Eban (4 page)

“You should see the sunflowers Rhia planted. They're probably seven feet tall and the heads are huge. They're beautiful.” Beryl leaned back, gazing up at the blue sky, another innocent smile gracing her face.

Her skin was pale because she didn't spend much time outside. Smooth and milky, her face was unlined and youthful. He guessed she was in her mid-twenties, still young enough to find love and start a family. A few pieces of wheat-gold hair escaped the complicated looking braid she'd fixed, rippling in a gentle breeze. Her eyes were bright and reflected her happiness. Beryl was a beautiful woman, but he didn't think she knew. She dressed modestly and blushed often, especially when she thought he wasn't looking.

Surrounded by flowers, she looked like a drop of sunshine sitting in a garden. Even the angel above her didn't look as fierce with her perched on the fountain. Her lips were full, begging for a kiss, and since she'd filled out, she had a figure many women would envy. A pink flush of pleasure highlighted her cheekbones. He wanted to make her laugh again, but when he glanced at the evening primrose growing between the rocks at the fountain, he remembered Rhia. The chasm in his heart widened and he came to his senses.

“I'd rather not talk about them,” he muttered.

She slipped her hand over his. “I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault. I should've known Wystan would get his way. He always did, until the day she arrived. She wouldn't take no for an answer.” He stared out of the border where the town ended and the expanse of desert started. “Do you remember that day?”

She nodded. “It's a little fuzzy, probably because I was feverish, but I…” A scarlet blush brightened her cheeks.

“What?”

“I remember you. I didn't trust you, not right in the beginning, because Rhia was running from Noem. Then you smiled and…well, I'm not blind. You're a handsome man.” Beryl turned her face away. “Trusting someone because he smiled may not be the wisest thing I've done.”

Particularly three men who were half demons, two of whom were plotting to kill her if the demon inside her turned on them. The uneasy feeling took over in his stomach again.

“I made you a promise that day. I said I'd do everything in my power to see that you got well again. Convincing Wystan wasn't easy, but it was the right thing. I want you to know that I took that promise seriously. You're safe here.”

“I know.” She stiffened. “Are you planning to leave soon?”

Her eyes widened, the unique pale green standing out like the jewel she was named for, bright against her pale skin.

He controlled his expression so she wouldn't see his concerns ran deeper than just getting away from Berner. “Sometime. Most likely after Wystan returns. I can't leave Tell on his own.”

“They love you.” She leaned closer. “I know about Wystan trying to drive you away, but I think you'll see things are different now. They both depend on you. Rhia will help Wystan settle in as a family man, but someone still has to look out for Tell.”

Eban scoffed. “Tell's been taking care of himself since he was a boy. He's more careful than me and Wys put together. If I really believed one of us would be able to end Astaroth, it would be Tell.”

“Maybe he will. Where will you go?” She ran her fingers over the rough stone she sat on, her eyes firmly on the rocks.

“I started my schooling in St. Louis, but I was thinking about Sacramento. I hear they have good weather.” It pained him to think he was nearly thirty and hadn't completed his degree. Was there any use in going back to school? “To be honest, I haven't given it much thought.”

“That makes me think you don't really want to go. Berner isn't so bad.”

“It's a matter of pride.” It sounded ridiculous, but he couldn't imagine facing Rhia every day and watching her love for Wystan grow while his heart crumbled like an old adobe wall.

“Spoken like a man. Your loyalty should be to your family, not yourself.”

She might as well have kicked him. He knew that, but Wystan had lied to him about his feelings for Rhia. It might have been different if he hadn't made a fool out of himself trying to convince her to run away with him.

“Maybe New Mexico Territory isn't big enough for three half demons.”

“Rhia tried running from her problems and they found her anyway. No matter where you go, you know staying here with your brothers is the right thing.” Her voice was soft. “Seere said as much.”

He started at the prince's name. “Who told you that?”

She shook her head, brow furrowing. “I don't remember.”

“Have you spoken to him?” Eban watched her closely, searching for signs that Rosemar was emerging. Beryl's expression was still too soft, too human.

“Personally? I've never met him. I'm not sure I want to.”

“Stay away from him as long as you can. He has an effect on women that could make you do things you wouldn't normally think about.” He scowled as he thought about Seere's handsome countenance.

Beryl laughed. “Jealous?”

“No,” he denied. “He can be charming and it's his nature to trick humans into doing his bidding. He'll offer you riches and trap you in his snare for eternity.”

She frowned. “I thought you were allies.”

“On his terms.” He clenched his fists. For better or worse, he owed Seere whatever scrap of soul he had left—if he'd ever had one to begin with.

“If you could defeat Astaroth forever, how would the Gray Side react?” she asked. “I know they've extended their help, but to what end?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “That's the question we'd all like answered. They never bothered with us before, so why now?”

Beryl rested her head on his shoulder. “Until we know otherwise, I'm choosing to believe it's for a good reason. I don't like to think Seere and his legion will step in and destroy everything good about this place.”

“What good?”

She gave him a patronizing look. “You're not a pessimist. You brought me back from the brink of death. That means you still carry plenty of hope.”

“I'm half demon. We're not supposed to do good.”

“Stop.” Her eyes narrowed. “Everyone has good inside and you have a big heart. I like that about you. Even when things look hopeless, you find a reason to carry on. I owe you my life.”

He should have known she'd feel that way. He would have in her place. The best thing he could do was dispel her sense of debt. “You don't owe me anything.”

“That's generous, but if I can find a way to repay you, then I'm going to do it. That's a promise and I won't break it.”

A surge of anger ripped through Eban. Beryl didn't deserve to spend her life with a lust demon occupying her mind. He'd harbored his doubts that the
Ars Notoria
could help, but looking at her, he knew asking for it hadn't been a mistake. It would be days before he was in the proper state of mind to summon an angel. Starting today, he'd begin fasting and preparing.

“We should get back before dark. I have some research to do.” He rose, then turned his back on her and the angel with its all-knowing glare.

Chapter Four

Berner's streets were dark, the way the demons of the night preferred them. It made traversing them a more dangerous venture, but Rosemar had never feared the dark, though her senses were duller inside the human body. The pathetic creature's eyes weren't made for such little light. She marveled over how many demons opted to occupy human hosts. There were animals better suited for the task, yet she'd needed a body with the ability to talk in order to follow her liege's orders.

She walked down the middle of the street, breathing in the scents of alcohol and intimacy. The one saloon in this town was on the opposite end from Eban's clinic. She didn't mind the walk, enjoying the feeling of stretching her human legs and the cool desert breeze that brushed her face. The tinny sound of a badly tuned piano reached her ears.

Seere would frown on her call to the saloon, preferring that she act as normal as possible in case the human she tenanted should remember any of this. Rosemar laughed at his worries, reminding him that she'd pulled Beryl's weakened body from a situation worse than one she'd find inside Berner's saloon. He agreed she'd done well in choosing a woman no one would miss, but he didn't like her taking little excursions, preferring she stayed near Eban.

Eban was predictable, too human, a weakness that wouldn't do any good in the war against Hell. She seldom argued with Seere, but Eban wouldn't have her in his bed and she needed some relief, even if it came in the form watching rather than participating. Try as she might to convince him Beryl wouldn't mind if he entered her body, he wouldn't break. His demon blood should've overridden any foolish human notions. She wondered if Seneca Heckmaster had ever regretted taking a human female as his wife and having offspring with her.

The saloon spilled bright light into the dark street. A few demons lurked outside, smoking cheroots with glowing cherry tips. They watched as she passed, but she gave off enough of a malicious aura that they didn't attempt conversation.

Alcohol flowed in the barroom, which was crowded with all manner of creatures that didn't belong on this side of Hell. Many of them could have passed for human, or claimed human bodies for their own, but Berner was safe enough that they could appear in true form. As long as they didn't cause trouble, the Heckmasters would let them live here as they pleased.

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 ridding 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.