Chapter 24 – Reunited
Los Angeles, 6:19 p.m.
Riley Wolfe leaned his head back against the cement wall, dragging on his cigarette. He had given up on giving up almost two weeks ago, and the nicotine couldn't taste finer. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the bluish haze of the cigarette smoke clouding his lungs. He couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for himself.
"Damn… what a long day," he thought aloud, his voice echoing off the surrounding walls lining the alleyway he had hidden himself in. Looking to his right, he could see the seemingly endless streams of LA traffic. He could smell that smell… that almost vile combination of diesel fuel and street-food. City-Smell, he called it. The sounds… the honking horns, millions of voices, cars and cargo trucks, airplanes in the distance… they were all muffled here in the back alley between his apartment and 17th Street. He never smoked in his own home. Something his mother had ground into him at a very early age. He had memories of his mother chasing his good-natured father out of her prized guest parlor whenever he lit his Ecrustean pipe. She had never minded that he smoked. Just that he always tried to get away with it in her house. She would scold him in that up-tight, white-bitch way of hers, and promptly send him to the rose garden.
And so Riley never smoked inside his own home. He smoked here, in the alley, where nobody would mind. Except maybe the roaches. He closed his eyes again, taking a last few puffs on the dying butt. He pulled it out of his mouth, staring at it like a science specimen, and finally flicking it into a drippy sewer gutter. He massaged the bridge of his nose with his right thumb and forefinger, his mind beginning to wander. He had performed four exorcisms today. One of them had been so violent he had needed a priest buddy of his to help him pull it out. The victim was a little boy who lived on the Westside with his mom and older sister. Those rat bastards couldn't leave anyone alone… not even innocent little kids. He didn't have a problem sending that fucker back where he belonged. Didn't even bat an eye. Just drop-kicked his ass back to hell.
Riley sighed, digging his keys out of his back pocket. A quick-silver cross dangled from the key-ring. He plugged them into the door of the abandoned warehouse he called home and punched in a random key code at the touch pad mounted on the right nearly shoulder high. The overhead fluorescents hummed on as the heavy metal door groaned open. Riley made his way to a huge metal work table loaded down with religious artifacts and books on the occult. Hanging above it was a large Old Romanian crucifix, beautifully crafted. Beneath it, sacred Latin protection spells were painted in rudimentary red paste on the wall. Riley dug around in his pockets, tossing his keys to the table. He pulled a small bottle of holy water – half used – out of his front right pocket. He made a mental note to pick up some more from Father McCleason, his partner in crime. Next came an assortment of demon-dispatcher rings. Tiny triangle-shaped symbols used to reverse demonic activity in humans and inanimate objects. Last came a very old, very worn brown leather field notebook. Riley gazed at it sourly, tossing it to the table with the rest of his things. The front was stamped with an embossed "R."
He shuffled towards a large cot in the corner, peeling off his knit jacket along the way and dropping it on the floor. He resisted the urge to grab another cigarette while flopping onto the thin mattress and pile of worn blankets. He breathed deeply, moving himself into a comfortable position among the flattened pillows beneath him. He closed his eyes, nearly drifting off right then and there.
"Hello Riley," came a sultry voice from behind him. He whipped back, pulling an automatic from a holster strapped beneath his cot. A figure sat in the shadows near a wooden desk piled with loose papers.
"Who the hell is there?" he screamed, his voice rock steady despite his surprise. The shadowy figure stood up, and the overhead fluorescents illuminated a set of luscious curves draped in raw, black silk."Still as paranoid as ever, Riley," the shadow said. Riley sighed, dropping his eyes to the floor. He felt a small bead of sweat trickle down his neck as he balled his fists.
"Lara," he almost growled. "You should know better than to sneak up on exorcists. It's bad for business." Lara emerged from the shadows, her hands on her hips. Riley straightened himself, a little embarrassed at his behavior.
"I can't believe it. All these years and you haven't changed," she said, shaking her head slightly. Riley smiled, his eyes alight.
"I know, right? You'd figure I'd at least have gotten taller." Lara moved closer to him, and he caught a whiff of her scent. Deep, feminine, natural. Like some sort of far-off waterfall. His mind drifted back to the days of their childhoods... or what was left of them. He looked at her, nostalgic for times long gone.
"It's good to see you, Riley," she nearly whispered. "It's been too long." He closed his eyes, nodding.
"It's good to see you too. It has been entirely too long." He held out his hand in a welcoming gesture. Lara looked at it strangely, turning her face up towards his with a tenderness he had never seen there before. She pushed his hand away, wrapping him in an unexpected hug. His eyes went wide, but softened as their days as best friends began to drift back. He returned the embrace, wishing much of the past had never happened.
When they pulled away from each other, he noticed tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. He smiled, shuffling slightly.
"You haven't changed any either. You can still break a guy's heart with but a touch," he teased. Lara rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile caressing her face.
"You were the only guy I couldn't conquer, Riley." He smiled, noticing her face go dark.
"So... What the hell are you doing in this God-forsaken shit-hole?" He gestured to a ratty-looking chair beside his bed. She walked over and sat down, removing a plain white business envelope from the inside of her shirt. "Still keeping dirty secrets hidden in your bra, eh Lara?"When she didn't return the grin, he shoved his rough hands in his pockets, eyeing her carefully.
She tossed the envelope onto the bed, looking at him sullenly.
"I need some information." Riley coughed slightly, nearly laughing.
"Good one Lara. I see you still haven't lost your sense of humor," he replied.
"I assure you I'm completely serious," she said, her face stony. Riley stopped smiling. He felt that same unnerving bead of sweat trickle down his neck again.
"What do you mean? What kind of information?" he asked. She motioned to the envelope on his bed, and he picked it up. Opening it, a wad of crisp hundreds unfurled in his hand. He arched a brow, casting a suspicious glance in her direction. "What the hell is this?"
"I have an artifact I need you to look at for me. I need you to tell me where it came from and, more importantly, what it's for," Lara replied, crossing her arms. Riley frowned.
"Lara, we go back a long ways. Why would you think you'd have to pay in order for me to help you?"
"That money's not for the information. Like you said, we go back a ways. I fully expect you to help me for just that reason. The money is to keep you quiet about everything that happens here tonight." Riley sat on the edge of the cot, the envelope held in his hand.
"Keep me quiet? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" he nearly barked. Lara put up a hand.
"Riley, don't get short with me. You know I mean well. I trust you more than almost anyone else, and you know that. The money is to help us both out."
"Please, Lara. I'm not a charity case. I don't need your damn money."
"Riley, please! You live in an abandoned Dairy Freeze factory!" she snapped.
"For your information, I live in an abandoned Dairy Freeze factory in order to keep a low profile. People in my line of work aren't exactly the most popular sorts. If I lived in Beverly Hills, every Tom, Dick, and Harry would know who I was and where they could find me. Not to mention the supernatural Toms, Dicks, and Harry's! I've shipped enough of their asses out to keep me on their shit-list until Christ himself returns."
"Look Riley. I'm just trying to help. I need some information and I need you to keep it hush-hush. You need some spending money. We're square. Now sit down and tell me what I need to know." Riley huffed in frustration, he cheeks beet red.
"Fine. What do you want to know?" Lara got up and walked back to the battered desk she had been hiding at before Riley came home. She pulled a squarish black briefcase from underneath the bookshelf, returning with it to Riley's bedside. He watched her curiously as she set the briefcase on the seat of the chair, opening the latches. He folded his hands between his legs, waiting. She pulled an object wrapped in soft cloth out of the case, handing it to him. He took it from her, surprised at the weight of it.
"Tell me what it is. More importantly, tell me what I should be doing with it." Riley pulled back the flaps of the soft cloth, and Lara watched as his eyeballs nearly fell out of his skull...