Eban (22 page)

Eban had stopped listening. He knelt by Beryl, feeling for her pulse and sighing with relief when he found it. The burns on her skin were blistered and red, but easily taken care of if he could get her back to the clinic.

He pulled her into his arms. “She needs help.”

“I'll open a portal into town for you. Be warned that the battle for Earth is not over. Astaroth is in no position to fight again, but he has followers and generals beneath him. Demons still roam throughout the world and you should never let your guard down.” Azazel looked pointedly at Tell. Then he nodded and a hole rippled into existence near Eban. “Fare thee well, Heckmasters.”

Eban didn't hesitate. He stepped through the portal and into the street in front of his clinic. Rhia sat on the steps, but bolted to her feet when she saw him.

“What happened? Where's Wys? Is Astaroth coming? Say something, Eban.”

She'd no more finished than Wystan stepped into the street. She threw herself into his arms and he held her close.

“It's all right. We're all safe,” he told her.

Speak for yourself.
Eban gritted his teeth as Rhia kissed Wystan's dirt-streaked face. Had he forgotten they'd nearly killed Beryl moments ago?

Tell limped through the portal, the bolt sticking clean through his leg.

“You'd better come along so I can pull that out,” Eban said. He wasn't ready to forgive Tell for attempting to shoot Beryl, but he didn't trust his brother to remove it without creating more damage.

“I'm sorry,” Tell muttered.

“You didn't think Beryl was going to survive. You never gave her a chance.” He shouldered past his brother and balanced Beryl so he could open the door. He felt more satisfaction than he should that Tell was suffering a taste of his own medicine.

Beryl looked small, pale and fragile when he laid her in his bed. Torn because he didn't want to leave her, he hesitated at her side. Her chest rose and fell evenly, a good sign, even if she wasn't awake.

“I'll be back after I fix up Tell, all right?”

He brushed her hair back and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Tell sat on the edge of the table in the examination room, his hands balled into fists, shoulders slumped in pain as he waited for Eban. It wasn't the worst wound he'd sustained—nothing compared to the bullet Eban had fished out of his stomach weeks ago.

“You're halfway pleased she turned the bolt on me, aren't you?”

Eban washed his hands, watching the dirt and blood swirl in his washbasin. “I didn't say that.”

“You don't need to. It shows.”

When he turned, he froze in place, aware Tell was searching his mind. The world seemed to bend, time passed by slowly and his heart beat painfully in his chest. The feeling fled and Tell blinked.

“Satisfied?” Eban wiped his hands on a towel and opened a drawer to retrieve tools to remove the bolt.

“You changed back there, Eb. Red eyes, nasty attitude, the whole bit.” Tell stared at his wound. “I wanted to make sure that you're you.”

“I'm me.” He slammed the drawer shut. “I've always been me.”

Except for that short time when his demon side wanted to rip Tell and Wystan apart for threatening Beryl.

“You loved her, even like that. I wasn't sure it was possible.” Tell flinched when Eban brought out the scissors and cut his pant leg up the seam to the wound. It had turned black around the edges thanks to his allergy to the silver tip. “It wasn't Rosemar you wanted to save, it was Beryl.”

“Yes.”

He recalled the conversation he'd had with Beryl about how he never had patients and she'd told him not to wish for them. She was right, of course. He shouldn't have complained. Exhausted to the bone, he wanted nothing more than to join Beryl in bed.

“That's interesting.” Tell's voice was faint.

“Do you want to know what it felt like?”

Wystan didn't talk about when he'd turned. He'd saved their lives while he was under the control of his demon, but he'd fought it the entire time, just as Seneca had when he started falling in love with their mother.

“Not really. It might—Jesus, careful with those scissors. Is that the needle you're using?” Tell gripped the sides of the table, his eyes widening.

“Might what?”

“You know. Set something off.” Tell reached for the needle, but Eban knocked his hand away.

“Don't touch that. Your fingers are filthy.” He reached for the iodine, then dribbled it over the bolt and wound.

Tell hissed. “Some bedside manner.”

He ignored the jibe. “There's no setting it off. It's there, waiting, all the time. If the demon wants out, if you give it enough slack, it'll come out. Keep it corralled as long as you can.”

“It subsided when Azazel released Beryl. I've never heard of that before.”

“That's love for you.” Wystan stood in the doorway, a hulking figure clutching the crumpled form of Tell's hat. His gaze slid to the bolt and back to Eban. He looked faintly green beneath his tan. “You need help?”

“You can hold Tell upright, keep his hands away from his leg and my head. Wash your hands in case I need you to hold the wound open.”

“Love, huh?” Tell asked. “You really believe that?”

“Deep in my bones,” Wystan said, splashing water over his hands. “The leg gonna be all right?”

“Should be good as new this time tomorrow. If it doesn't take infection.” Eban waited for Wystan to grip their younger brother. “This is gonna hurt.”

He snapped the fletching off the bolt and barely looked up when Tell passed out and slumped against Wys. The shaft slipped through the muscle with little resistance.

“Lean him back. This will throb like the devil for a few hours, but the black will clear up and I doubt if it leaves a scar.” He cleaned it with iodine again, then wiped away the excess brownish liquid. “I hope this will remind him to keep his bolts clean. He's not the neatest demon hunter in existence.”

“You all right?” Wystan gave him a long look.

“Tired, worried, relieved, but I think I'll live.” He began stitching the wound. “The demon is quiet.”

“Good. Tell worked his magic?”

Eban looked up and snorted. “Of course.”

“We just want to know it's safe. You understand.”

“I do.” He tied off the thread. “No one is giving you a once-over. I saw the demon blood boiling in your eyes.”

“True,” Wystan admitted. “But it's not my first time and I didn't go berserk because the woman I love was in danger. You'd have killed us if it meant saving her.”

“Can you honestly say the only reason you didn't shoot her is because you didn't have a crossbow? I've seen you with that knife. You could've thrown it at her, but Tell was a better bet.” He carried his dirty instruments to the washbasin.

“He did what he thought was right.”

“He did it because he had no faith that we'd get rid of Rosemar. If he thinks I'm forgiving him easily for this, he's dead wrong.” Eban folded his arms. “I love her, Wys. Whether she's demon possessed or just herself.”

“I'm glad for you. I mean it. Not because it means you stop drooling after my wife, but because you deserve it. She's a good lady, a good match for you.”

The sincerity on his brother's face left Eban reeling. Though he was still awful at being sentimental, at least Wystan was trying. “Thank you.”

“Let the brat get better before you give him too much trouble.”

“Only as a favor to you.”

He unbuttoned his shirt, wincing at the gracken bite mark on his forearm, the goose egg growing on the back of his head, the burn marks on his arms and hands and the hole in his upper back. The bite itched as his body destroyed the gracken venom.

Wystan grimaced. “You look like hell.”

“I've felt better.”

“Is there something I can do for you?” Wystan looked awkwardly around the room. “Dab some kind of ointment on that gaping hole in your back? Or that nasty bite?”

“If you want to do something really helpful get out of here. I need some time alone.” He looked at the ceiling. Beryl needed the rest. Her body had handled the burden of hosting a demon far too long. “I'll take care of everything else. You may as well go home to Rhia.”

“You gonna get some sleep, give those wounds a chance to heal?” Wystan's brows drew together in a sharp scowl.

Not until Beryl woke up and proved she was herself, but Wys didn't need to know that.

“I promise.”

Wystan picked up the discarded, broken bolt and wagged it at Eban. “See that you do. You've got a big job ahead, acting as liaison between what we do here and what we're about to do.”

“We're really opening Berner to humans.” He leaned against the washbasin and sighed.

“I don't think Azazel is giving us a choice.”

Maybe not, but he had a chance at happiness with Beryl. That was worth every ounce of misery Berner brought him from here on out.

Chapter Twenty-One

Excluding the Dukes and Beryl, for the first time since the Heckmasters were children, there were humans in Berner. A new schoolteacher, a carpenter and his family, a blacksmith, a couple setting up a general store, and a stonemason were all preparing to open businesses and tempt more settlers into the area. Beryl had helped Eban compose the letter to hire a schoolteacher and an ad to draw potential business owners in. Seeing the fruit of their labor gave her a little chill. Rhia might have laid the foundation that opened the doors to Berner, but Beryl was there to help welcome the people who would build the town from the ground up.

“I never thought I'd see the day. Not after how this town looked when we first arrived.” Beryl leaned against Eban as they stood outside his clinic in the evening sunlight. “You think they suspect anything?”

“Not a thing. The glamour is strong enough even I have trouble spotting some of our more unusual-looking friends.” Eban slipped his arm around her waist. “Meacham's raising hell about it. You'd think he'd like a new face.”

“Don't make fun of him. You'd be cranky all the time too if you'd spent a few hundred years cleaning up messes other people made. He's entitled to a little freedom and if he wants to be messy himself, he deserves it.”

“He wasn't exactly tripping over himself to welcome our newcomers.”

“It's a lot of change to accept at one time.” It seemed like they all had a lot to overcome. For her, it was knowing she'd been used by Rosemar to accomplish some nasty business. The memory of killing Seere stayed with her. He might have been using the Heckmasters for his own purposes, but she didn't believe he deserved such a gruesome death. As for Rosemar, she hoped that particular demon was getting all the punishment she deserved and more. If Azazel had anything to do with doling out judgment, it was going to be many more thousands of years before either Rosemar or Seere saw Earth again.

“You're frowning,” Eban said. “You're thinking about her, aren't you?”

“I hate her, but at the same time, I know if she hadn't found me in that alley, we wouldn't be together. I wish I could forget all the horrible things she did for Seere and on her own.” The warmth radiating from Eban's body helped ease the chills that took over when she thought about Rosemar trying to hurt Sylvie and then slaying Seere.

“That wasn't you. None of it was your fault. It's true—if not for Rosemar, who knows if we would have found one another, but I choose to believe we would have.” Eban dropped his hand from her waist. “Walk with me?”

“Wystan still doesn't trust the streets at night.”

“He worries too much. With all the humans coming to town, he thinks the old effects of our father's curse will make them drop dead any second. Sad, because he wants normalcy as much as I do.” Eban smiled. “It'll take some time to get used to. We have plenty of it now that we're not constantly fretting about Astaroth.”

She nodded. In the three weeks since Astaroth's defeat, she'd regained some of her strength from playing hostess to a demon. The burns from Eliakim's touch had healed, leaving only a few scars. Lifelong reminders that while things seemed perfect right now, there was another side of the world few people knew about.

They walked toward the angel statue. Flowers still bloomed around the fountain. Their fragrance perfumed the air and gave the scene a romantic feeling unlike anything she'd experienced in Berner so far. Under the pink and orange sky, with shadows falling across the angel's time-weathered face, it almost looked peaceful.

She tilted her head as she studied the angel's placid expression. “You know, maybe we should reconsider that statue and replace it with a different one.”

“What would that be?” he asked.

“I was thinking three brothers. If it wasn't for you, there wouldn't be a town here. There might not be a territory. You're heroes.”

Eban made a sour face. “I don't want to be a hero. I don't want people knowing I played a part in banishing a prince of Hell.”

“What do you want then?”

“A simple life in a peaceful place where I can love the woman of my dreams and raise children without the worry that darkness is coming for any of them. I want what my father hoped for.” He slipped his hand inside his jacket pocket. When he drew it out again, a gold ring with a glittering diamond was nestled between his thumb and pointer finger. “I want you, Beryl.”

Her breath caught. The diamond winked like a beacon in the fading light. Her heart pounded as she raised her gaze to his. “Really?”

“I'd do anything to protect you, anything to make you mine. You can think about it if you need to. Berner isn't much, not yet. I'm not even a proper doctor, but that aside, I love you.” He held out the ring. “You can take it if you want while you think about it.”

She pulled the warm metal from his fingers and held it at eye level. “It's beautiful.”

“Not really. It's nothing compared to you.” His eyes were luminous, so bright they looked as though they'd been painted by a skilled artist. “It's a symbol of my devotion for you, the first of many, if you'll bind your life to mine.”

“I don't need anything except you.” She slid the ring on anyway, pleased at the fit that hugged her finger perfectly. “Just the words that will make us man and wife. Well, and children. I want beautiful boys and girls with Heckmaster blue eyes.”

“We'll give them something to live for in Berner. The way my parents wanted to do for us. I wish…” He sighed.

“They were here to see it. Don't worry, I think they know. Your mother would be proud of you for holding your demon side back so long. She must have believed there would be good in her children despite their heritage. And if Azazel was telling the truth, we may see your father again.” She covered his hand with hers. “He'll be proud of what we've accomplished here in so little time.”

“It's home,” Eban admitted. “As much as I've wanted to leave this place and never look back, I wouldn't feel right about it. I don't need a big-city life. Everything I need is here. You are, and I see the way you've fallen in love with the strange place. Wystan and Tell are two very serious pains in my ass, but I wouldn't want any other men at my back in times of trouble.”

“Don't call your brothers pains. You're lucky to have them.” She squeezed his hand. “I appreciate everything they've done for you. We wouldn't be here without them. They've fought and lost the same things you have.”

“Wys and Tell didn't believe you were still there when Rosemar had control.” A fact that never ceased to bring a troubled look to his face. “I don't know if they believed I was still me.”

“They did. They'd never give up on you and I don't think they'll give up on me so easily next time. I don't think they want to risk making you that unhappy again either. This time there won't be an angel to hold you back. Even if the worst happens, then I'll be happy knowing you loved me as much as I love you.” She caressed his face. “We all know nothing is forever. We'll make the most of what we have together. Whether it's peace or strife, I want to share it with you.”

Beryl stretched on her tiptoes to reach his mouth. He met her halfway there and warmth flushed through her when he slipped his tongue into her mouth. Wholly inappropriate behavior given their attempts to become a proper town, but she loved him for breaking the rules of propriety for her.

A giggle interrupted her thoughts.

Sylvie perched on the edge of the fountain. “Should I tell Rhia we need to start planning another wedding?”

“Little brat,” Eban muttered under his breath.

Beryl elbowed him. “If it'll get us some privacy, you can run and tell her right now.”

“You're not exactly hiding out here in view of the whole town.” Sylvie grinned. “Anybody could happen along and see you two.
Are
you getting married since the Pit is closed?”

Beryl glanced at Eban. “You'll have to forgive me, Sylvie. I know you wanted to marry Eban, but I'm afraid he's fallen in love with me.”

“Don't worry, I don't mind. I have big plans to open my own dress shop. I can't get married yet and I wouldn't want to make Eban wait for me.” Sylvie's grin grew and she nodded behind them. “Besides, there's still one more Heckmaster to tame.”

Beryl looked over her shoulder when she heard whistling. Tell was leading his horse into town. He touched his battered hat in greeting when he saw them looking his way. He winked—was that directed at Sylvie?

“I don't think Tell's the settling-down type,” Eban said. “You'll have plenty of prospects when you're old enough if we can convince more people to move to town.”

She shrugged. “We'll see.”

Beryl met Eban's gaze. Once Sylvie latched on to an idea, she didn't seem to want to let it go. If she had Tell in mind for a potential groom someday, Beryl pitied him. Pretty as she was, Sylvie would have suitors falling at her feet if the town grew as much as they hoped. But if anyone could tame a Heckmaster, why not Sylvie Duke?

Tell stopped beside Eban and his easy grin faded a little. He looked between his brother and Beryl then raised his brows as he addressed Sylvie. “These two getting married?”

Sylvie nodded. “Beryl's going to make the prettiest bride. Everyone in town will be jealous of her marriage to Eban.”

“How did you know we just decided to get married?” Beryl asked.

“It's what I do. Congratulations.” He slapped Eban on the shoulder. “C'mon, Sylvie. Wys will have a fit if he learns you're out here by yourself this close to dark.”

“I'm not by myself.” She rolled her eyes. “These two are here and so are you.”

“These two obviously rather wish they were out here alone without you pestering them.” He rolled his eyes right back at her. “Girls.”

“Overgrown boys,” she shot back.

“Really?” He reached out and grabbed her then swung her up on the back of his horse. Sylvie laughed, her voice clear as a bell.

As Tell led his horse and Sylvie away, they quibbled at one another.

Beryl smiled at Eban. This was what she wanted for Berner. A place full of happy memories, where people could come and share laughter. She wanted a lifetime of it with Eban.

“Shall we go home?” She tugged his hand.

“I better do a check for monsters. There might be some hiding under your skirt.” He grinned. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Thank goodness I have you to protect me from them.”

“Hey, we Heckmasters were born to protect beautiful maidens from awful creatures that ravage the night. Look how well I've done so far.” His expression sobered a little. “I'd walk through fire for you, Beryl.”

“You already have and I'll never forget it.” She pulled him down the boardwalk toward the clinic. “Now I want you alone, before Sylvie and Tell announce our plans to the whole town.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He squeezed her hand. “You can have me any time you like.”

Her heart leaped at the truth of his words. Demons, angels, the fallen, whatever life threw at them, she could face it with Eban at her side. Rosemar and Seere might have directed her here, but they didn't control her fate. They were both gone, but the Heckmasters carried on, the way Seneca had intended with his original sacrifice.