“You’re repairing the past?” Eban asked, aware his skepticism shone like the North Star overhead.
Tell scowled. “I’m the one with a name curse, which happened in the past.”
“He has a point,” Wystan allowed.
“How’s he going to fix that?” He didn’t want to remind them that their sister was long dead and had no hope of returning. The grimoire curse used on Tell was nearly impossible to revoke. Seneca had devoted years to trying.
“First things first. The present. Or the near future, if you want to look at it that way. We’re gonna need holy water and a miracle.” Tell stretched his arms overhead. “Holy water’s easy to come by, but the miracle…”
Eban picked at his pointer finger, pulling the skin around the nail loose. “Ask Eliakim.”
“You think he’d help? I know he’s willing to hold off Seere—those two have more issues than the three of us combined—but help with Astaroth?” Tell shook his head. “I think this is bigger than him.”
Eban snorted. “Bigger than an angel whose name means God rises? I think it’s the reason he’s here. He’ll honor the treaty between Heaven and the Gray Side. That means stopping Hell from taking over.”
“He’s a warrior.” Wystan wiped the silver blade across his trousers, removing the fingerprints from the metal. “He’s got a temper and he’s on our side for now. We’ll use him.”
Tell folded his arms. “I’m about to get real tired of you siding with Eban all the time.”
Eban elbowed him. “Wise up then.”
“I’m the orac—”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Both of you shut up. You weren’t this rotten as kids.” Wystan blew out a breath. “If this works, you know what it means.”
“We’re not going to Hell?” Tell grinned, knocking his elbow into Eban’s ribs despite Wystan’s order.
Wystan reached behind Eban and slapped the hat from Tell’s head. “It means we can be a town. A real community. With humans and shops and none of these rundown, depressing streets. Just like before.”
He remembered it better than Eban and Tell, even though Eban had ventured out into the world and experienced human life in St. Louis.
“You think so?” Tell shrugged. “I can’t imagine Berner that way. We’d have to cover some things up, pretend we aren’t…you know.”
He gestured at the street.
“It happens all the time outside Berner. Demons pretending to be human. We could do it.” Wystan pressed the point of his knife into his index finger. “I plan to do it, once the threat is gone.”
“We could have real women in the saloons? The succubi are nice gals, but a man can only take so much of a demon jezebel picking at his soul, you know?”
Eban rolled his eyes. “Is that all you think about? The next place to wet your wick?”
Tell gave him a lazy grin. “Bidin’ my time, Eb.”
“For what?” Wystan’s eyes narrowed again.
“Don’t you worry none about it. You heading out now, or you gonna sit here jawing with us the rest of the night?” Tell rose and stretched. “Got places to go, demons to smite.”
“I’m going on patrol.” Wystan followed him. His sharp gaze fell on Eban. “You two going to be all right here?”
“Can’t imagine why not.” He wasn’t ready to return to bed, to face Beryl’s sleeping form. “We’re safe enough inside the clinic.”
Often as he’d worn the saber lately, it would grow to his hip if he wasn’t careful. He remained seated, even when Wystan clapped him on the shoulder.
“We’ll get through this.”
For better or worse. Had Sandra cursed him before Tell? Left him doomed to love women he couldn’t have?
“Get some sleep. I have a feeling we’re all gonna need it.” Wystan walked away, hand caressing his bowie knife hilt.
Rosemar had expected Seere’s visit from the moment Beryl agreed to give up her body. The air ripped open inside her room at the clinic and Seere stepped out of nothingness into existence with his usual flare. So handsome, he looked unreal surrounded by the showy wind no one else could feel, he let her bask in his golden glory before he swirled his hand in the air and brought something else into the world with him.
Orange light glowed from the orb in his palm.
“You’re truly a wonder, my liege.” She gave a little bow that was more mockery than respect and she knew he was aware of it.
“I need the Heckmasters, much as I dislike needing anyone.”
The orb pulsed at his words.
“Seneca’s essence is inside, isn’t it?” Rosemar peered at the ball of light, searching it for signs that a being inhabited it. It looked as though it was made of jelly and would burst with too much pressure, but she knew better. Seere was a master of getting what he wanted. He only needed to think about an object or a person and he could materialize wherever he needed to be. It came as no surprise that he’d already located and liberated Seneca.
“It requires a body. I’ve already acquired one—it’s waiting for me to return. I wanted to reassure you that in mere hours, you’ll be permanently attached to that vessel if you follow my orders.” Seere’s crystal-blue gaze sharpened. “I have every faith in you, Rosemar.”
Rosemar’s chin shot up. “I can control her.”
“You’d better. I dragged you out of Hell in much the same condition as our friend here. I won’t hesitate to send you back. See how well your reception goes if that happens.”
His smile nearly burned a hole through her. While he was slower to anger than many demons, Seere’s temper wasn’t to be trifled with. She suppressed a shiver, but he probably sensed her fear. When the world was new, she’d belonged to no one but herself until Astaroth gained his power. She’d worked under him because her choices were that or imprisonment. When he no longer found her useful, she’d spent a dozen lifetimes in chains so hot they’d reduced her original body to a shriveled form that would do her no good in Hell or on Earth.
Seere had been her savior, rescuing the demons he found most useful to his cause, but he was no better a master than Astaroth. When her usefulness ran out, he’d discard her without another thought. He’d claim Berner as his Eden, but there wouldn’t be room for the likes of her.
Fortunately, he was as vulnerable to silver as any other demon. With Sandra’s hatchet in her hand, she’d knock Seere off his throne and rule in his stead. Berner could burn to the ground then, for all she cared.
The substance in the orb swirled as though Seere had shaken it, although he remained still.
“I’ll see you soon,” he promised. The air trembled around him and parted. He stepped back, disappearing without a sound.
Rosemar drew the blanket up to her chin, willing away her anger. Eban would be back shortly and he mustn’t suspect Seere had been here. Her host’s body needed sleep to recover from the day’s events, but she’d never felt more awake. The wound she’d inflicted to draw Seere twice itched. It was slow to heal because Eban wasn’t wrong—she was slowly killing the body. But with Seere’s help, she’d become the sole occupant and make it her own. When that happened, a few cuts and scrapes wouldn’t mean anything.
She’d have to take care not to be caught by the Heckmasters’ little tricks for trapping and killing demons. It didn’t make much difference if they spilled holy water on her, buried her under a ton of silver, or read religious tomes until they went hoarse. The human body was immune to such things. When she turned it into a demon, she’d be as vulnerable as Seere. The only downfall in her plan, but she had a few tricks of her own.
Eban entered the room and stood in the doorway looking at her. Rosemar peered at him from beneath her lashes, pretending she’d not been bothered when he left. He approached the bed, blew out the lamp and undressed. When he’d finished, he slipped beneath the blanket.
&nb
sp; Faking a sleepy moan, Rosemar curled next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. The urge to bite him and spill his sticky, salty blood washed over her. He’d never give in, never let her win at this game. As much as she wouldn’t mind keeping him around, Eban was a liability, a broken link in her plan to depose Seere.
Eban pressed a kiss to her forehead and sighed.
Neither of them fell asleep for a long time.
Chapter Eighteen
A dry wind whipped over Berner’s streets, causing tendrils of Beryl’s hair to rip free from her braid and sting her face. The faintest hint of something rotten hung on the wind. She didn’t feel comfortable out here alone and she wasn’t the only one, judging by the way the streets had taken on the abandoned look again.
The box lunches she’d picked up from Lois’s cafe weighed her arms down. Going out for lunch didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore, but no one occupying Eban’s clinic felt much like cooking. The Heckmasters sat at the table in the kitchen, watching the windows and doors as though they expected Astaroth to burst through any moment. She’d been a little surprised when they agreed to let her go to Lois’s to pick up lunch on her own. Or maybe one of them was watching her right now. Tell was practically a chameleon, the way he haunted shadows and dimly lit spaces.
Overhead, the sun beamed with particular harshness. Sweat beaded at her collar, clinging despite the persistent wind. There weren’t many clouds, but the few hovering around the sun were dark and threatening. Little pieces of debris and sand kicked up in the air, hitting the buildings and grating against her exposed skin. She hoped the boxes wouldn’t be loaded with dirt when she arrived back at the clinic.
Even the flowers and trees looked a little wilted by the relentless sun and wind. It worried her that the town might fall into the depressing state it had been in when she arrived here with Rhia and Sylvie. The good demons in Berner longed to be normal, to have the kind of town people could be proud to say they were from, but with this war they were waging, they’d never get the chance. She didn’t know if Seere’s bid to overthrow Astaroth’s power would make it possible, but she hoped so. She hoped Rosemar really was trying to help him and not just break free for her own gain.
“Are you afraid?” Eliakim appeared behind a dust devil, practically glowing in the sun.
Bad enough she had to wipe dust from her eyes and nose, she knew it would get in her mouth as soon as she spoke. “I am.”
“Rosemar doesn’t intend to honor her debts to Seere.” He reached for the box hanging from a string in her hand. She surrendered it and shifted the second box so she could hold it in both hands. “She has anarchy in mind.”
“I think that’s obvious. No matter how much I hope it’s not true, I know better. Can you protect the Heckmasters?”
“That is not my task.”
“Why are you here?” she grumbled. “I haven’t seen you do a blessed thing that really benefits any of us.”
“I am waiting, studying, observing.” His face remained impassive, his voice soft, not betraying any hint of annoyance at her question.
“For?”
His cold silver gaze slid over to her. “Seere is my kin. He fell with the Unforgiven, choosing to believe Lucifer over Father. The battle to claim Earth has been long with many victories for both sides. We watch, we wait until we can hesitate no longer. Come what may, I will not lay my blade down until the side I’ve chosen wins or is destroyed. I will fight with Seere this once to defeat Astaroth, but after, I must destroy him in order to preserve the fate of the world.”
Beryl swallowed, her throat coated with a layer of dust. “Then you’ll be the one to put Rosemar down.”
“Unless Seere discovers her betrayal, yes.”
“I’d like it to be you. I’d feel…better if I knew your blade ended it.” She eyed the long sheath, decorated with angelic symbols she didn’t understand.
“I will do my best, Beryl Brookshier.”
“I know.” She turned her gaze to the clinic. “It’s going to happen soon. Astaroth is clawing at the sides of the Pit and when he bursts through the shield, it won’t do much to slow him down.”
Beryl couldn’t say how she knew, but Eliakim’s solemn expression didn’t give her any reason to think she was wrong.
“The seals were never meant to hold as long as they have. That alone is a miracle.” Eliakim lifted the box to his nose and sniffed it. “Your food is interesting. I wish there was more time to sample human life before the end.”
A pang ripped through her. This could be her last day to eat, her last day to look into Eban’s eyes, to kiss him. They wouldn’t have the rest of their lives to wake up together. No family or anniversaries. “The end,” Eliakim said. The box in her hands felt weighed down by bricks. Whatever appetite she’d had earlier vanished.
“You have regrets.”
“I think most humans do,” she answered. “Are you coming inside?”
“No. I must watch the Pit. If anything emerges, I will alert the Heckmasters.”
He settled the box he carried on top of hers. Beryl bent and placed them on the boardwalk.
“I want to thank you. For what’s coming, I mean. I’m glad we have an ally, even if you couldn’t get rid of the demon inside me.” She reached out, slipping her arms around his broad chest. She’d no more than clasped her hands when she cried out and backed away. “What…”
Bright red burns and blisters appeared on her hands.
“The demon. It cannot abide a holy touch.” Eliakim’s eyes reflected his sorrow.
Despite the throb, she felt repulsed by what was happening to her. “It’s not your fault.”
“Ebaneezer is accustomed to repairing damage caused by holy objects. He will have a concoction to soothe your pain.”
She choked down the lump in her throat. Physical pain, yes, but there wasn’t anything he could do to settle the worries circling her mind like water in a drain.
Above them, thunder clapped in the sky. The clouds were still sparse and it distracted her from the pain for a moment. The clinic door flew open and Heckmasters spilled outside.
“The Pit.”
Eliakim’s input wasn’t needed. The fierce expressions on the brothers’ faces said enough. Like magic, the air wavered and Seere appeared in the middle of the street. The portal behind him swirled, remaining open. He tilted his head, smiling at Eliakim.
“So glad you could join us.”
Eliakim’s eyes flickered from the sky to him and back. “Astaroth rises.”
“Indeed he does. Are the five of you ready for what he’s unleashing?” Seere’s hand cut through the air and a glowing ball settled in his palm. “I have something here that should interest you for a few more minutes.”
The ball grew in size, doubling with every second until it was too large for him to support. It hung suspended in the air, roughly big enough to hold a man. Beryl covered her mouth with her hand, horrified to see a human face pressed against the gelatinous side of the orb.
It exploded in a glare of light that whipped Beryl’s hair away from her face. When she blinked to clear her vision, a man stood beside Seere. He was perhaps a little older than Wystan. His eyes glowed red and his face was twisted into a wicked expression.
“Perhaps you’d recognize him better with another face.” Seere snapped his fingers and heavy fog swirled around the man. When it cleared, his features had taken on a different shape.
The square jaw reminded her of Wystan, the brow shared by Eban and Tell, the mouth shaped like a set of lips she knew all too well, his height matching Wystan’s perfectly. Glossy black hair fell just below his ears like Tell’s. Beryl recognized him from the vision Eliakim had showed her and Eban at the cemetery. Her stomach clenched as she swept her gaze over him again.
The only difference between him and his boys was his red eyes.
“Father.” Eban descended the steps, stopping a few feet away from Seneca.
“He’s under my control.” Seere plucked a thread from his suit breast. “If he wasn’t, he’d tear the lot of you limb from limb. Hell’s prisons will do that to the sanest demon.”
Beyond town, the horizon glowed and the temperature soared.
Wystan stepped forward. “It looks like Father, but how do we know you’re not toying with us, Seere?”
“Tell, would you care to convince your brothers that I have your genuine sire at my side?” Seere gestured at Seneca. “Time is short.”
Tell gripped his crossbow in his right hand, the left caressing a silver bolt sheathed in his belt. His eyes flared a lighter color red than Seneca’s, but he didn’t break his gaze with the demon. Tell’s face hardened. His shoulders were tense, hands tight on his weapon.
“I’ll be—”
“Yes, we all know.” Seere drew his sword. “Satisfied?”
Tell shook his head. “That’s our father.” His voice was hoarse, face pale beneath his tan. “I don’t know how, but it’s him.”
“Much like Rosemar, I had to find him a host body. He’ll do for the sacrifice. He’s already taken over.” Seere smiled. “I think he’ll be anxious to face his old foe once more.”
Beryl touched Eban’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”
His hand wrapped around the hilt of his saber, knuckles white and his jaw clenched so tight the veins in his forehead stood out. She’d never seen him look so angry, not even when he’d left to hunt demons or when he found out she’d volunteered to give herself to Rosemar.
Depending on how long the battle with Astaroth lasted, this was her last chance to say goodbye to him. It wasn’t what she’d imagined.
The sky rumbled above them and the eerie light from the Pit intensified. She shielded her face with her hand.
“Eban…”
He grasped her shoulders. “This is not how it’s going to end, do you understand? I’m going to figure something out. I’ll be back and when I am, we’re going to—” He pulled her into his arms. “I’m not letting it end like this.”
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