Eban (19 page)

She'd have to take care not to be caught by the Heckmasters' little tricks for trapping and killing demons. It didn't make much difference if they spilled holy water on her, buried her under a ton of silver, or read religious tomes until they went hoarse. The human body was immune to such things. When she turned it into a demon, she'd be as vulnerable as Seere. The only downfall in her plan, but she had a few tricks of her own.

Eban entered the room and stood in the doorway looking at her. Rosemar peered at him from beneath her lashes, pretending she'd not been bothered when he left. He approached the bed, blew out the lamp and undressed. When he'd finished, he slipped beneath the blanket.

Faking a sleepy moan, Rosemar curled next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. The urge to bite him and spill his sticky, salty blood washed over her. He'd never give in, never let her win at this game. As much as she wouldn't mind keeping him around, Eban was a liability, a broken link in her plan to depose Seere.

Eban pressed a kiss to her forehead and sighed.

Neither of them fell asleep for a long time.

Chapter Eighteen

A dry wind whipped over Berner's streets, causing tendrils of Beryl's hair to rip free from her braid and sting her face. The faintest hint of something rotten hung on the wind. She didn't feel comfortable out here alone and she wasn't the only one, judging by the way the streets had taken on the abandoned look again.

The box lunches she'd picked up from Lois's cafe weighed her arms down. Going out for lunch didn't seem like such a good idea anymore, but no one occupying Eban's clinic felt much like cooking. The Heckmasters sat at the table in the kitchen, watching the windows and doors as though they expected Astaroth to burst through any moment. She'd been a little surprised when they agreed to let her go to Lois's to pick up lunch on her own. Or maybe one of them was watching her right now. Tell was practically a chameleon, the way he haunted shadows and dimly lit spaces.

Overhead, the sun beamed with particular harshness. Sweat beaded at her collar, clinging despite the persistent wind. There weren't many clouds, but the few hovering around the sun were dark and threatening. Little pieces of debris and sand kicked up in the air, hitting the buildings and grating against her exposed skin. She hoped the boxes wouldn't be loaded with dirt when she arrived back at the clinic.

Even the flowers and trees looked a little wilted by the relentless sun and wind. It worried her that the town might fall into the depressing state it had been in when she arrived here with Rhia and Sylvie. The good demons in Berner longed to be normal, to have the kind of town people could be proud to say they were from, but with this war they were waging, they'd never get the chance. She didn't know if Seere's bid to overthrow Astaroth's power would make it possible, but she hoped so. She hoped Rosemar really was trying to help him and not just break free for her own gain.

“Are you afraid?”
Eliakim appeared behind a dust devil, practically glowing in the sun.

Bad enough she had to wipe dust from her eyes and nose, she knew it would get in her mouth as soon as she spoke. “I am.”

“Rosemar doesn't intend to honor her debts to Seere.”
He reached for the box hanging from a string in her hand. She surrendered it and shifted the second box so she could hold it in both hands.
“She has anarchy in mind.”

“I think that's obvious. No matter how much I hope it's not true, I know better. Can you protect the Heckmasters?”

“That is not my task.”

“Why are you here?” she grumbled. “I haven't seen you do a blessed thing that really benefits any of us.”

“I am waiting, studying, observing.”
His face remained impassive, his voice soft, not betraying any hint of annoyance at her question.

“For?”

His cold silver gaze slid over to her.
“Seere is my kin. He fell with the Unforgiven, choosing to believe Lucifer over Father. The battle to claim Earth has been long with many victories for both sides. We watch, we wait until we can hesitate no longer. Come what may, I will not lay my blade down until the side I've chosen wins or is destroyed. I will fight with Seere this once to defeat Astaroth, but after, I must destroy him in order to preserve the fate of the world.”

Beryl swallowed, her throat coated with a layer of dust. “Then you'll be the one to put Rosemar down.”

“Unless Seere discovers her betrayal, yes.”

“I'd like it to be you. I'd feel…better if I knew your blade ended it.” She eyed the long sheath, decorated with angelic symbols she didn't understand.

“I will do my best, Beryl Brookshier.”

“I know.” She turned her gaze to the clinic. “It's going to happen soon. Astaroth is clawing at the sides of the Pit and when he bursts through the shield, it won't do much to slow him down.”

Beryl couldn't say how she knew, but Eliakim's solemn expression didn't give her any reason to think she was wrong.

“The seals were never meant to hold as long as they have. That alone is a miracle.”
Eliakim lifted the box to his nose and sniffed it.
“Your food is interesting. I wish there was more time to sample human life before the end.”

A pang ripped through her. This could be her last day to eat, her last day to look into Eban's eyes, to kiss him. They wouldn't have the rest of their lives to wake up together. No family or anniversaries.
“The end,”
Eliakim said. The box in her hands felt weighed down by bricks. Whatever appetite she'd had earlier vanished.

“You have regrets.”

“I think most humans do,” she answered. “Are you coming inside?”

“No. I must watch the Pit. If anything emerges, I will alert the Heckmasters.”

He settled the box he carried on top of hers. Beryl bent and placed them on the boardwalk.

“I want to thank you. For what's coming, I mean. I'm glad we have an ally, even if you couldn't get rid of the demon inside me.” She reached out, slipping her arms around his broad chest. She'd no more than clasped her hands when she cried out and backed away. “What…”

Bright red burns and blisters appeared on her hands.

“The demon. It cannot abide a holy touch.”
Eliakim's eyes reflected his sorrow.

Despite the throb, she felt repulsed by what was happening to her. “It's not your fault.”

“Ebaneezer is accustomed to repairing damage caused by holy objects. He will have a concoction to soothe your pain.”

She choked down the lump in her throat. Physical pain, yes, but there wasn't anything he could do to settle the worries circling her mind like water in a drain.

Above them, thunder clapped in the sky. The clouds were still sparse and it distracted her from the pain for a moment. The clinic door flew open and Heckmasters spilled outside.

“The Pit.”

Eliakim's input wasn't needed. The fierce expressions on the brothers' faces said enough. Like magic, the air wavered and Seere appeared in the middle of the street. The portal behind him swirled, remaining open. He tilted his head, smiling at Eliakim.

“So glad you could join us.”

Eliakim's eyes flickered from the sky to him and back.
“Astaroth rises.”

“Indeed he does. Are the five of you ready for what he's unleashing?” Seere's hand cut through the air and a glowing ball settled in his palm. “I have something here that should interest you for a few more minutes.”

The ball grew in size, doubling with every second until it was too large for him to support. It hung suspended in the air, roughly big enough to hold a man. Beryl covered her mouth with her hand, horrified to see a human face pressed against the gelatinous side of the orb.

It exploded in a glare of light that whipped Beryl's hair away from her face. When she blinked to clear her vision, a man stood beside Seere. He was perhaps a little older than Wystan. His eyes glowed red and his face was twisted into a wicked expression.

“Perhaps you'd recognize him better with another face.” Seere snapped his fingers and heavy fog swirled around the man. When it cleared, his features had taken on a different shape.

The square jaw reminded her of Wystan, the brow shared by Eban and Tell, the mouth shaped like a set of lips she knew all too well, his height matching Wystan's perfectly. Glossy black hair fell just below his ears like Tell's. Beryl recognized him from the vision Eliakim had showed her and Eban at the cemetery. Her stomach clenched as she swept her gaze over him again.

The only difference between him and his boys was his red eyes.

“Father.” Eban descended the steps, stopping a few feet away from Seneca.

“He's under my control.” Seere plucked a thread from his suit breast. “If he wasn't, he'd tear the lot of you limb from limb. Hell's prisons will do that to the sanest demon.”

Beyond town, the horizon glowed and the temperature soared.

Wystan stepped forward. “It looks like Father, but how do we know you're not toying with us, Seere?”

“Tell, would you care to convince your brothers that I have your genuine sire at my side?” Seere gestured at Seneca. “Time is short.”

Tell gripped his crossbow in his right hand, the left caressing a silver bolt sheathed in his belt. His eyes flared a lighter color red than Seneca's, but he didn't break his gaze with the demon. Tell's face hardened. His shoulders were tense, hands tight on his weapon.

“I'll be—”

“Yes, we all know.” Seere drew his sword. “Satisfied?”

Tell shook his head. “That's our father.” His voice was hoarse, face pale beneath his tan. “I don't know how, but it's him.”

“Much like Rosemar, I had to find him a host body. He'll do for the sacrifice. He's already taken over.” Seere smiled. “I think he'll be anxious to face his old foe once more.”

Beryl touched Eban's shoulder. “Are you all right?”

His hand wrapped around the hilt of his saber, knuckles white and his jaw clenched so tight the veins in his forehead stood out. She'd never seen him look so angry, not even when he'd left to hunt demons or when he found out she'd volunteered to give herself to Rosemar.

Depending on how long the battle with Astaroth lasted, this was her last chance to say goodbye to him. It wasn't what she'd imagined.

The sky rumbled above them and the eerie light from the Pit intensified. She shielded her face with her hand.

“Eban…”

He grasped her shoulders. “This is not how it's going to end, do you understand? I'm going to figure something out. I'll be back and when I am, we're going to—” He pulled her into his arms. “I'm not letting it end like this.”

“I love you. Just be careful,” she whispered, words muffled against his shoulder.

The earth trembled under their feet. She wrinkled her nose when the scent of charred flesh reached them.

He held her at arm's length. “Go to Rhia and Sylvie. You'll be safe there.”

She didn't know how he could guarantee that and even worried they might not be safe with her. She opened her mouth to protest, but Seere grabbed her arm.

“I'm afraid not. I need Rosemar. She's part of this and we need all the help we can get.”

Eban's lips drew back in a snarl and he reached for Seere, but Beryl blocked his hand.

“Don't. I'll still get to say goodbye. He promised.”

Seere smirked.

“We don't have time for this, Eb.”

At Wystan's deep voice, Eban lowered his arm.

“Fine, but this isn't settled. I pay my own debts.”

Wystan's shoulders slumped and Beryl knew he was thinking about what it would do to Rhia if something happened to him.

“She'll be all right,” Beryl said. “We'll all be fine.”

He nodded, but seemed unconvinced.

She turned to Seere again. “I suppose if you need Rosemar, now's the time to call her.”

“Smart girl. I like you, Beryl. Pity about the deal you made.” Seere lifted his hand and placed it on her forehead.

Pain flared at her temples. She squinted at Eban, wishing she could work her mouth to tell him she loved him one more time. Then the world slid into a red haze.

Eban wrapped his hand around Beryl's arm as she hunched over in pain.

“Goddammit, Seere, she doesn't have to be part of this,” he growled.

“I need every able-bodied demon at hand. You're afraid, but for all the wrong reasons,” Seere said.

Clouds rolled over Berner, but they moved too fast to be normal. They were sickly green and brown, smoke released from Hell that clogged the streets. Eban coughed, pushing the rancid scents of rotting meat and burning flesh out of his lungs. Darkness closed in, snuffing out the sun. The only light came from Eliakim, who held his broadsword aloft.

The ground buckled under their feet, splitting down the street with the same ease as a toddler smashing a cookie. The building across from the clinic collapsed in on itself.

Beryl straightened, her eyes flashing. One moment she was Beryl, but the next Rosemar took over.

“My lord.” Rosemar nodded at Seere and jerked her arm out of Eban's grasp. “I'll require a weapon.”

“Of course.” Seere held out his hand and the hatchet that had once belonged to Sandra Heckmaster appeared. “I believe you're already acquainted with this one.”

She took it and ran her finger across the blade. “Thank you.”

“You're going to keep your word.” Eban pushed Rosemar out of the way. “You're going to bring Beryl back.”

Anger flared in Seere's eyes, no match for the rage boiling inside Eban. “I'll allow a quick parting, but nothing more. There is no way out of this. We made a deal and I will not negotiate with the pair of you again.”

“Where'd you get the body for Father?” He curled his fists, restraining himself from grabbing Seere by the collar.

“It makes no difference. I'm not reassigning Rosemar. We have a prince to defeat, in case you've forgotten.” Seere held up his hand and a gust of wind pushed Eban backward. “Unless the three of you want Berner razed to the ground.”

“C'mon, Eb.” Tell put his hand on Eban's shoulder. “We got a fight to finish out there.”

Eban swallowed hard, looking out at the dark desert before them.
Beryl doesn't come back unless Astaroth is locked away for good.

He glanced at his father, remembering the mulish expression and the obedient manner Wystan had acted when he was trying to control his demon side against Noem. The way Seneca looked was no different. He only had ears for what his master commanded him to do. Eban's fury grew. He couldn't allow his father to mindlessly follow Seere's lead.

“Let's go.”

Seere clapped his hands together. The portal behind him widened. “We're not walking. We're traveling with flair.”