Eban (10 page)

“Where's…”

Wystan shrugged. “He stepped out, said he forgot something.”

“Oh.” Disappointment spiraled through her. “Maybe I should check on him.”

Rhia and Sylvie were exclaiming over the cake. Tell watched her go, but didn't say anything as she left.

By the time she spotted him and caught up, he was several blocks away.

“Eban, wait!”

He turned, his face neutral of expression. She stopped beside him and placed her hand on his arm.

“You promised—”

“I don't want to stay there and pretend to be happy when all I can think about is how I could have provided for Rhia and Sylvie. Better than Wystan ever could.”

A pain struck Beryl's heart. She pressed a finger to his lips. Eban closed his eyes and she slipped her arms around him.

We haven't won him yet, but we will,
the voice assured her.

“To be fair, I think you're underestimating your brother. I know it's difficult. Seeing them together is hard, but you can't run away forever. I'd give anything to have the kind of family you do.”

“It's more than difficult! It's—” He balled his hands into fists. “I hate him at times.”

Didn't he think she understood how he felt? Of course Rhia was everything a man wanted in a wife. Beryl wasn't a catch. Without much of a past and what little she had a tangled mess, she couldn't deny she was jealous of Rhia's fortune.

“I know,” she muttered. “I'll make your excuses. You can go home.”

The anger melted out of his posture. “I talked to Sylvie when she came outside. She'll understand. Just tell them there was an emergency at the clinic. I'll fill in the details later.”

“All right.” Beryl hugged herself. She wanted to plaster a smile on her face and tell him he'd done well by coming in the first place, but she didn't have the energy. “I'll do it, but don't be surprised if Rhia comes looking for you later.”

“I doubt that.” He faced the street again, walking away with his shoulders slumped as though the world rested on them.

I'm right here. I care about you, if you'd open your eyes.
She remained silent, watching him leave. When she turned for Rhia's house again, she was blocked by a hulking figure in a long leather duster. More frightening was the scowl on his face and the broadsword in his hand.

Chapter Ten

A little squeak left Beryl's throat when the stranger's hand moved to the sword hilt.

“Rosemar.”
His voice was deep. Although his mouth hadn't moved, she heard him with perfect clarity. He watched her with bright silver eyes that seemed to emit their own light. Long blond hair spilled over his shoulders.

She shivered as though it wasn't almost a hundred degrees on the street. “I don't know who that is. Are you Seere?”

His scowl deepened.
“I am Eliakim. God rises.”

He stood several inches taller than she, even bigger than Wystan. She tried not to cower. Eban hadn't said the angel was dangerous, more of a nuisance, but the sword suggested otherwise.

“It's nice to meet you.”

She eyed his clothing, which was unlike anything she expected an angel to wear. He looked as though he'd copied any passing cowboy in worn boots, dark brown duck pants, a rough cotton shirt, and with a bright red bandana circling his neck. His face was shaded by a wide, floppy-brimmed hat.

“We have met.”

She didn't argue, but she was sure she'd remember someone like him. “I have to go. There's a family event I can't miss.”

“Rosemar.”

The name was a warning. Beryl felt rooted to the spot.

“I don't know who that is,” she whispered.

“You reek of demon. She is with you. I wish to speak with her.”

Uneasiness crept over her and goose bumps rose on her arms. What if…no. Tell didn't know
what
she was. If she had demon blood or a parasite imp, he'd have known right away. Eliakim was wrong about the way she smelled. She certainly didn't smell anything out of the ordinary. “There's no one else here. I'm afraid I can't help you. If you'd kindly move out of my path.” She squared her shoulders, determined not to be cowed by this angel or any demon in town. Fear wouldn't get her anywhere. “And I don't smell like a demon. It's rude to say so.”

The faintest twitch moved Eliakim's lips.
“I will not go until I've spoken with her.”

“Then I guess you're coming with me.” She darted around him, well aware he could stop her if he desired.
I'm not a demon, I'm not a demon.
It couldn't be true.

He stayed a good two feet behind her like a strange shadow as she hurried back to Rhia's house. Tell and Wystan were absent from the yard, or she was sure they would have helped her get rid of the angel.

She faced him when she mounted the porch steps. “Stay here. The Heckmasters might not want you in their house.”

“I do not abide by human law.”

“I'm sure you don't, but it's common courtesy.” She shut the door in his face. “Wystan?”

“In the kitchen,” Sylvie called.

The poor girl had no idea what a quiet inside voice meant. Beryl followed the same hall she'd taken earlier. The family gathered around the table, the men holding crystal cups of lemonade dwarfed by their big hands. Rhia and Sylvie were at the table, picking at the cheese.

“Eliakim is outside. He's asking to speak with Rosemar. More specifically, he's asking me to speak with her.”

Wystan set his cup aside. He reached for his bowie knife, but his hand didn't meet the handle. “I'll get rid of him.”

Beryl hung her head, drawing in a breath. “I think it might be time to explain who Rosemar is.”

“Where's Eban?” Tell's words were sharp.

“He went to the clinic. Why?”

Tell caught Wystan's arm. “This is Eb's project. You stay here and enjoy Sylvie's birthday. We'll take care of this.” He whipped around to Beryl. “You. Stay.”

Her knees felt watery, so she sat beside Rhia. Tell stomped away. No doubt his crossbow was nearby. She didn't think he'd ever go far without it.

“What's going on?” Sylvie demanded. “Why is Tell so mad? Is this something to do with Noem?”

“No, honey. He's gone.” Rhia brushed her hand over Sylvie's curls.

“Maybe I should talk to Eliakim,” Beryl said. “I don't feel right bringing him here, but he wouldn't take no for an answer.”

“Listen to Tell. You're better off here.” Rhia looked at her husband.

Wystan nodded. “She's right. I'll step outside a minute. You ladies stay put.”

He moved so subtly, the bowie knife was in his hand before she processed his words. She didn't watch him go, but picked at a piece of toast instead, tearing it into little shreds.

“It might be a bad idea, but maybe they should call Seere again. He'd know how to banish Eliakim.”

“I don't think they'd risk it. According to Wys, they owe him too much already.” Rhia folded her hands on the table. “I'm sure everything will be fine in a few minutes.”

Sylvie's glum expression indicated her birthday was already ruined, no matter how quickly the matter was resolved.

“Let's open a few presents,” Rhia said, hiding her anxiety behind a bubbly announcement.

Sylvie didn't perk up much. “Okay.”

Beryl listened to her younger friend exclaim over new clothes and books, but she kept one ear turned toward the front door in case she heard a scuffle.

Sylvie was talking and then Rhia agreed, but the noises were jumbled. Beryl shook her head. The two of them sounded as if they'd been plunged underwater. She felt disconnected. The corners of her vision blurred and darkened.

In the shadow of the angel statue, Eban hung his head, resting it in his palms. Jesus, everything was a mess. He'd convinced himself sitting for a couple of hours at Rhia's table for Sylvie's sake was doable, but he hadn't been able to force himself past the foyer.

Instead of the walk clearing his mind, it seemed to make things muddier.

“Hey, asshole.”

Eban looked up into Tell's scowling face.

How his brother had found him was a mystery, but Tell's talents for knowing things never ceased to amaze him.

“Come to drag me back to the party?” He slouched more, unable to summon the energy to sit up straight. “There's nothing you can say that would make me go back there.”

“Eliakim showed up. He's going to tell her everything.”

Eban jerked upright. “You're serious.”

Tell rolled his eyes. “As a parasite imp.”

“How did he know where she was?” He got to his feet, then turned toward the street again.

“Angel, remember? It's your job to make sure he stays away from her. That means you can't run off and pout because Wys got the girl you were never supposed to have.”

Tell all but shoved him along the street.

“I wasn't pouting.” In fact, he'd been imagining sharing a bed with Beryl. She loved him—he could see it on her face—and it scared the hell out of him. “Just thinking. Not that you'd understand. You just carry your brain around to store information about monsters, not about other kinds of problems.”

“Comes in handy, don't it?”

They found Wystan and Eliakim standing beneath the cottonwood tree. The angel looked bizarre in his cowboy gear, especially considering his resemblance to Seere, who never wore anything but custom-made suits.

To Eban's surprise, Wystan didn't look the least bit threatened. His knife was tucked away and he leaned against the tree with a casualness he seldom displayed.

“What's going on?”

Wystan jerked his thumb at the angel. “I'm explaining the intricacies of a little girl's birthday party to Eliakim. The presents, the cake, the food. It's a special day, or so Rhia says.”

“Beryl said the same thing.” Eban rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't imagining his older brother getting along with a heavenly being they'd all been certain would slay them without a moment's notice.

The door flew open and Beryl emerged. Rhia was right behind her.

“You called?” The harsh voice that left Beryl's throat belonged to Rosemar. She didn't look at the rest of them, her gaze pinned on Eliakim.

“I desired company, but my thirst for the blood whiskey you gave me has been slaked for the need to see a party on the day set aside to celebrate the child's birth.”

“I don't think inviting him in is the answer here, Wys,” Tell protested.

Eliakim glared at him.
“I was not requesting an invitation.”

Eban studied Rosemar. “I don't think you're needed here anymore.”

Rosemar pouted. “A birthday party and I'm not invited?” She sidled up to Eban. “No matter. I'm sure there a couple of other things we could do instead.”

Her hand landed on his abdomen just south of his bellybutton. It was hotter than the land around the Pit. Eban pulled away.

“Bring Beryl back.”

“She has all the fun. It's my turn. I left her alone last night, after all. Not that I didn't see and feel everything that happened. I must say I enjoyed it as much as she did. You're a better lover than I imagined.” Her smile widened. “I hope we can do it again tonight.”

“You slept with her?” Wystan demanded.

“It was Beryl! She wanted to—she asked me. I didn't coerce her into it.”

But
was
it Beryl?

Rosemar smiled innocently. “Maybe she asked, and maybe she didn't.”

Tell and Wystan fixed him with withering glares.

Eban glowered at Rosemar. “I think it's time you headed back to the clinic.”

“You want to spoil my fun. I think it's fair that I get to wish Sylvie a happy birthday. Beryl did.”

“You're not coming in the house. Not until you bring Beryl back.” Rhia stood next to Wystan, her arms folded and her eyebrows drawn in a harsh slash.

“I'm welcome here as long as we're fighting demons. The rest of the time no one wants anything to do with me.” Rosemar pouted again. “What an unfriendly bunch of people. The only one who likes me is the angel.”

“I am merely curious about your intentions.”
Eliakim eyed her.

She sneered. “I know you're all up to something. You mean to be rid of me, but Seere won't tolerate it. I'm his servant and I won't be dismissed by the likes of you. By all means, tell Beryl a demon is using her as puppet. See if doesn't drive her to madness. The truth will destroy her in ways I never could.”

“Is that true?” Eban demanded.

“Her mind is weak, filled with dark spots. She's weepy over a past she barely remembers. She'll never be able to take this news, but I insist. Tell her.”

Bile rose in his throat. He couldn't imagine what the knowledge might to do Beryl. “She's stronger than that.”

Rosemar poked her finger into his chest. “Your only chance of having her is accepting me as well.”

His stomach churned at the idea. “There must be another body you could take.”

Her lips pulled back in a snarl. “I want this one and I won't give it up. When Prince Seere has collected his favors, there won't be any of you left, but I'll still reign inside the lovely Beryl.”

Hatred for the demon burned away his disgust. He knew Tell itched to take her head and rid the town of her mischief, but he wasn't ready to say goodbye to Beryl.

“Stay and enjoy cake and lemonade, Eliakim. I'll be at the saloon.” Rosemar tossed her curls over her shoulder. She passed by Tell, giving him a lascivious smile. “If you'd rather join me, you're quite welcome, Har—”

Tell's action was a blur. Before Eban could blink or think to protest, Tell caught Rosemar in his arms.

“Did you hit her?” Eban asked.

“I can't stand that bitch,” he growled. Her head lolled as he passed her to Eban. “I think you're excused from the party now.”

Eban looked between him and Wystan. He wanted to punch Tell for hurting her. Dark anger made his vision red.

“Go on, Eb. Make sure she's all right.” Wystan's voice was soft and urging.

“You'll pay for this,” he snapped at Tell.

“I'm trembling inside.” Tell gave a mock shiver. “I didn't hit a woman, I hit a demon. You know I wouldn't have done it, but she was fixing to take off for the saloon again, and Beryl doesn't need that.”

Eban ignored him. Eliakim watched with a solemn expression. He didn't offer any insight about whether he agreed with Tell's actions.

“I think she can do without your help in the future.”

Tell pushed his hat up on his forehead. “You watch your back around her. She ain't to be trusted. And stay away from her bed until we know Rosemar is gone for good. All we need is for her to bury her talons in you.”

Eban winced at the implication, but his anger was far from soothed by his little brother's concern.

You're worthless, Beryl. No one wants to pay a red cent for you.

The voice rang between her ears, harsher than the pounding in her temples. She smelled stagnant water, trash left in an alley and her own coppery blood. Her eyes didn't seem to work very well. She couldn't make out any solid objects. Everything shimmered and blurred no matter how she tried to focus.

Oh God, just let me die.

She might have lain there for hours or days, growing colder and colder, but she didn't have the strength to get up. Even death didn't want her.

Mist settled over her, dark gray and humming with energy. It crackled like it contained lightning. She closed the narrow slits of her swollen eyes, praying she'd slip away. How bad could Hell be after Ernie's cathouse?

But she still didn't die. Instead, she found her feet and tottered out of the alley. She didn't seem to be in control of her own body, going wherever her feet led, stealing food and clothing when it was available. Moving south, always south. The bruises faded, the cuts healed, but her body felt wrong and then the coughing started.

Beryl opened her eyes, groaning when lamplight hit them.