Eban

by Allison Merritt

  “I know.” She glared at him. “You could have knocked.”

  “I felt the issue was dire.” Eliakim almost seemed apologetic. “You are not going to accept Rosemar’s suggestion?”

  “Not tonight.” Especially considering he suggested Rosemar wanted to take over her body. She got the same feeling, even though Rosemar hadn’t asked for anything in return.

  His features hardened in a look of disapproval. “I assume you are not serious.”

  She wasn’t sure how to respond. “Maybe we can take this up again in a more public place at a later time. I appreciate your concern. I wasn’t too keen on having a demon proposition me.”

  Not after she’d spent years being propositioned by men who had souls just as dark.

  “The Heckmasters are summoning powerful demons. They wish to banish Rosemar, although she will fight them. Your life is at stake.”

  The matter-of-fact way he stated it alarmed her more than his presence. “What do you mean?”

  “Rosemar is dangerous. She’ll stop at nothing to claim a human vessel. Her form is ancient and withered, beyond use for this world. She’s very real and very dangerous.” Long, lean fingers traced the jewels set in his sword hilt.

  Eliakim itched for demon blood on his blade—the notion oozed from him. Even without Tell’s powers of sense, she felt it.

  “I’ll keep an eye out for her. When I refuse her, maybe she’ll go on to bother someone else.” She licked her lips, hopeful that the whispery voice that almost seemed to come from inside her head would leave for good.

  Eliakim studied her with glowing silver eyes, his mouth twisted in displeasure. “Unlikely.”

  “Why?” Her hoarse voice scraped her throat.

  “You’re close to the Heckmasters and she desires the power they wield.”

  “They’re only half demons—they don’t have much power. They all agree on that.” The room seemed stuffy and overcrowded with Eliakim looking at her like she was the dumbest human he’d met.

  His lips thinned, but he didn’t answer. He tilted his head, letting the long blond flow of his hair fall across his shoulders. “You are safe from Rosemar’s tricks tonight. I must go.”

  “Where?” It was almost as though he heard something.

  “Ebaneezer calls.”

  Her turn to look peevish. “I thought you didn’t bow to humans.”

  “He requires guidance. He isn’t aware he called. However I can assist him. Forgive me for barging in. That is the apology you desire, isn’t it?” The smallest smile turned his lips.

  “One of them.” His effort made her smile in return. “Is there anything I can do to help Eban?”

  She didn’t know why she offered. He hadn’t earned her help, but the thought of him calling for it without realizing made her uneasy. Her traitorous heart loved him no matter what.

  “You may accompany me if you wish. He is in no danger at the moment.”

  That gave her some relief. “If you’re sure I won’t be in the way.”

  Eliakim looked uncertain. Beryl almost retracted her words, but he continued before she could.

  “Do not give up on him. He is much like his mother, reluctant to do what he believes is the wrong thing, when his heart pulls him in different directions. Come, Beryl.” Eliakim offered his hand.

  She hesitated, but then decided he had no ill will toward her, or he’d have attacked her already. His palm was soft like a pillow, hardly substantial beneath hers, almost ghost-like. Warmth ran up her arm, through her chest and spread to her other limbs, filling her head with a peaceful sensation.

  Until someone screamed.

  “Stop touching him!”

  She tried to pull away from Eliakim, but his grip was firm.

  “You,” she spat, facing him. “Let her go this instant.”

  Her mouth moved, words spilled from his lips, but they weren’t her words. She didn’t want to say them, not to an angel who was no doubt eager to slay demons. Her palm burned where Eliakim held her.

  His eyes blazed with silvery light. “Your tricks are no good as long as I have her in my power, Rosemar.”

  She felt her lips pull away from her teeth in a feral snarl. “You’ll pay for this.”

  “My duty is to serve my master. Yours is the same, but you have other things in mind. I would not stay your hand if I thought you were serving Seere’s good intentions.”

  “He promised me I could have this body and I will have it, no matter what you or your master think!” She tried to rip her hand out of his, but it was stuck as though sealed there with cement. The burning flush that rolled through her veins faded.

  No long able to stand on her own, Beryl sagged onto the bed. Dizzy and frightened, she stared at him. “What was that?”

  “Rosemar. Creating trouble as she is wont to do. You are unhurt, merely shaken from the encounter.”

  “I’m fine,” she agreed, although her legs felt wobbly and her head woozy the way it did when Tell tried to look inside her mind. Her palm was red, burning as though she’d used pure lye to wash it. She was fine, except now she was sure a demon had been inside her head.

  “Seere should not trust her. When he took her in, she was eager to please, to show her worth. Now she only thinks of her own goals.”

  “She was inside me. Why was she there? How did she get in there?” She scrubbed her opposite hand against her forehead, giving a little shiver as she thought of the invasion. It was much worse than Eliakim appearing and catching her unaware. Why didn’t someone do something? If Tell suspected, then Wystan and Eban had to know too.

  “They must not delay the meeting.”

  His thought was so faint, she almost missed it. Then the room turned, and her stomach with it, but it vanished, leaving only a blur of light and color as they rushed through the air.

  Beryl’s feet hit solid ground with enough force to make her feet ache. “Ouch.”

  Eliakim held one finger to his lips and nodded into the distance.

  Eban stood in front of two graves with big granite markers. A stone angel—smaller than the one at the fountain—stood between them, its face turned toward the sky, hands folded in front of its robe, wings raised as though it would lift off from the ground any moment. Time had worn its expression away, dulling the eyes, nose and mouth, reducing its face to smooth, youthful roundness. Two dark lines ran from its eyes to the gentle slope of its jaw. Like tear tracks. Beryl shivered again.

  “He’s thinking of them. Of how they loved despite knowing Astaroth would never let them find peace.” The soft whisper of Eliakim’s thoughts was laced with sorrow. “Seneca Heckmaster spent his last years on Earth with deep regret for his transgressions against the humans.”

  What if Eban turned and spotted them, angry because they watched during his private moment?

  “Aren’t you going to help him?” she whispered.

  Eliakim gave her a smile, a real one this time, and gestured for her to follow behind him, his long legs eating up ground as he passed through the cemetery gates. Beryl trotted to keep up with him.

  Eban touched his father’s headstone and bowed his head.

  “We shouldn’t watch this,” she whispered, but he didn’t slow down. “It’s private.”

  If Eliakim heard her, though she was sure he did, he didn’t pay her any mind. They stopped six feet from the graves and Eban didn’t seem to notice them.

  Eliakim’s unearthly glow cast light over the area. “You came here, pondering their choices, hoping to find an answer for your own.”

  Eban jumped and turned. “What are you doing here?”

  His gaze darted to Beryl. She tried to make herself smaller, worried he was still angry, that he’d think she was interfering in his private moment. An excuse bounded to her lips.

  “Beryl.” Some of the tension went out of his shoulde
rs. “Thank God Eliakim found you.”

  She looked between them, then forced herself to hold Eban’s gaze. “I didn’t know he was bringing me here.”

  “It’s all right. I was taking a moment to think about how all this”—he swept his hand around—”came to be.”

  Eliakim’s eyes glistened. “You have doubts about yourself, about Beryl, about everything, but I can show you how your parents felt.”

  Eban’s face took on a pinched look. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “There is no time for indecision. Rosemar is through waiting. She wants a vessel now and she’s made her offer to Beryl.” Rolling anger made Eliakim’s thought sound like shouts. “You have the strength to defeat her, if you will throw off your fear.”

  “How?”

  They asked the question at the same time, glancing at each other.

  Eliakim raised his arms and clapped them together above his head. The result sounded like thunder and the sky clouded—the first storm she’d seen in Berner since arriving.

  The world shimmered and Beryl thought they were leaving the cemetery. She blinked and when the world focused again, the sun was shining brightly overhead, instead of above the horizon. This was Berner, but far different than it looked now.

  In front of her, a woman with dark hair walked down an alley, her head bowed, arms folded. Her posture suggested she was unhappy and Beryl reached out, planning to say something comforting, but a figure stepped around the corner of the building.

  The woman looked up, and a smile bloomed over her face. “Seneca.”

  He was tall, easily Wystan’s height, with blue eyes like beacons. Midnight black hair gleamed in the sun. “You made it.”

  His voice had the same timbre as Eban’s, soft and comforting. Beryl’s jaw dropped. The woman launched herself into Seneca’s arms, burying her face against his shoulder.

  “No need to cry, my love.” His big hands caressed her back and a hint of worry came over his smooth features.

  “There will be if Father finds out I’m meeting you.” She drew back. “I’ve missed you.”

  She peppered his jawline with kisses before he claimed her mouth. They kissed as though it had been years since they’d seen each other last. Beryl looked away.

  “You’re not hurt?” Gloria ran her hands over his shoulders and chest. “It scares me each time you leave. I’m afraid he’ll find out about us.”

  “I’m not without my own power.” Deep inside the sparkling blue eyes, something malicious gleamed. “He doesn’t suspect a thing, nor shall he.”

  There was a princely air about him. The way he carried himself, the manner in which he spoke. He wore a fine suit cut to fit him. If he’d stood in a crowd of people and someone asked Beryl to pick out the demon, she would have chosen him. There was something not quite right about his appearance, or perhaps it was his aura.

  “If he catches us, he’ll kill you.” Gloria clung to his arm.

  “Please don’t worry. There are other matters I’d like to discuss with you.”

  The worry didn’t clear away from her face, but she nodded. “I’m so glad you’re home. Every second without you is an eternity.”

  Seneca smiled. Beryl saw the love he felt for the human woman, despite what he was and what he’d done for his liege. It was the same way Wystan looked at Rhia, the same look she’d longed for from Eban.

  “Soon you won’t have to measure them. I’ll stay with you until my last breath.” He lowered himself to one knee. “Marry me, Gloria. Make me the happiest being on Earth.”

  Her eyes widened. They were hazel, blue with the slightest hint of brown and green around her irises. She laughed, a genuine smile that reflected her happiness. “We’ll have to run away. My father—”

  “Don’t worry about him now. Do you want to run away with me?”

  Gloria dropped to her knees beside him. “Of course I do. I can’t live without you.”

  All traces of her earlier misery were gone. She glowed with happiness like Rhia had on her wedding day. True love—no mistaking it for anything else. A spark of envy lodged itself under Beryl’s heart. Seneca might be a demon, but he was repentant and he’d risked his life to be with Gloria and raise their children.

  Beryl glanced at Eban. He watched with rapt attention, his gaze trained on his parents. She saw his face differently now. Seneca’s brow and chin, combined with Gloria’s cheekbones. Eban was a product of their love, a child born to two beings who cared for one another despite their differences.

  They shared another kiss, this one with power behind it. The warm breeze stilled and the street noise declined. It was as if the world stopped to observe their love. Seneca brushed his hand over Gloria’s hair, a gesture Eban had repeated with Beryl only hours ago.

  Beryl caught a glow from the corner of her eye. She turned toward it, stunned to see Eliakim’s form outlined with blue light.

  “Love?” she guessed.

  He nodded. “We stand in the presence of it at its purest. The Father smiled on them. He was pleased that Seneca turned away from the darkness. Not all who see the light follow it.”

  The scene faded, leaving them in the cemetery again. She wrapped her arms around herself, thinking of Rosemar. The demon swore she’d been responsible for men and women falling in love for eons. Seere had recruited her to bring Rhia and Wystan together, but now that she’d accomplished it, she was after something else. More false feelings and misery. Rosemar wasn’t the type to give up her wicked ways.

  Eban met her eyes. “They always cared deeply for one another.”

  She nodded, biting her tongue so she wouldn’t betray her true feelings. The anger and hurt that he’d spoken to her so harshly made her want to retaliate, but doing so after watching his parents’ joy seemed wrong.

  For the first time, she noticed the half-healed wounds on his face and hands. Small cuts that looked days old, although she’d seen him hours ago and he’d been fine. He’d gotten injured while hunting. A little part of her insisted it was his own fault for foolishly chasing monsters, but the other part imagined him doing battle against impossible odds, slaying the beasts so they wouldn’t creep into Berner and hurt the innocent.

  “Did you kill it?”

  He touched the fading bruises around his throat. “A changesteed. I had some help from Eliakim with the others.”

  “I hope you feel better after acting like your brothers.”

  She looked away from him, at the smaller headstone next to his parents’. It read Cassandra Heckmaster and gave her age as fifteen. A dull pang struck Beryl’s heart. The sister Wystan had killed because the parasite demon in her head was under orders to destroy the rest of the family. It wasn’t fair that they’d been struck with such rotten fates.

  “I’m sorry for the things I said. I’ve been angry for the wrong reasons and I took it out on you.”

  His apology barely covered the scab over the wounds his words had left. “Rosemar made me a deal.”

  His eyes hardened at the demon’s name. “What did she offer you?”

  Her stomach churned as she recalled the conversation and the things Rosemar had shown her. It was now or never. She could tell him the truth, reveal her feelings and let him decide whether he was ready to move on from Rhia…or he might storm away again. Heart thumping painfully, she nodded. “She helped me remember my past. How I ended up in Dakota Territory. It’s not pretty, but more importantly, she told me she could make it so that you’d fall in love with me. Forever.”

  “You didn’t take it.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Of course not. She’s a demon. I’m not an idiot.” She sighed. “I love you. Maybe from the moment we met. I understand that you can’t feel the same way about me, and I’m sure I’ll recover eventually. But, Eban, throwing yourself at demons won’t cure your pain.”

  “I know.”
He stood in front of her, watching her through half-closed eyes. “If not for Eliakim, I’d have been in real trouble. I came very close to giving Astaroth what he wanted—a Heckmaster to manipulate in Hell.”

  The bruises and scrapes were testament to that. “Wystan has said all along that the three of you are stronger together.”

  “Much as I hate to admit it, he’s right,” he grumbled. He took her hands and she let him despite her reservations. “Why did you come here with Eliakim?”

  She looked for the angel, but he’d gone without them noticing. “I wanted to be sure you were all right. He said you called him silently. I thought you might be in trouble. You already found that, I see.”

  The bruises at his throat looked painful, even if they were healing rapidly.

  “Even after what I said?”

  Her throat felt dry, so she nodded.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “You’re right about the demon inside of me. It wants out, but I’ll keep it contained. Give me another chance. It might have taken demons crawling out of the Pit to knock some sense into me, but…dammit, Beryl, I need you. I thought if I could make my way back to you, things would be different. I could do better. I could prove you’re not the bad woman you’re worried that you are.”

  Her breath caught. Eban, declaring affection for her? Perhaps his scrape at the Pit had addled his mind. Or the scene he’d just witnessed left him feeling sentimental. She wasn’t sure she could trust him.

  “You hurt me.”

  “Let me make it up to you. Please.”

  He looked like his father, telling his mother everything would be all right now that they were together. She closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. Rosemar’s offer still buzzed in her mind, louder than before, pressing her to choose the demon’s way. He might change his mind again, might push her away a second time. There was no guarantee he wanted to give her forever, but with demon magic, she’d always keep him close.

  He’ll never know, Rosemar seemed to whisper.

  “Beryl?”

  She opened her eyes again. “I feel as though I’ll shatter if I don’t forgive you.”