Grave Matters (18 page)

Now her first solo trapping run had been a success.

Dad is going to be so proud.

The Biblo woke and threw a hellish fit as Riley was completing the paperwork with the hippies in their kitchen. It screamed and banged against the side of the cup like a crazed thing.

“Chill out, will you?” Bandana said. The demon shot him the bird and made a rude remark in Hellspeak.

“What he say?” the man asked.

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

~ - ~ - ~

Ten minutes later Riley was headed toward downtown Atlanta, singing along to
Dead and Lovin’ It
on the car radio. On the seat next to her was the messenger bag, the signed paperwork and the Offending Minion of Hell. No surprise, it wasn’t happy so Riley had learned a couple new fiendish swear words, ones she didn’t dare use around her dad. She’d also scored a hug from Sunflower and three strands of beads that didn’t go with anything she owned.

What wasn’t sitting on the seat next to her was the couple’s oversized brownies, though they’d offered to send some home with her. Riley had pleaded a chocolate allergy. It was more like a “I don’t need to get busted for weed” issue.

As she edged her way through the intersection onto M.L. King toward downtown Atlanta, the messenger bag began to rock on the seat. She slapped her hand on it to keep it in place while the bag bounced around like a cat with its tail on fire. Tiny feet drummed against her palm as green liquid leaked onto the seat. Somehow the demon had managed to unscrew the sippy cup’s lid and now it was a good bet it was trying to find a way out of the bag. If it did, it might take off. What would she tell her dad?

The bag thrashed on the seat and then the demon poked its head out.

“Oh no, you don’t! Get back in there.” It pulled itself completely free, grinning manically.

Distracted, Riley jerked the steering wheel and nearly collided with another car. The driver honked his horn and glared at her.

“Stop it!” she shouted at the fiend. “You’ll get us killed, you idiot.”

At the last minute, she looked up and gasped in horror. Ramming her foot on the brake pedal, she plastered herself against the seatbelt causing the messenger bag to careen to the floor. The demon sailed upward and landed on the dash.

There was a screech of burning rubber. “Noooo!”

The car finally halted, missing the one in front of her by inches.

“Thank God,” Riley sighed, flopping against the steering wheel in relief. She didn’t dare lose her driver’s license. It’d taken her two tries to pass the road test.

Peals of demonic laughter came from the dashboard where the demon was doubled over, tears rolling down its eyes in mirth. She made a grab for it, but it skittered out of her reach.

“Hey, I didn’t hit him,” she said, retrieving her messenger bag from the floor. She had to put the thing back into the cup. The laughter grew louder causing her to hesitate. “What’s so funny?”

As she looked up she spied the row of blue lights on top of the car she’d nearly rear-ended. Like you’d see on an emergency vehicle. Or a…

Oh crap.

The Atlanta city cop climbed out of his car and headed her way, a ticket book in hand. His frown promised someone was in deep trouble and that someone was Riley.

“Good thing I passed on the brownies,” she murmured.

There was one final burst of hysterical laughter from the demon, then it dove down under the passenger seat, spreading green urine in all directions.

The moment the cop arrived at the car, Riley turned on the charm. She politely handed over her driver’s license with green-stained hands and tried to ignore that the car’s seats were splattered with demon pee. The smell was worse: rotting gym shoes.

When Riley explained the problem, the cop’s right eye began to twitch.

“I’ve heard ’em all, young lady. Don’t even go there.”

So she handed over her apprentice license. The cop’s frown deepened as he studied it.

“You’re kidding me. You’re really a trapper?”

“Yes. The demon is under the passenger seat,” she said. Or at least she hoped it was. If not, she’d be out one fiend and get a ticket to boot.

Despite her charming personality, the cop wasn’t buying her story until she painstakingly fished Hell’s smartass from under the seat and dropped it into the sippy cup. She attached the lid with more care this time and then held up the cup so the officer could get a view of the little monster. It promptly flipped him off.

“Oh, God, that’s really a … ” The guy turned pale and slowly backed away. “You drive safe now,” he said and then beat a quick retreat to his car. A few seconds later he sped away, no doubt keen to ticket someone who wasn’t packing a demon in their vehicle.

After a lengthy time at a car wash cleaning the seats, the windows and just about everything else inside the vehicle, Riley drove home. When the messenger bag gave another lurch on the seat next to her, she didn’t panic: she’d made sure the sippy cup’s lid was on tight. From the extent of the demon’s swearing, she’d done it right this time.

It hadn’t been pretty, but she’d trapped her first Hellspawn on her own.

Her dad was going to be very proud of her.

She cranked up the radio to cover the demon’s swearing. Next time she’d get the lid on right. Next time there wouldn’t be demon pee all over her and the car.

Next time it’ll be perfect.

To my readers...

who love Riley and Beck

as much as I do.

I owe a *huge* thank you to my critique partners (Berta Platas, Michele Roper, Carla Fredd and Maureen Hardegree) who cajoled, wrangled and frog-marched me through this novella, confident that when I finished it would be worthy of my readers.

A big hug and some fermented spirits to Tyra Burton, who did a quick proofread of the manuscript while on vacation, no less. True friends are always there for you even when they could have been eating beignets.

And finally my gratitude to the city of Edinburgh, who knows it’s wise to preserve history rather than burying it.

When I wrote the last sentence in the final Demon Trappers’ book, somehow I knew that wasn’t going to be the end of Riley and Beck’s stories. And not surprisingly, my readers thought the same.

It was only logical to show their time together in Edinburgh during Beck’s training. Even though they’re a couple, challenges remain. Unfortunately, so does the danger.

It’s my hope you enjoyed Grave Matters. Thank you for joining me on Riley and Den’s journey.

A resident of Atlanta, Georgia, Jana Oliver admits a fascination with all things mysterious, usually laced with a touch of the supernatural. An eclectic person who has traveled the world, she loves to research urban legends and spooky tales.

When not writing, she enjoys Irish music, Cornish fudge and good Scottish whisky.

Find Jana at:

Website:
www.JanaOliver.com

Facebook:
facebook.com/JanaOliver

Twitter: @
CrazyAuthorGirl

by Jana Oliver

Briar Rose believes in fairy tales . . .

And now, because of a family curse, she’s living one.

Available from
Kobobooks.com

Be sure to check out this great series by Jana Oliver

U.S. Editions

St. Martin’s Press

Available at
Kobobooks.com

The Demon Trapper’s Daughter

Soul Thief

Forgiven

Foretold

Published by

MageSpell LLC

P.O. Box 1126

Norcross, GA 30091

This novella is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Grave Matters

A Demon Trappers® Novella

ISBN: 978-0-9704490-9-2

Copyright ©2013 Jana Oliver

Personal Demons - © 2013 - Jana Oliver

Retro Demonology - © 2010 - Jana Oliver

(previously published by St. Martin’s Griffin)

All illustrations contained with this book are copyrighted and used with permission of the copyright holder. All rights reserved.

Cover Image/Art: White Rabbit Designs

Klepto-Fiend – © 2010 – Mark Helwig

Biblio-Fiend – © 2010 – Mark Helwig

Gastro-Fiend – © 2010 – Mark Helwig

Archfiend – © 2013 – Mark Helwig

All rights reserved. No part of this book may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means now known or hereinafter invented, electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.

Demon Trappers is a Registered Trademark of Jana Oliver