“Can you dance?” she asked before she could stop herself.

  “I can,” he said, affronted. “I’m really good with the slow songs.”

  Riley’s cheeks began to burn at the thought of the two of them pressed up tight against each other. Then reality kicked in. “Oh, I’ll need a dress and my hair done and . . . ”

  With a chuckle that said he was enjoying her minor freak-out, Beck rose and placed his nearly full cup on the bookshelf. “Then we got a date. Sorry, but I need to get goin’. I’m meetin’ Jackson down in Demon Central for a little trappin’. Need to build up my bank account.” He tapped the envelope underneath his jacket. “This helps, though. Thank you.”

  “Thanks for all the packing,” she said, gesturing toward the kitchen.

  “No sweat. You helped me out with Sadie’s stuff. When you need the truck to move, let me know.”

  Riley followed him to the door, still trying to wrap her brain around all that had happened. Then it got awkward, at least for her. What now? Beck solved the problem by leaning close and placing a quick but soft kiss on her lips.

  “See you soon, Riley.”

  She locked the door behind him and hurried to the window, trying not to trip over the packing boxes. When Beck reached his truck, he gazed up at her and waved. She returned it. Then, on impulse, she blew him a kiss. He grinned as if he’d won the lottery.

  I’m going to prom with Denver Beck.

  The moment his truck left the parking lot, Riley dove at her cell phone. She needed serious backup.

  Simi answered on the first ring. “It’s me. So talk already.”

  “Ohmigod! You are not going to believe this!”

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  Though overnight she’d acted as Ori’s sidekick, Riley’s day had been consumed by the apartment. She and her dad had never owned that much stuff, not after the condo fire, but it seemed as if somehow all her possessions had given birth to twins or triplets. Her clothes weren’t an issue but her father’s were. What did she do with them?

  Once she gave them away another part of him was gone. Still, it was silly to keep them when other folks might find them of use. After an “I’m losing it here” convo with Peter, she followed his advice and pulled out a few of her dad’s favorite garments and laid them aside. The remainder were lovingly packed into boxes to be donated.

  It was close to four and Riley was head deep in the tub, scrubbing, when the knock came at the door. Muttering under her breath about crappy timing, she opened it as far as the security chain. Then did a double take.

  “Hi,” Blaze said. “Ah, is now a good time?”

  It wasn’t, but Riley’s curiosity got the better of her. Blaze was in blue jeans and a Bon Jovi T-shirt, but nothing as tight as was required for Demonland. She had little makeup on, her hair back in a ponytail, sporting black-rimmed glasses and bright red tennis shoes. In short, she didn’t look at all like the “totally hot” demon slayer.

  Riley let the actress into the apartment after warning her it was a complete mess.

  “Moving, huh?” Blaze said, clutching a manila envelope in her hands.

  “Evicted. The management is sure I’m a threat to civilization because of my job.”

  “What? That sucks,” the woman replied. Then she abruptly stuck out her hand. “The name’s Susan, by the way.”

  They awkwardly shook. Then the manila envelope came Riley’s way.

  “Those are the autographed photos you asked for. I threw in some special stuff too. Figured your friends might like that.”

  “Wow. Thanks. They’ll be jazzed.”

  “I noticed you didn’t ask for anything for yourself. I’m guessing that’s because Blaze is not your idea of a demon hunter.”

  “Ah, no, not really,” Riley replied diplomatically. “You see, I’ve met the real dudes and . . . ”

  “That’s why I’m here. The Vatican won’t deal with us, so I wanted to talk to you about what it’s really like trapping or killing Hellspawn. I’m trying to get Arnold—he’s my director—to make our show something more than a total frat boy fantasy.”

  Riley’s suspicions kicked in. “I’m not going to say much about the battle in the cemetery, if that’s what you’re after.”

  Susan shook her head immediately. “I don’t want to know about that. I want your perspective on being a female demon trapper. Can you do that?”

  “Sure. Do you mind if I pack while we talk?”

  “Even better, I’ll help you.”

  Over the course of the next hour they packed boxes together while Riley laid out what it was like to be the lone female in a male-dominated profession. She spoke of the good parts and the bad, the amazing support she’d received, and the hate she’d encountered. She was careful not to use names, but in her own way she gave Blaze . . . Susan exactly what she needed.

  “How do you face that every day?” the actress asked, busily taping closed a box of history books Riley planned to donate to a library.

  “I just do. It’s nothing different than what other women go through. They get out of bed every morning, they do their job. Mine happens to be trapping demons.”

  Susan set the tape dispenser aside. “This is exactly what I need to know. I get letters from so many girls who want to do what I do in the show. That’s why I want Blaze to be a bit more real, you know?”

  “Can Hollywood do real?” Riley asked.

  “Sometimes. We’ll still be pretty out there with the demon hunting techniques, but I’d like to have the show layer in more of the hassles, the reality of the job. I think the viewers would like that.” She glanced at her cell phone. “Oh, I better scoot. I’m supposed to be in makeup in half an hour.”

  As Susan opened the door to leave, she hesitated. “You guys need to be careful. I’ve . . . heard rumors that the show’s producer has a mole in your Guild. He, or she, is trying to get the skinny on exactly what happened in that big battle. They want to make it into a special miniseries.”

  Susan had just ratted out a superior. That deserved respect.

  “Thank you. I’ll pass the word along without using your name. As far as I’m concerned, we just packed boxes and traded girl talk.”

  The actress smiled. “Good. You rock, by the way. Just thought I should say that.”

  “So do you,” Riley replied, and meant it.

  A short time after the actress left, Riley called her boss and let him know they had a problem, without naming her source.

  “Figured somebody would try a stunt like that,” Harper replied. “National’s background check isn’t worth spit.”

  “Do you think it’s Lambert?”

  “Could be. Or Fleming. Or one of the new ones Stewart will be training in a couple of weeks. Don’t worry, we’ll find the guy and kick his ass to the curb. Thanks for the tip.”

  After she hung up, Riley realized this was the first time Harper had thanked her for anything. She was willing to bet Lucifer and his demons were lacing up their ice skates even now.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Though a glittering array of gorgeous gowns hung on the rack in front of her, Riley shook her head.

  “You’re sure none of these would work?” Simi asked, exasperated. Which was warranted since they were on their fourth shop, the evening was drawing to a close, and Riley still hadn’t found the perfect dress. Or if she’d found one that was close, it was too expensive.

  “They’re not right for me.”

  “Explain, please,” her friend replied, grumpy as she’d not had any coffee in the last hour and that was like a full day for most people. Not even Blaze’s signed photograph had helped her withdrawal symptoms.

  Knowing Simi’s patience was about to snap, Riley treaded carefully.

  “I want something so cool it’ll make Beck’s head spin, but I can’t afford two hundred dollars. It has to be under a hundred.”

  She had her dad’s life insurance settlement, but that was supposed to last a long time, to help pay for some of her college expenses. There was no reason to spend so much of it for one dance, no matter how important it was.

  Simi’s brow wrinkled in thought. “Okay. Let’s blow out of here. We’ll get some caffeine and then we’ll go to this used clothing place I know.”

  “This was supposed to be easy,” Riley complained as they exited the store.

  “Nothing about you and the trapper dude is easy, girlfriend. So why should this be any different?”

  “What are you wearing?”

  “I found this incredible black and white dress. It’s way sexy, and Peter will love it. I’m just having trouble finding the right color tights.” Knowing Simi those tights would not be black or some other normal color. Probably Day-Glo orange.

  Once caffeine had been obtained, it was time to see what the secondhand shop had to offer. To her credit the shop’s clerk sized up the situation, factored in the spending limit, and took charge.

  “Strapless?” Riley shook her head. “High or low neck?”

  “Low is fine, but not so much that I look slutty.”

  “Classic or frilly?”

  “Classic.” That’d been her mom’s style.

  “Color?”

  “Anything but black.” She’d worn that color too much in her seventeen years.

  Like magic, gowns appeared in the dressing room. The first was really chic, a red silk number, but it was a little tight. The next was too flashy for Riley’s taste.

  Three gowns later she felt a thrill of hope. The clerk slid the next choice over her head. The zipper in the back went up, she turned toward the mirror, and . . . She’d found the perfect dress.

  Rich royal blue velvet clung to her body in ways that astounded her, with tiny satin ribbon rosettes edging the neckline. It revealed the right amount of cleavage, draped over her hips, and was the proper length for a pair of low heels.

  She looked anxiously at Simi. “What do you think?”

  A purple thumb shot up. “That’s it. You look ah-mazing.”

  “How much?” Riley asked, crossing her fingers.

  “Seventy-five,” the clerk replied.

  That left enough cash to buy a long slip and maybe a pair of pantyhose. Giddy, Riley executed a test swirl in front of the mirror. The princess had found her gown for the ball.

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  Beck leaned against the wall of Riley’s new bedroom, trying to catch his breath. “You just had to be on the third floor, didn’t you?” he wheezed.

  She would have razzed him about being some old guy, but she was too busy trying to breathe as well. The worst was over. The mattress, box springs, headboard and frame, and the dresser were upstairs now. That left some boxes, and her clothes, stuff she could handle on her own.

  Beck wiped sweat from his forehead. “If you move again, it’d damn well better be into a place without a lot of stairs, like my house.”

  It took Riley a bit to realize what he’d said. Had it been a slip of the tongue? You never knew with him. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, trying not to read too much into his words.

  Digging in his backpack, he came up with a pile of papers.

  “This is the back part of yer daddy’s trappin’ manual. You’ve pretty much blown past all that, so I thought you should have it so it’ll be complete.”

  She took the pages and thanked him. After they assembled the bed, Beck took off, limping more than usual. He had stuff to do, he said, but she knew better than to ask exactly what that might be.

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  Beck’s first stop after the move was a florist shop where he needed to determine exactly what kind of flowers Riley might like and where she’d wear them. The choices were mind-boggling. After that harrowing decision, he moved on to the next stop, a new suit. Stewart had recommended a store that wasn’t too expensive, but would make sure he received a proper fit.

  This datin’ business isn’t easy.

  He’d never gone to this trouble with Louisa, but back then there hadn’t been money for a suit or flowers or any of that. Lou had been heartbroken when he’d not asked her to the prom, but deep down she knew why. Instead, she went to the dance with Cole. It was the same night Beck had gotten into the drunken knife fight with Mr. Walker, and then exiled to Atlanta for his sins. Now he had a chance to reclaim a part of life he’d missed, and he’d be damned if anything, or anybody, would ruin it.

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  The final part of the move was the hardest: scrubbing out the old apartment so Riley could get the damage deposit returned. It took her over five hours, and she even vacuumed the heating vents. Once the apartment was tidy, she hauled the cleaning supplies down to her car, then made the final trip back inside the building.

  Standing at the open door, she studied the empty apartment. No lumpy couch, no cat hair fluff balls on the floor. What would the next renter do with the space? Paint the walls something other than industrial tan? Would they share as much love as she and her father had?

  She walked into the middle of the living room and began to catalog those memories, filing them away, one by one. Without thinking, she touched the demon claw necklace where it rested under her shirt. Beck had given it to her here. Simon had been here as well, taking her out for hot chocolate. Even Justine had woven her way into the weft of this story.

  There was a gentle cough behind her and she turned to find her neighbor, Mrs. Litinsky, at the door. Max, her cat, sauntered into Riley’s apartment and parked himself for a paw wash. Mrs. L had watched over her when she’d been so sick with the demon wound, and the cat had comforted her after her father’s death. They were part of her life.

  “All done?” Mrs. Litinsky asked.

  “Yes. I . . . it’s so hard to leave,” Riley said, the sadness welling up again.

  Max began to nose around the empty room. She’d really miss him and her little demon roommate who had mysteriously disappeared right after the events at the cemetery.

  “You will come and visit us, please?” the old woman said. “We’ll miss you.”

  “I will, I promise.”

  They shared a tender hug as the old woman touched Riley’s hair with fondness. “Your father would be very proud of you.”

  Her eyes brimmed. “Thank you for watching over me,” she said. She looked down at Max who was now batting at her shoelace. “Both of you.”

  A short time later, Riley had handed over the keys, survived the super’s fussy inspection, and received the damage deposit refund. Now, as she sat in the car, she took one final look at the building that had been her home.

  “Goodbye past. Hello future. I hope it’s way better.”

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  It was nearly ten in the evening before Riley had everything exactly the way she wanted it. It’d taken forever because she’d move something into a new location, then move it back to where it had been before. It was good that Beck wasn’t here or he’d have lost his mind.

  She’d placed her parents’ pictures on the top of an old bookcase Mrs. Ayers had scrounged from the attic. On the shelf below were two trapping manuals: hers and her dad’s. In between was the cat-framed picture of the two of them, then a picture of Riley and her mom. She placed the teenage Beck photo right next to it.

  “Need some plants,” she mumbled, adding that to a list she had on her computer table. As long as she remembered to water them, they’d thrive with all the sunshine in the turret.

  Her phone rang. It was Beck. “Hey, guy. How’s it going?”

  “Just fine, Princess. How’s the new place?”

  “Good. I like it here. It feels right.”

  “Glad to hear that. Jackson and me are headed to some buildin’ in south Atlanta. Neighbors said somethin’ about a Three down here so we’ll check it out.”

  “You guys be careful. I do not want you to be all chewed up for the dance.”

  “I’ll make sure I’m not,” he said, then laughed. “You sleep well and I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  Smiling, Riley set herself and the phone on the couch. Lounging back, her arms behind her head, she sent a longing gaze at the formal dress hanging in a door frame. She was going on a date with Denver Beck. Simi’s stylist was going to do her hair and nails. This was really going to happen.

  “Please, let everything be awesome,” she prayed. “No demons, no weird Allan. Let it be wonderful, okay?”

  Just once she’d like everything to go right, for her and Den to have the most beautiful evening together. The kind of night other girls got without having to pray.

  As she daydreamed of what that might be like, something caught her eye. Looking over, she spied the tiny form of a Klepto-Fiend creeping along her new bookshelf, loot bag over his shoulder. It was the demon from her apartment, and since Stewart didn’t ward his house with Holy Water, it’d apparently moved along with her.

  “Hey!” she said. “Are you nuts? This is a grand master’s house.”

  The little Magpie paused, then shrugged like it was no big deal.

  “Try not to steal anything he’ll miss, okay? I don’t want him to kick me out.”

  A series of high-pitched noises returned, probably the Hellspawn version of “Whatever.” With a sudden blur of motion, her perpetual roomie was gone. Now the place felt like home.

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  The swirling Chicago snowstorm nearly blinded Riley, but it seemed to have no effect on the angel standing beside her.

  “I can’t see a thing,” she complained. Or feel much for that matter as the chill seemed to drill right into her bones.

  “Use your senses,” Ori retorted.

  “My senses can’t see anything either, okay? What kind of demon is out in this kind of weather anyway?”

  “The kind that we need to kill,” he replied. “It is a traitor to the Prince.”