Forgiven (20 page)

‘That’s right.’ They shook. ‘How goes it?’ her friend asked.

‘Not bad, how about you?’

As the two males traded harmless chit chat, Riley tried to work out exactly why Beck was at the coffee shop. He wasn’t the social type unless there was a pool table involved, so there had to be something behind his sudden appearance.

She finally interrupted, unable to help herself. ‘Why are you here?’ It was Peter’s turn to kick her under the table. She glowered at him in response.

Beck ignored their drama. ‘Ya didn’t answer yer phone, so I figured ya might be here.’

What?
Riley dug out the offending piece of technology. The battery was dead and the charging cord was in her bedroom at Stewart’s. ‘Sorry.’

‘No big. I’m going trappin’ tonight,’ he said. ‘Thought ya might like come along.’

‘What about your shoulder?’

‘It’s better. The pain pills are helpin’.’ Beck paused and added, ‘We’d need to leave about eight. That work for ya?’

No, it does not work for me.
Riley did not want to go trapping. She wanted to stay here in the coffee shop, do her homework and talk to Peter. Then maybe she’d go back to Stewart’s, catch some TV.

‘Do I have to go?’ she asked, trying to determine if this was an order issued by one of the masters.

‘Ya don’t want to?’ Beck asked, confused. Then he nodded in resignation as if something had suddenly become clear. ‘Ya don’t want to go with me, is that it?’

Peter sprang up from his seat. ‘OK . . . I think I need . . . to refill on my iced tea. I’ll be back.’ He was headed towards the counter before she could respond, though his glass was still three-quarters full.

Coward.
He knew this might spiral down into a shouting match.

‘Just tell me if I’m the problem, OK?’ Beck pushed. ‘I need to know where we stand on this.’

‘It’s not you, Beck. It’s the whole trapping thing. All the crazy hours, the crazy people, the demons. I’m so tired of it.’

His expression softened. ‘I hear ya, girl. Hell, I’d love nothin’ more than to jump in my truck and go fishin’ for a week, away from everythin’. It’s gettin’ too much to handle.’

Riley had never expected to hear Beck admit he felt he was in over his head.

‘It’s not only me, then,’ she said.

He picked up a straw and folded it into a square so the two ends nested together. ‘No, it’s all of us. Even the masters.’

‘If I don’t go, will you be out there alone?’ she asked.

‘No, Jackson will be with me. Harper says we work two-man teams from now on. It’s no longer a choice.’

As long as he has back-up, he’ll be OK.
‘Then I’m staying here and doing my homework.’

‘Fair enough.’ He rose and placed the cap on his head. ‘See ya later, girl.’

As Beck cleared the front door, Peter slid back into the booth, setting his full ice tea glass in front of him. ‘No fireworks. I’m impressed. I figured you two would go thermonuclear in a heartbeat.’

‘No. We’re both too tired to go there. Too much has happened between us.’

‘Hey, he’s still talking to you, even after the guy with the wings. That means something, even if you don’t want to go there.’

It did mean something.

Riley turned her mind back to the maths questions – those were always a safe subject – but her mind remained restless. Part of her wanted a normal life, the other part craved the excitement, the danger that demon trapping amply provided.

I’m so messed up.

*

Peter packed it in about seven, having promised his dad he’d be home for a late dinner. The moment he left, Simi took his place.

‘Is the dude dating anyone?’

‘Who? You mean Peter?’ Riley asked, confused. Simi was known for changing subjects at whim. ‘Not that I know of. Why?’

‘I like him – he’s cool.’

‘He told me you blew him off when he asked you out.’

Simi hitched a shoulder, pushing her multicolour braids in all directions. ‘I do that sometimes, to figure out of the guy’s worth the hassle. He has to meet certain criteria before I go out with him. Good hair is tops. A little weird is good. Some smarts, though that isn’t always required. Did you know some of the best kissers are nerds?’

Riley thought of Simon. ‘Yeah, I did.’

‘So name your poison – you want to talk about this Ori guy or about the hunky trapper?’

Her friend was blunt to a fault. ‘Neither.’

‘Choose one or I will,’ Simi shot back.

Ah crap.
‘Beck.’

‘Good choice,’ her friend replied, nodding her approval. ‘Why are you two dancing around each other?’

Simi didn’t know their history: she and Riley had met
after
the Beck debacle
.
Riley gave her a short version of the Princess vs Backwoods Boy saga and their current battle over Ori. Without mentioning her overnight romp with the angel, or the demon hunters.

‘Be right back,’ Simi said, popping up and motoring towards the counter for a refill of her coffee.

She’s like an overactive chihuahua.
But underneath that flakiness was a working brain, one of the reasons Riley liked her so much.

Simi surged back in her seat, her cup full again. ‘So let’s recap: you like him. He likes you. Agreed?’

Riley had to grant her that assessment.

‘OK, first thing, apologize for hanging with this Ori guy. Then he can stammer an apology for being a jerk. Then you two can hook up.’

It was not that simple. ‘Beck is . . .’

‘A total pain in the butt,’ Simi retorted. ‘But I know the signs: there’s a really cool guy under that skin, who’ll be totally worth all the hassles. You’re an idiot if you let this one slide, girlfriend.’

Riley’s father had said almost the same thing. ‘But . . .’

‘You’re talking to the hand now,’ Simi said, raising the appropriate body part. Up she popped again, her braids swinging. ‘Let’s go somewhere fun. I want dessert.’

Hurricane Simi propelled Riley out of the coffee shop and into the street before she could protest. Then her friend suddenly gave her a big hug.

‘What’s that all about?’ Riley said, smiling at the unexpected gesture.

‘It felt right,’ Simi replied. She sobered for a fraction of a second. ‘I meant it about Beck. Make it right between you. Trapping is way scary stuff and he might not be around someday. You’ll hate yourself forever if he gets hurt and you never got things fixed between you.’

‘I’ll try.’

‘Excellent! Now let’s go find some ice cream.’

‘You’re not going to mix the four flavours again, are you?’ Riley moaned.

‘Of course. What is life without a little danger?’

Though Simi had pleaded with unbridled passion over large helpings of ice cream, Riley had passed on the opportunity to go to a club to hear some new band. Instead, she’d gone to her apartment to charge her phone and to collect fresh underwear. Two pairs of panties left and those were the ones with the frilly lace on them.
Oh well, at least no one sees them.
She loaded up on pills for her cramps. They’d ratcheted down a notch, but they were still there.

As she waited for the spare charger to bring her cellphone back to the land of the living, she used the landline to call Captain Elias Salvatore for her daily check-in. Riley thought of it as her ‘I’m still in Atlanta, I’m staying out of trouble and I’m not partying down with Lucifer and his buds’ status report. As she gave him a sanitized version of her activities there were background noises that sounded a lot like gunshots. She made sure to keep the conversation brief.

Riley had barely reached her car for the trip back to Stewart’s when her phone rang. It was the master himself.

‘Lass? Where are ya?’ he demanded.

‘On the way to your place.’

‘No, get ta Beck’s house as fast as ya can. The lad’s been hurt.’

Riley didn’t hesitate. ‘I’m there.’

Tossing her phone in the backpack, she peeled out of the parking lot.

Riley rolled into Beck’s driveway at high speed, slammed on the brakes and bailed out of the car. She needn’t have bothered – his truck wasn’t there and knocking on the front door received no response.

Oh, God. He’s really bad. They took him to the hospital.

Before she could dial Stewart to find out what was going on, Beck’s pickup pulled in behind her car. Jackson was driving. He climbed out and then went to the passenger side door and opened it.

When Riley joined him, she gasped in shock. Beck had a thin line of blood curling down his face and into his collar. His eyes were pinched shut and his expression reminded her of how her mother looked when she was fighting one of her killer headaches.

‘What happened?’

‘Fell . . .’ Beck said. ‘Hit . . . the ground.’

Riley gave the other trapper a withering look.

‘He refused to go to the hospital,’ Jackson explained. ‘Carmela will be by to check him out.’

‘Let’s get inside,’ Riley muttered.

It took all their efforts to move the wounded trapper on to his porch. Riley dug his keys out of his jeans pocket and fumbled with the lock. The moment the door opened, the alarm started to beep. Riley tapped in the numbers she’d used the last time she’d been here. The alarm kept ticking down the time.

‘What’s the code?’ she called out. Beck stared at her blankly, leaning heavily on Jackson. ‘Beck! Help me here.’

The injured trapper closed his eyes in an effort to concentrate. ‘17 . . . 88.’

That’d be my first guess.
She typed it in and the alarm went silent.

With Jackson’s help, the trapper made his way to the couch and flopped down with a deep groan. Then bent over and held his head like it was exploding from within.

Probably is.
Riley had a headache of her own and she hadn’t collided with the pavement. As Jackson retrieved Beck’s duffel bag, she made up an ice pack.

‘I gotta go. I need to get back to Demon Central,’ Jackson. ‘Remmers has a lead on those two guys who stole your demon last month. We’re hoping we can find them and figure out who is buying the fiends illegally.’

Riley nodded, juggling the ice pack in her hands to keep her fingers from freezing. ‘Thanks, Jackson.’

‘No sweat. Call if you need me.’ The door shut behind him.

Remembering a lesson learned from her mother’s headaches, Riley found the biggest bowl in the cupboard in case Beck’s stomach decided to weigh in.

Though the bathroom was clean, the medicine cabinet was nearly empty: a box of aspirin and spare razors. No bandages or peroxide. It took her a moment to remember where she’d seen them during one of her other visits. The hall closet had everything she needed. She selected the supplies and hurried back to the front room.

Beck hadn’t moved. She knelt next to him and asked quietly, ‘How are you doing?’

His brown eyes met hers. ‘Hurts like hell.’

‘Worse than a hangover?’

‘Yeah.’

That’s not good.

‘I’d kill for some aspirin,’ he admitted.

Somehow she didn’t think that was a good idea.

Riley had just begun to clean the wound when there was a knock at the front door, then the Guild’s doctor ploughed inside without waiting for an invitation.

Carmela sat next to Beck on the couch, her medical bag on the floor at her feet. ‘My life would be perfect if it weren’t for stubborn, macho trappers,’ she complained. ‘Oh look, here’s another one.’ She pulled out a small flashlight and took hold of his chin. ‘Try not to blink, OK?’

The doctor took her time checking out both his pupils. ‘No dilation. That’s a good thing.’ Then she felt around his head and asked him a bunch of questions, like the day of the week, how old he was and the name of the governor. Then she had him grip her hands. Finally she examined the head wound. ‘OK, the cut is not that bad, which is the only reason you’re not bleeding all over the place. You can stay here unless something changes. If you get worse, you’re in the hospital, no argument.’