Tell (7 page)

Tell lifted the stick he'd snagged and jabbed it into Akhar's eye. The demon screeched and flung Tell away.

He landed hard against one of the granite walls and slid down to the floor. The salty taste of blood exploded in his mouth. Dizzy, he blinked as he tried to regain his bearings. His legs refused to cooperate in order to get him to safety. His skin smoked and when he attempted to call the fire, nothing happened. He was hot—hot as though he'd baked in the desert sun all day—and weak.

Akhar spread his limbs and wrapped them around a few stalactites. Goopy yellow sap poured from his eye wound. All around the cavern, the blue light touched hundreds of sigils carved in the rocks. “Ring of flame, blistering star of the galaxy. I speak to the sun, calling for the power to use your strength to wipe clean the earth. I summon your essence. I do speak thy words of power:
Zazas, Zazas, Nasatanada Zazas. Zrozo Zoas Nanomiala Hekau Zrazza. Sabai infernum
.”

Pinpricks of red light burst from the tips Akhar's limbs. The cave ceiling cracked as he pulled at the stalactites. Heated rock glowed and dust fell around Tell. A roar echoed around the cavern and the dust turned to droplets of molten rock. He flinched as it splattered and sizzled around him.

Home, home. Shit, I need to get home. Have to warn them.

“The last thing your father will learn is the fear of a true demon and that I killed his son.” Akhar ripped at the ceiling and hot rocks plummeted toward Tell.

Home.
Tell closed his eyes and pictured the angel statue on the edge of Berner.

Chapter Seven

Sylvie pushed her fork through the congealing gravy on her plate and sighed. Tell hadn't come last night the way he'd promised. Unusual, a little worrisome and just annoying enough to make her edgy this morning.

Rhia nudged her shoulder. “You'll be late opening the shop if you don't finish eating.”

“I'm not opening the shop today,” she muttered.

“Why not?” Rhia pressed her hand to Sylvie's forehead. “Are you sick?”

She ducked away from her sister's touch. “No.”

“What's the trouble then? Is it because of Jeffrey?”

A loud thump echoed in the hallway. Rhia rolled her eyes.

“It's not Jeffrey, although what happened to him is awful.” She shuddered. Someone—something—had been using him for no telling how long. To what purpose? If Jeffrey never recovered from his stupor, they'd never know.

“Mama!” Three-year-old Violet burst into the kitchen with her dark hair flying and tears streaming down her chubby cheeks. “Sammy's got a frog.”

“Only a little one.” Sammy crept into the room with his hands wrapped around the small creature. A gray fox kit trailed after him like a loyal puppy. “He's not hurtin' anything.” He turned Heckmaster-blue eyes on Rhia and stuck out his lower lip.

“Samson Seneca Heckmaster, you get that thing out of my house.” Rhia pointed at the door. “You know the rules.”

“Sorry, Mama.” Sammy stroked his finger over the frog's head. “But ain't he a little bit cute?”

“No, he
isn't.
Take that thing outside.” Rhia herded her son toward the door. “No more frogs in the house. It's bad enough that fox won't leave.”

“He's a good boy.” Sammy reached out to pet the kit and the frog found an opportunity to escape his clutches. It sprang from his hand and squatted on the floor.

Violet screamed and jumped onto one of the kitchen chairs. “Get it out! Mama, get it out of here.”

Rhia grimaced at the noise. “Sammy, catch that frog or I swear I'm make stew out of it.”

It hopped away as Sammy approached, shadowed by the kit. “C'mere, froggy. Mama wants to eat you.”

“I'm not eating frog,” Violet wailed.

“No one is eating frog. Settle down.” Sylvie shoved a piece of toast at Violet. “Sammy will have it out of here in a moment.”

Violet took the toast, then promptly wiped her nose on her sleeve. “He's not s'posed to have it in the house.”

“You're not supposed to yell in the house,” Sylvie reminded her. Not that she'd ever paid any attention to that rule either. “Eat your toast.”

After a few minutes of chasing the frog, Sammy caught it and carried it triumphantly out the door.

Rhia and Wystan's house was chaotic on the best day, but after the first few years in Berner where the surprises had mostly consisted of demon activity, a couple of screaming children and a few tantrums—from Heckmasters large and small—were easy to deal with.

On the same note, after a night of tossing and turning, the littlest Heckmasters also gave her a headache.

“I'm going to the shop, but I won't be opening it. I'm working on a special project.” She pushed away from the table. “I'll be home for dinner if evil forces don't stop me.”

Rhia narrowed her eyes. “Don't talk about things like that in front of the k-i-d-s.”

“Why? You think Sammy attracting w-i-l-d a-n-i-m-a-l-s is normal?”

As if to prove her point, a bird flew into the window and bounced off.

“Is it hurt?” Violet asked.

“I'll check!” Sammy darted through the door.

Rhia rubbed her forehead and sat down. “I suppose an injured bird is my next house guest. Wonderful.”

The fox curled at her feet and sighed.

Sylvie smiled. “You wouldn't trade this madness for anything.”

“Who would have guessed Wystan's children would be heathens?” Rhia laughed, but sobered quickly. “Whatever you're up to, be careful, Sylvie.”

“I will. See you in a while.” Sylvie rose from the table and left through the open door. “How's the bird?”

Sammy lifted it higher. “Got a hurt wing. Mama's gotta let me take care of it, don't she? I have a gift.”

Sammy's ability to tame the wildest creatures and nurse them to health could only be a gift from his father's bloodline.

“Ask her. Be good and don't torment your sister. She's the only one you have.”

For right now.

“You never let me have any fun.” Sammy grinned and carried the bird into the house.

She saw traces of Tell in the grin and her heart thudded painfully. What had happened to him? Instead of taking the path that led to her shop, she turned toward the other side of town to see if he was home.

Something snagged her dress. Sylvie reached for the hem, but drew back as Dochi's outline shimmered.

“You must come quickly.” Dochi gave her skirt a tug. “Master Tell needs you.”

She frowned. “Where is he?”

The demon looked around. “Safe to go to him?”

There were a few people on the street, but none looking their way. “Yes, take me there.”

A pop filled her ears and was replaced by shouting. When she opened her eyes, Tell staggered toward Wystan, who waved his bowie knife.

“Calm down a minute.” Wystan held his ground as Tell charged in a drunken manner. “Tell, what are you doing?”

People stared and muttered, but no one tried to interfere. Dochi had gone transparent again, but still clung to her skirt.

“Get Eban,” she told him.

“Yes, mistress.” Another pop and her skirt fell into place.

She picked up the hem and ran toward the brothers. “Tell, what's the matter?”

Wystan turned his head at her voice and barely missed a glancing blow from Tell's fist. “Sylvie, get away.”

“Don't hurt him.” She loved Wystan like a brother, loved him for being a father figure to her, but her love for Tell was something else entirely. “Let me talk to him, Wys.”

Tell dropped his fists to his sides and swayed as he stared at her. “Sylvie?”

The sleeves of his shirt and the collar were singed black. His face appeared bloodless and his pupils were huge and flashed red in the sun. His hat was missing and his hair stood up in spots and lay flat in others. Dirt and little burns peppered his face.

“What happened to you?” She approached with her hands up so he could see she didn't mean him any harm. “Where have you been?”

“Akhar,” he muttered.

“I don't understand.” She stopped inches from him. “We should get you home. You're sick and hurt.”

Wystan sheathed his knife and came closer. The feral look in Tell's eyes returned and he snarled.

A pang struck Sylvie.
He's turning.
“Wystan only wants to help. He's concerned about you, Tell. Eban will be here soon too. We're all worried.”

Tell dropped to his knees. “Father's in danger. Akhar tricked him. You have to send Dochi to warn him.”

Eban came from around the corner of a building with his medical bag in hand. “What happened?”

“Found him like this, raving about a demon named Akhar. When I try to get close to him, he wants to rip my head off.” Wystan's face creased in a frown. “We need to get him away from here.”

“You have to come along peacefully.” Sylvie rested her hand on top of Tell's head. “You trust me, don't you?”

Tell met her gaze. His eyes were bloodshot, his expression broken. “We're all in danger.”

“I know, but your brothers will fix it.” Sweat dampened his hair and his limbs trembled. Her heart almost shattered. She'd never seen him look so undone. “Come with me.”

His shoulders slumped. “There's no safe place. It's burning and the angel is smiling, but she knows it's too late. She didn't mean to, not like this, but there's no going back when the words are on your tongue.”

Sylvie drew her hand back and slapped him across the cheek. Her palm stung with the force.

Tell blinked and shook his head.

“You're going to say something that will give all of you away if you don't come home this instant,” she warned. “Do you want that on your conscience too?”

“Sylvie,” Eban said.

Tell got his legs under him and rose, but he staggered. He braced his arm against Eban's shoulder. “Send Dochi to Father. Akhar is coming for blood.”

Eban's face paled. “Wys, do I stay or do we go?”

“Go. Akhar's powerful. Help Father.” Tell took two shaky steps to Sylvie. “She'll keep me safe till you get back.”

“Dochi can take us to Tell's house. We'll be fine,” Sylvie agreed. “He needs rest.”

Wystan hesitated. “Rhia won't like it.”

“Rhia's busy with the kids. She won't know until later.” Dishonesty wasn't her best bet with her sister, but she was more concerned about Tell at the moment.

“It can't wait.” Eban looked torn. “Father may need us.”

Wystan looked between Sylvie and Tell. “We'll go to Father. You need something, you send Dochi, understand?”

“I promise,” Sylvie said. “Be careful.”

Wystan turned and addressed the spectators. “There's nothing to see here. Tell's suffering from a night at the saloon and it's punishment enough. You all move along and go about your business.”

His size and the firmness of his tone were enough to drive most people away. He and Eban left together, the opposite direction to be of any help in getting Tell home.

Dochi crouched at Sylvie's feet. “We can go behind the building and disappear. Dochi can help.”

“Let's do that. Tell's not walking from here on his own.”

“I'm fine,” he muttered. His eyes were clearer, his pupils solid black again, but his expression was dark. “I should have gone with them.”

His belt was empty and the knife was missing again.

“You don't even have a weapon. You'd be more of a hindrance than a help.”

“They didn't see Akhar.” He wiggled his fingers. “I think he took the fire. He'll use it and burn the Gray Lands to ash.”

Like drunks, they staggered away from the statue and into the shade between two buildings. Dochi clasped her skirt and Tell's leg. The streets vanished, replaced by the walls of Tell's bedroom.

He groaned and collapsed on the bed, pulling Sylvie down beside him.

She pressed her hands to either side of his face. “Your skin is clammy. Dochi, get him some water, please.”

“I don't need water. I need to make sure we're safe here.” He struggled against her. “I need to know that Father and my brothers are safe.”

“There's nothing you can do for them. They want you here.”

“What about their wives? You think Rhia and Beryl want their husbands dead or taken captive in Hell? I can't sit here and
hope
they might come back.” Tell shoved his hands through his hair. “You don't understand any of this. Why am I even talking to you?”

Sylvie jerked back. “I don't? Do you think I'm some oblivious out of towner who's wearing blinders while demons are trying to destroy our lives? I see what's going on and it scares the hell out of me. Whatever is happening—whoever is threatening us—you can't stop them on your own. They're doing something to you, whether it's because of your curse or not. The best thing you can do is avoid anyone who might want to cause you harm.”

The hunted animal look returned to his eyes. His pupils were huge, almost swallowing the blue of his irises. Pale, worn, and shaking, he clasped his hands together. “I can't sit by while everything we know falls apart.”

“You've done all you can to protect it to this point. Now you have to trust your brothers.”

Dochi waddled into the room with a tin cup of water. “Master Tell needs rest.”

“You're right.” She took the cup from him and held it out to Tell. “You're a good friend to help Tell, Dochi. Perhaps he'll realize we have the best intentions toward him.”

“No rest for the wicked,” he muttered. “I think we can all agree I'm the worst thing in this room.” His shoulders slumped as he took the cup. Tell drained the water from it and thrust it back at Dochi. “Will you two leave me alone?”

“We want to help.” She tugged at his singed shirt. “Give me a few minutes to heat up some water. You'll feel better once the worst of the dirt is gone.”

“I don't know if I'll ever feel better.” He closed his eyes and cradled his head in his hands, as he rested his elbows on his knees. “He took it from me. The fire's cold, gone. He took it and intended to kill me with it.”

“You're a survivor, you made it back here. You've always taken care of me when I needed it. For once, let me take care of you.” She rested her hand on top of his head. “I can't make everything all right, but I'll do my best.”

He stared at her between his burnt fingers. “If you get hurt in the process?”

“I won't care because I will have done everything I can to help my friend.”

Tell sighed then slouched lower. “Can't do that to you, Sylv. Go home. Rhia and the kids will need you.”

“What if I need you?” She lowered herself to her knees. “What if I've needed you since the day you pulled me out of Eban's cellar when we thought Rhia was gone?”

“You don't need someone like me. I'm a half demon. I'm evil. I'm going to destroy everything according to Meacham.” Something wet hit his filthy denim-covered leg.

She pulled his hands away from his face. Tears cut paths through the grime on his cheeks. The despair in his eyes gave them a flat, dull, hopeless appearance. They were more stormy gray than the bright blue she loved. Tell looked as though the life was draining out of him.

Wys and Eban better kill Akhar or I'll find him myself.