“Just curious. Grand Master Stewart thinks it’s a good idea.”

  “I agree.” Riley paused, then added, “You two could study for the exam together.”

  “Me? I haven’t killed an Archfiend.”

  Unlike you who has killed three.

  “Not yet. The way things are going it’s only a matter of time. Oh, and you should work on fighting with a sword.”

  “I’m not that great with edged weapons.”

  “You could be. Have Simon teach you. He’s good with a blade.”

  No way.

  “Oh, you said to tell you about anything odd. There was a body snatching at Beesh Funeral Home today. The neighbors said the deceased just waltzed right out of there. And that there’s been a pale dude who was watching the place. It sounds like the same guy who was asking Means’ grave diggers a lot of questions before he was buried.”

  Riley grew thoughtful. “Huh. I’ll pass that on to Mort in case he’s not in the loop. Another body. How many does this guy need?”

  Katia shrugged. “If I hear anything else, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thank you. And yes, you do need to study for the master exam. Don’t argue with me on that, Journeyman.”

  Having delivered her sermon, Riley left her on her own. Katia did a quick check for Simon, wanting to hear how his family thing had turned out. He was already gone. He’d known how worried she’d been about her first trappers’ meeting, but he hadn’t bothered to acknowledge her existence. It was a slap in the face, or at least it felt that way.

  “Not good, guy. Not good at all.”

  With a growl she headed for the door.

  SEVEN

  It’d been a one-two punch.

  The first blow had been the conversation with his parents about the family issues, the primary one being Deanna. His eldest sib had thrown a major fit since Simon wasn’t playing the part of the subservient younger brother. His mother cautioned him that other things were going on in Dee’s life, which is why she was overreacting.

  He wasn’t so sure about all of that. Still, he’d managed to hold his temper and agreed to try to work things out with his sis, though he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Not this time. And his parents knew it as well.

  The second hit was from his employers. What he hadn’t told his folks was that his work life had just taken a major hit courtesy of Rome’s institutional paranoia. Simon had not looked at any of his emails from the Vatican, wanting to wait until his sabbatical was over. Tonight, he’d caved and read them before going to his parent’s house. Now that he knew exactly what was going on in Rome it left him hurt, and truly angry.

  Father Rosetti had tried to soften the blow, but until someone evaluated his ability to create a protective circle through visualization, Simon was forbidden to use that method. Instead, he’d been ordered to use the older method of pouring Holy Water on the ground, and then invoking the protection.

  That was what they taught at exorcism school and it worked fine if you weren’t being immediately attacked by Hellspawn. In his case, often more than one fiend at a time. Rosetti acknowledged this point but said that there were some in Rome who felt the visualization he used was of magical nature and that wasn’t something they could tolerate.

  Simon had read through the email three times, hoping he was wrong. That hadn’t been the case. He had to use the old method or his time as a lay exorcist was over. Rosetti always read his reports, knew what Simon faced when he did his exorcisms. How dare Rome second guess him?

  He’d known this was coming. He’d been careful not to create a visualized circle in front of a witness, at least not one who wasn’t currently inhabited by Hellspawn.

  Then TrapperCon happened. When demon Azagar had descended into the hotel’s atrium in all his self-absorbed glory, Simon had created the circle on instinct. There’d been hundreds of witnesses as well as videos uploaded to the internet. It was only a matter of time before one of those reached Rome. Creating the circle that way had kept them alive when he and Katia had been dragged down to Hell. No, he’d never regret that decision.

  Knowing that the Vatican would eventually hear about that, Simon had carefully explained the technique to Father Rosetti. He’d hoped that would be all that was needed. His gut told him otherwise, and he’d been right. Now everything he did was under the Vatican’s intense scrutiny.

  What if they permanently forbid that method, ruled it magic and therefore heresy? Then he’d have a decision to make. He’d either risk his life or walk away. Could he do that?

  In some ways he was ready to resign even after the sabbatical. He was weary. The eleven days he’d been away had done little to reduce his mental fatigue. In his heart he knew it went soul deep.

  If he ceased being Atlanta’s exorcist, he could still trap demons and still work with Katia. At the same time, he’d be walking away from those who truly needed him. People would die or lose their souls to Hell if he allowed his pride to rule.

  “Dammit.”

  Tonight, he’d purposely ignored Katia at the trappers’ meeting, though it was hard to do that. If he had spoken to her the bad news would have poured out of him and then the trappers would know what was going on. Some already resented him because he was no longer “one of them,” as if being an exorcist was somehow more prestigious than being a trapper. It was stupid, but those who believed that nonsense would love to see him fail.

  Rather than going home and facing his irate partner, because she wouldn’t cut him any slack for being rude, Simon took himself to where his pride had nearly cost him his life.

  It was well after nine-thirty now and the sun had set, and yet the city still buzzed with activity. Someone walked their shaggy dog along the street, talking on his cell phone about his job. Another couple strolled along, hand in hand. A jogger trotted past, arms pumping.

  These people were why he was an exorcist, why he risked his life to keep them safe from the fiends in Hell. Now his job was being threatened and it made him ill.

  The ruins of the Tabernacle had been cleared and now wildflowers rose where the rubble and bodies had once been. Amid this huge city it was a reminder that man was as transient as any other living being, no matter how much they’d like to believe otherwise.

  Simon paused in front of the brick arch, upon which were engraved the names of the dead. If not for Heaven his would be there as well. He took time with each name, remembering that person as they had once been, then offered a prayer of peace for all of them.

  Finally, he wandered along the stone path that led into the sea of flowers and sat on one of the benches. Despite the noise of the city his mind reverberated with the sounds of the battle, the cries of the dead and dying, the howls of the murderous fiends. The scars on his abdomen flared to life, burning in memory.

  “Why did you let me live?” he whispered.

  He knew part of it was because Heaven wanted to strong-arm Riley into stopping Armageddon, but why him in particular? Why not one of the other trappers? Had it been because they’d been dating? Or was it because his pride had made him the ideal target?

  He felt the angel’s presence before he saw him.

  “Do you mind if I join you?” Ori asked quietly, standing a few feet away.

  “No, I do not mind.” Because often wisdom came from unexpected sources.

  The Divine joined him on the bench, then leaned his forearms on his knees, bending forward. It was such a human pose for one from the Upper Realm.

  “Taking a break from demon extermination?” Simon asked.

  “Yes. At least in Atlanta. There are very few of the dangerous ones here now.”

  “Any idea why that is?”

  “No. And that troubles me.” Ori looked over at him now. “Your thoughts are extraordinarily strong this night. I tried not to hear them, but I sense your turmoil. If you prefer not to speak of what troubles you, then we shall not. The choice is yours.”

  In response to the increasing darkness, lights began to glow along the walkway. Any other time it would be pretty, but not tonight.

  “Since you heard my thoughts, you know what I face.”

  “Old prejudices are preventing you from using a weapon that keeps you alive.”

  “That’s it exactly.”

  “Perhaps this is what you mortals call a teaching moment. Perhaps you can show your superiors that the Light may be used in other ways, and that not all of those are magical in nature.”

  Simon gave him a long look. “You think that’s possible?”

  “Since it’s you, I’d say you have a better chance than most. They know your work, they know what you’ve faced, and overcome. Use that knowledge, for that is part of your many strengths.”

  He’d never thought of it that way. “You’re saying I should have a strategy for all this?”

  “Yes. The Church understands the use of power, it’s why it’s survived all these centuries. You have power of your own if you choose to wield it. If not, they will lose one of the best weapons they have against the Prince. Inhibiting you is a mistake.”

  “I think Father Rosetti knows that. His email had a different tone than usual, as if he was being instructed on what to write to me.”

  “It sounds as if you have at least one ally. I am willing to bet you have more than that.” Ori rose, then hesitated. “I do not know what’s happening in Atlanta, but it feels unlike the norm. Don’t let your worries about Rome blind you to other dangers.”

  That sounded familiar, at least the danger part. “You’re the second angel to say that to me. As always, thank you, Ori.”

  “You have suffered much to protect the innocent.”

  “I can say the same of you.”

  With a nod, the Divine set off down the walkway and then onto the sidewalk heading north. For once he hadn’t just flown away, which told Simon that Ori had his own troubles.

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  The text message pinged at just after midnight, pulling Katia out of a deep sleep. She stared at the screen until the words finally sunk in.

  Exorcism in 15 minutes. Will not wait for you.

  Below that terse message was the address.

  Katia swore as she tore around the bedroom pulling on her clothes. Even at this hour getting anywhere—the address was in Decatur—would not be quick. Once she was dressed, she collected her gear and ran out the front door of the house like a thief. It was only then she realized that Simon’s car was not in the driveway.

  Katia didn’t have time to worry about that, so she pushed the speed limit as much as she dared while complaining about idiots in general, and Simon’s replacement in specific.

  It’d taken several weeks before the Vatican could line up someone to cover Atlanta’s exorcisms while her partner was on sabbatical. They said they were that shorthanded. The first guy from Dallas had been okay. Decent at what he did and not a jerk. This latest one? He really was pushing her buttons. He’d just arrived yesterday and was already causing trouble.

  Katia had no doubt the fool would start the exorcism without her. If it went well, she’d get the “I told you so” speech. If it went bad, there’d be lots of questions from the guys in Rome, and the masters here in Atlanta. Worse case they’d be shipping the exorcist’s body back home for burial.

  To her relief, Katia found the door to the two-story house unlocked. She hesitated, then retrieved the small vial Simon had gifted her right before he’d left. Attached to a long cord, she kept it tucked under her T-shirt.

  Unscrewing the top, she placed a tiny dot of Papal Holy water on her finger and then transferred it to her forehead. After a quick prayer she recapped the vial and dropped it back under her shirt. Maybe someday she’d be able to create one of those quick circles like Simon did.

  Katia found the substitute exorcist in the kitchen, and to her relief he hadn’t started without her. Instead, Lay Exorcist Snyder from California was methodically laying out his paraphernalia on the kitchen table: brass cross, aspergillum, vial of Papal Holy Water and two bottles of the locally sourced version to create the protective circle. The metal box that would hold the demon after exorcism sat at his feet.

  Simon said he’d used the same gear when he’d first started, but now he was down to his cross, the metal box, and his unshakable faith. He said he felt all the rest just slowed him down, and he was right. Snyder appeared to be Old School, but then she guessed most of the Vatican’s exorcists were like that.

  As usual, Hell’s Remodeling Crew had turned the kitchen into a trashy mess. The refrigerator had been emptied and tossed on its side, the open-door alarm still forlornly dinging away. Spoiled milk and orange juice dripped down the walls. Broken dishes and glassware, ripped up cookbooks, knives imbedded in the ceiling. Every cook’s worst nightmare.

  The other nightmare in the room stalked back and forth near the far wall. The possessed woman had hot pink hair curlers hanging from her graying hair and wore ragged yoga pants and a ripped top. Her now five-inch claws dug holes in anything they touched.

  The instant the possessed saw Katia, she hissed that low sound that grated against your bones. Or more correctly, the demon inside her hissed.

  “Katia Allyson Breman,” it announced.

  “Fiend,” she replied. “How are things in Hell these days? Still sucking up to the boss?”

  That got her a quick glance from the exorcist, then a frown. He must have thought she’d not make it here in time. Teaming up with a trapper wasn’t common, and she guessed that part of his attitude was because he didn’t know what to do with her.

  As Simon had taught her Katia did a quick inventory of the room for potential demonic weapons. The news sucked. Pots and pans hung on a wrought iron rack secured to the ceiling. Two wooden cutting boards, a knife block riddled with stabby items, and various small electronics, including a heavy-duty expresso machine. This was a demon’s dream come true. No wonder they loved kitchens so much.

  The lay exorcist ignored her, moving to the cleanest part of the room and then pouring out a line of the local Holy Water for a protective circle. The Papal stuff was far too valuable to waste on wetting down a floor.

  As Katia moved closer to the area, Snyder stepped inside and closed the circle with the final bit of liquid. A quick invocation and the circle went live with a bright flash of light that made the fiend, and Katia, wince.

  Snyder’s eyes met hers. He’d done that on purpose. He should have allowed her sanctuary inside that circle but instead he was letting her know what he thought of having a trapper as backup. She could still enter the circle if she framed her thoughts in the proper way, but she might destroy it in the process.

  “It’s kinda good for both of us to be inside that,” she said, wondering how he’d spin this.

  “I’m not going to need your help. It’s a waste of time for you to be here,” he said, then turned his back on her.

  The whole point of having the trapper inside the circle was in case something caused that protection to fail. That way the person with the weapon could stand in front of the exorcist and keep them alive.

  But no . . .

  Katia shifted her attention to the fiend. It was grinning now, the kind of sickening and gut-twisting expression that said it was really enjoying itself. No surprise, it was playing them, or at least the solemn jackass inside the circle.

  She took a position to the right of the exorcist and swiftly created her own circle with a bottle of Holy Water. Snyder registered his surprise that she knew how to do that.

  “I’m ready when you are,” she said, ensuring there was enough snark in that announcement that even he would get it. Fortunately, the demon hadn’t taken advantage of the situation and lobbed missiles at them while they were getting ready for the actual exorcism. Most of them were smarter than that.

  To her immense relief it all went smoothly: The fiend was pulled from the hair curler lady and then firmly imprisoned in the cross-adorned metal box, ready to be destroyed. As she’d expected the knives, pots and the fancy espresso machine had all gone airborne, but no one had been injured. This guy did have talent as an exorcist, but he was nowhere near as powerful as Simon.

  The formerly possessed, a middle-aged lady named Adelina Rodrigues, was so shocked at what had happened to her and her house that she fled. After more hunting, Katia found her in the closest bathroom. The water was running so hopefully after she’d cleaned up, they could talk.

  When she returned to the kitchen, Snyder had his gear packed and headed for the door.

  “Aren’t you going to bless this place first?”

  “No. She can call the local priest. That’s not my job.”

  “What about that?” she said, pointing at the demon inside the metal box.

  “You can handle it. That’s what demon trappers are for, right?”

  Then he was gone, off to call a cab and return to his hotel.

  What a self-righteous ass.

  Now what? Simon had been adamant about clearing a structure immediately after an exorcism. He said the previous demon’s inhabitation made it more likely another one would check the place out unless all the taint was destroyed. The only time he hadn’t done that was during the unreal day when Azagar had been holding those kids hostage. Even then, Simon had instructed the wife of the former possessed author to get their priest to the house immediately. And she’d done just that.

  Lay Exorcist Not My Problem Snyder had just become Katia’s problem. He knew the priest who handled this kind of thing was down with the flu because the Archdiocese had sent them both texts with that news.

  “It might not be your problem, but it sure the hell is mine,” she muttered.

  With a long sigh, Katia headed for her car to retrieve more Holy Water as well as the large wooden cross Simon had loaned her so she could perform the blessings. Now that she thought about it, maybe he’d seen this coming.