Eban

by Allison Merritt

  She might not remember her distant past, but Beryl’s recent one had been full of excitement and terror. She hoped things would settle down now that Noem was no longer a threat. Hopefully Astaroth was busy torturing Noem for losing Rhia and the Heckmasters and staying too busy to give them much thought.

  When she entered the kitchen, Tell glanced up from the seven crossbow bolts he’d laid out in a row on the table. They were covered with varying amounts of dried gore. Scrapes marred his knuckles, his right eye was black and he sported a split lip. He didn’t smile. Yesterday afternoon at Rhia and Wystan’s wedding, his face had been unmarked, so she knew he’d spent the night hunting demons. Whatever he’d tangled with hadn’t gone down easily.

  “Good morning, Tell.”

  “The coffee’s fresh. Made it when I came in.”

  His words were clipped, guarded. The troubled expression on his face meant he didn’t trust her. She couldn’t begin to imagine why not.

  “Rough night?” She nodded at the bolts.

  “Lesovik.”

  “I beg your pardon?” The Heckmasters threw so many demon names around, Beryl hadn’t picked up on all of them yet. Maybe she never would, but she wasn’t sure that was such a bad thing.

  “Lesky. It’s an evil forest spirit. It had three ursa demons with it. Those bastards love bears, so naturally it befriended bear demons. They put up a fight.” He picked up one of the bolts and wagged it. It was slightly bent and covered in crusty gore.

  She retrieved a coffee cup from the shelf. “We eat on this table, you know.”

  “Small price to pay for waking up alive.” He pulled a faded red handkerchief from his pocket and went to work scrubbing the bolt clean. He glanced over his shoulder. “Need to ask you something.”

  “All right.”

  He laid the bolt beside its kin and rested his hands in his lap. For a long moment, he stared at her.

  The edges of her vision went swimmy and she felt disconnected from her body. He was doing that thing again, the one where he looked into her mind. She steadied herself against the cupboard.

  “Stop that,” she demanded. The truth was, she didn’t want to know if he found some anomaly in her head. The way he poked around in there without touching her was worse than if she’d dropped all her clothes in front of him.

  “Sorry.” He didn’t sound apologetic. “Eban seem funny to you lately?”

  Beryl wrinkled her nose. “Funny how?”

  “Short-tempered, snappish, harried. Not his usual charming self.” He drew a finger down one of the bolts without taking his gaze off her.

  “No. He’s always a gentleman.” Unlike you. “Except…he wants to leave Berner badly, doesn’t he?”

  The corner of Tell’s mouth twitched. “Yep.”

  “Because of Rhia and Wystan.”

  It didn’t take any kind of special schooling to figure that out.

  “If it wasn’t for Wys, he’d be in some big city earning his keep as a real doctor.” Tell lifted another bolt, rolling the shaft between his fingers, staring at the silver point. “There’s only one thing keeping him here now.”

  His actions weren’t threatening, but a lump formed in Beryl’s throat. She imagined the sharp, shiny tip of the bolt entering her chest in a vulnerable spot. Of the silver poisoning her bloodstream. She drew in a breath when he set it aside again. There was no reason she should be frightened of Tell hurting her. She wasn’t one of the demons he hunted.

  “What’s the reason?” she asked.

  “You.”

  He looked away when he answered, but she caught the slight reddish tint that took over his blue eyes. The widening pupil, the way his nostrils flared as though he’d scented something that Hell spat up.

  “Why me?”

  He didn’t answer. A second later Eban strolled into the kitchen.

  “Tell! What have I told you about cleaning weapons at the table?” His clothes were rumpled, a shadow of beard covered his jaw and he had purple circles beneath his eyes. “What if I had to perform emergency surgery there?”

  Tell smirked, all hints of his aggravation gone. “You think Rhia’s gonna kill Wys that quick?”

  Eban’s eyes flashed with the slightest hint of red. He muttered something that sounded like dump him in the Pit. Beryl smiled, hoping to combat his irritation and chase off the lingering chill that crawled across her skin.

  No denying they were brothers. They both had dark hair and square jaws, long, straight noses and deep-set blue eyes. Eban’s hair was darker, trimmed shorter and he was usually clean shaven where Tell sported a scruffy day-old beard. Tell maintained an air of humor despite the horrors he faced daily. In the last couple of weeks, Eban’s expressions leaned toward worry.

  She smiled at him. “Good morning. Sorry I slept late.”

  He gave her a long look. “Sleep all right?”

  She had the strangest feeling she might have been traipsing around the clinic at night without her gown. “Well enough.”

  He nodded. “You’re looking better by the day.”

  She busied herself doctoring coffee because she didn’t want him to see the hot blush that burned her face. He meant it in a professional way, not in a let-me-ravish-you sense. Eban was in love with Rhia and she understood why. Beautiful, funny, and courageous, Rhia was the sort of woman men fell over themselves to court. Beryl knew she was plain, unless green eyes counted. They were unusual, but they only made her other features seem plainer.

  “I feel fine.” She settled at the table across from Tell.

  “Glad to hear it.” Eban glared at his brother. “Get those things out of my kitchen.”

  Tell ignored him, holding a clean bolt up for inspection. “Still got your longjohns in a twist?”

  Eban’s gaze lighted on Beryl, then darted away. “No.”

  Her coffee cup was halfway to her mouth, but she froze when he looked at her. “What’s the matter?”

  “I couldn’t sleep.” He picked at his cuticles, a sure sign he was uncomfortable. “I was up most of the night.”

  Tell looked up sharply, his eyes narrowed. Beryl had been around them both enough to catch the small signs that something wasn’t right. The tension between them was so thick, she fought for breath. They’d had words, and Eban was lying.

  “What’s going on?” she asked. The fear that Tell knew something about her that he wasn’t saying redoubled.

  “I have to go.” Tell swept the bolts into his hand, slung his crossbow over his shoulder and limped out.

  Eban watched his departure, scraping his thumbnail against another fingernail. Other than the repetitive action, he didn’t move. She’d hoped when Noem had been defeated that life would become normal. It had been foolish of her to think that.

  “Eban?”

  He started at his name. “Hmm?”

  “Is he all right? He looks awful.” Beryl sipped her coffee as Eban turned.

  “He’s fine. I should probably relieve him tonight though.” He inspected the table as though he thought Tell might have left some dirt behind.

  It wasn’t a secret that Eban hated slaying demons. He wasn’t a warrior like his brothers, although it wasn’t the gruesome bodies that seemed to bother him. She’d heard plenty of conversation between him and Tell that gave away how much he hated not having a normal life. He was planning to leave—she just didn’t know when.

  “He doesn’t like me.” Tell’s feelings about her were the least of her concerns, but she was worried she might have done something to offend her host.

  Eban’s eyebrows rose. “What makes you think that?”

  “He doesn’t have much to say when he sees me. That was never surprising coming from Wystan, but before Noem came, at least Tell was friendly. Lately he’s trying to pry into my head whenever we see each other.”

  “I’m sure that
’s not true.” He sat in Tell’s vacated chair. “He’s distracted. There have been more demons slipping through. He didn’t want Wys to know before the wedding.”

  Unsurprising. Much as she longed for normalcy, she didn’t expect it in Berner. “He’s never short with Rhia or Sylvie.” Beryl stared into her coffee cup. “Is it because he doesn’t know what I am?”

  There was something inside her, something no one wanted to talk about. Eban lowered his gaze and she knew he was working his cuticles again.

  “It’s nothing to worry about. If it bothers you, I’ll speak to him about it.”

  “I don’t want you to be mad either. With Rhia and Wystan moving to the other side of town and busy with the wedding and school, I’ve been a little lonely.”

  Eban slid his hand across the table and covered one of hers. “I’m not mad at you. I’m sorry you’re lonely. Taking over the school this week should keep you busy. We’re all transitioning right now, and it’s left us a little confused, I think.”

  Warmth washed over her, a calming effect only Eban inspired in her. Whether it was silly puppy love or desire, no other man’s touch had ever sent tingles through her. At least, no other man she could remember. She pushed down the fear that maybe in some other part of the country, a husband and children she couldn’t recall wondered where she was and why she’d left them.

  Beryl nodded. She was well again and had to find something to occupy her time. Eban was suffering a broken heart—it was plain as day on his face—while Tell worked twice as hard to corral errant demons and Wystan and Rhia settled into married life. Yes, they were all a little frazzled. He gave her one of his reassuring doctor smiles. The same one she’d fallen in love with weeks ago.

  “I’m going to study Rhia’s lessons plans so I’ll have some idea of what she wants me to teach the children while she’s away. You should get some sleep, Eb. You look awful.”

  She wished could ease his pain, make him forget Rhia, but she was powerless in that area.

  “Do you think you’ll like teaching?” he asked.

  “I suppose. The only child I’m used to is Sylvie and if they’re half as smart as her, I may be in over my head.” She was a little uncomfortable standing in Rhia’s shoes inside the schoolhouse, but she didn’t want to cancel the classes.

  “Perhaps if you like it, you can take her place.”

  She knew he was thinking about what would happen if Wystan and Rhia had children. If things weren’t so informal in town, Rhia would have given up teaching when she married. As it was, they had no ready replacement for her and the Heckmasters were loath to put out an ad.

  “I’m not sure I was ever around children much.” Beryl drew her hand away and rubbed her forehead. “These big gaps in my memory are frustrating. I wish I knew more about…anything.”

  “The memories you’re missing may never return. It might have something to do with—” Eban cleared his throat.

  She peered at him from beneath her hand. “With what?”

  He froze like a frightened hare.

  “Eban?”

  “Ah, with the fevers you had. Sometimes they can addle the mind. I’m not saying you’re damaged, just that the human brain is a funny thing. If the memories are meant to come back, they will.”

  He was hiding something. Something that might have to do with the way he’d looked at her moments ago and the reason Tell didn’t trust her. She was a human and she might lack a sixth sense for demons and other creatures, but she knew he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

  She knew about his sister. Sandra had become infected with a parasite imp when she was a young woman. Wystan had beheaded her because she’d plotted to kill them all in Astaroth’s name. They had no way of destroying a parasite demon other than death. The choice had made them all bitter and wary of strangers. Eban had inspected Beryl for imps and Tell hadn’t been able to find one, but was it possible the thing was buried so deep inside that no one would find it until it was too late?

  He gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, but he seldom looked happy these days. “Don’t worry about memories right now. Focusing on the future is a better endeavor. Don’t be nervous about the children either. They’re eager to learn. You’ll do fine.”

  “I’m sure,” she murmured.

  She stared into her coffee cup, wishing things were different. The sun was shining and since they’d destroyed Noem, Berner was blossoming with life, but Eban made it clear that he was already gone.

  Chapter Three

  Summoning Seere was delicate work, but Eban had memorized dozens of seals over the years. The slightest mistake in a sigil might pull something worse out of the Underworld, or it might do nothing. Seere’s seal looked a bit like a set of folded wings with a few additional lines and circles. His name was printed on the outside edge.

  Eban had traced the sigil in cinnamon liberally sprinkled across his bedroom floor. The second he closed the circle around the image, the air rippled and parted like a curtain. Seere stepped through the rift, standing at his full height, his shoulder-length blond hair blowing in a breeze Eban couldn’t feel.

  Although the Heckmasters didn’t have a liege, Eban bowed out of respect. Their father had broken with Astaroth well before his children were born, but prior to that, he’d had no minions of his own. His low status on the demon chain of command left his half-blood sons even lower.

  “Prince Seere. Thank you for responding to my summons.”

  Seere glanced around the room, curling his lip in obvious disgust with his surroundings. Impeccably dressed in the finest clothes a demon could buy—Seere’s riches were reputed to be so large no living man could count them—he was easily mistaken for a tycoon. Not a hair out of place or a wrinkle in the navy blue suit that complemented his golden features. The demon prince looked more like an angel and he’d used his looks for centuries to lure in unsuspecting souls.

  “Heckmaster.”

  Not the worst greeting he could’ve gotten. Gathering his courage, Eban decided to get to the point. “I need a favor.”

  “Of course you do. Why else summon me?” Seere toyed with the chain of his golden pocket watch. “Don’t tarry.”

  “I want you to banish Rosemar from Beryl Brookshier’s body.” Eban winced at his own choice of words. I want wasn’t exactly the way to gain Seere’s help.

  Seere’s cool blue gaze didn’t waver. “You’re aware I have no boons to repay. In fact, it seems that you and your brothers are in debt to me. Deep debt.”

  Eban gritted his teeth. There wasn’t any denying it. They owed him for the silver weapons they used to slay escapees from the Pit. They also owed him for warning Wystan that Noem was after Rhia, and he’d placed Rosemar beside her for protection and as a warrior to help defeat the chief demon. Neutral though he claimed to be in the war against Hell, Seere had done his share of work for the Heckmasters.

  “I know.” He straightened his shoulders. “But Noem is gone, Rhia’s under Wystan’s protection and Berner’s a safe haven for demons looking to straighten out their lives. I don’t think Rosemar is necessary any longer.”

  Seere smirked. “You presume much. You should have stopped at Noem is gone. For now, but not forever. He’ll suffer at Astaroth’s hand, and he will never come into favor again, but he may escape Hell one day.”

  Eban’s heart sank. “What about Beryl?”

  “Is one human worth the price of Hell on Earth?”

  He bristled at the notion that human lives weren’t worth caring about. Seere more or less echoed Tell’s sentiments.

  “Maybe she is.”

  “Rosemar proved herself bold in the face of danger, did she not? Are you displeased with my minion’s performance in the first battle for Berner’s safety?” Seere brushed his fingers over his coat lapel. “She does not please you?”

  “She did fine, but she’s killing that body
. She can’t stay in it forever. It’ll begin to rot sooner or later. Perhaps before we’ve dealt with Astaroth.” He knew that fight was coming, but he hoped to be long gone before it arrived.

  “Rosemar cannot use her true form to assist you. The human body must suffice.” Seere tilted his head, his gaze almost as penetrating as Tell’s. “Your little brother thinks it would be best to behead her now. He foolishly believes this will remove a problem from your lives. Inform him that he’ll not enjoy the consequences if he destroys my minion.”

  “I’ll let him know, but I doubt he’ll care.”

  A wicked smile curved Seere’s mouth. “Perhaps I should have turned Rosemar’s sights on him instead.”

  Eban frowned. “What?”

  “It’s you she craves. That thread of humanity, the likes of which a lust demon cannot know. If you gave her half a chance, she’d make you her consort in the Gray Lands once the war here is done. I can’t imagine many demons turning her down. The body would be unaffected by rot if she were to return.”

  Eban’s stomach churned. “That’s what she’s planning, isn’t it? She’ll do your bidding here, then as a reward, she’ll strip every bit of Beryl away and claim the body as her own.”

  “Such is her prerogative, Heckmaster. My minions do not go unrewarded when they serve me well. I won’t return the human’s life to her. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  He hesitated long enough that Seere’s grin widened. “The Lesser Key of Solomon. Wherever Tell hid it, I want all of it back in one piece.”

  Seere laughed, a sound that filled the room, but it was humorless and bordered on sadistic. “You’d summon another to give you what I refuse? My liege lord is the mighty Ea, usurped by Astaroth. There are none in the Gray Lands more powerful than me by Ea’s commandment. You can’t revoke my will, Ebaneezer.”