Eban (6 page)

One of his hands cupped her breast, teasing over her dress and corset, squeezing gently. This kiss was what she'd imagined—hoped for—when she pictured herself in Eban's arms. His erection pressed against her stomach, undeniable evidence that he wanted her.

She dropped her hand, sliding it between them, and rubbed the front of his pants. A soft groan left his throat. The sound was enough to make her damp and ready to bed him.

“We can take this to my room.”

He drew in a ragged breath. “I want to, but this isn't right. We shouldn't—I'm not myself.”

She paused. “Then who are you? I've ached for your touch, thought about you like this.”

“You could regret this. If not in the morning, then at a later time. And I'm not even a man. You forget too easily that I'm a monster.” His expression was full of regret which wiped out any traces of the passion he'd almost given in to.

She dropped her hands to her sides. The kiss she'd been so certain would change everything wasn't effective. Eban wasn't ready to move past Rhia and it was selfish and cruel of her to make him try.

“You're right.” She touched her lips. “I suppose my idea about kissing didn't apply to love. Good luck on your research.”

Before he could say anything else, she fled. She couldn't bear the idea of facing him again this evening. She'd thrown herself at him, almost gotten the response she wanted, but in the end, she'd been rejected. Perhaps she was trying to wedge herself into a life where she didn't belong.

Chapter Six

Eban avoided Beryl because he shouldn't have allowed anything to happen between them. He'd always held a tight rein on his demon side, seldom allowing it to come close to the surface, but when Beryl spoke of love it triggered something in him, something hungry. Rosemar possessed the ability to spark lust, so he blamed it on her, whether Beryl was aware of it or not.

He focused solely on preparing to invoke an angel, locking the door to his study, something he'd never done from the day he moved into the building.

By the end of the week, he figured he was as ready as he'd ever be. His plans also coincided with Wystan and Rhia's return. He hoped to get the chore done before they arrived home Saturday morning with no one the wiser.

Tell rode out to the Pit on Friday evening, leaving Eban to guard the town. Beryl had come home from teaching in the afternoon, shut her door and hadn't made a sound since. He meant to go through with this and it had to be tonight. Eban sorted through his shelves in the kitchen and came up with a canister of black pepper for binding in case he summoned the wrong entity, a bottle of olive oil he couldn't recall purchasing, six white candles, and what was left of the cinnamon he'd used to call Seere.

He spread cinnamon across his bedroom floor, then carefully drew sigils from his memory, placing a candle at six points. Around those, he made a circle with the olive oil, another around that with the pepper. One by one, he lit the candles, then stepped back.

The drawings on his floor lacked the power of words to stir them, unlike when he called Seere. The prince knew his call and came if he didn't have anything more pressing. What angels were listening for the summons of a half demon? Probably none.

He lowered himself to his knees and bowed his head, but he felt foolish when he folded his hands, so he let them hang by his sides.

“Oh Mighty God,
theos patir herminas,
by the archangels whose names are so consecrated, they cannot be uttered. I beseech thee to illuminate my conscience with your brilliant light. Adorn my soul that I may hear and understand. Take away my sins, purify my soul, wash away my wickedness and offenses, by the virtue of the holy angels.”

It wasn't enough to say it—he knew he had to mean it. Guilt for breaking his promise to Tell almost made him stop, but what he was asking was greater than a white lie.

“Impart unto me, oh Lord, the wisdom of your angels. Bring forth a spirit who might bestow your blessings.”

Eban opened his eyes the same moment the candles flickered, the flames elongating. A flash like lightning blinded him. His hand shot toward the saber on the bed, while he silently prayed the pepper ring would hold. When he blinked the spots away, a man in white robes who looked remarkably like Seere hovered above the sigils. His blond hair rippled in a breeze Eban couldn't feel. His eyes were light silver, his mouth a firm line that didn't betray any emotion.

“You seek help, Ebaneezer.”

The voice came from nowhere, filling Eban's head, but it wasn't intrusive. Like Seere, this manifestation sounded bored. He didn't question how the angel knew his name. He had a feeling plenty of creatures knew the Heckmasters' reputations.

“Yes, for a friend. I'm out of ideas on how to banish a demon. It barely flinches at holy water, it recognizes its name, but no banishment spell releases the body it occupies. I brought out a Bible and it amused itself by reading passages out loud for an entire afternoon. Short of decapitation, there's nothing left for me to try. I won't let it kill the human host.”

The angel blinked and his right hand swept to the hilt of a broadsword sheath fastened around his waist. The sigils beneath him glowed with bluish light.

“Is it not kinder to release the soul from this torment? If all is well, it will join the Father at the gates. The demon will rattle in the bonds of Hell once more.”

Eban gritted his teeth. He stood, though his head barely reached the angel's chest. “You're new here, so let me tell you about Berner. It's filled with demons. I'm a half demon. None of us want to explore the bonds of Hell. We've been tasked with making sure more of the bad ones don't spill out and take over the world. The woman who's possessed doesn't want to meet the Father at any gates. She wants to live. I don't care what it takes—I aim to see that she does. I think I'm owed a little something for services rendered.”

The angel's features hardened.
“You presume much. The fact that you stand before me with demon blood coursing through your veins and not spilled across this floor is a favor. I am not required to fulfill the wishes of any man.”

Eban rubbed the center of his forehead. “Then what are you doing here? Is there any chance I can talk to someone else?”

“This noble act you attempt interests me. Saving humans when at heart you must fight your own nature.”

“I don't fight my nature. I don't want to hurt humans. No one in this town does. We want to live peaceful lives. We only fight when we're threatened.”

His guest's hand tightened on the sword.
“You are familiar with mirrors, are you not? With seeing your countenance displayed?”

This angel was worse than Seere, talking in riddles. “Yes, I know what I look like.”

“Then you must know the battle you face each day. If one thread of control snapped, your demon side would come to light. Your fight is that. Do not worry about the human, her battle is her own.”

The thread the angel mentioned was already frayed. It had almost slipped when he kissed Beryl the other evening. Eban hung his head.

“You're not going to help me.”

He'd wasted four days with the hope that he might get an answer he could use. He'd given Seere his word that he'd do the prince's dirty work when the time came. Worse, he'd failed Beryl. His gaze shifted to the saber. The blade was free of the scabbard, shining in the flickering candles moving in the nonexistent breeze.

He might as well slit her throat tonight while she was sleeping.

“I wish to see this woman you speak of.”

“That's not possible.”

With his luck, the angel would slice Beryl's head off and disappear into whatever heavenly realm he'd descended from.

One by one the candles went out. A gust of wind nearly knocked Eban off his feet. The cinnamon and pepper scattered around the room, burning his eyes. When he blinked, the angel's feet touched the floor. Rather than looking ethereal, he appeared solid.

“The woman, Ebaneezer.”

“How did you do that?”

All he got for an answer was a patronizing look. The angel's long fingers tapped on the sword's hilt.

“You're not going to hurt her.” Eban squared himself in front of the door.

“What I would do is a mercy compared to the life you think you're giving her.”

“She's my friend. She didn't ask a demon to enter her.”

“Are you so sure?”

He hesitated. “No one would do that.”

“Remove yourself from my path, or I will remove you.”

“Dammit.”

“Too late for that.”

Because he'd never summoned an angel, nor tried to, he hadn't realized what it would take to contain one. More symbols, ones he hadn't studied, and probably stronger herbs. The creature gave off an aura more powerful than any demon Eban had faced. No small wonder Tell had warned him against messing with things he didn't fully understand.

He moved, going for his saber, but before his hand touched the cold silver, another blade was at his neck. Although it wasn't touching his skin, it emitted heat that sent a shiver through him.

“Your sad mortal weapon cannot harm me. Mine is another story. Away from the sword, demon spawn.”

“I'm not letting you kill her, no matter how merciful you think it is.”

“Eban? What's going on?” Beryl's voice was muffled through the door. She rapped softly. “Are you all right?”

“Fine. There's nothing wrong.” He narrowed his eyes, daring the angel to speak up. “Go back to bed.”

“Open the door.”
The angel's eyes were on it, looking past him.

Maybe she could hear him, or maybe the angel had some power over her, but the knob twisted and the door opened even as Eban threw his shoulder against it.

“Don't come in here.”

“Why? Is there a demon inside? Eban, answer me!” She sounded frightened, twisting the knob back and forth.

“Open the door, Heckmaster, or your lack of respect will bring about your doom.”

“Beryl, run! Find Tell. He'll make sure you're safe.” Even as the words left his mouth, he wasn't sure about that. Maybe Tell would finish the job the angel intended to start.

An invisible hand swept Eban away. The door burst inward and Beryl stood framed by the light in the hall with a silver hatchet in her grip.

Eban's heart skipped a beat. There was a coldness in Beryl's eyes that didn't match her personality. She shook her head, letting golden hair fly around her face. She doubled over laughing, the hatchet hanging loosely in her hand.

“An angel, Eban? That's so pathetic. You humans and your good intentions.” She straightened, her full lower lip sliding into a seductive pout. “Rosemar of the Gray Lands. You won't have a name suitable for human tongues.”

The angel lowered his sword.
“Eliakim will do. There was no mention of the Gray Side in the prior conversation.”

Eliakim's expression softened.

She circled him, then leaned against the wall.

“Eban, what are you trying to do? Our new friend is powerful, but he's got nothing on me. Frankly, I'm a little hurt that you want to get rid of me.” She waved the hatchet. “I'm starting to think you don't like me, even though I saved your life.”

Eban clenched his fists. “You're not going to win. I can't get help from Heaven or Hell, but you're not staying inside her.”

“This one is bold. She does not fear.”

The tip of Eliakim's sword pointed at the ceiling, but he didn't look as though he planned to attack.

“What do I have to fear? I was born in Hell. I served my master with honor until he no longer needed me and cast me away. I spent eons in that place, saw horrors you can't imagine, suffered torture that would drive you mad, and I came out unscathed.” Rosemar stood straight, unflinching at the sight of Eliakim's weapon. “I made my deal with the Gray Side and per the treaty, you can't harm me.”

Eban's heart dropped to his feet. “There's a treaty between Heaven and the Gray Side? Even though she's clearly violating some kind of rule by occupying a human body?”

Between the hatchet and the sword, he was sweating. They both probably sensed his unease, but there was little he could do about his fear. It surprised him that Tell hadn't come running if all this power was swinging around the way he warned it would.

“She violates nothing if she was instructed to use the human.”

“As I've said all along.” Rosemar ran her thumb across the hatchet blade. She smiled at Eliakim. “You don't even need to ask Eban to release you. You came because he called, but you're walking around as boldly as Prince Seere ever does.”

The angel's eyes narrowed at Seere's name.

She turned to Eban. “Don't be surprised if this one decides to remain. You should've bound him, but now he can do whatever he wants. Big man with a sword—well, he's liable to slaughter the entire town.”

“The town is at peace with the Gray Side. Heaven is in a treaty with them, so I'm not worried.” He was, but he wouldn't admit it out loud.

“I wonder what would happen if I let Tell's name slip? I bet our new friend would put him down like a rabid dog.” Her smile grew and the hatchet gleamed with golden light from the lamp outside the door. “Har—”

He moved forward, hand raised to hit her if it came to that. “Stop it.”

“You're really no fun. Couldn't even bed Beryl when she threw herself at you. I wonder what Seere thinks he's going to get out of you?” She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “Well, if you don't need anything else, I'm going out.”

He forgot about his anger at Eliakim. “You made Beryl do that.”

She smiled, but didn't answer.

“You can't keep visiting the saloon. Tell told me what happened last time you were there.” He ignored the angel and the fact that he'd brought this down on himself.

Rosemar snarled. “I need blood to keep this body looking like it does. Otherwise, she'll rot. I know you don't want that.”

“You could get it without going to the saloon. No one knows you're a demon except us and Heng. You're supposed to be a human, remember?”

“Peace. I will accompany her.”
Eliakim slid his sword into its scabbard.

Eban spun to face him. “Don't you have angel things to do? You can't walk around town like you belong here.”

“Seere does.” Rosemar smirked.

“Seere's not an angel that I conjured.” His head throbbed. “Wystan will be home tomorrow, Tell already told me I'd better not break open the Pit, and you swore you wouldn't do any harm, but I know you're thinking about it.”

“Poor Eban.” Rosemar moved forward, running the back of her cool hand down his face. “I could take your mind off all your troubles for a while.”

“I'll bet you could.” He drew away. On the off chance something he tried wouldn't blow up in his face, he looked at the angel. “Eliakim, I release you. You may go.”

Rosemar laughed, stifling the sound behind her hand, but Eliakim cocked an eyebrow.

“I told you, just like Seere. He doesn't bow on human whim. Tell and Wystan are going to have a fight over which of them gets to sever your pretty head.”