Grave Matters (7 page)

Beck rose and stood a few paces away, his back to her. For a time he stared out at the city, as if composing his thoughts. Then he turned back toward her. With a shy smile, he was down on one knee in heartbeat.

Ohmigod.
He’s going to do it.

Beck took her hands, stripped off the gloves and then kissed each of her palms. She could feel the brush of his stubble and his warm breath on her fingers.

“Den...”

Denver Beck took a deep breath, preparing himself for what had to be one of the most important times of his life.

“I am a plain Georgia boy,” he began, his voice rough. “I always will be. I have many things I love, but none as much as you.” He took another quick breath, fearing his courage would falter. “I can’t live without you, Riley. Yer in my heart, and in my soul.”

God, this is hard.
No matter how many times he’d practiced it in front of a mirror.

“I want you to be mine, forever. My wife, the mother of my children. I swear there won’t be anyone else but you for as long as I live.” He swallowed, trying to clear his suddenly dry throat. He was so nervous now, he could hardly speak. “Will ya ... will you marry me, Riley? Will you stand by me for the rest of my days?”

For godsakes say you will.

His heart hammered and he felt himself sweat as those gorgeous brown eyes widened. He loved her so much, but Riley was just eighteen, and she’d be shackling herself to him for life. Because it
was
all or nothing for him.

There were tears in her eyes now, but still no answer.

“Riley?” he said, his nerves jumping all over the place.

She pulled her hands away and wrapped her arms around herself, withdrawing. “I...” she began.

He saw something in her eyes now, and it wasn’t joy. It was more the look of a trapped animal.

She was going to turn him down.

“Riley?” he repeated, his fear growing.

“I can’t. I’m not sure why,” she said, her voice quavering. “If you’d asked me a week ago, I would have said yes. But now ... I—”

“Are ya mad at me cuz I wasn’t there for ya?”

“Yes ... No. God, I don’t know,” she stammered. “I think ... ” Then she shook her head as if she couldn’t find the words. “I don’t understand what’s wrong now, but something is.”

Hell! She turned me down. She let me make a fool of myself.

His ego told him it wasn’t his fault. In the past, when he’d been some loser, he could have seen her refusing him, but now he was doing good things, making something of himself. He had a future and he’d thought she wanted to share it with him.

What the hell is goin’ on in yer head? Have ya just been playin’ me all along?

Lurching to his feet, he moved away from her, pointedly putting space between them. When he jammed his hands in his pockets, his fingers touched the box that held the ring — the one she’d seen at the street market. It was why he was being so secretive on the phone the other day, eager to surprise her.

Not now.

He resisted the urge to toss it off the side of the mountain.

She was on her feet now. “Den, I’m—”

He raised his hand for silence. “No need to explain. Ya don’t wanna get married to me. I got it. Don’t say stuff just to try to make me feel better.”

The tears were rolling down her cheeks now. “I’m so sorry.”

Not as much as I am.

~ - ~ - ~

It had been incredibly somber in the taxi back to the hotel, and even worse in their room. Whatever they’d shared between them was damaged now, perhaps destroyed forever.

Why did I turn him down?
She’d been dreaming about this for months, ever since he said he’d wanted her to come to Scotland for her birthday.

What is wrong with me?

Sullen, Beck pulled the extra blankets and a pillow out of the wardrobe and claimed the couch, actions that told her he wouldn’t be sharing her bed tonight. Or any night in the future.

Hands shaking, Riley treated her wounds again, letting the Holy Water burn into her flesh. As the liquid cleansed the demon taint, her horror at what she’d done began to fade.

She had a right to say “no” if she wanted. Beck could just deal. It wasn’t like he really cared.

But I still love him, don’t I?

If so, why did she feel the need to run, to get away from him?

As Riley went through the motions, putting on fresh bandages, tears trickled like a slow leak. She curled up in the bed, alone.

An hour later, unable to sleep, she sat up and looked over at the couch. Beck was still lying there, fully clothed, his hands behind his back as he glowered at the ceiling. When he realized she was watching him, he rose, collected his cell phone, heading for the door.

“Den—”

He halted and did a slow turn, his eyes burning in fury. “Is there some other guy, Riley? Is that what’s gonna on here?”

“What? No! How could you even think that?”

“I don’t know. How could I possibly think ya’d be wantin’ to marry me? Silly old Beck, stupid as ever.”

“Den—”

“Just go to sleep,” he snarled. “There’s nothin’ ya can say that’ll make it any better.”

The door slammed behind him, leaving Riley alone in the dark.

~ - ~ - ~

Beck was on his third pint of beer and tempted to just keep drinking. He hadn’t felt this empty since the night Paul had died.

Yeah, old friend, yer little girl just kicked me right in the balls.

He sure as hell hadn’t seen that coming. Or had he? He sorted back through his memories — Riley all eager and happy, counting down the days before she could see him. Riley upset, but coping right after the demon incident. Even though she’d been injured, she’d been doing okay.

He frowned in thought.
When did she change?

“Another one, mate?” the hotel bartender asked, gesturing at Beck’s empty pint.

“No, thanks,” he replied. He had enough of a buzz on as it was. “Got any coffee?”

The man nodded and headed off to fill the order. Beck stared down at the box holding the engagement ring where it sat next to the empty glass of beer. Maybe he could return it and...

Was it just his ego that had taken a hit, or was something else going on?

He checked the time — just a little after eleven. Though he didn’t like to share his troubles with anyone, something made him dial Grand Master MacTavish. His superior answered almost immediately.

“How’s it goin’, lad? Did ya pop the question yet?”

Ah shit.

Beck gave him the grim news and waited for the reaction.

“Ya dinna call me ta say the girl turned ya down. What’s really on yer mind?”

“She’s different. I know, maybe it’s my pride talkin’, but my gut says somethin’s goin’ on with her, and it started when we got to the hotel.”

There was a long pause. While Beck waited, a cup of coffee appeared in front of him. He nodded his thanks and took a sip, finding it strong, bitter even, and that helped clear his head.

“How much did she trust ya in the past?” MacTavish asked.

“With her life,” Beck said.

“And now she’s not trustin’ ya at all. Hmmm ... Bring her here tomorrow. I want ta talk ta Riley for a bit, see if she can tell me what’s goin’ on.”

“She hasn’t told me,” Beck snapped.

“Yer too close ta her. If it’s a matter that she’s got cold feet, then we’ll know that. If it’s somethin’ else...”

“Like what?”

“We’ll see when ya get here.”

“Did you find out how many people knew about her comin’ to Scotland?” Beck asked.

“Aye. Includin’ the two of us, there were eight: Kepler and Brennan, of course. Then there’s the housekeeper, the cook, the maid, and our travel agent.”

“Someone leaked that information and set Riley up,” Beck replied. Someone had deliberately screwed up his future.

“I’m not thinkin’ they’re not done messin’ with her yet. Put the hurt behind ya, lad, and keep focused on the problem. We’ll sort it one way or the other.”

We damned well better.

Riley hastily repacked her suitcase after Beck had grumpily rousted her out of bed at eight. He insisted they leave within the hour.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“To the manor.”

“I thought we were going up there later this week.”

“We were. Now we’re goin’ today.”

“Orders from your boss?” she said, glaring at him.

“Yeah. Get movin’.”

From that point on, they packed in silence. The room felt too small, maybe even the whole planet. If there was some way Riley could fly home today, she would have done it. She had no doubt Beck would have happily let her go.

After using the last of the Holy Water and tossing the bottle in the trash, she zipped her suitcase shut.

I shouldn’t have come here. I should have stayed home.

Maybe if she could find a way to ditch Beck, she might be able to think this through. But that wasn’t likely to happen.

Beck kept snapping at her until they boarded the train, and his surly behavior made her wonder just how much he hated her now. Once they were seated, he seemed to settle down, and his chilly behavior thawed a bit, as if he’d come to terms with her rejection and decided to move on.

He traded texts with Brennan, then, as the train wound its way west through Stirling and then farther north, he extracted a map from his backpack and helped her trace their journey into the Highlands. He’d been right — the scenery was beyond her imagining.

A couple hours later, they left the train at a small Scottish town where Beck led them to a car at the far end of a car park.

When she asked about how it’d gotten there, he said, “Brennan left it here for us.”

Brennan again. “He’s kind of your all-purpose slave, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, but don’t tell him that,” Beck replied.

“You know how to drive on the left side?”

He nodded. “It’s simple once you work it out in yer head.”

Until you get back to Atlanta.

As they climbed in she found another bottle of Holy Water on the seat with a note attached:

For Riley

“Your guy Brennan is way efficient.”

“He must like ya,” was the curt reply.

Riley stuffed the bottle in her backpack — her wounds were healed enough she didn’t need it anymore.

As they made their way along a two lane highway, she tried to relax and enjoy the scenery. She’d seen pictures of Scotland, but they weren’t close to the real thing. The Highlands were ruggedly beautiful, almost beyond the ability describe them in mere words. The mountains were covered in trees and there were deep lakes — lochs as they called them.

She found herself relaxing, not feeling the need to escape any longer.

I am so screwed up.
She kept taking quick glances at Beck, replaying the night before over and over in her head. Now she felt sick that she’d turned him down. If she’d agreed to marry him, today would be so different, so good.
But I didn’t.
And now, on every birthday for the rest of her life, she’d remember that moment on the mountain.

“What do you think?” Beck asked, looking over at her now.

“What? Oh ... Now I know why Stewart loves this place.”

“Wait until you see the loch behind the manor house. It’s real pretty at sunset.”

“What am I getting into here? Are the other grand masters nice or...”
Will they hate me because of what I did to you?

“There’s only one other grand master who lives here — his name is Kepler — and he’s in his seventies. His job is to keep track of the archives.”

“How many grand masters are there in the world?”

“Twenty-nine. If I’m lucky, I’ll be number thirty.”

“So few.”

“Not many of us survive first contact with a Fallen. You know what they’re like.”

Ori.
Even now his name brought heartache. Was he enjoying the sunrise each morning as the newest gargoyle on the Blackthorne mausoleum back in Atlanta? Or was he as lost as he’d seemed when she’d first met him?

“Yer missin’ the angel, aren’t you?”

She nodded. “How could you tell?”

“You always look so sad when you hear his name,” he said. Beck reached over to squeeze her hand, then stopped himself as if she wasn’t worthy of that gesture now. “Personally, I didn’t like the bastard, but he did what was right in the end.”

“He thought he could keep me safe.”

“It was still wrong.”

Beck might not mourn Ori’s death, but she would in her own way.

“So if there are only twenty-nine grand masters, how do they get anything done? I mean, they can’t be everywhere at once.”

“They have people who handle things in different countries. That’s what Brennan’s trainin’ to be — one of the International Guild’s representatives. They’re thinkin’ of sendin’ him to Mexico since he’s fluent in Spanish.”

So that’s how it all works.
She’d always wondered.

“We’re almost there,” he said. “About a mile left.”

Riley wasn’t exactly sure what she expected, but the manor house certainly was impressive. Huge by US standards, though probably small by Scottish measures, it was comprised of solid stone. Large windows dotted all four floors and she didn’t even try to count the chimneys.

“How old is this place?” she asked.

“The original house was built in the eighteen hundreds but they kept addin’ to it,” Beck replied. “I remember the first time I saw it. All I could think is ‘What the hell is a poor Georgia boy doin’ here?’”

“Learning to be a grand master, that’s what,” she said, trying to smile. It seemed like she’d almost forgotten how.

“I figured they’d toss my ass out first thing, but MacTavish invited me into some sort of sittin’ room and handed me a glass of whisky. Then he asked me about what Atlanta was like. So I told him.”

“Sizing you up?”

“Yup, but he was so smooth I didn’t realize what he was doin’ until I found myself talkin’ about the tactics we used at the Oakland Cemetery battle.”

That conjured up memories that were hard to handle: scores of demons hacking their way through the trappers and the Vatican’s Demon Hunters. The dead and dying. Her father. Lord Ozymandias. Sartael and Ori. Then the final confrontation between the forces of Hell and those from Heaven.

“Sorry,” he said, looking over at her. “Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned that.”

“I’ll have to deal with the nightmares someday.”

“I never will,” he replied, softer now.

Beck parked around the side of the building near two other cars and then helped her bring in her luggage. She paused a short distance from the front door, studying the twin dragon statues that flanked the entrance. A tingle of magic rode across her skin. “This place is warded. I felt it when we came up the drive. Who would be stupid enough to take on the grand masters?”

“Unfortunately, there is an abundance of stupid in this world. And in Hell.”

She couldn’t argue with that. Conjuring up demons was complete lunacy, but somehow the necromancers never got that memo.

Riley climbed the stone steps, following Beck inside. The sound of footsteps came from a long arched hallway. The ancient guy who joined them had a wrinkled face and bright blue eyes. His thin build looked lost in the black turtleneck and slacks.

“Denver, welcome back,” he said, his accent crisply English.

How cool. This place even has a butler.

“Riley, this is Grand Master Kepler. Sir, this is Riley Blackthorne.”

Oops.
Thank goodness she’d not said anything that would embarrass Beck. “Hi. I’m pleased to meet you,” she said, politely.

Kepler briskly shook her hand, his grip surprisingly strong for one so aged. He held it a bit longer than was necessary, then let go. “It is a pleasure to meet you. Denver has told us much about you.”

Probably not everything or you wouldn’t be so nice to me.

“Riley will need her own room while she’s here,” Beck cut in. “We won’t be sharin’ one, not like I thought.”

Riley gaped at him, caught completely off guard. Her boyfriend, had just thrown her under the bus in front of a grand master. And here she’d been worried about embarrassing him.

“I see,” the older man said. “You can stay in the room next door to Denver’s,” he said. He shifted his eyes to Beck now. “The key is in the kitchen.”

“Thank you, sir,” Beck replied. He set off down the hallway, leaving her and the old master alone.

An understanding smile came her way.
‘The course of true love never did run smooth,’
Kepler replied. “Not surprisingly, Shakespeare is still relevant today.” He waved her on. “Come along, I’ll show you where you need to go,” he said.

Her anger still burning at being blindsided, Riley and the grand master walked down the hallway. Kepler took hold of her hand as if to steady himself. His grip was warm and reassuming.

The grand master gave her a sidelong glance. “When was the last time you were around a necromancer, Miss Blackthorne?”

“Ah, at the graveyard. Why?”

“Just curious,” he replied.

Beck rejoined them at that moment, and she noted he wasn’t meeting her eyes. “I’ll take her from here, sir.”

“Thank you. The stairs seem more daunting with each passing year.” Kepler turned toward Riley. “Have a peaceful stay, Miss Blackthorne.”

“Thank you,” she replied, touched by his kindness.

Beck hefted her small suitcase and led her up two long flights of oak stairs, an even grander version than those in Stewart’s home. As they ascended, Riley’s anger began to wane as she found herself staring in wonder at the portraits scattered along the walls.

She paused in front of one; the name plate stated this was Grand Master Jonathon P. Barnsbury, that he was from Aberdeen, and that he had lived from 1710-1783. Even more impressive — he was wearing a kilt.

“Will you get a portrait made some day?” she asked, intrigued.

Beck looked chagrined. “Yeah, I will. Part of the deal, I guess. Kinda freaks me out, you know?”

“I think it’s way cool. Will you wear a kilt?”

“No,” he replied flatly. “No way.”

Riley paused in front of the next portrait — a lady named Antoinette LaFarge from Calais. “A woman. A French one. Now that rocks.”

“There aren’t many gals who’ve taken down a Fallen Angel, but if they do, they’re one of us.”

“So if I’d killed Sartael, I could have done all this,” she replied thoughtfully. “I’m pretty envious here, just so you know.”

Beck looked over at her, his expression softer now.

“In my mind, you’re already one of us. You stood up to that bastard, and you have the scars to prove it. You’ve been to Hell and came back. There’s little difference between you and me.”

Of course there is. You never sold your soul.

Though Riley had expected something small, her room had a double bed as well as its own bathroom. The bedspread was a cheery rose color to match the thick curtains. An old desk sat under a broad multi-paned window, along with an electric tea kettle, tea supplies and a cup and saucer.

“It’s nice,” she said.

“Not bad,” Beck replied as he unlocked the door between their two rooms. On impulse, she followed him into his space. His desk was piled high with leather bound books, proving that the guy who once had trouble reading was now a bookworm. Or at least an industrious student.

Stepping forward, she peered out the window onto a broad open vista which culminated at the edge of a forest. A narrow trail cut through the trees, angling up the tall hill behind the manor house.

“The loch is just over that hill,” Beck explained. “I take my mornin’ run that way. About killed me the first few times until I figured out I had to lighten my backpack cuz of the altitude.”

“And now?”

“I’m up to forty pounds. I’m aimin’ for fifty before I come back home.”

Always pushing yourself.

“I wish had this view back in Atlanta,” she admitted. When Riley turned she found Beck close now. So close she could see deep into his eyes.

“Why did you tell Grand Master Kepler I needed my own room?”

His expression hardened. “I figured we both need some space right now.”

“But you made that decision without asking me, without thinking how embarrassed I’d feel when you blurted that out.”

He shrugged, which didn’t earn him any points.

“You know, I’m done apologizing to you, Den. It isn’t helping you’re acting like a butthead and—.”

He waved her to silence. “MacTavish wants to talk to you in the library. Best not to keep him waitin’.”

“Oh, we’d hate to have that, wouldn’t we?” she said, angry at the way he’d blown her off.

Though it was childish, Riley took her time unpacking, then joined Beck in the hallway. From the glower on his face, she’d pushed more than a few of his buttons.

Two can play that game, Backwoods Boy.

~ - ~ - ~

Despite all the drama, MacTavish wasn’t waiting for them in the library. Riley barely noticed as she gasped the moment she stepped inside the room. It was like a Victorian dream come true; two stories tall with circular iron stairways that led to a second floor catwalk. A small dome rose in the very center of the ceiling, shedding soft light beneath it. Tables and padded chairs sat in discreet niches to allow for privacy. Reading lamps were dotted here and there, most with ornate stained glass shades. A fireplace sat at one end of the room, cozy flames warming the space. The room smelled of old paper and readily available knowledge. Just inhaling the scent seemed to ease some of the ache in her heart.

“Can I just move in here? This is like heaven.”

“I figured you’d see it that way,” Beck said. He waved her to one wall. “These are the ones you shouldn’t touch,” he said, indicating three shelves of books. Some were so old their bindings were cracked.

Now he had piqued her curiosity and Riley moved closer. “What keeps me from reading one of these when no one is looking?”

He gave her a hard stare.

“I’m just curious. Don’t worry, I’m not going to do it.”

“The books won’t allow you ta touch them,” MacTavish said, entering the room. He was smiling as he approached, dressed in comfortable slacks and a navy sweater. “Go ahead, try ta take one off the shelf.”