Wystan (15 page)

“Are you going?” she asked in a small voice.

“Not yet.” He lifted a clean dishtowel from a stack on a shelf and dipped it in a bucket of water she'd pumped from the town well earlier. He crossed the room again and nudged her legs apart. With gentle strokes, he cleaned her and she flushed, pleased by his attentiveness.

“Sylvie might be back soon,” he reminded her.

“Oh.” Lost in his ministrations, she nodded absently. His words sank in and she sat up in alarm. “You're right. I didn't think. What if she sees?”

“I'll leave as soon as I'm dressed. She won't suspect anything.” Wystan ran a hand through his tousled hair and then used the other side of the cloth to wipe himself off. He looked at her again and his expression softened. “Rhia—”

“Don't say anything. Not about how it was wonderful or how you're sorry it happened. Just…let me have this. I know you have regrets about allowing us to stay. I don't expect anything from you, Wystan.” She tried to save her pride before he had a chance to wreck it. She rose from the bed and gathered her clothing. There was a wobbliness in her legs that hadn't been there before, and one glance at Wystan's naked form made it worse.

“I wasn't going to say either of those things.” He frowned. “It wasn't my plan to come here and seduce you. I hope you don't regret laying with me.”

There was an emphasis on the last word that yanked at her heart.
Me.
A word that described his demon blood. The part of him that meant to capture human souls for torture in Hell. But she didn't see that in him at all.

“I don't regret anything.”

“Good.” He retrieved his clothes, dressing as he watched her put her clothes to rights. “I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good day with the kids.”

She followed him to the front door and before he opened it, he brushed his lips across hers. Wystan didn't look back as he crossed the street.

This wasn't why she'd come to Berner. She'd turned Eban away when he offered her security. What was it about Wystan that made her want to throw away her caution to be in his arms?

Chapter Sixteen

Wystan slept at the jail, partly because he'd never bothered with real living quarters once the curse went into effect and partly because it was brick, stone and iron, which made it defendable.

The bunks inside the cells weren't much, but he'd learned to sleep anywhere over the years, in short blocks of time. Thanks to his demon ancestry, he didn't require as much sleep as a human. He stared up at the ceiling, indulging in his memories of Rhia's satin-smooth skin. Her swollen lips and passion-flushed face. The sweet flowery scent that surrounded her whether she was working her garden or wrapped in his arms. No wonder Eban had tried to talk her into marrying him.

Dammit, he'd have to do something about it. They could hide what they'd done, but Eban deserved to know that he felt something for Rhia. The thought drew him up short.

Did he have feelings for Rhia that went deeper than lust? After all the years of avoiding humans, had he fallen in love with one like his father had?

No. Impossible. He didn't love anyone besides his brothers and that was questionable on any given day. He was taken in by the freckles, by her stubborn attitude, and the body she hid under her prim schoolmistress clothes.

Wystan closed his eyes, willing away the vision of Rhia's face. He almost managed to drift off, though she wasn't completely banished from his mind.

Something struck the building with enough force to make it tremble. Dust rained down on him. He leaped to his feet, drawing the bowie knife at his side. The temperature in the room soared.

“Peace, Heckmaster.” A voice emerged from a rippling curtain that opened from thin air. A body followed, dressed in dark trousers, a white shirt, a dark-gray waistcoat, and a small but gleaming crown. Thick blond hair flowed over the man's shoulders, rippling in an ethereal form like the curtain. He looked no older than Wystan, but the millennia had been kind to him. They often were to demons who could take any form they pleased. Especially princes of Hell.

“Jesus, Seere. Are you trying to get stabbed?” Wystan tucked the knife back into its sheath. “I thought Astaroth—”

“Use his name sparingly. And my title is
prince
. You will respect that.” Seere stepped forward and the curtain vanished.

Though he was an infrequent visitor to Berner, he never failed to catch the eyes of the succubi, who fawned over him. In general, he made a nuisance of himself. But Wystan was a lowly half demon who didn't even have his own legion, and he couldn't banish Seere.

On top of that, he owed the prince for the knife, the saber, and the crossbow they used to defend against Astaroth's scourge. Seere could find any treasure in minutes and deliver it at the request of a conjurer. One of Wystan's worst fears was that someday Astaroth would break free, summon Seere and strip the Heckmasters of the weapons.

“What brings you to this side of Hell, my liege?” He refused to bow and saw a tick of anger on Seere's face.

“A warning.”

Wystan waited, but it seemed that Seere wanted him to grovel for the information. “All right, our old friend is up to something. Care to indulge a pathetic servant with the fine details?”

“His legion is scattered across the states and territories. He's got them searching for souls. One soul in particular. Seems a woman has eluded one of his chief deputies and the demon is angry over it. You remember Noem?” A cool smile lit Seere's features. “I believe you tangled with him a few years ago.”

Wystan gritted his teeth. The scar on his side burned as he remembered the power the chief demon wielded. “He made my knife almost as useful as a splinter. Heng and Tell took care of him.”

“Heng.” Seere snorted. “A forgotten deity. Isn't that how he came to be here?”

“He's useful in a fight.” Unlike “good” demons who chose to stay out of the battles altogether unless they found it benefited them somehow.

“Tell wounded Noem, yes. But he has the favor of Astaroth and with it the power to change forms. He's been residing in Nebraska where he wasn't likely to incur another taste of Heckmaster steel. Not until he had enough power to face you again.” Seere pulled on the chain of his pocket watch, giving the face a glance. “He's chasing a mortal woman and her sister, drove them here through deceptive means, and the Gray Side has become aware of the conflict.”

Gray Side was a reference to the supernatural entities like Seere who preferred not to dirty their hands. They weren't good, but they weren't bad—just indifferent to either side. Unless they wanted something, and eventually Seere would collect.

“Noem is after Rhia.”

“Rhia and Sylvia. Charming names.” Seere smiled. “You can see how stupid Noem is for pushing them this way.”

Wystan didn't have the first idea what the prince was talking about. “What's Astaroth's interest in the Dukes?”

“Noem's new form isn't as handsome as it used to be before the human had a run-in with him. She maimed him and ran. Astaroth is tired of Noem playing around and won't give him another vessel until he catches them both. The Gray Side sent them a protector and Noem lost the trail for a while, but he orchestrated Rhia's arrival in Berner and he intends to kill them. The protector too, as a bonus. She defied Astaroth in the past.”

Wystan felt as though he'd been trampled by another changesteed. “Beryl's the protector.”

“If you like.” Seere tapped his toe against the floorboards. “Fair warning, Heckmaster. Noem's coming. He thinks you're weak because of the last fight and he knows the woman has driven a wedge between you and Eban. Tell and Heng won't be enough to save you this time. Victory will require a triad. Oh, and there's a minion on the roof coming for you.”

The rippling curtain appeared again before Wystan could respond. Seere stepped back and vanished. There was no crash or dust this time, and he realized Seere hadn't caused that. It was the minion. No sooner than his knife was out, the thing dropped through the roof, landing in front of him.

The ursa demon, named for the creature it most resembled, wore no human form, just the bulk of a skinned bear with five-inch fangs, tiny red eyes, and claws with serrated edges. Trust Seere to disappear before the fun started. The minion roared fit to deafen Wystan, but he wasn't discouraged by its ugly face or the noise.

It circled him as if he was a wounded deer and it was a mountain lion toying with his fear. Except Wystan would have to know fear before that trick worked. When it reared up on its short hind legs, he rushed forward, burying the thick blade of the bowie knife in its throat. It screamed in pain, a shriller noise than the roar, and wrapped its forearms around him.

He was tall, but it was taller upright and it lifted him from the ground, crushing him to its chest. He got a face full of stinking offal that passed for demon blood as a reward. His ribs popped as it bear-hugged him and he struggled to pull the knife free of its gullet.

Rhia with her rifle would be a help right now. Or Tell and a bolt, or Eban and his saber. Not because he needed help, but a distraction wouldn't go amiss. They seldom arrived when it was convenient, so Wystan tore the knife free of the minion's flesh and rammed it through the bottom of its mouth and the upper portion of its skull. With its jaws pinned, it wasn't able to scream. It dropped Wystan and tore at its muzzle.

After he regained his balance, Wystan dove for his desk and ripped a drawer out. The contents clattered around him, but he found the vial he wanted. The minion turned to him, knife sticking out of its head like an obscene native piercing. It might not have a mouth to devour him, but it still had wicked claws.

Wystan snapped the top off the vial and threw the contents at the minion. Some of it splashed on his hand and he hissed in pain, dropping the tube, which shattered on the floor. The noise the demon made filled the small interior of the jail, and the floorboards under Wystan's knees shook with the vibration. He clamped his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. When the noise stopped, it left his ears ringing. The smell of sulfur hung in the air despite the massive hole in the roof.

A sizzling scorch mark was all that remained of the ursa demon. Wystan retrieved his knife and wiped the crust of charred blood on his pant leg. His hand stung where the holy water had burned him, but he'd come out of the fight in better shape than Astaroth's minion.

The door opened and the first thing Wystan saw was the blade of Eban's saber. Tell's crossbow rose over that, both at the ready.

“You're late.” Wystan leaned against his desk and tried to catch his breath. He didn't age as fast as humans, but it seemed that every skirmish took a toll.

“What the hell?” Eban stared up at the place where the roof had been.

“I had a couple of visitors. Seere and a minion.”

Tell turned away from the hole. “Seere brought a minion?”

“No. It arrived right before he did, but he held it off until he left. Kind of him, don't you think?” Wystan rubbed his hand, wincing at the blisters on it. They were already oozing, raw and hot as coals. Eban noticed, because he had that uncanny sense for wounded creatures, and slapped Wystan's hand away to do his own prodding.

When Wystan looked into his younger brother's face and saw the concern there, he felt the heavy weight of guilt. He'd betrayed Eban for Rhia and Eban wasn't aware of it yet. As much as he wanted to pretend his life could someday be ordinary, as long as he was wearing Astaroth's target, he could never have a place for her in his heart.

“I have salve at the clinic,” Eban said quietly. “It must have been close if you brought out the holy water.”

His brother's comment was the tipping point for his temper. “You still think this is a good place for humans? Minions stomping through roofs and princes of Hell opening gateways to the under realm on a whim?”

“Wys.” Tell glowered at him. “Leave Eban out of this. It's a fight Astaroth wants. He has you and me to contend with.”

“Seere came to tell us something. Noem's coming. He found Rhia in Nebraska and she did something to scar him badly. He wants her blood. Sylvie and Beryl's too.”

His brothers stared at him, then gave each other a silent look.

“What does Beryl have to do with it?” Tell asked.

“He said she's from the Gray Side. She shielded the Dukes from Noem and his legion.”

Eban's eyes rounded. “That's why Tell couldn't figure her out. But it doesn't explain why she couldn't remember it.”

“Seere didn't offer any insights. He mentioned Noem driving Rhia this way for a reason. Something to do with her name.”

“Rhea was the mother of Zeus in Greek mythology. Rhea Sylvia was the mother of Romulus and Remus in Roman myth.” Eban shrugged. “Our Rhia is mortal and doesn't have any traits of a deity.”

Wystan bit his tongue at Eban's choice of words. Rhia wasn't communal property. She had the gumption to make her own choices and it wasn't Eban.

“But Rhea Sylvia. We have both of them here,” Tell pointed out. “One birthed a powerful god, another's sons founded Rome. Despite all of Wystan's attempts, Rhia's bringing Berner together. Trying to bring new life into it. Is it—no, can't be.”

He shook his head.

“What?” Eban asked.

Tell shrugged. “Fate. Destiny. The way things are
supposed
to be. Sounds stupider out loud than inside my head.”

They looked at Wystan as though he got the final say in what was going on in town. He didn't have any answers.

“Stranger things have happened.” Eban looked at the hole again. “So we have to protect two humans and a female demon from the Gray Side against Noem.”

Wystan nodded. “You go back to the clinic and ask Beryl about her association with the Gray Side. See if that brings back any memories and maybe the answer to why she couldn't remember them.”

“What are the two of you doing?” Eban picked up his saber, sliding it into the sheath at his side.

“Tell, ride out to the Pit. The ursa demon was alone, but it doesn't mean there aren't others lurking out there somewhere. I'll keep an eye on the school tonight. Seere wouldn't pass along useless information, so it's safe to assume Noem hasn't arrived yet.”

Eban thumped Wystan's back. “Tell Rhia not to worry. We're not going to let Noem get her or Sylvie.”

Wystan opened his mouth to admit what he'd done, but Eban walked out of the jailhouse, new purpose in his stride. Tell studied Wystan.

“You slept with her. Dammit, Wys, you know how Eban feels about her. I've always known you were an ass, but this trumps everything you've ever done. You didn't even have the courage to admit your mistake.”

Tell might as well have punched him. The truth was obvious to his youngest brother. There were no secrets with Tell Heckmaster around.

“I'll talk to him, but now isn't the right time.” He scratched at the welts on his hand, grateful for the burning itch that almost blotted out his guilt.

“You'd better, or I will. He's going to leave for sure. Jesus. A human, Wystan. All that preaching against them and you have sex with the first one that comes along. That's low, even for you.” Tell's eyes blazed. “Do you love her?”

“No! I—shit, Tell. I don't know. She's not like the humans that betrayed our mother. Rhia's different.” He'd punch himself if he admitted out loud that she was kind and gentle. This was no time to wax poetic.

“You'd better figure this out.” Tell didn't offer any parting words, just turned and left.

It took Wystan several minutes before he felt collected enough to leave the shattered jail. For the first time since he was ten years old, he was uncertain of what was about to happen, of what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. On one hand, Rhia hadn't protested their coupling, though she'd stated she didn't want to marry. On the other, he was a half demon. Their children would be quarter and it was no easy life. Especially in a place like this.