you met the Demonland actors yet?” she asked, her eyes sparkling. “Is Jess Storm as smoking hot as he looks on TV?”

  “I’ll be seeing them tomorrow night. I’ll let you know.”

  “Don’t forget the autographs. I’ve told all my friends I’m getting one,” the girl gushed. It was nice that things were so insanely simple in Brandy’s world.

  “Autographs, photographs, the works. I promise,” Riley said.

  At that point she was waved up to the front of the classroom. Her buoyant mood promptly deflated when she was handed her assignments from the time she was in South Georgia.

  “You did all this when I was gone?” she asked, astounded at the thick stack of papers.

  “No, but I figured the way your life is going you might like to get a little ahead,” Mrs. Haggerty replied.

  She dragged herself back to her desk and dropped the assignments into her backpack on top of the Holy Water spheres. As the teacher began to take roll call, she slumped back in her creaky chair and wondered how many more days of school were left before summer vacation.

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  By the time class ended, Riley was suffering serious withdrawal symptoms and the only known cure was the Grounds Zero. Since it was close to six in the evening the coffee shop was fairly empty. Simi, her hyper-caffeinated barista friend, wasn’t working, so Riley collected her beverage and headed for her favorite booth, the one she and her dad had often shared.

  Once there, she checked her phone again like she had at least a million times over the course of the day. No call from Backwoods Boy. She was good enough to slog into a swamp to save his butt and now he was too busy to let her know what was going on. All because she’d unloaded the truth on him at the bus station. Beck’s instinctive response would be to retreat behind those massive defenses of his, just when she’d finally gotten him to take a few steps outside those very shields.

  Why did I do that? That was so dumb. He’d say she was being goofy again. Beck didn’t know it, but this time the rules were different. This was the endgame. If he didn’t step up and accept her love, she was done. I will not make a fool of myself again.

  Riley popped one of the chocolate curls into her mouth and sighed in relief. Life was manageable if she focused on the things that made sense, in this case excellent hot chocolate, homework, and trapping demons. Not that the last two always did. Just after she’d taken a long sip of her drink, a tremor ran up both arms and lodged at the base of her brain, like a primal warning system. When her eyes rose she gasped and nearly dropped the cup.

  Ori strode toward her like some dark knight. The angel’s black leather jacket, T-shirt, and jeans were the same as before, his ebony hair was secured in a ponytail. He sat across from her, acting as if she hadn’t held him in her arms, watched him dying after the battle.

  “Riley Anora Blackthorne,” he said, his voice crisp. “Do I need to remind you of your vow to me?”

  She shook her head. She’d known it would come to this moment.

  “Lucifer kept you alive,” she said. A curt nod returned.

  Riley studied him anew. His eyes were guarded, not as caring as they had once been. Whatever had happened after the Prince had vanished him from the cemetery had altered the angel in some elemental way.

  “So how does this go?” she asked. “You going to haul me off to Hell right in front of all these people?”

  Ori leaned back in the booth, dark brows furrowed and arms crossed over his chest. “Nothing so dramatic.”

  “Then what am I to do? Polish your boots? Tell you just how awesome you are every minute of the day?”

  No reply.

  “Well, whatever it is, I will not try to take anyone’s soul for you.”

  “I set the terms. You abide by them,” he replied, his tone chillier now.

  “You don’t scare me, angel. I’m doomed no matter what. I refuse to hurt anyone because you expect me to.”

  “Once again you try to dictate terms when you have no leverage.”

  “The only leverage I have left is my conscience,” she retorted. “I will not sacrifice that.”

  Stormy eyes glared at her. “You may find that a difficult promise to keep.”

  Concerned that someone had to be overhearing this conversation, Riley gave a quick look around. No one seemed to notice them. “Tell me what happens next,” she insisted.

  “As I am your demi-lord, you are mine to command. My job is as it always was—to destroy those of our realm who defy my master,” Ori continued. “You will aid in that task.”

  “Me? How?”

  “I will summon you when it is time to do battle against the rogue demons. You will fight at my side.”

  “Are you crazy?” she said in a forced whisper. “I am not some cosmic warrior.”

  “You will be my second nonetheless.”

  “If you want me dead, just zap me with a lightning bolt and get it over with.”

  “You will serve as my second,” the angel insisted, rising from the booth in a fluid movement. “Beginning tonight.”

  “This is payback. You’re pissed I didn’t beg to hand over my soul like the others.”

  “No,” he said, flatly. “This is survival, Riley Anora Blackthorne. For you, at least.”

  He turned on a heel and strode out of the shop. Unlike in the past, none of the women noticed, as if he wasn’t really there.

  Riley found her hands locked around her cup in a death grip and she slowly pried them off. Ori hadn’t done this kind of thing with her father. Just her.

  All because I wanted to be loved.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Nestled in her bed at Stewart’s house, Ori’s summons came in the middle of the night, a clarion call that interrupted her dreams and pulled Riley awake in a heartbeat.

  Dress. Or fight unclothed, he ordered deep in her mind.

  She’d barely managed to pull on her jeans, shirt, and high-tops when the room around her faded. Her new surroundings came into focus, a broad, open field of green grass, the moon fat and full in the midnight sky.

  I know this place. This was all angelic illusion, like the romantic picnic they’d shared when Ori had been trying to seduce her. This time there was no tasty watermelon or wine, only her and Lucifer’s assassin. He was in full-angel mode now, wings visible, his jet-black hair pulled back and secured with a leather cord. There was a feral light in his dark eyes, one that made Riley shiver.

  “Sleep in your clothes from now on, unless you wish to fight nude,” Ori said brusquely. “I will call you at a moment’s notice.”

  Great. “During the day too?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Someone will notice if I just disappear.”

  “I’ll ensure they don’t. Now extend your hand, the one with my master’s inscription upon it.”

  Riley did as he asked, wondering what he had in mind. The question was answered the instant her right palm flared to life in brilliant white flames. Crying out, she tried to wave them away, but failed. There was no pain, but it freaked her to see her hand engulfed in fire. The flames gradually spread down her fingers and became a sword, a petite version of Ori’s blade.

  “How do you do that?” she asked, staring at it in wonder. It was so bright it hurt her eyes.

  “I am sharing some of my Divine essence with you.”

  Riley gave the blazing blade a couple of test swipes through the air. It was kind of cool.

  This wasn’t a good idea. “Look, I am not a warrior. I can try to watch your back, but I’m not great at killing demons.”

  “You did well enough in the swamp.”

  The blade ceased its lazy arcs. “You know what happened there?”

  “Of course. I’m your demi-lord. I knew exactly what was going on.”

  “Then why didn’t you help me find Beck?” Riley demanded. “Why did you let me do all that on my own?”

  “It was your test, not mine,” he replied. “Now I shall show you some basic sword techniques and then we’ll go hunting.”

  Hunting? This was getting out of hand. “What can I possibly do other than act as bait?”