Eban

by Allison Merritt

  Winged creatures were a little more difficult to dispatch than the kind that were limited to walking or running. Eban had no powers of levitation, stuck to the ground because of gravity. The lizard-bat darted around him, gripping his hair for a moment, taking a swipe at his sleeve, and snapping its tail across the back of his head.

  The edge of his saber slipped along the beast’s hind leg and it let out a high-pitched howl, spiraling through the air toward Eban with its claws extended. He knocked it away with the saber, the vibration of the blow shooting through his arm. Hot, murky blood splattered his face and neck as the creature soared past.

  Eban watched Eliakim follow the lizard-bat with his eyes as it beat its wings and gained altitude.

  “Aren’t you going to help?” Eban snapped.

  “You did not ask before.”

  He didn’t want to admit he might be in over his head. “I’m asking now.”

  Eliakim’s face hardened. “Smudge the sigil.”

  “You aren’t afraid of this thing.” Eban ducked as the lizard-bat dived, nearly taking off his head with its tail.

  “Eradicate the demon call. Smudge the sigil or I will go without offering assistance.”

  “Then go. I don’t need you.”

  The words were barely out of his mouth before the beast slammed into him from behind. They skidded along the rocky ground, the lizard-bat hissing and scraping his flesh with its claws. It forced his head into the loose gravel, pinning his arms with its bony knees, wrapping its massive hand around his throat. Eban gagged, struggling for breath as his saber slipped from his fingers.

  “Eban?”

  He swore he heard Beryl’s voice in the beast’s growl. Her image flickered in front of his face. The lusty look she’d given him the night they made love. Her fingers in his hair. The lizard-bat slammed his forehead into the ground. Bright white light flashed in Eban’s vision.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw its tail curled around its thin body, the end slicing through the air with quick jerks. Long yellowed fangs descended from its gums. It threw its head back, roaring with triumph.

  “Don’t leave me.” Beryl’s whispered plea when she’d been so sick with fever after arriving at his clinic rushed back to him. “Will you hold my hand?”

  His throat burned like coal fire from Hell simmered inside it. Something silver arched through the air, landing with a wet thunk behind him. The lizard-bat’s head toppled and rolled a few feet away, but the tail whipped faster and its hands gripped Eban’s neck tighter. His relief was short-lived.

  I’ll never get to tell Beryl I’m sorry. Never have the chance to give her the life she deserves.

  Who would protect her if he wasn’t there? He clawed at the creature’s fingers. She needed him as much as he needed her. He wasn’t a demon slayer—he was her protector. Fate had brought her to him as surely as the sun rose in the east. He managed to get his hand beneath one of the demon’s and pry the scaly fingers back. He had to live, dammit. Beryl was out there somewhere afraid and hurt because of him. Out there alone and in danger because he couldn’t admit he loved her.

  If he got his head out of his ass, if he saved her from Rosemar, he could have the very thing his parents had—a love worth dying for.

  He saw Beryl’s sweet smile, heard her laughter as he pulled at the monster’s digits and wrenched one of its hands free of his throat. Eliakim kicked the beast’s body and it fell away with a thud and scuffing sounds while it kicked the dirt. Eban drew in a breath, then coughed.

  Beryl. He had to talk to her, ask her for another chance. Beg for her forgiveness, if that was what it took. His brothers’ teasing be damned. They’d give him a hard time, especially because he’d denied his attraction to her. None of that mattered now. Only getting back to her in one piece.

  Eliakim spat into his hand. He jerked Eban’s shirt away from his neck and smeared the spittle across the twining lines that formed the sigil.

  “What did you see when you looked into the face of death?”

  It hadn’t been Rhia. Out of all the people he knew and loved, the first person he’d thought of was Beryl. Desiring her wasn’t the same as wanting Rhia. He needed Beryl, but his infatuation with Rhia seemed like a lifetime ago. Eban dropped his head against the ground, panting while he caught his breath. “I need the practice.”

  “You searched for trouble and found it. That is unwise.” Eliakim knelt next to him on one knee. “The seals here are weak. Something must be done to raise better protection.”

  “We know.” He ignored the angel’s thoughts on what he was doing here. He’d come looking for a fight, true enough, but he didn’t need Eliakim judging him for it. “We’re working on it.”

  “It should be your priority. Can you not feel Astaroth just below?”

  A shiver rolled down Eban’s spine. He raised himself on his elbows and looked at the Pit. He couldn’t feel any presence other than the angel’s.

  “You’re sure he’s there?”

  “Pacing, testing the boundaries, amassing an army that will burst through the barrier. You can’t fight them alone.”

  “I’d never try. The three of us together and Rosemar could barely handle Noem’s army. We’ll have to seal the barrier because we can’t slay the monsters Astaroth will send.” He picked up his saber and found his feet. The skin around his throat was tender and he was bleeding from multiple cuts. His demon blood would take care of the injuries in a few hours, but until then, he’d feel every one of them.

  “I wouldn’t tarry with repairing the seals. He’s coming and he has vengeance in mind.”

  “I’ve always known that.” He wiped his blade on his pants, then tucked it away. He stared at the demon bodies. “You have any more magic tricks?”

  Eliakim’s gaze flickered toward town. “Not tonight. Will you burn them?”

  “I’ll throw the changesteed into the Pit. An extra hand wouldn’t go amiss. Do you have pressing business elsewhere?”

  “Rosemar is creating mischief.”

  Eban spun toward town, but he couldn’t sense trouble from that direction either. “What’s she doing?”

  “Spinning yarns. Using her powers to trap a victim.” Eliakim’s frown grew. “She’s persuasive.”

  “Is Beryl in danger?” His hand tightened on the saber’s hilt. He wanted to kill Rosemar, but harming her wouldn’t end well for Beryl. The woman he had been determined to drive off. Emotion warred inside him.

  “I will intervene. Clean up after yourself here.” He nodded at the decapitated monsters. With a flash of light, he vanished.

  Eban kicked rocks at the lizard-bat. Clean up, hell. He’d never seen anything like this. It was new, dangerous and stomach-churningly revolting. Tell would never forgive him if he didn’t get to study it. Even though he was mad enough at Tell to knock him over the head with his saber, they couldn’t afford not to examine this thing. As for the barghest, he nudged the head to the Pit and drew his foot back. He kicked it as far across the steaming opening as he could. It made it about fifty feet before dropping through the barrier with a sizzle. The body was heavier and it took him a few minutes to drag it to the edge. The scent of burning hair clogged his nose.

  He bagged the lizard-bat’s head in a burlap sack and tied it to his saddle. There was considerably more effort involved in stringing its body over his horse’s back. The horse protested at first, shying at the sight of the strange creature that gave off the faint odor of lizard musk and sulfur. Eban quieted the horse with a few strokes along its arched neck. It gave in, allowing him to secure the beast to the saddle.

  It was a long walk to town and his worry for Beryl replaced his anger. His father had possessed the ability to think of a place and go there in a flash, but it hadn’t been passed along to his offspring. Pity.

  Taking the horse by the reins, he nudged it with his shoulder, urging it tow
ard what passed for civilization out here. The sooner he got back, the sooner he could deposit this thing at Wystan’s office. The sooner he could find Beryl and learn what was really going on with her. Maybe if she was in the mood to listen, he could apologize for the things he’d said and begin making it up to her. And for the first time, tell a woman he truly loved her. Eliakim was with her—or Rosemar—putting a stop to anything that would cause trouble. The angel wasn’t as useless as he’d thought. Eliakim would know where she was and if he gave the angel enough thought, he was bound to appear.

  With a tug, he urged the horse to walk faster.

  Eban dropped the blood-soaked sack on Wystan’s desk in the jailhouse. Tell, who’d either been pretending to be asleep—his chin on his chest—or really dozing, almost exploded from the chair.

  “What the hell?” He glared, blue eyes sparking like hot flames.

  Brownish blood smeared the ink blotter as it leaked from the sack.

  “The rest of it is outside on my horse.” Eban tried to keep his tone neutral, holding back his anger over Tell’s earlier action. “I thought you’d want to see it. We can take it over the clinic and cut it up later if you like.”

  Tell unlashed the sack. “Were you attacked? Where’s Beryl?”

  Eban shook his head. His neck was sore, the various cuts and scrapes stung and he knew his clothes were ruined, but the important thing was that his heart still thumped on. “I wasn’t attacked. She’s…we needed some space.”

  Tell’s upper lip curled and he gingerly reached out to peel the burlap away from the head. “Jesus, that thing is ugly. Where’d you find it?”

  He lifted the head out of the sack and held it up to the lamplight, turning it this way and that to study the features. Empty yellow eyes stared around the room, making Eban’s skin crawl.

  “The Pit.”

  “What were you doing out there?” Tell stuck his finger in the lizard-bat’s mouth, testing the points of the teeth.

  “Hunting.”

  His brother looked away from the creature. “You don’t hunt. What’s going on?”

  “None of your business.” Maybe it has something to do with the way the world is swirling down the drain around us? Ever consider that, little brother?

  Tell’s eyebrows rose. “You’re in a fine mood, I see.”

  For half a second, he wondered if Tell could read his mind, but dismissed the idea. Eban folded his arms. “Just tell me what you think it is.”

  “Scaly hide, pointy teeth, ugly face. Must be a demon.” Tell wrinkled his nose when he examined the thing’s long forked tongue.

  “I gathered when it didn’t want to sit down and have a conversation over tea.” Sometimes he wanted to smack the insolence out of Tell’s mouth. “What kind?”

  “Damned if I know. You say the rest of it is outside?”

  “My horse doesn’t like it.”

  “I can imagine. You wouldn’t take kindly to carting around dead demons either if you could be tucked into your stable munching on hay.” Tell put the head beneath his arm and strode outside. He didn’t seem to notice the creature’s blood dripping down his side.

  Eban waited at the door, wincing when Tell let out an ear-splitting whistle.

  “She’s an ugly bitch. You saw this come out of the Pit?” He held the head next to the stump of neck.

  “Yes.” He wasn’t about to admit he’d called it out.

  “I still can’t pin down a reason you’d be out there slicing off monster heads after we spent years begging for your help.”

  “I don’t recall any begging. Threatening is familiar though.” He didn’t want to spend the rest of the night debating the finer points of his arguments for the reasons he didn’t like dismembering demons. “You want me to take it to the clinic or get rid of it?”

  “Clinic. I’d love to dig through this thing and figure out what it is.” Tell gripped the demon head by its pointed ears. The sightless eyes stared into the darkness. He positioned the head on the back of the body. His fingers splayed across its forehead while his other hand rested on one shoulder.

  “What are you—”

  Tell’s jaw dropped and his eyes became cloudy. His body jerked and he winced, pulling away while he shook his hands. The head toppled to the ground. Eban’s horse snorted and tried to move, but the tether held it to the hitching post.

  Tell faced Eban. “Eliakim killed it.”

  “He went with me.”

  “Then you put it on the horse all by yourself?” Tell’s eyes were back in focus, his pupils tiny and accusing.

  “Why?”

  Tell grabbed the head and replaced it on the lizard-bat’s back. “Touch it. One on the head, one on the body.”

  “No.” Eban took a step back. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Do it.” Tell lunged and grabbed his wrists. He was strong and it was easier to give in than fight.

  The moment Eban’s hands touched both parts of the demon, a shock like static, only much stronger jolted through him. A picture flashed in front of his eyes. It was the lizard-bat choking him, triumphant, until the angel’s knife severed its short earth life. The blade that cut through the flesh had the heat of the sun behind it, burning worse than hellfire.

  Tell pulled Eban’s hands off the corpse. “Look at your palms.”

  They were burnt, bright red and blistered. “What the hell?”

  “That sword he carries has some serious holy power. It shouldn’t leave an effect like that behind in a dead demon. My God.” Tell shook his head, his face disbelieving. “It hurt like—”

  “Holy water.” He tried to remember if Eliakim had ever touched him, but couldn’t recall and silently vowed never to let that happen. “It didn’t bother me before because I put the head in the bag first.”

  “You cut the power by keeping them separate. Better keep that in mind when you lug this thing inside.” Tell grabbed the saddlehorn, giving it a little shake and the head fell to the ground again. “What did you let loose, Eb?”

  “I don’t know.” He didn’t feel good about that. “He saved my life, killing this thing. I can’t fault him for that.”

  He resisted scratching the blisters on his palms. There was salve at the clinic that would sooth the burning itch—after he found Beryl. “The body will be at the clinic whenever you’re ready for it.”

  “Where will you be?”

  “Around. I have an errand.” He no more wanted to mention his argument with Beryl than touch the body with the head attached again. “Just be careful when you’re dissecting it. Don’t mix up the clean instruments with the dirty ones. Again.”

  Tell rolled his eyes. “It was a mistake.”

  “Still not buying it. It was carelessness, plain and simple. You forget I practically raised you.”

  “Eb?” Tell’s brows knit together.

  “What?”

  “I don’t know why you drew the sigil on your chest—maybe it was anger and maybe it was desperation—but I’ll put the dirty instruments in the washbasin if you won’t do that again, okay?” There wasn’t any anger in Tell’s words, but there was something else.

  Fear. An emotion he rarely saw from his little brother. He didn’t ask how Tell knew about the sigil. Maybe from the creature’s memory, maybe the smudges on his chest, or maybe just because of Tell’s damn sixth sense, but it didn’t matter.

  “I promise.”

  Tell touched the brim of his hat. “See you later. Take care of this nasty bitch for me until then. We’re gonna have a little fun later, me and her.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Beryl sank into the corn-husk mattress on the bed in the living quarters attached to Berner’s schoolhouse. Rhia and Sylvie had lived here up until the wedding and she figured if it was good enough for them, it was more than good enough for her. There wasn’t much room, but it w
as clean and hardly dusty. It was warm, dry and far away from Eban’s clinic. Better yet, there were no windows, so no one would guess she’d come here. She would nurse the wounds to her heart in privacy and think about Rosemar’s offer without interruption.

  She curled her hands on her lap and closed her eyes. She could ignore Eban until he left town, or with help of an invisible demon, she could trick him into loving her. The first option seemed much more plausible. He’d taken what he wanted from her because she’d insisted on it. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t love her. Some people weren’t compatible. Her parents, for instance, had done their marital duty for the sake of producing heirs and spent the rest of their time living separately.

  She couldn’t trap him in marriage. Surely that was a sin, and she had plenty of those to answer for when the time came without adding to it. Rosemar’s offer was too good to be true and she knew better than to trust a demon.

  Even trusting a half-blood was out of the question. He might not have meant for her to fall in love with him, but he’d meant to hurt her with his parting words. Feeling sorry for herself wasn’t much good, but right now it was all she had.

  Beryl untied her boots and dropped them at the foot of the bed. She stood to pull the patchwork quilt down and when she straightened again, Eliakim stood by the door, hand on his sword.

  She stifled a scream, stumbling into the bed frame. “What are you doing here?”

  “You had a visit from Rosemar.”

  It wasn’t a question. Somehow he knew.

  “You shouldn’t be here.” She didn’t want to discuss anything with the angel. His fierce face left her nervous and she had a fear of his sword that made Tell’s gestures with his bolts feel like a tickle. “I’m going to ask you nicely to leave.”

  “I’ve come to keep you from making a grievous error, Beryl Brookshier. You may not want my help, but it is offered without the price Rosemar attaches. She’s offered you a deal, one that will allow her to claim your vessel as her own. It would be folly to accept her terms.”