Eban Page 4

  She resented the Heckmasters’ dictatorship of the town. Who were they to declare demons should remain peaceful? Seere threatened to revoke this body if she didn’t abide by the rules. Aside from trying to tempt Eban into bed, she hadn’t lifted a weapon since Noem’s attack or charmed another male. Though she wasn’t sure how long it had been since she last walked the earth in her own form, she enjoyed the respite from Purgatory.

  Pushing between a pair of male werecats at the bar, she leaned across it and crooked her finger at the barkeep, a hooded crone whose eyes glowed silvery-white beneath her cowl. The werecats moved away from the bar with quiet hisses that showed their fear and left Rosemar laughing. She was much more powerful than they, even in this body. There wasn’t a creature in the saloon that didn’t recognize the strength oozing from her pores.

  “Blood whiskey,” she told the crone.

  In accordance with Heckmaster law, they couldn’t use human blood to flavor their drinks. Wystan preferred his whiskey neat, another human flaw she considered weak. Each month when drovers delivered fresh beef to town, the crone slaughtered one and added cow’s blood to her alcohol stores. It was a poor imitation of a real sacrifice, hardly slaking Rosemar’s need, but unless she crossed the town’s borders and sought her own prey, she was stuck with the bovine beverage.

  It was still better than what she’d been doing to sate her blood cravings. When this form had been too weak to leave the clinic, she’d resorted to catching rats and lizards that boldly scuttled around the building. There had been moments when she craved blood so badly she thought of murdering Eban, even if he was a delicate part of Seere’s master plan. Who would care if Seere destroyed her? She was a pawn to him, easily replaced, and death would have eased her misery.

  The whiskey warmed her as it traveled through her veins. It gave her a feeling of invincibility. There was nothing she couldn’t do, no one she couldn’t defeat in battle. No lover she couldn’t tame. She turned away from the bar and let her gaze drift over the saloon patrons. Succubi flirted and entertained the demon clientele. With no male humans in town, they couldn’t feed off souls, but it didn’t stop them from earning coins to spend when the supply wagons came.

  Concentrating, she picked a redheaded succubus out of the crowd, then a male lamiae, and drew them together from across the room. They retreated to a corner half-hidden in shadows.

  Rosemar believed in love. Thousands of years ago when humans were a young, weak species, she’d walked freely, wielding the power of love, making and breaking families, toying with human emotion, bringing the rich and poor together. Love was easier to manipulate than hate and had the ability to make humans just as miserable. She fed on their misery as much as their blood.

  The succubus straddled the lamia male, pressing her lips to his, curling her talons into his thin white-blond hair. Her hips rolled, pressing against his groin. A hot, painful burn started around Rosemar’s heart. Or rather, Beryl’s heart. Rosemar pursed her lips as she watched. Beryl knew this action, the lure of a customer, how to act as though he was the only man in the world. Rosemar had picked her battered body out of an alley in Dakota Territory, amused because a whore was the perfect disguise.

  The lamia’s bony hand pushed the succubus’s shift up, baring her long legs. She wasn’t an ugly creature and Rosemar admired the curve of the demon’s thigh, the soft roundness of her bare buttocks. Though she preferred to destroy, she didn’t turn her eye away from beauty.

  The succubus’s long red locks fell around the lamia’s face, obscuring it from Rosemar’s sight. The succubus moaned as the lamia sank his pointed teeth into her neck, but she wasn’t in pain. Her expression betrayed her rapture. Painted red lips parted, revealing her gleaming white fangs. From across the room, Rosemar imagined the sound of the moan filled with want. No one else noticed the amorous couple, too consumed in their drinking and gambling.

  She held her breath when the lamia’s hand caressed the sucubbus’s folds. Her borrowed body thrummed with aching desire. It remembered being touched, both in good and bad ways. Certain customers had been gentle, or at least pleased with her efforts. Beryl hadn’t minded them so much, but others had delighted in her pain. A tiny part of Beryl’s spirit that wasn’t unaware of what was happening shrank back at the memories.

  Rosemar quieted the spirit with another sip of whiskey. Beryl would never remember any of this. If everything went according to plan, one day Rosemar would snuff out the woman’s existence and become the only mind in this form. She’d walk among the humans again, spreading joy and misery just as she’d done in days of old.

  The succubus arched her back, her mouth open, fangs extended, though she bit nothing but air. Rosemar leaned forward, gripping the bar behind her hard. A hot rush of pleasure surged through her, satisfying in a way that blood whiskey never could.

  A hand wrapped around her arm, jerking her away from the bar. She looked up at Tell, whose expression showed only fury.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  His grip was painful and meant to be. She had no doubt he knew Beryl wasn’t in control. She lifted her glass.

  “Enjoying Berner’s finest. What are you doing—oh, don’t bother with the details.” Rosemar nodded behind him.

  He didn’t turn, but he didn’t need to. Another succubus was coming down the stairs from the cribs, her brown curls rumpled, her face flushed with pleasure. Tell’s forays to the saloon were no secret. Like most of the other creatures here, the succubi couldn’t hurt him, which made them perfect sporting women.

  He didn’t react to her words or look at his latest conquest. “Does Eban know you’re running around loose?”

  “Of course not. He’d have a fit if he knew I was bringing his precious Beryl here.” She curled her upper lip. “Though it’s hardly the roughest place she’s ever been. Except most of the demons she knew were better disguised.”

  “You’re saying Beryl was a—” He looked shocked. “You dug her out of a brothel.”

  “Better than that. I saved her life when her boss dumped her in an alley for dead.” Rosemar shrugged. It hadn’t been done so she could receive the glory of saving a human. “It was convenient.”

  “Still is, from the look of things. You need to let her go.” He released her arm, but leaned closer. “Seere can get you another body.”

  “I chose this one. I like the way it feels. She’s passionate, but she hides it well.” Rosemar ran her hand over one breast. “I’m keeping it.”

  “Over my dead body.”

  “So be it, Har—”

  “Shut up.” He looked as though he wanted to slap her, but didn’t dare.

  The space around them had cleared and several sets of eyes turned their way. The tinny piano music died and silence reigned in all but the farthest corners of the saloon. Rosemar glared at Tell. She didn’t intend to use his real name and bring out the demon part of him that could easily kill this body and her, but she liked threatening him with it. The thrill was almost as exciting as an orgasm.

  “Go on about your business, Heckmaster. I’m fine here on my own. I’ll head back shortly.” Calm, she swept a wisp of hair behind her shoulder. “I don’t need a keeper, but you know who might? Your brother is playing with fire and it’s going to blow up in his face if he isn’t careful.”

  His blue eyes were wide with anger and distrust. “What are you talking about?”

  “Ars Notoria. You’d better check your hiding place.” She drained the blood whiskey from her glass and set it on the bar. “Eban is just as deceptive as the rest of you.”

  Tell stepped back, his gaze shooting toward the doors. “Dammit all to hell.” He didn’t waste time threatening her. Instead he turned and pushed through the crowd.

  Rosemar smiled. The disharmony between the brothers pleased her. Oh, she needed them to defeat Astaroth, just the way Seere planned it, but she loved the idea of rid
ding the world of them.

  Well, perhaps not Eban. She’d evoke his demon side and together they’d rule a little slice of the Gray Lands when she wasn’t wreaking havoc on Earth. A smile curved her lips. With a Heckmaster on her side, she’d show Seere and those other fools on the Gray Side. They’d never think her weak again.

  The clatter of hooves jerked Eban into reality. He dropped the Ars Notoria, fumbling to loosen his saber from its sheath. It wasn’t fully drawn when a bolt sank into the book’s leather cover. He froze and Tell appeared in the glowing green light emitted by the Pit.

  “What in God’s name are you trying to do, you goddamned idiot!” Tell snarled. He reached down and jerked Eban to his feet. “Do you know what invoking an angel could do to this place?”

  Eban’s anger surged to the surface. “Let go of me. Get back or I swear I’ll lay you out.”

  “Try it.” A little silver dagger appeared in Tell’s hand. “I don’t want to hurt you, but if it means stopping you from doing something stupid, I will.”

  He’d never feared Tell, not even when he learned about the curse that would unleash his little brother’s demon side. Tell might be a threat to Pit escapees, but there was nothing he could do that would make Eban back down.

  He shoved his brother away. “It’s the only way to save her.”

  “Where’d you get it?”

  “From Seere. I talked to him and he won’t give Beryl’s body back. I need another way. I’m not giving up on this. Not for you or Wystan or anyone.”

  “She’s just a woman. It’s too late. If you do this, you risk breaking the seals. You can’t handle that kind of power without consequences. I didn’t tell Wys but…” Tell tucked the knife away. His broad shoulders slumped with defeat. “The reason there have been more demons lately, even after we killed Noem, is because three of the seals are broken. They’ve got a hole in the divine fire, Eb. There’s nothing I can do to fix them.”

  Eban gaped. “Why? How?”

  Tell shrugged. “I don’t know for sure, but that’s how the bigger ones are getting through. The power it would take to call an angel will make more of them weak.”

  “Which ones?” Eban whispered.

  “Sitri, Buer, and Berith.” Tell flinched at the names. “They could be worse, but it’s bad.”

  Eban released a breath. “Could they…will they get out?”

  “If anyone summons them without proper bindings. They could come and go as they pleased without it. Just like Seere.”

  “Dammit,” Eban murmured. He looked at Tell again. “You think it’s because of what happened with Noem?”

  “Wys would’ve used a lot of power coming back,” Tell admitted. “Some of the seals have been weak for a while—that’s why the minion demons can get through without much trouble. There are still four holding the higher demons back, so there’s protection, but we can’t risk breaking more. We’ll wake up with Astaroth breathing down our necks one of these days.”

  Eban shuddered. “You should have said something.”

  “Wys and Rhia were so happy. It didn’t seem fair to ruin that. Not when there hasn’t been much to be happy about in the last few years.”

  “You’re only hurting them by hiding the facts.” Eban glanced at the Ars Notoria. The words he’d committed to memory swirled in his mind. “Take it.”

  Tell stilled.

  “Go on. Put the damn thing back wherever it was. Seere brought it when I asked him—I didn’t find it on my own. It’ll be safe in its old hiding spot.” Eban picked it up and thrust it at his brother.

  “I’m sorry.” Tell took the book, then jerked his bolt out of it. “I know you were waiting to find a way to save her before you left, but I hope you’ll think about staying. We need you here.”

  “There’s a lot more to the world than demons, curses and bloodlines, Tell. You could come with me.”

  Tell’s eyes were shiny, but it wasn’t sadness. Flashes of red and green from the Pit obscured his blue irises. “Can’t. Berner would be overrun in a matter of months.”

  Eban drummed his fingers on his leg. “You know that for sure?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  He wouldn’t be guilted into staying here. Not even if it meant saving the world. If he couldn’t save one human, what was the point of trying to save any of them?

  “I can’t stay. Can’t look either of them in the eyes when they get back. You don’t understand.” He pushed hair away from his face. “The only thing I can do is leave, try to start again somewhere else. I don’t want to watch Rosemar take Beryl. Don’t want to watch Wys and Rhia building a life together.”

  He pointed at the path to Berner. “What’s going on right now is bullshit. Everyone thinks we’re safe, we’ve sent Noem crawling back to Astaroth, the flowers are blooming and it’s all perfect. It’ll never be like that. There will never come a day when we can lay down our weapons without fear of being attacked.”

  “You really believe that.” Tell looked away, his mouth tight.

  “I know it.”

  “Go home, Eb. There’s no reason for you to sit out here. I’ve got it.” Tell shrugged his crossbow higher on his back. “You might as well start your goodbyes if that’s how you feel. Much as you hate what you think Wys did, I hope you’ll stick around until they get back.”

  “It wouldn’t be fair to leave you with all of Berner to protect.”

  Tell snorted. “Don’t worry about me. I was born for this.”

  He tried ignoring the burn of guilt building in his stomach. The sad truth was, their father probably hadn’t imagined leading his children down this road.

  “I’m going for a walk when I get back. I’ll keep an eye out for disturbances, but it’s been quiet here.”

  Tell’s eyes were still lit by the Pit’s glow. “Rosemar’s walking too. Watch out for her.”

  “She left the clinic?” Eban’s hand tightened over the saber’s hilt.

  “Went to the saloon, had a drink, but she didn’t cause any trouble. She said she was on her way back. You probably won’t see her again tonight.”

  He meant she’d allow Beryl to take over again. A shiver crept down Eban’s spine. Tell thought they were better off without her, but Eban couldn’t stomach the notion of putting her down like a stray dog.

  “I’ll talk to her.”

  Tell lifted his chin, a sign that he didn’t like it, but he’d accept it—for now. “Be careful.”

  “You too.”

  The saber banged against Eban’s leg as he mounted his horse and turned it toward town. A dull throb formed between his eyes, rapping inside his skull each time the horse laid a hoof on the rocky ground. This was no kind of life, worrying about the next attack, the next malformed creature that would haul itself out of hellish depths to kill them. Or trading favors with princes of Hell to help someone who didn’t know she’d die if he didn’t.

  A couple more days and he’d use what he’d learned from the Ars Notoria. Tell might believe the seals were breaking due to the events of the last several weeks, but it was foolish to think Astaroth wasn’t doing everything he could to destroy them as well.

  If Tell couldn’t fix them, no one could. War was already nipping their heels. Beryl stood a real chance if he could persuade the angels to help. If the choice had been Wystan’s, he knew Wys would take it.

  Why shouldn’t he?

  Chapter Five

  Beryl glanced up from her book into the schoolyard where her six charges were scattered across the lawn at recess. The boys, Thomas Jefferson and Howie, were playing on a seesaw that looked ready to collapse at any second. It was useless to ask Eban if he’d help her fix it. She wasn’t good with tools and Eban less so. If it had required bandaging, they might be able to repair it, but it was a lost cause otherwise.

  The girls—Sylvie, Mila, Mary and Nancy—were sitti
ng beneath a newly leafed-out tree, giggling about something. Sylvie was the oldest, with a birthday next week. Right in time for Rhia and Wystan’s arrival home. They were planning a party for her that included moving into their new house.

  Her fingers hesitated on the page she’d been about to turn. What would it be like to take a honeymoon with a husband? To feel the excitement of moving house and starting a family.

  You’re worthless, ugly and dumb as a stump.

  Her breath hitched as the male voice echoed inside her head. She closed the book and leaned back in her seat. A tremor shook her, but she couldn’t explain why. She pressed her palms to her eyes while her mind raced.

  Green beads scattered on the floor like discarded fish scales. The coppery taste of blood in her mouth. The flicker of lantern light reflecting the narrow window too small for her to escape through.

  Girls like you end up in the alley!

  The voice came back, sharper than before. Winding up in the alley meant one thing—death.

  She clutched the sides of her head, willing the flashes of memory to stop. Whatever it was, it was long ago and she was safe now.

  Darkness, gritty dirt beneath her cheek, the stench of urine and garbage. Pain in her head because someone had clubbed her from behind.

  This is where you belong, Beryl. Back in the filth you came from.

  She moaned, resting her forehead against the desk.

  “Beryl?”

  Startled, she sat up, meeting Sylvie’s concerned gaze.

  “Resting my eyes. What is it?” She managed a wobbly smile.

  “Isn’t it time to come inside?” Sylvie glanced at the brass bell on the desk.

  Rhia had shined it until it gleamed, like she’d done with so many objects in the schoolroom. The desks were waxed regularly, the floors swept every evening and the chalkboard washed every other day. Beryl hugged herself. This place was too clean for someone like her. What business did she have teaching children, even if most of them were demon offspring?