Tell (18 page)

Dochi appeared at Sylvie's feet, book offered up in his paws.

She snatched it and opened the cover.

Astaroth snagged her in his huge clawed hand, but she was reading already, paying him no mind as Latin spilled from between her lips. The fire surrounding the prince shot toward the ruined ceiling.

Sandra looked at her stone hands, then flexed her wings. Her smooth face contorted into something ugly. She launched herself at Astaroth with a shriek.

He swatted her away and she crashed through the floor, but it only took her a moment to surge forward again. She knocked him off balance and Sylvie fell, but held tightly to the book.

Tell reached her as Astaroth let out a roar. The sky brightened, opened, and the jailhouse gave a shudder when the fire Tell had started expanded from wall to ceiling.

A mass of people gathered around, but none of them seemed interested in putting out the fire. People Tell had known for years pressed close. Humans he'd liked, trusted, protected from the demons that occasionally slipped into Berner, had become the very thing he fought. A sea of monsters with glowing eyes surrounded the jailhouse remains.

“Kill them.” Astaroth swiped his hand through the air.

The silver hatchet Sandra had carried to defend against demons appeared in Dochi's hand. He passed it to Sylvie, gave a short bow and leaped at one of the human-demon creatures coming for them.

“Stay close to me. I'll protect you as much as I can.” Tell positioned himself in front of Sylvie.

“I can handle a hatchet,” she answered, holding it up, but she had one hand on him as though she feared they'd be separated.

Seneca's flaming sword shot through the air and a demon screamed as the divine fire ripped through its flesh. Near him, Eban and Wystan fought side by side. With every advance or swipe the demons made at them, they left howling as the coats repelled the blows. Both Heckmasters were sweating, but appeared unharmed.

Tell's stomach churned when he recognized the postmaster who fell in a puddle of his own blood after Wystan cut into him. There wasn't time to mourn the human bodies falling around him as his brothers got into the fight. The demons wanted blood. Tell swung at Mrs. McGeary, the cook who worked in Lois's restaurant. His little knife bit into her flesh and her face slackened as the demon spirit left her body.

A thwack behind him signaled Sylvie using the hatchet. Her hold on him slackened and she grunted with effort. From the corner of his eye, he caught her fighting like a hellcat against a young girl who probably hadn't graduated from school yet.

Seneca stepped away from the fray. He drew a sigil in the air with a blood-coated finger. It glistened for a moment, then a portal ripped the sky apart. Under the brilliant light pouring through the clouds, another horde of creatures moved in on Berner. Twisted things and monsters from nightmares swarmed among the humans turned demon. Seneca's reinforcements from the Gray Lands looked a hundred times fiercer than anything Astaroth had summoned for this battle.

Sandra scratched at Astaroth's face, wild in flight, dodging his swatting hands. “You broke my family apart. You destroyed my town, my life, everything I loved.”

“You are nothing but a stone girl given a brief reprieve from death because of me.” Astaroth pinched one of her wings. “I'll crumple you into dust.”

Sandra screamed and struggled against his grip.

A silver bolt shot into Astaroth's face below his eye. He snarled and flung Sandra away from him. She crashed through the charred wall.

Tell whirled and then grinned as Dochi struggled under the weight of the crossbow. The imp loaded a second bolt. He aimed again. Before he could pull the trigger, a two-headed green demon knocked the weapon away. Both heads snarled at Dochi. He vanished and reappeared at Seneca's feet.

Sylvie thrust the hatchet at Tell. “I have to read from the book. We're not safe yet.”

“How's the book gonna help? What are you talking about, Princess?” He kicked the legs out from beneath a small ursa demon, then delivered a swift blow to its head with his boot before sinking the knife into its right eye.

“Don't you worry about what I'm doing. Just keep them away from me.” Sylvie dropped to her knees and spread the book open.

As she read in Latin, hurried phrases he couldn't quite catch, the light in the sky became unbearably bright. Tell squinted through narrowed eyes as he fought the next human-demon that attacked. The man fought with the strength of a wild animal, biting and clawing at Tell.

Smoke poured into the air, causing the sky to go foggy. The fire spread, dancing and crackling across the town buildings. Sylvie coughed, then uttered a little cry as the flames caught the edge of her skirt. She beat the fire out with her hand.

Driving his knife up through the human's mouth, Tell remembered the last time they'd almost burnt Berner to the ground. There wasn't a tower full of holy water to stop it this time.

Everything was going to hell and damn quick. They'd be lucky if they weren't burned to crisps before Astaroth killed them. No fire surrounded his brothers. The coats seemed to repel it as well as the demons charging at them.

Screams and guttural cries filled the air. Sylvie stopped reading, shielded her eyes from the light, and a peaceful smile crossed her blood-splattered face. It fell a little and Tell turned away from her.

Surrounded by burning buildings, three tall figures swept the street clear of feuding demons. Azazel, with his wizened, ugly red features led the pack. His green cape fluttered in the wind, whipping out behind him like a banner as he rode his gray steed into the melee.

“What did you do?” Tell crouched by Sylvie as the fighting came to a standstill.

“I can't stand a bully. I think Astaroth's brothers might feel the same way. I'm sure Azazel is more than a little tired of fighting with him.” Sylvie squinted against the glare surrounding the princes. “I just hope they're not mad because I called.”

“Me too.”

Except for the crackle of fire and the whistle of wind, the streets had fallen silent as the demons bowed before the four brothers.

Astaroth's heavy breathing—part pant, part growl—rose above the other noise. “I control them. I have clawed my way through the bowels of Hell, the home I have taken and served, to reign again.”

“The three of us united on one front should give you pause, Astaroth.” Azazel leaned on his pommel, his bulbous nose twitching as smoke blew toward him. A wicked smile curled his crooked mouth. “What smooth words will you use to try to dissuade us from stopping you this time? Millennia of fighting to put you in your place grows old.”

Astaroth spat at Azazel. “I want what's mine. El ignores the beings he created, you are too weak from fighting with each other to command the demons armies as you should, and…bah, Ea, with his Gray Lands that he can't even bother to finish designing thousands of years after creating, is pathetic. You say I'm the weakest of the four, but look at the sloth and damage the three of you have created.”

The demon prince on the white horse bearing shining gold armor rode forward past Azazel. “This world was my treasure, filled with jewels of people, but how dull, how painfully slow time moved and it brought out the worst of my people. Combined with the demons Azazel and Ea sent, I allowed the temptation of man, gave them the chance to overcome it, but so many are weak in spirit.”

“You're weak, allowing Azazel talk you into holding back Hell. Let it run free, El. Let's divide the earth, the heavens—let's rule in four sections and come what may.” Astaroth rubbed his callused hands together.

“Trickster, liar, thief, betrayer.” The demon prince on the gray horse straightened in his saddle. His long golden hair stood out in stark contrast to the smoky gray of his clothing. “There can be no compromise. Astaroth must meet his end for good.”

“I cast my vote with my brothers.” El reined his horse closer to his brother.

The last prince, Ea, rode forward. “There must be balance. Astaroth has upset it.”

Azazel sneered. “He insults us. He causes unwarranted chaos. He brings pestilence to everything he touches. Even the dungeon in Hell is too soft for our brother. Justice must be doled out.”

The riders kicked their mounts and formed a circle around Astaroth. He hissed at the massive horses, but none of them shied. They pressed in close as the demon princes drew their weapons. A spear, a bow with gilded arrows, and a mace surrounded Astaroth. As one, the princes loomed menacingly.

Astaroth struck at them and bounced off one of the horses' flanks. Sizzling, sparkling blue light surrounded the other kings—shields of divine fire. He tried to knock the weapons away, but his skin singed each time he touched the barrier. Big droplets of blood sprayed the ground around him.

“Finish him.” Sandra hovered near Tell. “It should be you. He's controlled you far too long.”

Tell's sweaty hand clung to his blade so hard, his fingers ached. He moved past the gray and black horses. The divine fire crackled and disappeared.

Astaroth screamed with rage. He charged at Tell. “I cannot be destroyed. I am eternal. A king of the cosmos.”

Sandra swooped low and grabbed Tell beneath the arms before Astaroth collided with him. “I'm going to drop you on top of him. Make it a good strike, little brother.”

She let go of him as suddenly as she'd grabbed him. Tell landed on Astaroth's back. The knife almost fell from his grip the second the sharp silver blade bit into flesh. He wrenched it in hard, slicing from ear to ear as Astaroth tried to shake him off.

Dark blood sprayed over everything. An explosion of light blasted Tell off Astaroth. He hit the ground hard enough to knock out his breath. His eyes burned and his ears rang. The heat surrounding them was intense. His skin tingled against it. Smoke replaced the light and his jaw dropped. Not only was the blaze consuming the town, but it was racing toward them, devouring everything. He tried to summon the fire within him, hoping to combat it somehow, but he was powerless.

El, the prince in white, nodded at him.

Eban and Wystan pulled him to his feet. He staggered, then grabbed Sylvie, who clutched the
Liber Animae Perit
. He closed his eyes, pulled her into his arms and tucked his head close to hers.

Chapter Seventeen

The roar of the fire lessened to a whisper. Tell opened his eyes and his knees weakened. They were a good mile outside the town, which glowed with unearthly light.

“It is over.” El, still astride his horse, gazed down at them. “Astaroth is vanquished. He will not return, though the essence of evil remains firmly rooted in the earth.”

Tell barely heard a word. He did a head count—Sylvie first and most important, followed by Wystan and Eban, then Seneca, Dochi and—his breath caught—Sandra in her stone robe that flowed as fluid as silk. The red streaks left by rust over the years glistened under her eyeless holes.

Wystan whirled on El. “Where the hell are my wife and children, you son of a bitch!”

Eban looked shocked, his face pale, his shoulders slumped. “Beryl.” His voice barely crested a whisper.

Neither of them were smoke smudged like Tell, Seneca or Sylvie. The coats appeared pristine.

El, his face smooth and benign, gave them a look so full of pity, Tell's heart almost shattered. “Your faith is fragile.”

Sylvie shook free of Tell. “The dreadnaught! It was supposed to protect them. What kind of sick game are you playing? That was my sister—my family!” She threw down the book and marched over to Azazel. “You bring them here now. Meacham promised the dreadnaught would keep them safe.”

Tell swallowed the knot in his throat. A blaze like the one surrounding Berner wouldn't leave any survivors.

Azazel clicked his forked tongue. “You give Lord El far too little credit, Mrs. Heckmaster.”

“If he is who he says he is, then I expect miracles.” Tears flowed freely down her face. “I expect Rhia, Sammy and Violet to be here with us, healthy as ever. I expect you to wipe the heartbroken look off Eban's face and bring him the woman he'd gladly die for and his beautiful little boys. I hope to hell his twins will be born safely.”

Ea gazed into the glowing hole that had once been Berner. “It's always the innocent who suffer so greatly when demons try to make their homes on earth. I take some blame for that. Had I not tried to dethrone El… But the world was so large and my greed too great for Heaven.”

El nodded. “You are indeed responsible for part of this mess.”

“And you are so innocent, El? Hiding behind Heaven's gates when Astaroth imprisoned Azazel?” Ea snorted and his mouth curled into a sneer. “You are as pathetic as he, a coward. I gave the humans help from the Gray Lands, did I not? Which was more help than you ever offered them.” Ea glowered. “Without me, Astaroth would have risen sooner. The patrons of the Gray Lands kept him protected these last few days.”

“Enough.” El sounded tired rather than commanding. “Ea has the Gray Lands, his to keep. Azazel will command Hell once more. And I must return to my heavenly home.”

“No!” Sylvie grabbed Azazel's cape. “You didn't keep your word. You let our family die in Berner. Who cares if Astaroth is dead when we've lost the very thing these men battled to keep—the parts of their lives that made them human and not like you uncaring bastards?”

“Sylvie.” Tell took her arm. “You can't talk to him that way. He'll zap you.”

Or worse, pierce her with his spear. Curse her to house one of his favored minions. Take her away from Tell for good.

“You gave them little patience, El. No wonder they make deals with demons so readily.” Ea shook his head and his hair glimmered in the light. “Cool your tongue, human. Look out there.”

Only a few hundred feet away, a huddled group watched Berner succumb to the raging fire. Demons and two women clinging to crying children.

“Beryl!” Eban dropped his saber and took off across the rocky soil.

Wystan was on his heels.

Sylvie's jaw dropped. “It did work. All that sewing and it saved them.” She threw her arms around Tell. “I thought—I thought, but…”

He hugged her tight. Relief loosened the tension in his shoulders. “I know, Princess.”

“My lords, you have our eternal thanks.” Seneca lowered himself to one knee. “I feared the pain of loss might drive my sons toward demonic behavior again. Our humanity is more fragile than our faith.”

El nudged his horse toward Seneca. “There is no chance of that.”

Seneca raised his head. “My lord?”

“It is no longer the place for men bearing the Heckmaster name to guard the evil surrounding Berner. There is no Berner, Astaroth is vanquished and your time of service on Earth is at an end. As for them, the demon blood remains—that cannot be removed—but the threat of that blood creating more havoc on earth has been neutralized. Those who serve well always receive my favor.”

Sylvie's arms tightened around Tell's neck. “You hear that?” Her face, smeared with all kinds of grime, beamed as bright as it had on their wedding day. She'd never looked more beautiful.

“The prophecy is fulfilled. One to secure the future, one to guard the present, one to repair the past.” Tell's head spun as he recited it. “But you're not going to convince me there's not more evil in the world. You're demons or…something. There are more demons swarming the Gray Lands, not to mention Earth and Hell. You're not going to convince any of us that they'll lie down and roll over.”

“Battles for another time, for other men and women. You've done your part. There may be times when you're called to put down minor trouble, but nothing of the sort Astaroth created.” El's smooth, calm face relaxed into a soothing smile.

“What about Sandra? She played a part in this. What's she get?”

Azazel smiled. “An eternity of peace, at last. She's waited long enough.”

“But—” Sandra's wings drooped. “I want to stay with my family. I want to be a real girl again. You can do that. Seere put father's soul into a human body.”

“That isn't your destiny, young one. Say your goodbyes, but prepare to ascend. There is nothing here on earth for you.” Azazel's kindness flickered out. “No arguments.”

She turned to Tell. “I'm sorry for my part in all of this. I know you must hate me for it and there's nothing I can do to make it up to you. I stole an important part of you…Harlowe.”

“I think I prefer Tell.” After battling with Astaroth and hearing Sandra's apology, the nickname didn't seem so bad anymore. He released his hold on Sylvie. A marble angel for a sister wasn't the strangest thing he'd faced in his lifetime, but knowing he'd soon be without her again made a hole in his heart. “I forgive you.”

The angel wept, but she smiled too. “I waited at the fountain all these years, praying I'd hear those words, unlikely as they were. It's not going to be easy, saying goodbye, but I think I can go home now.” She looked at Seneca. “Ma might need company after all this time.”

Seneca hugged her. “Precious, brave girl. I'm sorry for the ways you suffered—at Astaroth's hand and the loneliness you must have felt while waiting to rejoin us. I wish I could have done more to protect you.”

“It's all right, Father. The worst is over now.” Sandra kissed his cheek. “Someday, you'll join us too. You've earned it.”

His smile was sad. “We'll see.”

“Come, Cassandra. Other adventures await you. I'll see you to El's pearly gates.” Ea held out his hand.

Sandra looked between him and her father. “I love you all. Remind Eb and Wys?”

Seneca's Adam's apple jumped as he nodded.

Sandra smiled at Sylvie. “Take care of my little brother.”

“I'll do my best. Thank you for your help.” Fresh tears glistened on Sylvie's face.

Sandra trudged across the ground as though carrying her marble weight was almost too much. Ea lowered his hand and helped her astride his horse.

“The time has come to go. For each of you, some together, some apart, but all on to important places.” The god—demon—whatever he was, turned the horse. A bright white light appeared and the animal and riders faded into it.

Wystan, holding his son in one arm and his daughter in the other, led Rhia, Beryl, Eban and the boys back to the rest of the family.

“We need somewhere to go. Beryl's too close to giving birth to sit out in the wilderness.” Eban supported his exhausted wife. “A little more help wouldn't be too much to ask since we almost
died
fighting Astaroth's armies over and over, would it?”

“The essentials will be provided for you, Ebaneezer,” Azazel said, “as payment for your service.”

“About time the high lords recognize what we did here.” Eban looked out over the glow of the fire. Exhaustion stole some of his anger. “Christ, where will we go?”

“We don't have anything,” Tell said. His throat scratched and loss replaced his relief. He ached in every conceivable place. Out there amid flame and ash, his mother's and sister's graves didn't have anyone to care for them anymore. Berner might have been two shades removed from Hell, but it was still the only home he'd ever known.

“We have each other. We have our family. It could be worse.” Sylvie slipped her arm around his waist and rested her head on his arm. “Eban's always wanted to see the world. I guess now is our chance.”

He had her. Despite the crazy risks she'd taken, despite the terrible way he'd acted while harboring Astaroth, she still loved him.

“I'm more concerned about settling down.” Eban stroked Beryl's ashy hair. “Getting my wife a safe place to deliver our children.”

“The others who survived?” Tell asked. The ragtag band that had appeared with Rhia and Beryl hadn't followed his brothers.

“Moving on. Who knows where they'll go?” Wystan lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I tried to get them to come. Lois, the Yues, Mila, a handful of others, but they seemed pretty torn and confused.”

Tell rubbed his eyes and squinted into the distance. “Meacham didn't make it?” It seemed impossible the wretched creature who'd warned them of impending doom hadn't hightailed it out of Berner the second trouble started.

“Didn't see him.” Wystan adjusted Sammy on his hip. “We can't stand here all night and watch it burn. There are more important things to do.”

“Where's Sandra?” Eban searched the ragged bunch. “And Ea?”

“Gone.” Seneca gestured at the sky. “For good this time.”

Eban and Wystan exchanged a glance. Sorrow hung between them.

Rhia caressed the top of her daughter's head. “I'm sorry we didn't get to say goodbye.”

“She was the first thing we saw when we came to Berner.” Sylvie's voice wobbled a little. “What about the
Liber Animae Perit?
What do we do with it? It's too dangerous to haul around on the road.”

“I'll take it to the Gray Lands.” Seneca looked at El. “That is, if I still have a place there. Perhaps Ea wishes to resume command?”

El inclined his head toward Seneca. “You may attend your post there, Baron Heckmaster.”

“My minions?”

“Many were lost in battle and to fire. You will begin the search for those on Earth who wish to give up the fight. Replenish your followers. Keep your eye turned toward Hell and watch for mischief from my brothers.” El glared at Azael, who grinned.

“As you wish, my lord.” Seneca bowed his head. “I feel confident my sons and their families will find the peace they deserve. I should return and figure out how much damage we suffered.”

“Indeed.” El waved his hand and opened a portal that swirled with mist for a moment before the dull landscape of the Gray Lands opened.

“Well, I'll be damned.” Tell pointed.

Just inside the portal, a cluster of bright evening primrose grew out of the mist.

Seneca smiled. “A very hopeful sign. Be good, boys. I'll visit once you're settled. Dochi, are you coming?”

“Farewell, Master Tell. It was an honor to serve you, O Fearless Warrior, son of the Gray Land's most noble and clever baron. We will meet again.” Dochi bowed so low, his nose touched the ground and his tail waved high in the air. He bolted upright again and proceeded through the portal in front of Seneca.

“Damn little hairless possum.” Tell half smiled. “I'm almost going to miss him.”

“You will. He meant well and he helped save us.” Sylvie stared as Seneca disappeared into the portal and it vanished. “We'll see him soon.”

In the time it had taken for the portal to open and close. Azazel had gone as well, though with far less fanfare than Ea. In their places, a trio of wagons with mules waited.

“Holy shit,” Tell muttered. “We're a wagon train.”

El swung down from his horse and left it unattended. “I warned you something dark was coming. Something that would be nigh impossible to handle. Sylvie, you completed your task as I commanded and you made it possible for Harlowe to correct the mistakes of the past as the prophecy demanded. As your reward, the peace I promised and a way to get to your next destination. I cannot promise lives without turmoil, because you would forget the struggles you faced to get there. There must be balance.”

He transformed before them, going from a straight, tall, handsome, god-like being to a short, doughy, pale creature that might have once been an abbeylubber.

“Meacham?” Sylvie's voice barely reached Tell's ears. “I don't believe it.”

Meacham's familiar scowl adorned his round face. “I knew Astaroth lived inside you, Heckmaster. Since the day your sister uttered the words of that curse, but I didn't tell your parents. It was better to allow them to think you'd be a worse demon than anything ever encountered than tell them Astaroth would rise again. Do you think your noble father, honorable as Jacob, wouldn't have sacrificed you to prevent Astaroth from returning? I could not have that, not if I intended to fulfill the other prophecy. And there it is, one prophecy fulfilled in exchange for normal human lives. I hope you won't bear a grudge for it.”