Beryl clutched the weapon to her chest, but she looked tired and weak, a lamb before the wolf. She surrendered it to Wystan the second he wrapped his hand around it. He looked at her as though he’d never seen her before. Without a word, he laid the hatchet at Noem’s feet.
“Very good.” Noem’s mouth was next to Rhia’s ear. “Tell him where your sister is so that we may have a brief family reunion.”
“Wystan, you wouldn’t hurt Sylvie. Or Eban or Beryl. You wouldn’t hurt your family.” She forced the words through dry lips, holding her gaze steady, although Wystan no more noticed her than a speck of dust. She had no idea what had happened to Tell and she hoped for his safety. “I love you.”
That made his eyes flicker, although nothing in his expression changed, and Rhia felt her heart break for a second time. The man she’d loved was an unfeeling demon sent to serve Noem now.
The demon that held her laughed. “She loves you. As though that’s enough to break a bond with the master. Humans.”
“It did.” Eban threw the shattered remains of his saber away. “Our father turned. He gave up an eternity with the promise of a lordship and a legion for a human woman.”
Rhia felt Noem tense.
“Your father was an abomination. A flame snuffed out by greater demons than he. As will you be. Back down and wait your turn.”
Eban faced Wystan. “Would you do that? Turn on your blood kin, the woman you love, and Sylvie? Can you watch all that blood spill and live with knowing it happened because of you?”
Wystan didn’t respond.
Noem pulled Rhia’s hair again, forcing her head over at an angle. “The brother you knew and loved—”
“Despised.” Eban stepped closer. “These last few days, we couldn’t stand the sight of one another. He took the woman I love. Just like always, he took what he wanted.”
Noem cackled. “You see, his true nature showed from birth. The woman you both love. I think it’s only fair that he give you part of her. Something to share with you. Heckmaster, would you care to pluck one of the colorful orbs from Rhia’s socket?”
Cold sweat broke out over Rhia’s body. Wystan’s movements were wooden, as though he waged an inner war over whether he wanted to harm her. She stared at him when he moved forward, praying he’d come to his senses. In the distance, a rhythmic clatter beat at the same speed as her heart. She hoped it wasn’t Noem’s reinforcements, or Astaroth attempting to break free from the Pit, although she might never see either coming.
“Please, Wys. It’s me. Don’t do this.”
Eban stepped in front of him, but Wystan threw a haymaker that knocked his younger brother off his feet. Beryl kneeled next to Eban, slapping his cheek when he threatened to lose consciousness.
“Wystan, the sunflowers. That’s when I knew. When you kissed me the day we planted them. I loved you then and no matter what’s inside you, I still love you.” Rhia’s voice cracked, but she forced herself to meet his gaze when he stopped inches from her. He grabbed her wrists, holding them tight enough he could’ve easily shattered the bones. The lightning bolt of connection between them pulsed like a living thing. Even with his terrible blood red eyes, he was still her soul mate.
Noem released her. “One eye as a gift for your brother. Go on.”
Rhia’s mouth was dry, her hands shaking in his grip. “You’ve already hurt me deeply. You may as well take an eye. I can live without eyesight, but my heart, that’s waiting for you to come to your senses, to realize you didn’t mean those things you said last night.”
For a moment, the world stood still, the way it had when she realized that the minotaur had killed him. That he was standing and breathing should have been a miracle. The world had righted itself, but the man in front of her wasn’t the man she’d come to love. The world could do without this version. Wind howled around them, whipping her hair against her face. Tears for what might come blurred her vision.
“Do you remember the sunflowers?”
Wystan took one hand off her wrist. She flinched, waiting for the terrible pain sure to accompany the loss of an eye, but she didn’t try to break away. His grip was iron strong.
“Do it,” Noem hissed. “Or I will.”
Wystan’s mouth worked. “I…remember.”
He turned faster than her eyes could perceive and pressed his hand over Noem’s face. The demon screamed as though the simple touch burned him. Wystan dropped Rhia’s hands and looked over his shoulder.
“Beryl, Eban, run. Now.”
Grabbing Noem by the neck, Wystan dragged him down the muddy street in the direction of the water tower. Rhia had always assumed it was empty because the town seemed so dry. She couldn’t imagine what Wystan intended to do with Noem there.
Beryl helped Eban to his feet. “Rhia, whatever he’s planning could be dangerous. We have to leave.”
“Holy water,” Eban ground out. His nose was bloodied, spilling crimson over his lips and down his chin.
“What?” Beryl asked.
“He’s going to bring the water tower down. It was always the plan if Astaroth broke free and came looking for us.” Eban’s words were muffled by his hand as he pinched his nose shut although he was already moving toward one of the abandoned buildings. “We have to get off the ground.”
Rhia froze. “If he does that, he’ll die.”
“Better than serving as one of Noem’s minions.”
“No, Eban. You have to stop him. This isn’t fair! He died and he came back, but he’s still good. He’s still your brother.” Panic grappled with Rhia’s sense of right and wrong.
“It has to be done.” Beryl’s grip was as tight as Wystan’s had been.
“What are you?” Rhia demanded.
“If we live through this, I’ll tell you everything. Come on.”
Beryl pulled her across the street, to a two-story building that looked ready to fall in on itself. They clambered to the upper floor, making enough noise to wake the dead. Beryl didn’t let go of her until Eban locked the door.
“Stay back from the windows. There’s a thousand gallons of holy water in that tank. When it goes, it’ll flood everything street level, but the wave could shatter the glass.” Eban’s nose was still dripping despite his efforts to make it stop. His eyes looked unfocused, his shoulders slumped with pain. “Don’t worry about Sylvie. She’s far enough away and there’s enough slope to the town, the flood won’t reach the clinic.”
“What about Tell?” Rhia glanced out the window as she huddled in the center of the room next to the woman she thought—hoped—was her friend.
“That chopping sound? He was already working on it.” Eban slouched against the wall.
“But…” The protest died on Rhia’s lips.
“Quiet, Rhia.” Beryl’s cool hand grasped hers.
The panic slid away into something less agonizing. Like the rush of wind through the grass she imagined, her ears filled with a low hiss. There was a boom and the sounds of splintering wood. Water rushed through the streets, sending up a spray that splashed the windows. All the corpses and gore that littered the street would be washed away. The streets would be cleaned, purer than they’d been in years.
Her knees threatened to give out as she thought of Wystan, who’d, even in his demonic mind, given his second chance at life to save the town he’d always looked after.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Noem struggled, bony fingers pinching and tearing at Wystan’s skin around the rapidly healing wound on his stomach, but Wystan barely noticed. Stronger, angrier, and bent on seeing Noem destroyed—little hope remained for his enemy’s escape.
He pictured Rhia’s face, her calming words, allowing them to drown out Noem’s curses and threats. Using them to keep his demon side at bay. There were ten thousand ways he could torture Noem, make him pay for the horror he’d inflicted on Berner. There w
ere a million ways he could rain Hell on Noem for ever thinking about hurting Rhia. He wanted to try each and every one of them, but his human side, the quiet voice of his mother, reminded him there was a new beginning at stake. The demonic blood coursing in his veins burned like lye, eating at him, fighting to break free, teasing him with the idea that Rhia wasn’t safe, even if Noem was gone. It longed to find her, to bend to Noem’s will and ultimately Astaroth’s. He dug his fingernails into Noem’s dark flesh.
“Astaroth will not let this stand,” Noem hissed, twisting in Wystan’s grip. “He’s coming and when he does—”
“I’ll be ready.”
The water tower loomed over them, leaning tiredly on its spindly legs. At the base, Tell had the silver hatchet in both hands, chopping like a man possessed. Water dripped from the spout and Tell swore, jerking away from the support beam. He met Wystan’s gaze, then delivered another blow to the ruined wood in front of him.
“What is this?” Noem demanded.
“Holy water. I don’t think I have to tell you what it does.” Wystan shoved Noem to his knees, prepared for the flood. I’m sorry, Rhia. The demon part of him lunged, aware of what would happen once the water tower tipped. Or perhaps it was fear or a natural instinct to survive. Either way, he clamped his hands on Noem’s misshaped shoulders while the demon howled. Wood splintered and the structure swayed, groaning as the weight shifted.
Tell backed away in the opposite direction of the tower, dropping the hatchet.
Run, run, goddammit.
Tell turned and vanished through an alleyway. Time slowed, making the collapse of another tower leg seem as though hours were passing. Noem stilled, his gnarled hands curled around Wystan’s forearms. The bulk of the tower hurtled down, causing the roof to slide away, then crash on the ground. A spray of water glistened in the firelight before a wave of it rolled out when the wooden tank exploded on the street. Debris swirled in the swell that rushed toward them down the alley.
Noem tilted his head back, baring sharp teeth at Wystan. “I will come back. No Heckmaster will be my ruination.”
“It’ll be a cold day in Hell.”
Wystan stared at the wall of muddy water rolling toward them. Noem squalled when spray sizzled against his flesh. Wystan closed his eyes, ignoring the sting of droplets on his hands and face, gritting his teeth against the pinpricks that burned like embers. A little pain was a small price to pay for saving Rhia’s life. He’d have the peace of knowing that, even if he went to Hell.
The water’s roar and the sounds of damage left in its wake echoed through him. Wind stroked his stinging face and he drew a breath, sure the end had come.
The noise ceased, but the wind picked up.
Noem stiffened under his hands. “Seere!”
Wystan’s eyes sprang open. Inches from the wall of water bearing down, Seere stepped calmly from his portal, clutching an ebony walking cane in one hand. The water appeared solid while time stood still. He glanced around, brows raising a fraction. He might have frozen the water with his cool exterior, because the smile that curved his mouth didn’t warm his features.
“Impressive. What a grand gesture to send Noem back into the arms of his liege.”
Noem’s mouth frothed as he fought Wystan’s hold. “Kill the Heckmaster and I’ll see to it that Astaroth rewards your service. He’ll overlook your betrayal and reinstate you as a prince in Hell.”
Seere laughed, a crisp, bitter sound that echoed off the water. “How kind, but I’m afraid I prefer my position in the Gray Lands over servitude in Hell.”
Noem spewed more threats, but Seere ignored them as he came closer. He twirled the cane, gingerly stepping over an unidentifiable mound of refuse. Wystan almost missed the subtle twist of the demon prince’s wrist, until the cane separated and a shining steel blade appeared. Without so much as blinking, Seere plunged it through Noem’s chest. He rambled off a series of Latin words Wystan didn’t catch. The sword’s point bit into the earth and Noem wheezed as blood mixed with the spittle on his chin. His eyes flared bright red and he grabbed for the hilt, but the weapon remained in his body.
Seere’s mouth flattened as he examined his handiwork. He looked at Wystan. “Let’s go…unless you want to share his fate?”
Wystan eyed the portal, glowing with blue light. He didn’t recognize anything beyond the shimmering ripples.
“We’re allies, aren’t we?” Seere plucked his pocketwatch from his vest pocket, looked at the face, then snapped it shut. “I don’t have all day, Heckmaster.”
“Take me to Rhia.” He looked like hell and he felt worse, but he had to apologize to her. Nothing else mattered as much as telling her how much he wanted her in his life.
Seere sniffed. “Perhaps we’ll stop by the jail first and get you cleaned up. I doubt your lady wants to kiss you until after you’ve done something about your appearance. Hurry up, Noem’s still trying to get free.”
Wystan stepped into the portal and wind rushed around him, so cold it seemed to penetrate his bones. Seere stepped through behind him, leaving Noem to thrash against the blade. Before Wystan could blink, the water was moving again, rushing toward them. The portal closed, leaving them in darkness so black he almost lost his balance.
The wind roared over his head and when he opened his eyes, he was staring through the portal at the interior of the jail.
Seere gestured at the rip in the space. “As promised. Well done, Heckmaster.”
“It’s done?” Wystan asked. The aches and pains he’d ignored while fighting were catching up with him, leaving him shaky.
“For now. Astaroth will be displeased when he finds Noem in Hell, but the fight is far from over.”
“What about the—my demon?” He felt oddly at peace, more anxious to see Rhia than cause any mischief or barter for souls. “Is it…?”
“Still there, and it always will be. You should be grateful for the strength it gave you. Otherwise, you’d be lying in the street dead and of no use in the war against Hell.” Seere straightened his shoulders. “Why not use your heritage to your advantage?”
Wystan rubbed the bridge of his nose, thinking of how Sandra had suggested he let it free. If his father could control himself and live a normal life, there was no reason he couldn’t. “I’ll deal with it.”
“I have no doubt.” Seere folded his arms across his chest. “Your ancestry is the least of your problems now. With Noem back where he belongs, Astaroth will be forced to send others. I’m leaving Rosemar with you. She’ll be my representative on Earth until we get everything sorted out. There will be peace here, one way or another.”
Something in Seere’s expression told Wystan that the Gray Side would achieve peace, even if it meant wiping out everyone in New Mexico Territory.
“Who the hell is Rosemar?”
“The demon living in sweet Beryl Brookshier’s head. She chose that body for a reason, and if she’s a good little minion, she’ll be richly rewarded for her help.”
“You can’t let her live in a human woman’s head. That’s not fair.” Wystan reached for his knife, prepared to threaten Seere into letting Beryl go free, but the sheath was empty.
“You’ve won all the battles you’re going to win today, Heckmaster. Now get out, I have to report back to the Gray Land.” Seere sneered. “And for God’s sake, don’t leave this building until you’re presentable.”
Wystan shook his head, then stepped through the rift. When his feet were on the floorboards, the portal vanished, leaving no trace of Seere.
Rhia sobbed against Beryl’s shoulder, letting the events of the day bleed out in salty tears. She knew she had to release Sylvie from her dark prison the second it was safe, but she couldn’t face her sister when she felt so much grief. She remained in the building while Eban tried to clean the blood from his face and Beryl patted her back.
“Do you think Tel
l made it to safety?” Beryl sounded like herself again, though a little tired and looking utterly exhausted.
“Knowing Tell, yes.” Eban’s eyes were already turning black, and his regal nose was out of place. “He’s gotten out of tighter spots.”
No one said anything about Wystan. There was nothing to say. There wouldn’t be a body to bury, anything left of him to remind them of his sacrifice. In the end, perhaps he’d realized what she’d meant by the sunflowers, and recognized her love. Or maybe he’d resisted his true nature so long he’d been able to grapple the demon side down. Maybe for him it had never been about love, just revenge.
Eban looked out the window. “Beryl, do you think it’s safe for you to walk Rhia to the clinic? I’m not sure how holy water will affect you.”
“The body is human. It will take more than a splash of holy water to evict me.” The odd quality returned to Beryl’s voice and her eyes didn’t look quite right, but it faded again after she spoke. “Of course I will.”
“Be careful. We’re almost defenseless now. There’s no telling if any of Noem’s minions escaped deeper into town. Once the water’s down a little more in places, I’ll be able to join you.”
Rhia gathered the remainder of her strength and followed Beryl down the stairs. A couple of inches of water remained on the building’s floor and they splashed through it.
“You said you’d tell me what you are,” Rhia reminded Beryl. “You’re some kind of demon, or Eban wouldn’t have worried about the holy water hurting you.”
Beryl stared. “What are you talking about?”
“Before we went inside, you said…”
Confusion twisted Beryl’s face. “I told you before that I don’t remember anything until we met up in Colorado. I wish I could. It’s so frustrating, not knowing my own past.”
Rhia knew Beryl believed that was the truth. She wasn’t intentionally lying, but Eban knew what was really going on.
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