Eban (3 page)

He was hiding something. Something that might have to do with the way he'd looked at her moments ago and the reason Tell didn't trust her. She was a human and she might lack a sixth sense for demons and other creatures, but she knew he wasn't telling the whole truth.

She knew about his sister. Sandra had become infected with a parasite imp when she was a young woman. Wystan had beheaded her because she'd plotted to kill them all in Astaroth's name. They had no way of destroying a parasite demon other than death. The choice had made them all bitter and wary of strangers. Eban had inspected Beryl for imps and Tell hadn't been able to find one, but was it possible the thing was buried so deep inside that no one would find it until it was too late?

He gave her a smile that didn't reach his eyes, but he seldom looked happy these days. “Don't worry about memories right now. Focusing on the future is a better endeavor. Don't be nervous about the children either. They're eager to learn. You'll do fine.”

“I'm sure,” she murmured.

She stared into her coffee cup, wishing things were different. The sun was shining and since they'd destroyed Noem, Berner was blossoming with life, but Eban made it clear that he was already gone.

Chapter Three

Summoning Seere was delicate work, but Eban had memorized dozens of seals over the years. The slightest mistake in a sigil might pull something worse out of the Underworld, or it might do nothing. Seere's seal looked a bit like a set of folded wings with a few additional lines and circles. His name was printed on the outside edge.

Eban had traced the sigil in cinnamon liberally sprinkled across his bedroom floor. The second he closed the circle around the image, the air rippled and parted like a curtain. Seere stepped through the rift, standing at his full height, his shoulder-length blond hair blowing in a breeze Eban couldn't feel.

Although the Heckmasters didn't have a liege, Eban bowed out of respect. Their father had broken with Astaroth well before his children were born, but prior to that, he'd had no minions of his own. His low status on the demon chain of command left his half-blood sons even lower.

“Prince Seere. Thank you for responding to my summons.”

Seere glanced around the room, curling his lip in obvious disgust with his surroundings. Impeccably dressed in the finest clothes a demon could buy—Seere's riches were reputed to be so large no living man could count them—he was easily mistaken for a tycoon. Not a hair out of place or a wrinkle in the navy blue suit that complemented his golden features. The demon prince looked more like an angel and he'd used his looks for centuries to lure in unsuspecting souls.

“Heckmaster.”

Not the worst greeting he could've gotten. Gathering his courage, Eban decided to get to the point. “I need a favor.”

“Of course you do. Why else summon me?” Seere toyed with the chain of his golden pocket watch. “Don't tarry.”

“I want you to banish Rosemar from Beryl Brookshier's body.” Eban winced at his own choice of words.
I want
wasn't exactly the way to gain Seere's help.

Seere's cool blue gaze didn't waver. “You're aware I have no boons to repay. In fact, it seems that you and your brothers are in debt to me. Deep debt.”

Eban gritted his teeth. There wasn't any denying it. They owed him for the silver weapons they used to slay escapees from the Pit. They also owed him for warning Wystan that Noem was after Rhia, and he'd placed Rosemar beside her for protection and as a warrior to help defeat the chief demon. Neutral though he claimed to be in the war against Hell, Seere had done his share of work for the Heckmasters.

“I know.” He straightened his shoulders. “But Noem is gone, Rhia's under Wystan's protection and Berner's a safe haven for demons looking to straighten out their lives. I don't think Rosemar is necessary any longer.”

Seere smirked. “You presume much. You should have stopped at
Noem is gone
. For now, but not forever. He'll suffer at Astaroth's hand, and he will never come into favor again, but he may escape Hell one day.”

Eban's heart sank. “What about Beryl?”

“Is one human worth the price of Hell on Earth?”

He bristled at the notion that human lives weren't worth caring about. Seere more or less echoed Tell's sentiments.

“Maybe she is.”

“Rosemar proved herself bold in the face of danger, did she not? Are you displeased with my minion's performance in the first battle for Berner's safety?” Seere brushed his fingers over his coat lapel. “She does not please you?”

“She did fine, but she's killing that body. She can't stay in it forever. It'll begin to rot sooner or later. Perhaps before we've dealt with Astaroth.” He knew that fight was coming, but he hoped to be long gone before it arrived.

“Rosemar cannot use her true form to assist you. The human body must suffice.” Seere tilted his head, his gaze almost as penetrating as Tell's. “Your little brother thinks it would be best to behead her now. He foolishly believes this will remove a problem from your lives. Inform him that he'll not enjoy the consequences if he destroys my minion.”

“I'll let him know, but I doubt he'll care.”

A wicked smile curved Seere's mouth. “Perhaps I should have turned Rosemar's sights on him instead.”

Eban frowned. “What?”

“It's you she craves. That thread of humanity, the likes of which a lust demon cannot know. If you gave her half a chance, she'd make you her consort in the Gray Lands once the war here is done. I can't imagine many demons turning her down. The body would be unaffected by rot if she were to return.”

Eban's stomach churned. “That's what she's planning, isn't it? She'll do your bidding here, then as a reward, she'll strip every bit of Beryl away and claim the body as her own.”

“Such is her prerogative, Heckmaster. My minions do not go unrewarded when they serve me well. I won't return the human's life to her. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

He hesitated long enough that Seere's grin widened. “
The Lesser Key of Solomon
. Wherever Tell hid it, I want all of it back in one piece.”

Seere laughed, a sound that filled the room, but it was humorless and bordered on sadistic. “You'd summon another to give you what I refuse? My liege lord is the mighty Ea, usurped by Astaroth. There are none in the Gray Lands more powerful than me by Ea's commandment. You can't revoke my will, Ebaneezer.”

Anger unlike any he'd felt before coursed his veins. “Then bring me the
Ars Notoria
.”

Seere's mouth opened, but no sound came out. For once he seemed out of his element.

“I want the
Ars Notoria
. The entire book, no pages missing.” With more force behind his words, he felt better about the decision. Maybe Seere would take him seriously now.

All the mirth vanished from the prince's face. “You don't know what you risk if you read from that book.”

“Tell already tried to turn me off the notion of reading from any of the grimoires. Remember, if you fetch it for me, I'll owe you a personal debt. Whenever you're ready to collect, my liege.” Eban didn't break eye contact with the demon. He couldn't, not if he intended to seal the bargain.

“Very well.” The rippling air curtain opened again and Seere stepped through it. He disappeared without a sound.

Eban paced around the sigil, picking his cuticles as he waited for Seere to return. It wouldn't take long. The prince had the skill of finding any treasure in moments.

Said to be given to King Solomon by the archangel Michael, the
Ars Notoria
was full of orations to ask God for wisdom and eloquence. It also had the power to summon angels—who might know how to banish a minion from a human body.

The air shimmered as Seere reappeared. He held out a burlap-wrapped object. Despite the power he claimed to possess, he couldn't touch the book without injuring himself because of its divine properties. Tell had wrapped it to prevent that happening to any demon that might stumble across it, wherever it had been hidden.

“I have marked your debt.” Seere didn't sound as confident as he had before fetching the book. “Mind yourself with that, Heckmaster.”

He didn't linger. One moment he was in Eban's room—the next the seal on the floor was wiped away in a swirl of cinnamon that left Eban sneezing. It was a harsh reminder that Seere could be summoned, but he couldn't be trapped without a proper summoning circle as part of his agreement to keep out of Hell's affairs.

Seere and Tell wouldn't allow Eban to conjure a demon that could order Rosemar out of Beryl. They wouldn't give him the tools to banish her himself, but Seere had provided the key to summoning an angel that might. More likely the prince thought Eban would end up destroying himself instead of actually calling an angel.

Unfortunately, summoning an angel was a great deal more difficult than drawing a seal in a pile of herbs. Fasting was required, specific words, prayer. Things Eban had little patience for with Beryl's life on the line and his desire to leave.

He unwrapped the twine and pulled the burlap off the book's cover. It was an old text, the pages stained from years of passing from hand to hand. It was a translation from the original book, but no less powerful for that. The seal of Solomon was inked onto the thick cover and the title was written in Greek with the English translation beneath.

He hoped he'd learn something from it, because whatever favor Seere eventually called in wasn't going to be pleasant. Even though he had no malicious intent toward the world, Seere wasn't prone to benevolent whims either.

Downstairs, the door shut and prickles crawled over Eban's skin. Did Tell already suspect he'd contacted Seere?

“Eban?”

Beryl's voice reached his ears and he sighed. He replaced the covering over the grimoire, then stuffed it beneath his mattress.

“I'm upstairs.”

He heard her climb them as he swept cinnamon under the bed with his hand. She stepped through the doorway, giving him another of her sweet smiles. Eban dusted off his hands, grimacing at the brown streak left behind on his dark trousers.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“A little housekeeping.” The lie rolled smoothly off his tongue.

“Smells more like baking.” She looked around the room, golden brows high on her forehead.

“Cinnamon keeps the air fresh. Old folk remedies say it has healing properties. I figured why not give them a try.” He shrugged, struggling to keep his hands apart so he wouldn't pick his fingernails.

Her smile widened. “Because you believe in real medicine, not hokum?”

“Feeling all right?” Changing the subject was easier than continuing his lies.

“As usual. You're a fine doctor, Eban. I wouldn't worry about switching to home remedies just yet.”

Something about her intense gaze bothered him. No signs of Rosemar, but almost a fraction of the emotion the lust demon used when she looked at him. Was it…love? He scoffed at the idea. Beryl was grateful he'd saved her life, at least temporarily. If he didn't banish Rosemar soon, he might not be able to help her again.

“I'd be a finer doctor if I had a patient once in a while. I haven't so much as threaded a needle since Noem came.”

He'd ended up resetting his own nose after Wystan broke it while he was under the control of his demon side and had fished two bullets out of Tell when an echidna shot him in attempt to take Rhia to Noem. That had happened weeks ago. If he didn't start a real practice with human patients soon, he'd forget how to treat them.

“Don't wish for such things. You might get them. I like Berner better when it's peaceful. I was thinking about taking a walk before dinner. Would you like to join me?”

Beryl offered her hand. For a second, he was tempted to take it. Instead, he stared until she dropped it by her side again. Her hopeful smile faded.

“If you're busy, I suppose I'll go by myself.”

“It might be dangerous out there. Tell's lesky and ursa demons weren't far from town.” Protection made a good excuse for accompanying her. And possibly keeping Rosemar out of trouble.

“Oh. I thought he was out by the Pit when he ran into them.” She shivered a little. “You don't think there are more close by?”

“I'll take my saber in case. It doesn't hurt to be prepared.”

The weapon hung from a hook inside his wardrobe. He crossed to it, took the sheath off the hook, then wrapped it around his waist. The silver blade was lighter than it looked and twice as deadly. He'd used it in the battle against Noem, and before that to behead a questing beast Astaroth had sent to devour the Heckmasters. In the last four months, it had tasted an ocean of demon blood. Noem had snapped it like dry tinder during the battle for Berner. He owed yet another favor to Seere for having it reforged by a demon craftsman in the bowels of Hell. The shining blade looked and felt stronger than ever.

He seldom carried a weapon, because he hated the idea of using one. When Rosemar was in control of Beryl's body, she was capable of defending herself. The demon seemed repressed now and as far as he knew, hadn't raised the silver hatchet he'd given her since the day of battle.

They left the clinic and turned down the street in the direction of the angel statue Eban's father had erected for his mother after they were married. The angel's eyes were hollow and water ran down its dark marble cheeks, splashing over its robes and into the pool at its feet. Large wings were tucked behind it, not spread. When he was a boy, he'd thought it was a happy angel, but as the years wore on, its features melted into something bleak and hopeless—the same feelings that bounced inside his chest. Some days it felt like he was never going to escape Berner, rooted here just like a statue.

Beryl took a seat in front of the angel. Flowers bloomed around the fountain, their fragrance releasing into the air with sweetness that didn't belong in a demon-filled town.

“I'm glad the flowers haven't died. I have to admit, I was worried when we arrived here. There was no plant life. It's a miracle, isn't it?” She cupped a blossom in her hand, careful not to pluck it from the stem as she inhaled its scent. “I know you don't want to hear it, but I think Rhia and Wystan had something to do with it.”

Bitterness clogged Eban's throat. “I don't have an explanation for it.”

When he was eight, the humans in Berner had burned his mother at the stake when they found out his father was a demon, even though he'd spent years shielding them from Astaroth. A protective spell his father put into place to protect the citizens backfired, killing the humans, but leaving the Heckmasters and a few other demons that had already arrived here alive. All the plant life had died as well, except thorny or sticky weeds. When Tell spilled the tower full of holy water to destroy Noem, new plant life had sprung up, turning Berner's brown, depressing streets green with grass and flowers.

Eban had to admit the fountain looked more like it had in his youth and it wasn't an unwelcome sight.