“Then it’s lucky I have a Springfield rifle. I can ride, Sheriff. Prepare some horses while I tell Beryl and Sylvie I’ll be gone most of the day.” She turned and left him standing in the clinic’s front room.
“Dammit.”
Eban wasn’t anywhere to be found. He’d probably trotted off to tell the other residents that Wystan had spilled their secret. And to threaten the barkeep never to serve Wystan hard liquor again. This was half Eban’s fault. If he hadn’t started the talk about their sister, Wystan wouldn’t have felt the need to drink those memories away.
He stomped out of the clinic, down the street to the livery where the Heckmaster horses were stabled. By the time Rhia showed up, bonnet hanging down her back from strings, he’d been waiting almost half an hour. The gleaming rifle in the crook of her arm looked out of place against her trim figure.
“I thought I should clean it first. It’s been a couple of weeks.”
She raised the Springfield for his inspection. Out here, a single rifle wasn’t much use against barghests and changesteeds. They were almost impervious to the effects of lead unless a bullet went through their brains. If it made her feel better to think she was bringing protection, so be it.
“We’ll ride directly there, you can poke around for a few minutes, satisfy your curiosity and then we’ll go.” He wouldn’t take no for an answer about it. “I expect you’ll want to pack your wagon and leave after. Not many people who see the Pit stay here long.”
“I’ll decide after I’ve seen it.” Rhia gave him a hard look. “There’s not much choice in where I go. I’d have to earn a wage before I considered moving on.”
Said with a tone implying she’d explained that a dozen times already. Wystan sighed and mounted his horse. The stable didn’t offer sidesaddles, but Rhia didn’t seem discouraged. She mounted like a man, although her skirt rode up and revealed her stocking-clad ankles. The woman had no sense of propriety. But as Wystan took in an eyeful, he didn’t mind. She cast him another look that said he had no business noticing her legs. For a moment, his head ceased to pound. She had more grit than most human women and it was almost charming. The throb returned when he nudged his gelding into a trot, but the wicked gait left Rhia in a cloud of his dust. The other gelding would follow without fail. Let her catch him.
The five miles to the Pit passed in a blur of silvery sage, red rock, scuttling lizards, jackrabbits, and one six-foot diamondback rattler. The horses were used to creatures ten times more dangerous than reptiles. They barely lifted their heads at the serpent. Wystan saw Rhia shudder at the sight, but the rattler slithered on, uninterested in them.
The Pit was hidden in scrub, and a thick ring of cacti surrounded the volcanic rock that made up its outer edges. The horses shied as they approached it, nostrils flaring and eyes rolling.
“What’s the matter with them?” Rhia grasped the reins firmly in hand and clenched the saddle with her knees. “They didn’t blink at the snake.”
“Could be a changesteed around. They don’t like the scent. Tell can smell them a mile off.” Wystan took a deep breath, but he wouldn’t know until he saw it. “Remember this was your idea.”
Rhia drew in a breath and pursed her lips. A faint sheen of sweat stood out on her brow beneath the brim of her bonnet. A red flush covered her cheeks from the morning heat. The closer they drew to the Pit, the warmer the air grew. His father’s barrier didn’t protect the area from the boiling recess of Hell below.
The effects of the Pit extended to town and made growing crops nearly impossible. The supply wagon was called in once a month and good thing—he’d cut into the whiskey hard last night. The reminder throbbed behind his eyes.
A dust devil rose in front of them, throwing debris and sand at their faces.
Wystan tugged his handkerchief over his nose. “Astaroth saying hello. And go away.”
Rhia coughed, burying her nose and mouth in the crook of her elbow. The wind ripped the bonnet off her head and caused golden-brown strands of hair to fly around her face. She bent low in the saddle. The wind tugged at his hat, but the stampede strap held it in place.
As suddenly as it started, it stopped.
“All hail the mighty and powerful Astaroth,” Wystan muttered. He nudged his horse around a patch of cactus, onto a narrow path. The scrub thinned and a gaping hole opened in the earth. The barrier across it was faintly green and shiny like a soap bubble. The stench of brimstone hit Wystan’s nose and he coughed.
The Pit was perhaps a hundred feet in diameter, jagged chunks of volcanic rock stood up like teeth around the edge of the hole. It resembled a ragged barghest mouth. He put his hand on the butt of his bowie knife. Wystan didn’t come here often. Tell was the one who didn’t mind watching the Pit for escapees. The smell didn’t seem to bother him.
Charred rocks ringed the Pit, crunching beneath the horses’ feet.
“It’s huge. Eban said you can throw things into it.” Rhia’s voice was muffled behind her sleeve.
“I always bring back the carcasses of the creatures he sends.” Not to mention dozens of whiskey bottles. He hoped they shattered as they fell, creating a shower of glass each time he threw one in. No sound reached the top of the shaft. Only a dull hum that seemed to be created by the power of the seals.
“Satisfied?” Wystan drew his horse to a stop. He wiped sweat from his brow.
“Tell me about your father.” Her request was quiet, but had force behind it. “How does a demon come to love anyone?”
Wystan clenched his teeth. “Let’s talk about your father instead.”
She blinked and ducked her head. “He was a mudraker. At first. Then he bought a large newspaper in Washington, DC. Reputable, he said.” She laughed, but it was half sob. “It would have been if he hadn’t taken bribes from politicians.”
“They paid him to lie about their actions.” Wystan glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
“Yes. He had enemies. Sylvie doesn’t know. I told her he died in his office. It turned out that he had debts. There was no money to keep living in Virginia, so we came West.”
“Couldn’t find a teaching position in the East?”
“No teaching positions, but I did find one as a housekeeper where I could bring my sister.” Her mouth tightened. “It wasn’t what I thought it would be. Then there was the ad for the position here. I seem to have inherited my father’s bad judgment.”
There weren’t many places a person could end up worse than Berner. He couldn’t deny her lack of judgment. “What about a husband?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t want to marry.”
“I gathered. Does that have anything to do with Sylvie’s reaction to Eban last night?” His horse shifted and Wystan leaned to accommodate the movement.
Rhia didn’t answer.
“I reckon a hot hole in the ground isn’t enough to convince you to leave Berner.” He touched his horse with the reins, signaling it to turn around.
“I couldn’t leave if I wanted to, Sheriff. We’re out of money. I hope you’re planning to pay me eventually for the knowledge I’m passing on to the students. I’m good at what I do.” Her horse followed his, shoes ringing against the rocks.
“Eban thought I’d better. I’ll have to run it past the townfolk, but I imagine they’ll be pleased to know the school’s open again.” Even if he wasn’t. Couldn’t trust Astaroth to send a minor demon with experience in teaching to the surface. No, they had to get their very own human in Berner.
The ground under them rumbled and cracks split the rock. Wystan’s horse cried out in fright and Rhia’s reared, nearly unseating her. The shield across the Pit expanded, bubbling up as though the heat beneath it was too much.
“What is it?” Rhia asked, her voice strained with fear.
Wystan freed his knife from the sheath, fighting to remain in control of his horse. The animal
wanted to run and he didn’t blame it. Even as the son of a demon charged with protecting what was left of the town, he didn’t much want to face anything that emerged from the Pit.
Steam rose from the cracks, obscuring the barrier from view. The ground stopped quaking, but his horse whinnied in fear. Its ears swiveled and its eyes rolled.
“Rhia, look at the pretty ribbon.”
Sylvie’s voice issued from the swirling steam. Rhia sat up straight in the saddle.
“What…”
Wystan reached out and grabbed her arm. “It’s a changesteed. They can mimic voices,” he whispered. “Don’t answer it.”
“How does it know Sylvie?”
“Can we get ice cream? Just this once? I won’t ask again until I’m thirteen. Please, big sister?”
A range of emotion crossed Rhia’s face. Disbelief, fear, worry, terror. Beyond the steam, something scraped against the stone. She looked at Wystan with wide eyes. He shook his head, passed her the horse’s reins, and dismounted.
On the ground, he felt smaller, more vulnerable. The changesteed could see through the steam, was extremely strong, fast, cunning, and hungry. Fortunately, it had the disadvantage of being freshly discharged from Hell.
“What are you waiting for, Wys? Aren’t you going to kill it?” Tell’s voice rolled out of the curtain in front of the Pit.
He knew it wasn’t his brother. Knew Tell was tracking a lesser demon who’d arrived last week.
“Come on out. No need to play games.” He gripped the knife loosely and took a step forward. “I know you just got here, but it’s never too soon to go home again.”
“Wys, don’t be that way.” The changesteed was remarkably convincing. “You wouldn’t threaten your little brother.”
Wystan sneered. “You don’t know me that well, do you?”
“Sheriff?” Rhia’s voice cracked. “We should go.”
It stepped out of the vapor, six feet tall at its sloping shoulders. A wide mouth gaped with uneven teeth. Big eyes bulged from its face and pointed ears pricked forward. Its long legs carried it over the rocky ground without breaking stride. Cloven hooves clacked on the stone.
“Wystan. Astaroth sends warm regards.” A deep, gravelly voice issued from the creature’s throat.
The horses’ hooves clattered on the rocks and one of them screamed in distress. Killing the changesteed would take more effort than a bargest. It was safer for Rhia if she wasn’t around.
“Rhia, go.”
“Wys—”
He waved his arm at her. The changesteed crouched and sprang. Lifting the knife, Wystan braced for the impact of the beast. It crashed into him hard enough to take him off his feet. Sharp jags of rock bit into his back. A cloud of fetid breath clogged his nose. With all his strength, Wystan drove the knife into the changesteed’s chest. The blade sliced through sinew and cartilage, but the tip stopped shy of the closest thing it had to a heart. Demons didn’t have hearts, didn’t require blood to circulate through their veins. Brown sludge oozed over Wystan’s hands and the creature’s jaws snapped. Foamy flecks of saliva dropped onto his face.
He wrenched the weapon free of the creature’s chest and it sank jagged teeth into his shoulder. In response, he pushed the knife into the softer tissue below its rib cage. The changesteed yelped and turned him loose long enough for him to spill its entrails. Ichor spewed from its mouth, but it didn’t stop snapping.
A shot rang out and the changesteed collapsed on top of Wystan. He craned his neck around and saw Rhia sitting calmly atop the horse, smoking rifle in her hands. The changesteed’s black mouth and yellowed teeth were inches from his face. He pushed the carcass off and removed his knife from its guts.
Rhia looked down at him, expression grim. “You still think I won’t fit in here?”
Chapter Eight
Rhia leaned against the back of the chair in Eban’s office, watching the doctor clean blood off his brother’s shoulder. An uneven row of slashes marred the tanned flesh. The changesteed’s mouth was big and it could easily have torn Wystan’s arm from his body.
Eban glanced at her. “Blood doesn’t bother you?”
Wystan made a noise of disbelief. “Nothing bothers her. She shot that damned changesteed like it was a jackrabbit and never blinked. She’s not natural.”
“A thank you would do.” Inside she trembled like a coward. If they only knew. The changesteed had looked like a leftover jumble of animal parts. Such a thing shouldn’t exist. She prayed she’d never cross paths with one again.
A muscle in Wystan’s jaw jumped as Eban prodded the wounds, but he didn’t respond.
“One demon two nights ago, another today. They’re coming with more frequency. Maybe we should post a guard outside of town.” Eban unstoppered a bottle, poured some liquid on a cloth, and dabbed Wystan’s shoulder. The elder Heckmaster’s eyes brimmed with tears of pain. “I hope Tell comes back soon. A week is a little excessive for tracking.”
“The kid is fine,” Wystan ground out.
“I know he’s fine. I’d just prefer he was closer to home.” Eban held the cloth in place, despite the look he earned from his brother.
“The albastor should be an easy catch for him. I reckon it took him on a merry chase, or he’d be back by now.”
“What’s an albastor?” Rhia asked, annoyed by how they referenced monsters, but didn’t tell her anything.
“A shapeshifter. White hair, human form, usually, but they’re prone to shifting into animal forms as well. They’re typically nude. Quite the shock for a well-bred lady. Others don’t mind so much. They like to mate with human women, but a man who lays with a woman who’s been with an albastor can die.” Eban retrieved bandages from a drawer and bound Wystan’s shoulder. “They’re crude, and this one is under instructions to murder us.”
Rhia tilted her head. “Astaroth thinks he can break the shield by destroying all of you?”
“That, or by capturing one of us.”
“So you let Tell wander around out there by himself?”
Wystan looked up sharply. “No one lets Tell do anything. He has no sense of self-preservation. When he was fifteen, he took a crossbow, a horse, and a week’s worth of supplies, and rode off into the desert, and when he came back, he had two demon heads tied to his saddle. The kid has a sense neither of us possesses.”
She thought she heard a hint of jealousy in his voice. “How many demons have you killed apiece?”
“Who’s keeping a tally?” Eban’s question was far too innocent.
She didn’t have any brothers, but she knew that siblings were competitive by nature. They each probably knew exactly how many they’d killed. “I asked earlier how your father came to fall in love with a human woman.”
Eban looked at Wystan, whose face hardened. “Back then, Astaroth was free to wander Earth as he chose, on his helldragon, granting answers to human problems and questions in exchange for their mortal souls. The lesser demons he favored were a bit like feudal lords. They were given a territory to watch over and New Mexico Territory belonged to our father.”
Wystan sat a little straighter, causing the bare muscles in his abdomen to flex. Rhia tried not to notice, but couldn’t help staring at the various scars crisscrossing his flesh, telling the story of the battles he’d faced.
“Ma wasn’t the prettiest girl in town, but our grandfather was a prominent landowner. When Father arrived at the farmhouse to tell Granddad that there was going to be a tax on his crops if he wanted them to keep growing so well, Ma served Father lemonade. He swore that was what made him fall in love with her. She was betrothed to the town doctor and she told him so before he could so much as ask if she was promised.”
“Why would she do that?” Rhia asked.
“Probably the way he looked at her. Demons are known for their powers of persuasion. It takes a strong soul to res
ist one.” Eban leaned against the examination table Wystan sat on. “No one knew he was a demon—they don’t advertise, instead making promises and extracting bits of soul in exchange, then arranging accidents to collect the full debt. He wasn’t very nice.”
“She kissed him, the world changed, they eloped, had a slew of half-demon babies, and left us their mess. The end.” Wystan slid off the table, his feet hitting the floor with a thunk as his weight settled. “It’s not a fairytale.”
Rhia frowned. “It’s interesting. I’ve never heard of such a thing before. Please, Eban, go on.”
“She figured out what he was doing. Clever, our mother. She went to his house in the middle of the night, armed with a crucifix and a vial of holy water. She planned to banish him, but demons don’t sleep a lot and they like virgins, so he had a good idea when she arrived. He surprised her in the front yard, forced her to drop her weapons. He told her it was cowardly to sneak up on an unarmed man, but she confronted him and he admitted who he really was.”
“I thought demons were frightening.” Rhia glanced at Wystan again. He might tower over her, might be able to gut a changesteed and slit a barghest’s throat, but she sensed a softer side.
Eban shook his head. “You’ve heard tell of Lucifer changing his appearance at will to trick the people he wants, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Makes sense for some demons to have the ability too. Our father was proud of his human form and hardly ever changed out of it. Even though Ma was attracted to him, she said unless he stopped ruining the town and the people here, she’d find a way to kill him.”
“Stupid story,” Wystan grumbled.
Eban glared at him. “It changed everything. It made him realize what a miserable creature he was. That there’s good in the world. He found it, Wys. He had it.”
“Until Astaroth figured out what was going on and murdered him.” Anger flared in Wystan’s eyes. “There’s good, Eb, but there’s twice as much evil to destroy it.”
Wystan Page 6