A few people noticed her but none of them posed a threat. One girl about her own age gave her a thumbs-up, and called out, “Wicked hair!” Riley grinned. She’d never been one of the cool kids in school, not with both parents being teachers.

  As she trolled down through the bins of used clothes, she spied a gray hoodie with a winged design on the front. She checked the price—two dollars—and held it up against her to test the size. That works. A few bins later she found a black backpack. She loved her messenger bag but it wasn’t doing the trick: everything ended up in a jumble at the bottom of the thing. It was annoying if she was hunting for her lip gloss. It was dangerous when she was fumbling for a Holy Water sphere to lob at a demon, especially when every second counted. Like I’ll ever be able to trap again. She pushed that gloomy thought aside.

  Riley checked her wallet and bartered the price down to five bucks for both items. Once outside the shop she moved her belongings from one pack to the other, including her father’s research into the history of Holy Water. As she held the sheaf of papers, it made her smile. No matter if he was reanimate or not, Paul Blackthorne would always be an academic.

  At the bottom of her messenger bag, she found the chamois pouch her witch friend Ayden had given her. She’d forgotten about that. Ayden had said she should put items into it that mattered to her. Right now it only held a little dirt from her father’s grave. Once everything was transferred to the new backpack, she folded up the messenger bag and crammed it inside. When she left Atlanta, she’d need both to carry her stuff.

  Riley scanned the street again. There were no hunter vans, but Peter King sat on a brick wall near a tattoo parlor, studying something on his cell phone. She crossed the street and sat about ten feet away from him. He shot her a quick look and went back to texting someone.

  If her best friend didn’t recognize her, this whole magic thing might work.

  Peter looked different, too, scruffier and less nerdy. Though nothing as dramatic as her transformation, but he wasn’t wearing his glasses, which suggested he’d finally gotten a pair of contacts. His brown hair was spikier, something his mother never would have let him get away with. Her moving out of the house and back to Illinois, leaving Peter’s dad in charge, seemed to have been a catalyst for a few changes.

  Though she was eager to talk to him, Riley scouted the area again. Once she was reasonably sure her friend hadn’t been followed, she moved closer to him. Peter gave her a longer look this time and frowned. It had to be because of all her body jewelry.

  “Hi,” she said, lowering her voice below what was normal for her. It made her sound like she had a cold.

  “Hi,” he replied, then returned to his phone.

  Score one for Mort.

  “Peter?” she said in her usual voice. His eyes whipped back to her. “What do you think of the new Riley?” she asked, teasingly.

  His eyebrows shot up. “Whoa! Get out of here. Have you seen yourself in a mirror?”

  She stuck out her tongue, knowing what he’d do next.

  “Oh, God,” he said, grimacing. “You know I hate tongue studs. I can’t believe you got one. And your hair is awful.”

  Riley laughed and moved closer to him. “It’s all magic. I have this bracelet that does it. I take it off, and I’m me again.”

  “You’re joking, right? No, you’re not. So where have you been hiding?”

  She leaned over and whispered the location in his ear.

  “He’s the necro who helped you with the magic?” She nodded. “Well, it works.” Peter frowned. “Is that a tattoo of a vampire bat on your neck?”

  “Yup. Admit it, it’s cool.”

  “Yeah, it is,” he said grudgingly.

  She took a quick look around. “I found my dad. He’s staying at Mort’s.”

  “Go you!” Peter said and they executed a high five. Then he quickly sobered at what that really meant. “What’s he like now?”

  “He’s sorta like when you’ve been up all night cramming for a test. There are moments of brilliance followed by long stretches of totally zoned.”

  “That sucks.” Peter rose, stuffing his phone into a pocket, eager to be on the move. “Remind me never to get reanimated.”

  “That’s two of us, dude.”

  FIVE

  Riley grinned at the role reversal. “I could get used to this,” she said, as Peter weaved his car between two horse-drawn carriages. “Usually, I have to drive you around.”

  Her friend looked over at her, made a face at her disguise, and returned his eyes to the road. “Dad said I can borrow the car as long as I put gas in it. Which means I won’t be taking it too often if I want a new computer this year.”

  “Parents are devious like that,” Riley said. “They give you something with one hand, then take it back with the other.”

  “Why do the hunters want you?”

  “I’ll explain later.”

  Peter gave her a worried look. “You never stall unless it’s something really bad.”

  “That would be right.”

  Belatedly, Riley realized that the car was not heading toward her apartment. “Hey, where are we going?”

  “To the Holy Water plant we checked out the other day. We need to do a stakeout and see what’s really going on in there.”

  “What? I’m a fugitive from justice,” she replied. “I do not have time to babysit some idiot building. I need to get out of this town.” Before I lose my nerve.

  Peter shook his head. “That’s exactly what the hunters are counting on. They have to be watching every bus and train station. The airport, too. And don’t even think about going to your apartment.”

  “I have to get my money. You know I can’t keep it in the bank, not with the debt collectors swarming around.” Her mother’s death had left behind a sizeable loan for her medical care, and now that Riley’s dad was dead she was the collectors’ prime target. If she put money in a bank account they just siphoned it off.

  “If you run, they’ll hunt you down like a rabid dog. You need leverage with these guys, something to bargain with, and if we can bust that scam, it will be your ticket to freedom.”

  “But—”

  “I’m dead serious, Riley,” he retorted, his voice rising. “Since you’re in my car, you’ll just have to deal.”

  She had never heard Peter so intense before, and that told her he wasn’t taking her anywhere he didn’t want to go.

  I shouldn’t have called him. I should have just left town on my own.

  “We’ll do what we can at the plant,” Peter said, quieter now. “If we’re lucky, we’ll get a break, and then you can tell the hunters you busted the Holy Water scam.”

  Which would be a big clue that Riley wasn’t on Hell’s payroll.

  The bogus Holy Water problem was a recent development where someone was substituting tap water for the consecrated liquid. Good Holy Water allowed the trappers to capture Hellspawn, at least some of the smaller varieties. Bad Holy Water equaled dead trappers.

  “You’re not giving me a choice in this, are you?”

  Peter shook his head. “Got to keep you off the streets.”

  His friendship had always been rock-solid. Would it survive once he knew about her and the angel?

  It took time, but Peter eventually reached the recycling plant in East Point and parked the car in what looked to be as safe a location as any.

  “If this ride gets trashed, I am so dead,” he said.

  “We’ll keep an eye on it somehow.”

  Peter studied their surroundings. “That building looks to be the place,” he said, pointing at a structure across the street from the recycling plant. It was abandoned, windows broken out, the inside trashed. Perfect for their purposes.

  “Let’s check out the roof,” he suggested.

  Claiming their gear, they trudged over to find that the fire escape was missing. That wasn’t unexpected: Metal was worth money, and with so many out of work, scavenging a sizeable piece would be like finding a bag of cash on the street.

  The sun was setting as they entered the building. The place reminded Riley of Master Harper’s shop after the Geo-Fiend had trashed it. The roof was intact, but some of the interior walls had tumbled into heaps of broken bricks. Graffiti marked the ones that were still intact. As expected, the place building stank of mold, dust, and urine.

  “Somebody needs to do some housekeeping,” Riley grumbled, nearly falling when a brick shifted under her foot. It seemed that there was another obstruction every few feet.

  “On second thought, this could be a bad idea,” Peter said. “You saw all the needles and stuff, didn’t you?”

  Riley had seen those and tried to ignore them, though they meant that the local druggies used the place to do their business. “It’s the best location to watch the plant.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not the safest,” he replied, no doubt trying to be the voice of reason. “Maybe we can find another place.”

  “No, it’ll do.”

  They had to work together to shift a large timber that blocked the stairway before they headed up to the roof. After they passed the first landing, Peter turned back. “Hold on.” He began moving junk back in place. “We don’t want anyone to know we’re up here.”

  There were three flights, and all were a gauntlet of debris. Finally, her friend shoved open the rickety wooden door to the roof. The floor underneath their feet felt solid, but they inched their way to the side closest to the plant with great care.

  “Well, that’s a good sign,” Peter said. “No needles. That means the junkies don’t come up here.”

  “But the birds do,” Riley said, scooping away droppings with the toe of her tennis shoe.

  “Birds I’m good with. Drugged-out crazies don’t do it for me.”

  It took Peter a few minutes to line up exactly where he wanted to set up camp. From experience, Riley had learned to back off and let him do what he wanted. He had this organizational gene that had to be exercised every now and then. She’d never tell him, but she suspected it came from his mother’s side of the family.

  Peter announced he’d found the perfect location and began to unpack his backpack and large black bag. First out was a piece of heavy-grade plastic like you’d use when you were painting your house. He spread that on the asphalt roof, then placed a heavy blanket on top of it. Out came a camera and a tripod, followed by a notebook, bottles of water, beef jerky, power bars, and his phone.

  “You really are scaring me, dude,” Riley said, making sure to smile while she said it. “Look at all this. You’d think you were sitting vigil in the graveyard or something.”

  “I doubt any necros are going to be bothering us tonight.” He eyed her. “So what did you bring? Lip gloss and a hairbrush?”

  Smirking, she unpacked the sandwiches Mort’s cook had made for her, along with an ample slice of chocolate cake. “You owe me an apology.”

  “Omigod, it’s a feast! Okay, you’re forgiven.” He looked up from the food and grimaced. “Your disguise is making my eyes bleed.”

  The bracelet also sapped her energy. When she undid the snaps and set it aside, the relief was instant. That’s better.

  Once they were settled, they each ate a sandwich and divided the slice of the cake. Peter shared his beef jerky. Riley found she actually liked the stuff, and, according to Peter, there was a side benefit—they wouldn’t have to pee as often, not with all the salt.

  As each truck rolled up to the plant, Riley recorded the times and license-plate numbers in her friend’s notebook while Peter dutifully took pictures and video. Once the truck rumbled off, he would lean back against the short brick wall and stuff his hands in his pockets to stay warm. After the third truck, her friend pinned his gaze on her.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, we are now on stakeout across from the recycling plant. Time to tell me why the Demon Hunters have decided you’re Public Enemy Number One.”

  Riley wasn’t sure how to start. “They’re after me…” she began.

  Silence. He wasn’t going to make this easy.

  “Because of Ori. I met him at the market. He said he was a freelance demon hunter trying to kill the Five that murdered my dad. He saved my life at the Tabernacle, so I believed everything he told me.”

  “Is that the dude Simi was raving about?”

  It appeared Riley’s friends had been talking about her social life. That was unnerving.

  “Yeah, that’s him. He killed that Five at Harper’s place last night and— ” She paused.

  Peter knew some of what she was talking about when it came to the different kinds of demons, but not all the details. Trappers ranked Hellspawn according to cunning and their ability to kill. Grade One demons were nuisances while Grade Fives were so ferocious they could destroy whole cities. It was important her friend understand exactly why she had come to trust Ori.

  “A Five is really dangerous. It creates earthquakes and windstorms. The demon that attacked us flattened Harper’s place. If Ori hadn’t come to our rescue, we’d both be dead.”

  Her companion frowned. “Go on.”

  She had to tell someone, and Peter was more like a brother than a friend.

  Riley took a deep breath. “I met Ori at the cemetery later and we…” Her voice hitched. “We spent the night together.”

  “Together like … together?” Peter asked, his voice rising along with both eyebrows.

  She swallowed hard. “Yes.”

  “I thought you’d never…” His voice trailed off.

  “No, not until last night.” Just tell him all of it. “There’s something else. Ori’s an angel, wings and all. Honest.”

  Her friend stared at her. “You went horizontal with an angel in a graveyard? Isn’t that like blasphemy or something?” he spouted.

  Riley’s cheeks burned in acute embarrassment. “Probably. After we … I found out he works for Lucifer. Ori’s a Fallen angel, and he’s after my soul.”

  Peter’s mouth fell open in shock.

  “Oh, and I got to talk to the Prince himself. He’s one spooky guy, that’s for sure.”

  Her friend’s brain reengaged. “You got hot and heavy with a Fallen angel, then you chatted up the Prince of Hell?”

  “Yeah. I owe Lucifer a favor, so he doesn’t let Ori kill everyone I love.” Like you.

  “A favor,” Peter said flatly, then swiped a palm across his chin. “What about the soul part?” he asked, quieter now.

  “It’s still mine.” She laughed bitterly. “Lucifer didn’t want it. He said I was better as a free agent, whatever that means. And I owe Heaven a favor, too. That’s why Hell came after me.”

  Peter pushed off from the roof and stalked a few feet away, his back to her. “Please tell me this is all some kind of a sick joke.”

  “It’s the truth. All of it. That’s why hunters are after me.”

  “How did they find out?” Peter asked, swiveling toward her now.

  “I think Beck ratted me out. I went to his house this morning and told him what had happened. He was furious, Peter. I’ve never seen anyone that angry.”

  “Duh! Now there’s a surprise,” her friend replied sarcastically. “I saw the way he looked at you at your dad’s funeral. Of course he’d be mad. You’re about the only one on the planet who doesn’t realize how he feels about you.”

  “He never said anything,” she retorted.

  “Hey, we guys don’t blurt out that kind of stuff,” he replied. “It’s against the man code. Beck may never have said how he felt, but everything he did for you should have been a big clue. I mean, come on, how slow are you?”

  She glowered at her friend. “I figured he was doing it because of my father.”

  “Maybe, but the guy is really into you, Riley.”

  “No way. If he’d liked me, he wouldn’t have blown me off and—”

  “Ancient history, girl!” he countered. “You were, what, fifteen? Your dad would have torn him apart if he’d touched you. Beck had no other choice.”

  “He didn’t have to be so mean.”

  “God, will you listen to yourself?” Peter retorted.

  “You have no idea how much he hurt me,” she shot back.

  “Give it up, will you? You’re my best friend, but you can be a real self-centered asshat sometimes.”

  Ouch. That was the equivalent of a Peter backhand.

  Riley blew out a long stream of air to gain control of her temper. Other than her parents, he was the only person who could get away with talking to her like that. Peter never lied to her, he never treated her like she was stupid. But he never cut her any slack, either.

  Her friend returned to the blanket, so upset he kept popping his knuckles. When he ran out of fingers, he seemed to settle down.

  “What will the hunters do to you?” he asked, quieter now.

  “I don’t know. Probably ask me a lot of questions.” Or worse.

  “Beck wouldn’t have called them. That’s not his style.”

  “He’s never going to forgive me for what I did with the angel.”

  “He’ll still have your back.”

  Riley doubted that. “Are you mad at me for what I did?” That was really important to her. She’d lost about everything else. To have her best friend turn away from her would be a mortal wound.

  “I’m not looking to date you,” Peter replied. “How I feel about this is totally different.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  He tried to pop another knuckle, but failed. “I’m not mad at you.”

  God, I like this guy so much.

  Peter peered down at the recycling plant, then back at her. “I’m very worried about you,” he said, his eyes revealing a concern that went heart deep. “Too many things are going wrong in your life, Riley. I’m afraid I’m going lose you, one way or another.”

  The tears came before she could stop them, surprising her. Peter’s arms went around her, and she laid her head on his shoulder. Tears coursed down her cheeks, wetting his jacket.

  “I thought he loved me. I never would have…”

  “I know.”

  She snuffled. “The deal I made with Heaven was for Simon’s life. That’s why he didn’t die.”