Forgiven (36 page)

It’s exactly what she would have done.

Beck fussed with a shoelace, though it was double-knotted like always. Something else was on his mind. ‘Maybe, when this is all over, will ya . . . you make me some of yer momma’s cookies?’ he asked.

There was much more to it than that. He was hoping that when all the fighting was done she’d be there to bake him cookies, and he’d be alive to eat them.

‘Sure,’ she said, smiling over at him. ‘How many you want?’

‘A couple dozen will do it. I’m sure the other trappers will want some.’

No way could she tell him about Heaven’s job assignment now. He needed that glimmer of hope. They all did.

‘Riley, I . . .’ Beck looked deeply into her eyes. ‘If this doesn’t go right . . .’

You’re not going to have to worry anyone will find out about your rabbit or the fact you can’t read or write. You won’t have to worry about anything for eternity.

‘No matter what, you be careful,’ he said.

‘Of course I will,’ she replied, wondering what else he might have said if he’d had the courage. ‘I’ve got a baking assignment.’

Beck smiled at that. He brushed a cookie crumb off her face. For a second, she thought he might try to kiss her, but he didn’t.

‘It goes both ways,’ she urged. ‘You
have
to stop playing the hero.’
I don’t want to watch you die.

‘No worries about that.’

We’re lying and we both know it.

Beck rose and dusted off his jeans, though they didn’t need it. ‘I should go. Stewart’s waitin’ for me. Says he wants to teach me how to use a sword
properly
.’

Riley hooted. ‘Can I watch? This should be totally hilarious.’

‘Ya’ve got no respect, woman,’ Beck retorted. After the door closed behind him she realized what he’d said.

‘Woman?’ He wasn’t calling her
girl
any longer.

If that wasn’t a sign the world was ending, what other proof did she need?

At six in the morning they gathered their forces at the west entrance to Oakland Cemetery. They’d chosen the graveyard because holy ground was the ultimate weapon against Hellspawn. For Riley, this hour seemed symbolic – the light pushing back against the dark as the sun rose for a new day.

The weather was like most days in February, with frost lacing the brickwork above the cemetery’s arched entrance. Their mingled breaths clouding the air, twenty hunters stood in two rigid lines outside the entrance gate. They were dressed in combat gear, their red ears and noses the only hint that the cold was having any effect. Each had a sword lying on the ground in front of them. They were currently on their knees, heads bowed, as Father Rosetti intoned a prayer.

‘That’s not changed much over the centuries,’ Stewart said quietly as he joined her, angling his head towards the hunters and their priest. ‘We always seek divine assistance right before a battle.’

‘Did you?’ she asked, looking up at the man who felt more like a grandfather to her than a master.

‘Aye, I said a few words ta the Almighty. Whether He listened, I have no notion.’

‘I did too,’ she admitted. ‘I keep wondering if there was something I could have done to prevent this.’

Stewart heaved a sigh, his face lined with worry. ‘I doubt it, lass. Once yer caught in a whirlpool, there is no way out.’

Off to the side, the trappers stood in their own group well away from their rivals, a motley bunch compared to the Vatican’s spit-shined team. Some wore leather coats, other denim. There was an assortment of weapons, including swords, steel pipes and baseball bats. They talked among themselves and every now and then she heard her name mentioned. Simon was with them. Riley should have expected he’d be here, but it troubled her nonetheless. She really didn’t want to see him hurt again. He looked over at her from time to time, no warmth in his eyes.

Probably blaming me for this whole thing.

Beck was chatting with Jackson and McGuire. She wanted to talk to him, possibly for the last time ever, but the crowd around him didn’t allow for that. Instead, she smiled in his direction. Hopefully he could read something in that smile that told him how she really felt about him.

Turning away, Riley reluctantly joined the magic users. Mort was clad in his cloak and fedora, though the hat seemed oddly out of place. He stomped his feet to stay warm. Ayden wore sleek leather gloves and a thick emerald cloak, the hood up. Peeking out from under the garment was a scabbard.

They both had large tapestry bags at their feet. Who knew it took so much stuff to do a little hocus pocus? Riley only had her backpack filled with objects that meant something to her – the locket containing the photo of her parents, an envelope with a tiny braid of her mom’s hair, a picture of her and Peter. The demon claw hung round her neck.

The plan, as she understood it, was for her and the magical folks to lure the demons to the cemetery while the hunters and the trappers lay in wait on hallowed ground. Once the Hellspawn clustered around the edge of the graveyard, the men would attack them and hopefully kill them all.

Too many things can go wrong.

When Ayden and Mort headed into the cemetery, Riley didn’t budge. She couldn’t make herself take another step. Surely they could do this without her.

Ayden turned. ‘Riley? You OK?’

She shook her head, shivering. ‘No.’

‘Scared?’ the witch asked gently.

‘Yeah. Out-of-my-mind scared. I don’t know if I can do this.’

‘If you think I want to be here, you’re a lunatic,’ Mort said.

‘Same with me, but it’s the job,’ Ayden replied. ‘You can step up and face your fears or let them rule you. It’s your choice. No one else can tell you what to do next.’

Riley looked back over her shoulder at the hunters. They were gearing up for what was to come. The trappers were doing the same. She found herself watching Beck again as he joked around with Jackson, trying to master his own fears.

You’re as frightened as I am. All of them are
.

Beck turned towards her, gave a faint smile and excused himself from the other trapper. He joined her just inside the cemetery gate.

‘Riley . . .’ he began, then halted, like he wasn’t sure what to say.

This was what she’d really wanted, a chance to say goodbye, but now it was way awkward. Too many eyes were on them and that made Riley nervous. Beck noticed and drew her away from the entrance and down a side path, out of sight of most of the others.

The witch took the hint. ‘You can catch up with us,’ Ayden said, and walked away, Mort at her side.

Riley gazed up into Beck’s deep brown eyes.
What do I say to this guy? What if this is the last time we ever see each other alive?

Beck took a deep breath. ‘Stewart told me what yer up against, what Heaven expects ya to do.’

That jarred her. ‘Why did he tell you that?’

‘So I wouldn’t be an idiot.’

She had no idea what he was talking about.

‘Beck, I . . .’

He gently caressed her hair, studying her face with near reverence.

‘I’ve been a damned fool, Riley. I pushed you when I should have backed off. I wasn’t there for you when I shoulda been.’

‘No, you were always there for me.’

‘Not like I’d wanted. I wish . . . we’d had a chance.’ He looked away for a moment, then back at her. He placed his forehead against hers. His breath was ragged and uneven. ‘Do what ya have to do to pay off yer debt with Heaven,’ he said, his concern for proper speech abandoned. ‘But ya do not die on me, ya understand? I can’t live without ya. Yer all I got, woman.’

Her breath caught in her lungs
.
‘I don’t want to be here if you’re not.’

Beck’s hands slipped round her waist, pulling her closer. She could feel each of his breaths, so close they were almost one. Their lips touched, hesitantly, and to her relief the skies didn’t rain demons or the earth boil under the feet. Emboldened, he deepened the kiss, pulling her body tight against his. Her hands slipped through his hair as the passion built between them. She felt the heat roar through her body, singeing her, marking her as his. It was the kiss of a man who had waited years for the moment, and feared that it would never come again.

When it ended, Beck pulled her into a bone-crushing embrace. It was hard to breathe, but she didn’t want it to end. Riley rested her head on his shoulder and felt their world change.

Someone called out his name and he swore under his breath.

‘I have to go,’ he whispered, then stepped away, suddenly all business. There was dampness in his eyes, evidence he’d felt the power between them. Riley straightened his collar and though it proved nearly impossible she pasted on a fake smile.

‘Go kick some demon butt, Backwoods Boy,’ she said, trying to sound brave.

‘You do the same, Princess.’ He caressed her cheek. ‘I’ll see you soon, wherever that might be.’

By walking away first, Beck proved he was stronger than she was. When he joined Stewart outside the gate, the master asked him a question and Beck nodded. He looked back her for a second, wistful, then turned away.

Why did we wait until now? Why were we so blind?

She took the time to catalogue Beck in detail. His unruly blond hair, his deep brown eyes, his broad shoulders. She memorized how he held himself, that boyish smile, how he felt in her arms. She wished it had been him who’d been her first lover rather than the angel.

Reluctantly, Riley turned and hiked into the cemetery, each step away from Beck agony. She finally caught up with the witch and necromancer near the Watch House.

‘That was a kiss for the record books,’ Ayden said, arching an eyebrow.

Riley couldn’t muster a blush. ‘Saw that, huh?’ A nod returned. ‘Totally earthshaking.’

‘Then remember every second of it and what it means. It’ll give you a reason to stay alive.’

That she could do.

They continued on in silence, each caught in their own thoughts. Past the stark white Bell Tower, Riley could see the roof of her family’s mausoleum and those creepy gargoyles. Her eyes strayed to Ori’s statue. Melancholy still clung to his body like the frost.

When Mort asked her what location felt right to cast the spell, Riley chose the exact spot where she’d sat vigil for her father. Knowing she had little to contribute until the other two were done unloading magical paraphernalia and grouching at each other, Riley stayed out of their way. Snippets of conversation reached her ears: where to place the candles, cones of power, why witch magic was less powerful than necro magic and why the witch thought that was total BS.

In an effort to shut them out, Riley walked to the base of Ori’s statue. Would he come to life at dawn like always? Would she still be alive to talk to him one last time?

Riley gazed up at the tortured eyes. ‘I don’t think you were lying to me. That makes it even harder, angel.’

When she returned to her companions, they had constructed a complicated pattern of coloured marks on the ground. Those looked to be Mort’s doing as they were similar to those she’d seen in his house. The candles and the crystal spheres were Ayden’s contribution.

‘Do summoner and witch magic mix?’ Riley asked, realizing that’s exactly what they’d be doing in a few minutes.

Ayden gave her a raised eyebrow. ‘A lot like a stick of dynamite and a match.’

‘So if the demons don’t kill us we might blow ourselves into itty bitty pieces?’

‘Being blown into bits would be a good outcome,’ Mort replied.

‘What if Ozy shows up?’

‘Then we’re in deep trouble. I’m not strong enough to out-magic him.’

‘Neither am I,’ the witch admitted. ‘But together? We’ll have to find out, won’t we, summoner?’

‘You wouldn’t sound that bold if you knew what he’s capable of,’ Mort argued.

‘You forget, I know exactly what he’s capable of,’ Ayden retorted. ‘I saw what he did to your wards.’

‘Ah, guys, let’s keep it cool here,’ Riley said. ‘It won’t matter who’s right if there is no tomorrow, you know?’