The angel nodded agreeably. “I see you understand your role perfectly.”

  When it was over and Riley had returned to her room, the clock indicated only an hour had passed. To her it felt like half a day. Her clothes were clean now, though they’d been soaked in demon blood only minutes before. Her muscles ached, but not as badly as when she’d been in the middle of the fight. Somehow Ori had shared some of his angel mojo to help her recover.

  As she’d warned him, she’d done very badly her first time out, unable to handle the blade. Their prey had been a quartet of rogue Threes who had defied Lucifer. Ori had shouted commands at her, reprimanding her when she didn’t parry the blows or move fast enough. It had been a nightmare.

  At the end of the killing, there was a pile of corpses which he’d burnt with his angelic fire. Through it all, he’d shown no emotion as he’d cut them down. The caring Divine who’d made love to her was gone, subsumed by the grim executioner.

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  The next morning Riley found herself in Demon Central with Simon, their master, and the two new apprentices. She was sure Harper would see she was different somehow, call her out for hanging with one of Lucifer’s dudes, but he hadn’t said a word.

  In contrast to the demons Ori had slain, the single Gastro-Fiend they were trying to trap was one of the younger ones with only a single row of teeth. It stood about four feet tall, with black fur and glowing eyes. Currently it gnawed on a paw full of garbage, one of its usual food sources in Demon Central.

  This time there was no fancy sword or angelic backup, so one of them would serve as the “lure” while the other wielded the Holy Water. If the trapper with the sphere missed, the lure was in line for the demon’s fangs and claws. Troubled, Riley looked over at Simon. Did she trust him to throw the sphere accurately? Would he change his mind at the last second and let the fiend attack her? No doubt he was wondering if she’d do the same to him.

  “I’ll be the bait,” she said. It seemed to be her lot in life. “You’re better with the spheres than I am.”

  Her former boyfriend shook his head. “No, I’ll do it.”

  Riley was taken aback. He trusted her after all that had happened between them? “Simon, you don’t—”

  “Yes, I do,” he insisted. “You’ll hit it first time. I know you will.”

  She wasn’t sure about that.

  “Get it done,” Harper called out from where he and the newbies were tucked behind a dumpster. If the trapping went wrong, the master was the backup plan if the Three got the upper hand. It’d be his job to keep the thing from eating them, if possible.

  “Ready?” Simon asked, testing the grip of the steel pipe in his left hand.

  When she reluctantly nodded, he moved closer to the beast. Simon’s fingers clenched the bag of chicken entrails and his breath came in quick gasps. Since one of these things had nearly killed him, this was an act of supreme courage.

  You’re scared out of your mind.

  He had to be reliving every agonizing second of the attack at the Tabernacle. Riley certainly was. When Simon lifted up a bag of chicken entrails, the fiend dropped the handful of garbage and howled in delight. From its perspective, it’d gone from dumpster diving to two trappers on the hoof, with a chicken appetizer.

  Once Simon tossed the entrails toward the beast, he didn’t have to wait long for the fiend to make its headlong rush at the offering. The chicken was gone in a gulp and then the Three began to size up its next meal. This one was still a little green in the trapper-killing business. An older, more seasoned fiend would have already begun its run.

  Riley edged into a better position and her movement caught the demon’s notice.

  “Blackthorne’s Daughter,” it grunted. Then those laser eyes sheered back to her fellow trapper as if she wasn’t on its menu. This was the second time a demon had ignored her and chosen to target Simon. Was it because it knew Ori was her demi-lord?

  “Chew yourrrr bones!” the fiend cried and began lumbering toward her fellow trapper.

  Riley forced herself to wait until the beast was within range and then threw the Holy Water sphere. It proved a perfect delivery as the glass orb hit the beast square on its ugly face. As the liquid soaked in, it roared in agony, then crumpled to the ground in a furry heap.

  She cried out in enthusiastic relief. As they crammed the rank fiend into one of the steel mesh bags, she whispered. “You trusted me. Why?”

  Simon snapped the closures in place, then his vivid blue eyes sought hers. “Because I had to take the first step out of this endless darkness. That meant trusting someone I once thought had betrayed me.”

  Riley was stunned. “I could have missed the thing, Simon.”

  “It was a risk that I had to take.”

  My God. Before she could respond, Harper and the new guys joined them, the master explaining exactly what had gone right and what would have happened if Riley’s sphere hadn’t contacted the Three. Why having a steel pipe with you at all times was vital for survival.

  “Would it really eat you?” Fleming asked, his eyes wide like he’d just stepped into a horror movie.

  “It’ll make a meal of you in about fifteen minutes. Or less,” Harper replied. “Their claws are filthy so if you get hurt, treat it with Holy Water pronto. If not, you start dying.” He pointed at Simon. “Ask Adler how that feels. Or Blackthorne. Both have been there.”

  Though Fleming paled, the other apprentice didn’t seem troubled at all.

  Harper noticed. “Any questions over there, Lambert?”

  “That demon didn’t seem that scary,” the guy said. “You’d have to be pretty dumb to get ripped up by one of these things. Why are we wasting time? Why not go for the bigger demons right off?”

  Simon was on his feet in an instant, spoiling for a fight. When he took a step toward the smirking apprentice, Riley grabbed onto his arm.

  “No. He’ll learn the hard way,” she said.

  “Don’t worry, Lambert, you’ll get your chance at a Three in a month or so,” Harper said, frowning. “If you’re still my apprentice, that is.”

  As the trio walked away, Fleming peppered the master with questions. The other guy didn’t seem to care.

  “What is wrong with him?” Simon asked, frowning. The flush of color on her fellow trapper’s cheeks stood out against his pale skin.

  “He’s a hotshot. If he’s not afraid of a Three, he won’t make it very long.”

  “Thanks for stopping me. I would have . . . ”

  Totally nailed him. That wasn’t the old Saint Simon she knew. Riley hated to admit it, but she liked the new one better.

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  The moment Beck pushed open the door to his house and turned off the alarm, he felt better. When he’d returned from Sadlersville in the past, it had always been with extreme relief. No visit to Sadie had ever been good and the horror of the Keneally brothers’ disappearances had dogged his every step. Now that was all behind him, and for the first time in his life he was a free man.

  He immediately collected his rabbit from Mrs. Merton, the neighbor next door. She prattled on about how much she’d enjoyed watching over Rennie and then offered her sympathies about his mom. He took it all in good stride, thanking her, then retreated to his house in search of solace.

  After checking his messages, he settled onto the couch, his bunny at his side. Beck savored this rare moment of tranquility as his mind tumbled with possibilities, unlike in the past.

  “I got a situation, Rennie,” he said. Though he was sure it was crazy, he often talked to her because she always seemed to understand. “Paul’s daughter is in love with me. Can you believe that?” He shook his head in amazement. “Now I gotta decide what to do.”

  Did he try to build a life with Riley, or was it better to step back and not get hurt again? When Rennie gave a gentle tug on his shirt to remind him that she was in need of attention, he hoisted the small rabbit onto his lap and petted her. In her own way, she’d helped him find the right path.

  “You know, yer right. We all deserve love,” he murmured.

  Even me.

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  The Demonland location shoot was easy to find—all Riley had to do was follow the string of tractor trailers into the heart of Demon Central. There was a long line of them, some with generators to power the lights required to make Hollywood magic. Farther on, she passed a portable trailer that housed the toilets, and then one for costuming. It was as if a mini city had set up residence inside Five Points.

  Riley was stopped by an off-duty Atlanta cop and her trapper’s ID checked. Once she’d been vetted, she kept wandering around until she spied Lex Reynolds near a table stocked with coffee and pastries. Reynolds wasn’t like most of the other trappers as he could easily pass as a surfer with his deep tan, shoulder-length blond hair, and full beard. He was one of the nicer guys in the Guild, and Riley was pleased to spend some time with him. Like any trapper, he was unlikely to miss this opportunity—not if there was a paycheck and free food.

  “Riley,” he called out as she approached, half a plain donut in hand. “How was South Georgia?”

  “Memorable,” she said. “So, what’s going on here?”

  “Not a whole lot. They’re getting ready for Blaze’s next scene.” He angled his head toward a knot of people near one of the cameras. “She’s over there. Man, she’s totally hot.”

  Riley suppressed a groan. The show was Hollywood’s idea of demon hunting though they’d completely ignored the Church’s role and their rules (no females) and instead created a team of hunky guys and “totally hot” Blaze running all over the world killing Hellspawn in unrealistic ways. No surprise, the show was a hit and annoyed the Vatican to no end. In this case Riley agreed with Rome. Because the show was a hit, the public thought that demon hunters were the same as the trappers. Demonland just made Riley’s job that much harder.

  Now that she saw her in person, Blaze seemed prettier on screen. That never worked when someone filmed Riley: She was usually covered in something vile and smelly.

  Let her take on a real demon and see what happens.

  Since the Vatican wouldn’t deal with these guys, the trappers had been asked to help increase the “accuracy” of the show. Yet time passed and there was no request for assistance or advice.

  Riley huffed in annoyance. “Why do I think we’re here just to build up the show’s street cred?”

  “I got that impression too. Well, at least we’re being paid for our time.” Reynolds studied the surrounding area. “They’ve got some stones setting up in the middle of Demon Central. A Three could do a lot of damage to their fancy equipment.”

  He was right. “You think we should split up, keep an eye out for trouble?”

  “Yeah, I do. The Threes are getting more aggressive, working in teams now.”

  “What? I thought that was because of Ozy—” She paused, aware that someone might overhear them discussing the necromancer-enhanced Hellspawn they’d battled at the cemetery. “I thought we had that all sorted out.”

  “We did, but the everyday demons learned from the others. They’ve adopted new tactics.”

  “Thanks, Reynolds,” she muttered. “You’ve made my night.”

  With a sigh, Riley trudged to the far side of the set so between them they would have a clear field of vision in case of trouble. Crew hurried past her, doing whatever folks did on a television series. It made no sense to her, but the end result were weekly episodes of a show that her friends adored.

  After more discussion with a goateed guy in a Demonland T-shirt—Riley pegged him as the director—Blaze took her place in front of the cameras. She seemed displeased, but so would anyone forced to wear stiletto boots, butt-hugging jeans, and a chokingly tight spandex top. She was joined by a male actor, and it took Riley a bit to recognize this was Jess Storm, the one Brandy thought was so babelicious. He was sort of cute, but he had nothing on Beck.

  The thought of Backwoods Boy made her frown. She’d expected at least a phone call, a “Hi, how ya doin’, Princess?” Instead, she’d been given the silent treatment for daring to speak from her heart.

  “Jerk,” she grumbled.

  Riley pulled her attention away from the actors, scanning the surrounding area for anything furry and ravenous. There was something that fit that description under one of the catering tables—a sleek rat. Her father claimed they were like canaries in a mine: As long as the rodent wasn’t freaked, things were good. They did seem to have a sixth sense when it came to Threes, mostly because they were high on the fiends’ menu, along with trappers and fat pigeons.

  The director joined the actors, an assistant at his elbow. You could always tell that species—a clipboard was a required fashion accessory.

  “Okay, let’s get this in the can,” their boss ordered. “In this scene you two are going to argue about the previous night’s near tryst, then Jess rescues you from a demon.”

  “Come on, Arnold,” the actress complained. “Raphael rescued me last week and Jess the week before. I’m not liking where we’re headed here. I used to take down demons on my own.”

  “The ratings show the female demographic likes the guys saving your butt,” the director replied. “Besides, it’s more realistic.”

  Riley nearly gagged. Realistic? You have got to be kidding me.

  When Blaze actually growled under her breath, she smiled. Maybe the actress wasn’t such an airhead after all.

  The first take went down in flames—Jess flubbed his lines. From the whispered remarks of a couple of crew members it was a common occurrence. Three more takes and it still wasn’t going right. Tempers were growing short and the poor guy portraying the demon was having trouble with his costume since one of his clawed feet kept falling off.

  Hollywood magic at its best. It was best her friends never knew about this side of the show.

  They were partway through the fourth take when one of the main lights snapped off, causing the director to swear in colorful terms. Clearly this wasn’t something that happened that often.

  Riley did another quick rodent check and found that it had dropped its morsel and was on its hind feet, peering into the night, nose twitching frantically. Then with a squeak it took off, bolting for the nearest hole.

  She set off along the perimeter of the set, pulling out a Holy Water sphere and the steel pipe as she maneuvered her way over the tangle of electrical cables. When she caught Reynolds’ eye the other trapper gave a nod and began moving in a giant circle, in the opposite direction from her. Blaze and Jess remained in the center, bickering among themselves as they waited for the lighting problem to be sorted out.

  “Come on, people. Get it together,” the director called out. “We’ve got to get this scene done before—”

  The light came back on and Riley shielded her eyes to keep it from destroying her night vision. A second later a low-pitched snarl came from somewhere nearby as a Three appeared out of the darkness near a crumbling brick wall.

  It paused, sized up the competition, and then bellowed, “Blackthorne’s Daughter!”

  This was the real deal. The demon headed right for her at top speed, claws making sparks on the pavement. Reynolds sprinted toward her, a steel pipe in hand. They didn’t need to talk strategy, there wasn’t time. The Three sped up, claws glistening in the remaining lights, drool streaming down its furry chin.

  To Riley’s astonishment, Reynolds put himself between her and the demon. He gave it a solid blow to the left shoulder, but it managed to wrap its claws around the pipe, attempting to pull the trapper into its other set of claws.

  He wisely turned the pipe loose and the thing flung the weapon at her, the cylinder tumbling end over end. Riley executed a quarter spin to avoid the missile, then flung her sphere, which crashed directly in the center of the demon’s face. The fiend howled, took a few steps forward, then did a solid face plant into the ground, scattering dust and debris in the process.

  “Yes!” Reynolds shouted, executing a fist pump. He sprinted for his pack and then dashed back with one of the steel mesh bags in hand. Between them they shoved the Gastro-Fiend into the steel prison as quickly as possible. He’d just engaged the clamps when the demon stirred and began to yowl like a banshee.

  “That was damned fine work,” her fellow trapper said. “You’re really good with those spheres.”

  Usually, she wasn’t. Did this have something to do with Ori’s protection?

  Riley rose to find the entire production crew staring at them. Most of them wore an Ohmigod, that was for real expression.

  Blaze broke into a genuine smile. “Gee, Arnold,” she said. “Looks like girls can trap demons. How’s about we make that happen on the show?”

  The director frowned.

  “That rocked,” Blaze pressed. “Admit it.”

  The man reluctantly nodded. “We’ll duplicate the scene, but without using those weird spheres.” He turned to his assistant. “Have all that broken glass swept up and we’ll do a walk-through.” Then the director shot a look toward Riley and her fellow trapper. “You two, get off the set and take that beast with you.”

  “It appears our one minute of fame is over,” Reynolds said. Riley issued an unladylike snort.

  Knowing he would handle the Three, she made her way to a canvas chair, desperately needing to rest. The whole takedown had been too close. If she’d missed with that sphere . . .

  But I didn’t. That’s what counts.

  Something made her look up, and at the edge of the set she spied a familiar figure, one whose blond hair and handsome face she’d dreamed about often enough. Beck turned and limped up the street before she had a chance to call out.

  Why are you avoiding me?

  She suspected the answer didn’t bode well for their future.