Perhaps that was what Heaven had in mind all along.

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  After Stewart left, Beck had sat unmoving for a long time, working things out in his head. As the afternoon faded to twilight he didn’t bother to turn on a lamp. He didn’t fear the dark now that he’d been to Hell and seen the worst.

  Finally, he reached for the phone and dialed Riley. “Hey, Princess.” He sighed. “I’m missin’ you.”

  “I’m missing you too . . . Grand Master Beck.”

  He closed his eyes in thought. “Not there yet.”

  “But you will be one day, Den.”

  “So it seems. Now come on home. I need you here.” Everythin’ is better when yer with me.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  It was nearly ten days before Beck was well enough to leave the house. Though Riley had intended to make the trip to the cemetery on her own, he insisted on accompanying her. And then insisted on walking from the west entrance rather than having her drive to the mausoleum.

  “I need to build myself back up,” he said. “I got plans and they don’t involve lyin’ around in a bed the rest of my life.”

  “Dude, you’re going to be trashed when this is over.”

  He didn’t disagree, but kept moving down the asphalt path, albeit at a slower pace. It was right after sunrise—she hadn’t wanted Beck out much earlier—and the cemetery was tranquil. The mornings were warmer now and the flower beds alive with the merry colors of the daffodils and crocuses. In the distance rain clouds were moving in, but at present the sun lit their way.

  They held hands as they walked, trading small talk. When they reached her family’s mausoleum Beck sank onto the steps, exhausted. As he rested, Riley tidied up her parents’ graves and laid the bouquets of flowers she’d bought on each patch of earth. Soon she’d need to have a marker made for her father, one that would be in harmony with her mom’s. His bones weren’t there, of course, but that didn’t matter. She wanted people to know who he was and that he was loved even in death.

  In time, she returned to sit next to Beck. He was breathing easier now, less winded.

  “I wish there was some marker for Ori, you know?”

  “Where do you think he is?”

  She shrugged. “Probably somewhere in the darkness and that makes me sad. He needs to see the Light.”

  A robin flitted from one tree to the next as traffic noises came from the city to the west. Then the noises stilled. Riley rose, checking out the landscape. Someone was watching them.

  “What’s wrong?” Beck asked.

  She felt a familiar presence. “It’s Lucifer.”

  The Prince of Hell stood near the spot where Ori had once been a statue. His armor was gone, replaced by black jeans and a shirt. He appeared more like she remembered him, not like the ferocious ruler she’d seen in Hell. If she was right, there was more silver in his hair now, as if somehow Prince of Demons had aged during this ordeal.

  Riley descended the stairs, nervous at being in his presence once again. “Thank you for honoring the favor you owed me,” she said. It never hurt to be polite, even to the Chief of the Fallen.

  “I never should have given you that boon,” Lucifer replied tartly. “I knew Ori would eventually win your soul, but I thought he would promptly offer it to me. Instead, he accepted your outrageous bargain, which means you’re now free of Hell. For the time being, of course.”

  She drew in a quick breath. “Ori did what was right.”

  “He did as I commanded, but his heart was in service to another master,” Lucifer said coolly. “He never should have left Heaven. I knew it was a mistake for him to join me in exile.”

  The Prince moved his attention to her boyfriend, studying him with renewed interest. “Ah, the angel killer. You’re legendary in Hell now, Denver Beck. Does it not trouble you that you murdered a Divine, one of His creation?”

  “I’m good with it,” Beck replied bluntly. “Sartael was an evil bastard who killed innocent folks just to feed his madness. I won’t ever regret puttin’ him down.”

  A knowing nod returned. Lucifer’s attention turned back to Riley. “I can anticipate your next question, Blackthorne’s Daughter: Ori currently resides in the void, as I cannot return him to Heaven. Nor would I.”

  “He needs to be somewhere he can see the Light,” Riley said. “It meant so much to him. It would give him hope.”

  “What are you willing to pay in return for this freedom?”

  She had known it would come to that. “Nothing. As I see it, you owe us. We helped you get rid of a dangerous rival who caused nothing but trouble in your realm.”

  “I would have destroyed Sartael eventually.”

  “True,” Beck replied, “but we just made it quicker. Now you can get on with rulin’ Hell.”

  “You’re not willing to offer your soul for Ori’s freedom?” the Prince pushed.

  “No,” they both replied at once.

  “We’ve paid enough as it is,” Beck added, gesturing toward Paul’s grave.

  “And what of the favor you owe me, Riley Anora Blackthorne?”

  She turned over her right hand to reveal the palm and the absence of Hell’s brand. “Seems I no longer owe you one.”

  Lucifer sighed wearily. “I must be losing my touch.” He idly waved a hand. “It is done. My former servant Ori may now watch the sunrise each morning, however that will benefit him.”

  “Thank you,” Riley whispered.

  “Mark me, he may one day be forgiven and return to Heaven, though I doubt he’ll find comfort there. The others of our kind do not share in the endless well of mercy.”

  Beck rose wearily. “You planned this all along, didn’t you? Ever since Paul’s soul became yours.”

  “I saw certain possibilities when Sartael began to work against me. I suspected his servants would try to free him, so I let them. That way I knew who they were and then they could be destroyed.”

  “But you didn’t destroy them. You left that to us,” Beck said.

  “The ones that accompanied Sartael, yes. The ones still in my realm?” Lucifer’s eyes glittered. “I took care of those personally. The question of who rules in Hell has been answered . . . in blood.”

  A shiver crept up Riley’s spine.

  “Which, I suspect, was the whole point of the exercise,” he continued. “When I rebelled, my punishment was to have my own kingdom, with my own servants, so that I could learn exactly what it meant to rule over others. How it is not as simple as issuing commands and expecting loyalty in return. How servants can turn on you so very easily.”

  “Would you go back to Heaven if you could?” Beck asked.

  Lucifer’s jaw tightened. “Ah, that age-old question—Is it better to reign in Hell than to serve in Heaven? I do not know the answer. I detest the demons and all their corrupt intrigues. They are truly abominations. Still, I am master in my world, for good or ill. I shall remain so until my role is deemed complete.”

  “At the End of Days,” Riley said.

  The Prince’s expression flattened. “We are done here, Blackthorne’s Daughter. Your favor has been fulfilled. Best not to summon me in the future or you will regret it.” He gave her one last long look, then vanished. The birds immediately began to chirp again, as if relieved at his departure.

  “He’s not done with us,” Riley observed.

  “Didn’t figure so,” Beck said. “At least we have a good idea how he plays his games now.”

  “If you had to, could you kill him?” she asked.

  Her boyfriend shook his head. “Sartael’s arrogance was his weakness. Lucifer’s more calculatin’ and he’d be difficult to defeat. And if I did, who would take his place? Another Sartael?”

  “True.” She caressed his cheek. “You’re getting more like Stewart every day.”

  “Don’t think that’s too bad,” Beck admitted. “But I’m not puttin’ on one of those skirt things he wears.”

  “You’d be hot in a kilt, dude.”

  “Not happenin’. No way.” Beck turned back toward the mausoleum. “Rest in peace, Paul,” he said. “I’ll watch over yer girl for you.”

  “Don’t worry, Dad, I’ll keep Beck in line. Like you did.”

  He acted as if he hadn’t heard her. Instead, he stared up at the roof of the structure, entranced.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Checkin’ out the new gargoyle,” he said.

  “Yeah, they’re way creepy.” Then it hit her that he’d said new gargoyle.

  She followed his gaze and gasped. There had always been four lion-faced grotesques on the mausoleum, one for each corner. Now there was a fifth. It was slightly bigger than the others, wings rounded and with a face she knew intimately. It was precisely positioned toward the east so it could catch the dawn’s rays.

  “Its Ori!” Lucifer had turned him into a gargoyle. Or placed his soul into one.

  “Good view of the sunrise,” Beck said. “He could do worse.”

  “He’ll be there for centuries, at least until the building is no more. Then maybe they’ll let him back in Heaven.”

  “Or not. You heard Lucifer’s warnin’ about that.”

  “Well, at least he’s at peace right now,” she replied. Like my dad.

  “Makes you wonder how many of those things used to be angels,” Beck said.

  “No wonder they creep me out.”

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  When they returned from the cemetery Beck went to sleep, worn out from the exercise. It was nearly one when he awoke and invited her to his bed. There, with the sound of rain on the roof, they made love for the first time since he’d been injured. It was a tender, careful joining, a rebirth for both of them.

  After their passion had ebbed, Beck felt a profound peace settle inside of him. He knew it was because of the woman lying next to him. “I love you, Princess,” he whispered.

  “I love you, Hero.”

  “I’m no—” Her finger silenced him.

  “You’ve always been my hero, Denver Beck. Just accept that, and it’ll make the next fifty years a lot easier.”

  He knew better than to argue.

  THIRTY-NINE

  July 2018

  Atlanta, Georgia

  Riley loitered outside the law library as she waited for the her apprentices to get themselves organized. The exact same library she’d damaged a few months before. The librarian had another Biblio-Fiend in residence and she’d insisted that Paul’s daughter be the one to trap it. The universe had a truly bizarre sense of humor.

  This time she wouldn’t be working solo since it was her job as a new journeyman trapper to help train the latest batch of apprentices. They were a mixed lot— the eldest was forty years old, a former DJ at a radio station. The next youngest was in his late twenties and a computer wizard. Harper had already decided this guy was going to excel at trapping Techno-Fiends. The third was a redheaded girl in her early twenties, proving Riley’s stint as the only female in the Atlanta Guild was drawing to a close. She had blazed the trail and now it was time for others to make their mark.

  The three were lined up in front of her, but there was no smirking or disdain. Ever since video footage of her battling an Archangel had found its way onto the internet, she was someone to be taken seriously. In fact, there were rumors that Hollywood wanted to do a spin-off of Demonland, the lead character being somebody a lot like Riley Blackthorne.

  Just what I need.

  As she was about to lead her charges into the library, her cell phone rang. She’d been expecting this call since Beck was about to sit the National Guild’s exam for master demon trapper.

  “Give me a sec, guys,” she said, then stepped away from them for privacy.

  “Hey, lady,” Beck called down the line. “Lie to me and tell me this is goin’ to go okay.”

  “You’ll be fine. You’ve memorized the exam’s questions, you know the answers, and they’ll give you plenty of time to answer them.” They’d even allowed him to type his answers into a computer, since writing was so painfully slow for him. “You will pass this, Beck. No question in my mind.”

  “God, I hope so. I’ve never been this nervous. Well, except when I asked ya to wear my ring.”

  He really was worried if he was back to using “ya.”

  “Take your time and ask if you don’t understand something,” Riley advised. “The masters want you to pass, so don’t worry.”

  A long sigh came down the phone. “I wish I had yer confidence.”

  “Dude, you took out an Archangel. An exam is nothing, okay?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Once you’re done, we’ll go out for food and celebrate.”

  Beck perked up. “Yeah, that’d be good. Maybe I’ll have a couple of beers and we can play a few games of pool.”

  Armageddon Lounge, here we come. Dating a Georgia boy wasn’t for wimps.

  “Sounds good. Now go kick some butt.”

  “Love ya, Riley girl.”

  “Love you, Den. Later.”

  The interior of the library didn’t look much different, and neither did the librarian. The former was in good shape—bookshelves all in perfect alignment—while the latter was as neatly dressed as always.

  “Any chance of a recurrence of your last visit’s issues?” the woman asked.

  “No. That Grade Five demon is dead and none of the others would dare try that stunt now.”

  Once the paperwork was completed, Riley channeled her father the teacher.

  “Alright, pay attention because I will be quizzing you at the end of this trapping run.”

  Riley walked them to the entrance to the Rare Books Room and laid down a double line of Holy Water, both inside and outside the door because you can never be too paranoid. Then she went in search of the demon in question. Once she’d found evidence of its destruction, the plastic cup came out of her backpack.

  “You trap with a sippy cup?” the older guy said, taken aback.

  “Demon trappers have jack for a budget so you use what you can find. A Grade One demon fits inside one of these and if you screw the lid on correctly, it can’t get out.”

  “And if you don’t screw on the lid right?”

  He’d taken the bait like she’d hoped. “Then it’ll get loose while you’re driving and you just might nearly rear-end a cop. Been there, done that. Learn from my mistakes.”

  Riley heard a chuckle from one of the nearby tables. It was the hunky guy who’d dissed her after the previous trapping debacle. She frowned him into silence and went back to the hands-on instruction.

  “See there, between the Constitutional law book and the one on civil procedure?” she said, pointing upward.

  All three of her newbies followed her finger and then stared in fascination at the Biblio-Fiend rending his way through a volume devoted to maritime law.

  “It’s way ugly,” the girl trapper whispered.

  The demon hissed in response and Riley knew what was coming next.

  “You might want to step back,” she warned. Two streams came at them: one of green pee and the other of Hellish obscenities.

  “Eww. That stinks,” the young guy said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “Lesson number two,” Riley began. “Demon trapping is never like you see on television. It’s a dirty job.”

  “But someone has to do it?” the younger dude suggested.

  “Yeah. And now it’s your job. Let’s get this pest out of here before he does any more damage.”

  It went down like clockwork—deploy Herman Melville’s demon-stunning prose, collect comatose fiend, drop it into sippy cup, and then tighten down the lid.

  “Sweet!” the girl trapper replied. “When do we get to do that?”

  “Next week. Read up on Biblio-Fiends in your manual and then we’ll start having you guys trap these things.”

  The older apprentice eyed her. “It can’t be that easy. There has to be a catch.”

  Riley was really beginning to like this dude. He had just enough life experience to be cynical.

  “Yes, there is a catch or two. Let’s get the paperwork signed and then I’ll tell you exactly what happens when you screw things up.”

  “Another been there, done that?” the guy asked.

  “Totally.”

  The Biblio woke and promptly flipped them off, which earned it a laugh in response. Then it glared up at Riley. “Blackthorne’s Daughter,” it said, using both middle fingers this time.

  “Why does it do that?” one of the apprentices asked.

  “Because Hell isn’t very fond of me.”

  Which was an understatement.

  As the apprentices chattered among themselves, Riley followed them out of the library. This time there were no EMTs or news vans, no upset Backwoods Boy or frantic phone calls from her father. Just a quiet campus on a gloriously warm late July morning. Life had come full circle.

  Riley found herself smiling at how things had turned out. In September, Beck would be off to Scotland to begin the first phase of his grand master training. Uncharacteristically, he’d obsessed about every little detail, alternately jazzed and incredibly spooked. To put his mind at ease, she’d agreed to house-sit while he was gone, watching over Rennie. Relieved, he’d hinted that maybe they should make that a permanent arrangement when he returned, then invited her to come visit him during his training. She knew what he had in mind.

  He’ll propose in Scotland on my birthday.

  There was no doubt as to what her answer would be.

  When Riley’s life had been so terribly bad and there seemed no end to trouble, misery upon misery heaped on her, her father had always reassured her that everything would be okay. For a long time, okay was as good as it could be.

  Now all those dark days and nights had spun themselves into a promising future that shone like gold. She was a journeyman trapper and caretaker of Denver Beck’s heart. Even Hell knew her name. Blackthorne’s Daughter would never settle for “okay” ever again.