Grave Matters by Jana Oliver

Vatican’s Demon Hunters? Or her involvement with a certain Fallen angel? There was no good way to ask those questions, so Riley just smiled in return.
    “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Blackthorne,” Lang said. “I recently spoke with a friend of yours, a young man named Simon Adler.”
    “Simon?” she said, surprised, looking over at Beck and then back to the priest. “He’s here in Scotland?” Lang nodded. “How is he? I haven’t gotten an e-mail from him for a while.” Which wasn’t unusual for her ex-boyfriend, so she hadn’t been terribly worried.
    “He’s doing fairly well. I spoke with him about a month ago. He indicated that a period of contemplative prayer will be beneficial, so I made arrangements for him to go to Pluscarden Abbey, for a retreat. It’s a Benedictine monastery in northern Scotland. From what I gather, he’s still there.”
    “Good, he’ll like that. I’m glad for him,” she said, meaning every word. “How did you meet him?” And why did he mention me?
    “A representative of the Vatican asked if I could help Mr. Adler while he was here.”
    The Vatican? Now that was interesting.
    “Thanks for helping him. Simon’s a good guy.”
    “Yeah, he is,” Beck said softly. “Hell was really hard on him.”
    “It is on all of us,” the monsignor replied. His eyes moved back to Riley. “Some more than most.”
    Riley intended to follow up on that comment, but was interrupted by someone calling out her name. She gritted her teeth. Not willing to risk offending the grand masters in any way, she reluctantly turned toward the approaching necromancer.
    Fayne was in her mid-fifties, with dark hair and full lips, wearing a dark brown robe. She frankly assessed Riley like a jeweler would a rare diamond.
    Biting the inside of her lip, Riley put on her “I’m here only because I have to be, so don’t push your luck” expression.
    When the summoner offered to shake her hand, Beck intervened.
    “Good to meet you, ma’am,” he said, intercepting the woman’s handshake. “I’m Denver Beck.”
    “The new grand master?” she asked, studying him closely.
    “Not yet, ma’am. I’m still workin’ toward that. It’s a long haul.”
    “ You actually killed an angel?” the woman asked, skepticism overlaying each word.
    Her tone made Riley’s hackles rise.
    “It was either that or it’d kill me,” Beck replied.
    Fayne’s attention moved back to Riley and she stretched out her hand again.
    Riley ignored it. Before it became even more awkward, Kepler interceded, guiding Fayne across the room to meet the druid. From the look on the necro’s face, she wasn’t pleased by the interruption.
    “If it wasn’t for Mort, I’d never talk to another summoner again,” Riley murmured.
    “Same here,” Beck agreed. “Since Simon’s in Scotland, I’ll try to catch up with him if I can. Buy him a beer. See how things are goin’.”
    “If you do talk to him, tell him I’m thinking of him,” she replied.
    “I will. Funny thing, down the line I’ll be spending some time at that monastery too.”
    Riley blinked. “Why?”
    “It’s during the last few weeks of a grand master’s trainin’. Kepler says that by then I’ll need some quiet time to work things out in my head.”
    “You? In a monastery? That outta be fun,” she said, rolling her eyes.
    Beck frowned back. “A few months ago, I wouldn’t have done it. Now?” He nodded more to himself than her. “I think I’ll like it. It’ll be straightforward. So much of my life isn’t that way anymore.”
    “You really have changed,” she said, looking up at him.
    “Not so much on the outside,” he said.
    She pointed at the kilt and he shrugged in acceptance.
    “Well, maybe so.” Then his eyes slowly rose to meet hers. “Do you ... like ... the new me?”
    There was so much turbulent emotion behind the question it drowned out everything around them.
    “It’s taking a bit to get used to, but I do like the new Beck.