Tell (4 page)

“So are buzzards, but you don't see me making pets out of them.”

Seneca shrugged. “Beggars can't be choosers, son. Even a demon has to take what he can get sometimes.”

The pop was louder when Dochi returned with two demons, one on either side. The one on the left looked like a buffalo standing upright. Long, shaggy, reddish-brown hair streamed from beneath its robes and mountain-goat-like horns protruded from its head. It had cloven hooves for feet, but hairless tentacles in place of arms.

Tell choked back the urge to vomit as the demon's tongue slipped out of its mouth to lick the inside of its nose.

“Nebo. Thank you for coming. Akhar.” Seneca nodded to them.

The second demon looked like an evergreen tree without the needles. Whip-thin and covered in gray bark, it trembled as Seneca spoke. Round button-like eyes blinked rapidly as it waved its stick arms. “It is our pleasure to serve, my lord.”

Akhar had no mouth, so Tell couldn't guess how it was talking.

“This is my youngest son, Tell.” Seneca clapped him on the shoulder. “Show them what you've learned to do.”

He itched to do what he'd always done—wipe some demons out of existence, but he hadn't brought any weapons to the Gray Lands. He lifted his hands again and let the fire pour through them. “Learned to do this all by myself. Don't even have to give it much thought. I almost burned my brother alive last night. I did burn a cyclops to death.”

And given the chance, I won't hesitate to burn you ugly bastards either.

The tree-thing jumped back about a foot.

“Wouldn't take much to start a nice bonfire, would it, Twiggy?” He grinned at Akhar.

Nebo made a smacking sound as he worked his jaw. “I believe we need a moment to consult one another, my lord.”

“Please do,” Seneca said. He narrowed his eyes at Tell.

Tell made the flames a little taller. Seneca pressed his lips together.

Christ, a man can't have any fun with a family like mine.
He tucked his hands into his pockets.

While the buffalo and the tree talked in hushed tones, Dochi squatted near Seneca and watched the demon with adoring eyes. It was sickening.

“What happened to Akhar's leaves? The buff get too hungry?”

Akhar twisted and shook his stick arms, but didn't respond. Nebo huffed and sent a spray of mucus at Akhar.

Bad enough to be in their presence. It was something else to get sprayed with demon buffalo snot. “What lovely friends you have, Dad.”

“Tell.”

“Nothing wrong with expressing your curiosity. How else am I supposed to learn?” He winked at his father, but the gesture only incited another frown.

The smothering feeling crept up on him again. The incense burned his nose and made him want to sneeze. Of course the sneeze seemed to be stuck, which fit perfectly with his luck for the day.

C'mon, boys. Use those tiny demonic brains a little faster.

If he didn't get out of here soon, he was going to lose it.

Akhar faced Seneca. “My lord, we will require some time to shift through the records and pin down the exact cause for your son's manifestation. However, we believe it may be nothing more than a delayed issue due to his mixed blood.”

Seneca's shoulders dropped a little and his expression relaxed. “Very well. If Tell is agreeable, I give you permission to visit him in Berner should you need to inspect the matter further to confirm it with any accounts you find.”

Tell rocked back on his heels. “Oh hell, why not? Might make things a little more exciting in town if a squirming bison and shrub come looking for me.”

“We assure you, young Master Heckmaster, we are quite dedicated to learning why this has struck you. With time, it can be managed and perhaps if you learn to quiet the fire, it will recede altogether.” Nebo's dry voice scratched as he shuffled closer. “We're familiar with the little problem of your curse, so this is interesting for us indeed.”

“Great, so glad to know there are demons with their noses pressed in books researching every quirk about me. You
do
have a nose, don't you, Akhar?”

Akhar's branches rattled. “I don't need a nose, sir.”

“Right, because you're a tree.”

Akhar's trunk swelled and his limbs curled like claws. Sharp thorns protruded from his bark-like flesh.

The flames shot through Tell's arms and he braced for the impact of the creature, but Seneca stepped in front of him.

“I'm not a
tree
. I'm a Spriggan and you will do well to remem—” Akhar shrank to his previous size. “Baron Seneca, you must forgive me. I'd forgotten how trying younger demons can be. I would never harm your offspring.”

“Tell is ornery in the best of times. He's spent many years destroying demons and it's not easy for him to think of the Gray Lands' occupants as allies. I think we're done here for now. Dochi, show our friends back to their chambers.”

“Right away, majestic judge of demons.” Dochi grabbed onto the two demons and popped out of the study.

“I understand your frustrations. I do, but I wish you were capable of holding back your resentment toward the people I'm trying to lead away from the clutches of Hell.” Seneca retreated to one of the wingback chairs near the fire. “I loved Gloria. It was strange and wonderful, because up until the moment I saw her, I didn't know what love was. Up until then, my entire life was about dominating the human spirit and extracting souls for Astaroth.”

“Much as I'd like to sit and talk, I'd rather go. I'm tired.” Weariness descended on his shoulders. “Another time.”

“Let me talk and then I'll send you back. It won't take long.” Seneca gripped the chair arms. “Your mother, she changed the way I viewed the world. It's easy to argue that our marriage doomed the people of Berner worse than anything I could have come up with on my own. It's very easy to say I certainly ruined any chance of a normal life you boys would have. I'm sorry for that. Very sorry, although I'm glad that Wystan and Eban were able to find love. The peace they've found is well-deserved.”

“Yep, I'm happy for them. About the other—it's not your fault you're a demon. You didn't ask for it and we've handled everything that's happened because of it. Berner's better than it used to be.” He'd hunted demons nearly half his life. The lack of them these days didn't bother him, not when he had nieces and nephews to look after now. And if it got him out of here quicker, he'd say almost anything. Sharing sentiment with his father wasn't high on his list of things to do. Not when he still harbored anger over being left in Wystan and Eban's care as a child.

And someday…maybe he'd find a wife of his own and settle down. But it might be a long time coming. He didn't feel right about starting a family while he was saddled with the name curse.

“Kind of you to say so, Tell. As Nebo said, I have them scouring every corner of the world for an answer to the name curse. I want you to have the same freedoms as your brothers. They can control themselves and they will for love. For you, things are a bit more complicated. I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe.” Seneca smiled and it was easy to see why thousands of humans had fallen for his charm and bargains. Until he came to collect.

Deep down, a part of Tell didn't trust his father, no matter how many times he inspected Seneca's mind.

“If there was an incantation to take it off, I think we'd have found it by now. Thanks, anyway.” Some days he wished he could get his hands on Sandra for what she'd done. No little girl had any business messing with curses, jealous of her baby brother or not. She'd tried, God how she'd tried to make it up to him every day after that, but she'd turned him into a monster.

“Don't lose hope. I have an astounding amount of resources available. Although next time, I think you'd do better not to insult the minions trying to help you. My greatest regret in all of this, son, is that I forced you boys into a war between me and Hell. You were innocent, just children. Sandra paid the highest price with her death. I don't wish to lose any more children because of what I once was. I hope you understand that.”

“I get it. Knowing you didn't mean to lead us into horrible lives makes it so much easier to bear.” He resented his father's apology. Words didn't go very far to make up for the horror of his childhood.

Seneca snapped his fingers.

Dochi materialized in the center of the room. “My lord.”

“I need you to escort Tell back to Berner. He looks done in.” The two exchanged a long look, as though they were communicating.

He didn't like it. “I don't need an escort,” Tell said.

“It would be my pleasure.” Dochi latched on to Tell's leg.

“See you soon, Tell.” Seneca nodded.

The room swirled and Tell landed hard on his feet in the church. “Get off me.”

“Certainly, brave and rugged warrior, son of the high guard of the Gray Lands.” Dochi curled his paws together and stepped onto the stained, tattered carpet.

“Now get the hell out of here before I kick you back to the Gray Lands.” He dusted himself off. “I don't want anyone knowing hairless possums trail after me.”

“Dochi cannot, fierce protector. Dochi must stay with you.” He blinked and his lips curled upward. “The most exulted ruler has commanded it.”

“What the—what do you mean,
commanded
it?”

Dochi tapped his head. “He told me. In here.”

“Get out of here before I separate your head and body permanently.” He groped for his knife and swore. The silver blade had saved his life countless times and he depended on it, but it was still lost where he'd fought the cyclops.

“With this, O protector of the innocent?” Dochi held up the blade, handle first.

“Where'd you get it?” Tell yanked it from the imp's paw.

“It is important to you, so it is important to me, son of the blinding star who is the savior of misplaced demons.” Dochi bowed. “Dochi would be honored to faithfully carry your weapons, my lord.”

“Go home.” His head throbbed harder than his ribs.

“If Dochi leaves you, he will have failed his master. Dochi will not fail him.” His pointed ears sagged. “Do not make me disappoint him. Dochi does not fail.”

“I can't have some bald rat following me around town. First, because I don't need you, and second because that's not how things are done in Berner anymore.”

Dochi bared his crooked teeth in a smile. “Dochi can be invisible.”

“What?”

The minion spun in a circle and disappeared. “You see, he can't be seen.” Only the faintest shimmering outline gave away his position.

Tell groaned. “Fine, but you so much as fart in front of a human and I'm mounting your head to my wall, got it?”

“As you wish, my lord.”

Chapter Four

Tell wasn't home. Naturally.

Sylvie lit the kindling stacked in the potbellied stove and pumped water for coffee. She had to keep her mind occupied, because she couldn't get the vision Meacham had shown her out of her head. She washed all Tell's dishes, a sad arrangement of two metal plates, three metal cups and an assortment of mismatched silverware so tarnished she didn't think they'd been used in years. Dust coated almost every surface of the tiny house.

His clothes were sorted into two piles—obviously not clean and wrinkled, and possibly clean.

She folded the cleanest pairs of denims and the least-creased shirts. His socks were beyond hopeless. The Heckmasters wanted for nothing, so it came as a surprise that he didn't have his socks mended or buy new ones. He was the one who taught her the important of good foot hygiene by telling her stories about men wandering the Plains. How many of those tales had ended with a round of gangrene because of blisters?

“Well, something good's come out of this day.”

Sylvie jumped and clenched a smelly sock in her fist. She spun to face him. “You know better!”

“You're getting soft. Up until a couple of years ago, you would've known I'd come in.” Tell grinned, but it wasn't full of the usual cockiness. His black eyes were still dark—worrisome because he usually healed much faster—and his skin had a sickish yellow tinge. “Looks pretty bad, huh?”

Beneath the bruises and his slouch, he was just Tell. No signs of a horrible monster showed through. The man she'd always known and trusted met her gaze. He looked more relaxed now that he'd come inside.

“You'll be all better by tomorrow.” A knot of dread formed in her stomach. What if Eban hadn't fixed him properly?

Tell nodded. “God willing. Does Rhia know where you are?”

“No. I'm hardly worried about the stigma of an unmarried woman wandering around in an unmarried man's house.”

“You never were.” He crossed the room and took his time lowering himself onto his bed. “Did you tell him?”

She drew in as deep a breath as her corset allowed. “He asked me to marry him.”

Tell's gaze shot up to hers. His dark blue irises nearly swallowed his pupils. “What did you say?”

“I told him I wasn't in love with him and we parted ways.” She toyed with one of her earrings. “He's going to San Francisco and I'd never leave Berner. It wouldn't have worked even if I did love him.”

Tell hung his head. “It's my fault. Christ, I told you to get rid of him. I never thought you'd take me seriously. When you get something in your head, you don't let go. Jeffrey was good for you, Sylvie. He was human and if he took you away from here, you wouldn't have to worry about demons and angels and the next crazy thing that'll come along trying to kill us.”

“You're stupid, Tell Heckmaster. The biggest dummy who ever lived, you know that?” She settled beside him and slipped her arms around his waist, careful of his ribs. “Since I was twelve, I've listened to every word that spilled from your lips. You made me promise to break things off with Jeffrey and I did. Best decision I've made so far.”

“Shouldn't you be crying and saying it was the worst decision you ever made?” He met her gaze again. “You courted for over a year.”

“It was nice to be courted, but I'm not going to cry.” Not the way she would if Tell betrayed them as Meacham believed. “You wanted to talk to me earlier.”

“Nothing important. I half wanted to see if you'd gotten rid of him or if you'd decided to tell me to mind my own business. I should have known you'd leave him behind, but you didn't have to do it because of me.” He brushed his hand over her cheek. “You are too good for him, Sylvie.”

A tingle swept down her spine. They'd shared hugs before, offered comfort in times in trouble, and she'd often wondered what it would be like to kiss him, but she'd never wanted it as much as she did now. “Who is good enough?”

“I'll let you know when I find him.”

His lips were right there, close enough to touch. She ached to make him forget whatever troubled him. How could anyone think Tell would unleash his demon side and try to destroy the world? He'd been there for her most of her life, steady, strong and unfailingly loyal.

“There is something I need to show you,” he whispered.

Dammit, just as she was about to lean in and claim what she wanted. “Right now?”

“There are two things, actually. Better get it over with.” He scooted away from her and held up one hand. “This is new.” Short flames danced over his fingertips.

Sylvie's mind went blank.

Little orange flames trembled with his hand. He curled his fist and the flames went out. “I've already been to see my father about it. His minions think it's a normal thing for the son of a demon to do. Even one as old as I am.”

“Does it hurt?” She took his hand, surprised to find it cool.

“No. It feels the same as breathing, easy to do. Natural.”

She saw the loathing in his eyes before he lowered them. “But you don't like it.”

“I'm demon enough without the ability to produce fire. At least I can control it. I'm not likely to burst into flames for no reason.” He sighed. “I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to leave.”

“I've never been afraid of you. I'm not going to start now.” She pressed her fingers between his and clung to his hand.

“What if it's…” He shuddered. “There's no hope if I…”

“You're not.” She said it forcefully, determined to keep Meacham's vision from coming true. “There are too many people here who love you and you wouldn't hurt any of them. You're not turning into a full demon. I won't let you.”

He looked so defeated sitting beside her in his dingy little house. “Apparently my father disagrees, even if he wouldn't say so out loud. Dochi.”

“Yes, Master?”

The disembodied words raised the hair on Sylvie's arms.

“You can show yourself to Sylvie.” Tell sounded exhausted. “She already knows everything.”

A creature no taller than her knees appeared a few feet away. Its skin was mottled gray and black, bald and wrinkled. Tiny black eyes perched above its long snout full of crooked teeth. Its little black nose wiggled as approached while its tail swished back and forth like a happy dog's. “Dear, sweet lady. The son of the great warrior baron Seneca has invited Dochi into his home and allowed him to meet you. He is a brave and noble young man. Dochi is proud to serve him for my master. You spoke kindly of him and Dochi shall be pleased to serve you as well if this is what the young master wants.”

Sylvie tried to smile, but the demon's grin was unsettling. “What is that, Tell?”

“Dochi is an imp. He's here to keep an eye on me. Lucky for us, he can be invisible. I wouldn't want to try and explain him around town.”

Dochi squatted by the bed, his gaze unwavering.

She looked away from the little demon. “He's been here this whole time?”

“Yep. He's not going anywhere for a while, not until Father's cronies can figure out what's happening to me.” Tell had aged ten years since yesterday morning. Gone was the laughing man who never let anything upset him.

“No matter what's happening, if you need me, I'm here.” She cupped his face and leaned in close. “You're important to me. We'll get through this and everything will be all right.”

“You're a lunatic.” He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers. “Only you would think things are going to be fine after living in a place like Berner.”

“I'm hopelessly optimistic,” she admitted. “Because of Berner. You've never given up when the odds weren't in your favor before. This is no different. Besides, it might be nothing. Just your everyday, average flaming man.”

“I'll take my show on the road. You can be my pretty assistant. Every good act has one,” he muttered.

He was all but asleep, practically passed out on her shoulder.

“C'mon, Heckmaster, it's time for you to go to bed.” She eased away from him and rose.

Tell blinked. “I have to go see Eban. He'll want to know what our father said.”

“I'll send him your way in the morning. For now, you have to rest.” She knelt to pull off his boots.

He didn't protest when she lifted his legs onto the bed.

“I forbid you to get out of bed until tomorrow morning.” She wagged her finger at him. “You're not invincible, you know.”

“Damn near.” His eyes closed. “Thanks, Sylvie.”

“You're welcome.” She bent, brushed a kiss across his forehead and squeezed his shoulder. “Sleep well.”

He didn't answer.

“Dochi,” she whispered.

“Yes, thoughtful and gracious lady?” Dochi squeezed his paws together while his tail swung back and forth.

“Watch over him.”

Dochi smiled. “I would give my life for him, miss.”

“Me too.” She trusted the imp, even though she knew better and Tell was obviously upset that he had to share his life with Dochi now. It gave her a sense of security that Seneca was watching out for his son even at a distance.

Tell will never turn his demon loose. Seneca's helpers will learn how to stop the name curse. Tell's too good of a man to turn.

Meacham's warnings were the stuff of fairytales without an ounce of truth.

* * * * *

Tell slept like the dead. And he woke to Dochi curled at the end of his bed, snoring loud as thunder. He nudged the imp, but Dochi didn't so much as twitch. Tell sat up, then rubbed his hand over his face. The pain in his ribs was down to a few twinges. Sleep was what he'd needed to heal.

Not that he'd admit to Sylvie that she was right about it.

He rose and threw the blankets over Dochi's head. It was tempting to roll up the ugly little creature, wrap a few chains around the bundle and find a river to toss the creep in. That would probably prompt a visit from his father and he didn't need that. Not today.

He studied himself in the mirror, pleased that the black circles beneath his eyes were almost nonexistent. The man the ladies in the saloon loved to look at was almost back to normal. A scruff of beard roughened his face. It matched the way his hair stood on end. The resident nut was in-house and ready for another day of keeping the madness of Berner away from the humans.

Dochi continued snoring while Tell shaved and washed his face. He wiped water from his chin and dropped the hand towel on the floor. As he turned, he caught a flicker from the corner of his eye. He spun to look behind him, but nothing was there. Not in sight, anyhow.

He reached for the knife on his belt and faced the mirror again. The image staring at him wasn't his normal reflection.

Tell staggered back, stunned when it imitated his movements. The snarling face was a twisted version of his features. Jagged teeth protruded from the thin-lipped mouth. His eyes were completely red with only a thin black sliver of pupil shining through. A hunched back made him seem bigger. A row of horny bumps rose above his hairless brow. But beneath all that, he recognized the shape of his face.

Tell threw his hand out and struck the mirror. It shattered into a silvery rain. His knees failed and he sagged against the wooden bathtub. His heart pounded. Blood sprang up from cuts on his knuckles.

Dochi scrambled off the bed and knelt at Tell's knee. “O honorable young master, have you injured yourself?”

“It's nothing.” His voice sounded haggard. “Just an accident.”

“I will clean it up for you.” Dochi waved his paw and the shards spun into the air where they glittered like oversized diamonds. He nodded his pointy head and the glass flew back into place. The mirror looked brand new.

“Impressive.” It rubbed him wrong to give the imp any kind of praise, but that was a neat trick.

Tell forced himself to his feet. The thing in the mirror wasn't real and therefore was incapable of hurting him. He'd slept hard, but it was probably the remains of a nightmare. Nothing more than a figment of his tired mind.

He dabbed at his knuckles with the towel he'd dropped before. “You hungry?”

“Fish?” Dochi asked hopefully.

Knowing demons, Dochi likely wanted it raw too. “Not for breakfast. Hell, it is morning, isn't it?”

“Quite early, O magnificent—”

“Stop. Enough with the fawning. It's disgusting and irritating. I can't have both after what I just saw. One or the other, but not both.” He left the bathing area and wrinkled his nose at the molding heel of bread on the table. “Bachelor living.”

Dochi licked his lips. “Bread is good.”

Tell shook his head. “When it isn't left over from last week. You're not eating it. You'll get a stomachache and I'm
not
cleaning up after you.”

“But Dochi is hungry.” The imp attempted to widen his eyes and perked up his ears. He rubbed his protruding stomach with one paw and wagged his tail.

The world's ugliest puppy, right here in Tell's kitchen. Some days it didn't pay to be a demon slayer. It would be easier to let Hell swallow him. “Stop it. That's not cute. It's terrifying. If you don't quit, I swear to God I'm taking you back to the Gray Lands, Father's orders be damned.”

Dochi's ears drooped.

“Don't look at me like that.” Tell tossed the bread at him. “Fine, you want it, have it.”

“Dochi wins.” The imp laughed.

Tell grimaced. The sound was the combination of nails on a chalkboard and a dying rabbit. “Christ, do me a favor and don't ever laugh again. In fact, aren't you supposed to be invisible and silent?”

Dochi buried his snout in the bread, but his ears perked at Tell's voice. He paused and tilted his head. “Someone is coming, Master.”

He vanished with a quiet pop. The bread hung in midair and crumbs fell from it as Dochi continued nibbling.