Free Grave Matters by Jana Oliver Page B

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