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when her parents were teachers at a real school and everything was good.
    Beck paused at the entrance, leaning against a rope that served as a handrail. The metal ones were long gone. Still holding his duffel bag in one hand, he turned toward her, his face unusually solemn.
    “It’s not just because yer a girl,” he said in a lowered voice, his mind still on their earlier conversation. “A lot of these guys are gettin’ older, and they’re not happy competin’ with younger trappers.”
    “Like you?”
    He nodded. “Don’t expect a good time, okay? But don’t let ’em push ya around. It was a good trappin’ gone wrong. That’s happened to every one of us. Don’t let them claim anythin’ different.”
    Then he left her on the street, putting distance between them like he didn’t want to be seen with her.
    Creep.
    Her dad was waiting inside that building. What would he say? Would he tell the Guild he’d made a mistake, that she wasn’t trapper material? Or would he try to defend her?
    If he does, they’ll roast him.
    That thought pushed her forward. Her father wasn’t going to face this alone. This was her mistake, not his.
    Riley limped up the steps and entered the building, closing the street door behind her. Nothing much had changed since the last Guild meeting: Cobwebs still hung from the ceiling, and the floors were laced with dust and discarded foam cups. A sneeze overtook her. Then another. Pulling a tissue out of a pocket, she blew her nose as she wandered into the huge auditorium. It was a vast space with uncomfortable wooden benches in three sections that rose to the rear of the building, most of it in the dark now. There used to be a pipe organ but it was long gone. Metal was too valuable.
    On the floor in front of her was a wet line in the dust that encircled the area where the meeting was being held. Why the trappers bothered to have a Holy Water ward never made sense to Riley. No demon would wander into a roomful of trappers. It’d be a way-dumb move. Still, it was tradition, and it fell to an apprentice to ensure the ward was properly applied. One day it would be her turn.
    This was only the second time she’d been in front of the Guild. The first hadn’t been a blast, with lots of argument over whether to issue her an apprentice license. Most of the trappers hadn’t cared either way, but a few clearly resented her. Not because of her dad, but because she wasn’t male. They’d be her foes tonight.
    And I gave them all the ammunition they need.
    Only the ground-floor General Admission Section was illuminated. Above her, dust hovered in the bright streams of light pouring down from the floods. The lights doubled as a heat source, which left the rest of the building uncomfortably chilly.
    The meeting had already started, and her dad was at one of the round banquet tables, arms crossed. It was his you’re-standing-on-my-last-nerve pose. He was wearing his Georgia Tech jacket and sweatshirt and faded blue jeans. His brown hair really needed a trim. Just like an average dad—except he trapped demons for a living.
    “How’d this simple job go so far off the rails, Blackthorne?” an older man asked. He was gray at the temples and had a deep crescent-shaped scar that ran down one side of his face. His nose had been broken and hadn’t healed right. It made him look like a cross between a pirate and a convict.
    Harper. The most senior of the three master trappers in the Atlanta Guild.
    “That’s what we’re here to find out,” her dad replied, his voice clipped. “Riley should be here soon; then we can hear the full story.”
    “Don’t care if she’s here or not. She’s done as far as I’m concerned,” Harper replied. The sneer on his face pulled the scar out of alignment.
    “We’ve all made mistakes.” Her dad pointed toward a beefy black man at a nearby table. “Morton destroyed a courtroom trying to trap a Four right after he became a journeyman. Things happen.”
    “What