Wystan (6 page)

Rhia swallowed. All they carried for protection was a couple of bits of metal with sharp edges? Then she shook her head. Creatures like that didn't exist. Not outside of storybooks.

“The Pit,” Wystan continued, “is a deep hole about five miles from here. It's hidden by scrubby brush, cedar trees, and hard to find in broad daylight. It's home to Astaroth, the Crown Prince of Hell. Or a mere duke, if you read the
Lesser Key of Solomon
.”

“Hell?” Rhia whispered. “As in the Devil?”

Eban shook his head. “Possibly a fallen angel, but a very powerful demon. When he appears, he rides a dragon-like creature. He's incredibly smart for a demon. He can be compelled to answer any question and he always answers truthfully.”

Wystan glowered. “You make him sound like he's someone you'd buy a drink for. Astaroth isn't to be trusted. He can teach things, mathematics, equations, and yes, he always has answers, but they come with a price. He's waiting for the time when he can break the seals holding the Pit closed. The minor demons he sends are some of the few creatures that get through, but most don't make it.”

“What's keeping him inside?” Rhia didn't know why she asked. She'd vowed to keep Sylvie from any more harm and she was digging them in deeper by asking questions.

“A grimoire that Solomon wrote, which holds the seals that allow the reader to summon him. Not only him. There are seventy-one other kings, dukes, princes and presidents. He can't break the seals. He was tricked into creating them, forced inside the Pit. Because he's so damn good at solving problems, it's only a matter of time until he figures a way out.”

“What does this have to do with the town? Is he the reason all the people are gone? Why would anyone stay?” A hundred questions bubbled up in her mind followed by the need to get Sylvie and Beryl out of here.

“Most of the humans were cursed when our father failed to do Astaroth's bidding. Father tried to shield them, but it cost all his power and the townspeople turned on Ma. Father's protection spell backfired, destroyed them all. The people living here now…” Wystan laughed, a bitter, twisted sound that didn't reflect any joy. “They're escapees from the Pit or spirits that have nowhere else to go. Tell's the official bounty hunter. Tracks them down when they're sent to do Astaroth's dirty work. If they turn away from dark forces, they're welcome to stay. If not…” His fingers played across the sheath.

Drunk
, she reminded herself. The story Wystan spouted was so elaborate, so convincingly told, that she almost believed him, until she caught another whiff of whiskey.

“Wys, I think you'd better lie down.” Eban curled his hand around his brother's arm.

“She wanted to know,” Wystan said, slurring a little.

“Come on.” Eban pulled and Wystan followed.

They didn't go far, just down the hall two doors, and Rhia heard Eban talking softly. He emerged alone a few minutes later, expression somber.

“You should have him committed. He's dangerous, Eban.” She hadn't realized until she pointed at the closed door that she was shaking. Wystan had meant to frighten her and it had worked.

“It's not as far-fetched as it sounds. If you stay here, you'll learn that fast.” Eban smoothed hair back from his strained face.

“I met the Yues. They were perfectly normal people.”

“They're hearth spirits from China. They protect households that pay them tribute. There was a Chinese family in Berner before the battle, but they died. Fang and Bao Jing are corporeal now and have a son.” Eban swallowed. “Regular people can live here. Wys doesn't like them to because he's afraid the curse is too strong. He's worried a fight is coming and mortals will get in the way.”

“Mortals? Are you saying that you and he and your brother Tell are never going to die?” Rhia slouched against the wall. “He said you weren't a human doctor and I thought he meant for animals. You're…you're—”

Eban's eyes glowed more than was natural in the lamplight. “Going to die someday, just like everyone else, but we're stronger than humans. Our father was a minor demon who served Astaroth. He fell in love with a human woman. When Astaroth ordered him to kill her and collect the human souls in the town, he refused. By then he had a family to look after as well. He couldn't destroy us. Even demons can repent, and he did.”

Rhia didn't know what to say. The man who'd been so kind to them, sheltered and cared for Beryl, was part demon? She could almost believe that of Wystan. Her mind spun, struggling to accept the details.

“Tomorrow Wystan can take you to the Pit. You'll understand when you see it.”

“What if he throws me in? He can't do that, can he?” She cringed at the idea of traveling there with Wystan.

Eban smiled, but it faded quick as it had come. “Unfortunately, it is possible to throw things into the Pit. He makes a point to return carcasses to Astaroth, but I don't think he'll push you and risk leaving Sylvie without a guardian.”

Chapter Seven

“I was drunk.”

Wystan's head throbbed as a reminder of his reckless behavior. Rhia's direct stare made him feel worse. “There are no monsters here, no portal to Hell, no demons. Nice, normal people who're grateful to have a teacher in town.”

His best placatory tone made Rhia's eyes narrow until he wasn't sure she could see him behind her golden lashes. Too much apologizing, perhaps, since they'd been at odds the last two days.

“I talked it over with Beryl after Sylvie went to sleep. I have to see this pit where you keep the prince of Hell locked up.” She folded her arms under her breasts, pushing them up.

“If I told you there is no pit? It's the drunken ramblings of a man who has nightmares?” Wystan prayed God was listening, just this once.

“I wouldn't believe you. I'm a teacher—I'm very good at figuring out when students lie. Last night, I thought about every word that you and Eban said. Now I need to see the Pit.” Determination flared in her hazel eyes.

“Seeing it isn't going to change anything. There will still either be demons or not. You've seen a barghest, but you're not convinced we're telling the truth? Any sane woman would run as far as she could after hearing a story like ours.”

“It could have been a large wolf. I didn't see it clearly.”

A wolf.
He fought the urge to roll his eyes. She didn't back down and Wystan knew he was losing ground.

“There could be more of them on the trail. Alone against a pack of barghests—wolves—I don't know if I'd be able to protect you,” he warned.

“Then it's lucky I have a Springfield rifle. I can ride, Sheriff. Prepare some horses while I tell Beryl and Sylvie I'll be gone most of the day.” She turned and left him standing in the clinic's front room.

“Dammit.”

Eban wasn't anywhere to be found. He'd probably trotted off to tell the other residents that Wystan had spilled their secret. And to threaten the barkeep never to serve Wystan hard liquor again. This was half Eban's fault. If he hadn't started the talk about their sister, Wystan wouldn't have felt the need to drink those memories away.

He stomped out of the clinic, down the street to the livery where the Heckmaster horses were stabled. By the time Rhia showed up, bonnet hanging down her back from strings, he'd been waiting almost half an hour. The gleaming rifle in the crook of her arm looked out of place against her trim figure.

“I thought I should clean it first. It's been a couple of weeks.”

She raised the Springfield for his inspection. Out here, a single rifle wasn't much use against barghests and changesteeds. They were almost impervious to the effects of lead unless a bullet went through their brains. If it made her feel better to think she was bringing protection, so be it.

“We'll ride directly there, you can poke around for a few minutes, satisfy your curiosity and then we'll go.” He wouldn't take no for an answer about it. “I expect you'll want to pack your wagon and leave after. Not many people who see the Pit stay here long.”

“I'll decide after I've seen it.” Rhia gave him a hard look. “There's not much choice in where I go. I'd have to earn a wage before I considered moving on.”

Said with a tone implying she'd explained that a dozen times already. Wystan sighed and mounted his horse. The stable didn't offer sidesaddles, but Rhia didn't seem discouraged. She mounted like a man, although her skirt rode up and revealed her stocking-clad ankles. The woman had no sense of propriety. But as Wystan took in an eyeful, he didn't mind. She cast him another look that said he had no business noticing her legs. For a moment, his head ceased to pound. She had more grit than most human women and it was almost charming. The throb returned when he nudged his gelding into a trot, but the wicked gait left Rhia in a cloud of his dust. The other gelding would follow without fail. Let her catch him.

The five miles to the Pit passed in a blur of silvery sage, red rock, scuttling lizards, jackrabbits, and one six-foot diamondback rattler. The horses were used to creatures ten times more dangerous than reptiles. They barely lifted their heads at the serpent. Wystan saw Rhia shudder at the sight, but the rattler slithered on, uninterested in them.

The Pit was hidden in scrub, and a thick ring of cacti surrounded the volcanic rock that made up its outer edges. The horses shied as they approached it, nostrils flaring and eyes rolling.

“What's the matter with them?” Rhia grasped the reins firmly in hand and clenched the saddle with her knees. “They didn't blink at the snake.”

“Could be a changesteed around. They don't like the scent. Tell can smell them a mile off.” Wystan took a deep breath, but he wouldn't know until he saw it. “Remember this was
your
idea.”

Rhia drew in a breath and pursed her lips. A faint sheen of sweat stood out on her brow beneath the brim of her bonnet. A red flush covered her cheeks from the morning heat. The closer they drew to the Pit, the warmer the air grew. His father's barrier didn't protect the area from the boiling recess of Hell below.

The effects of the Pit extended to town and made growing crops nearly impossible. The supply wagon was called in once a month and good thing—he'd cut into the whiskey hard last night. The reminder throbbed behind his eyes.

A dust devil rose in front of them, throwing debris and sand at their faces.

Wystan tugged his handkerchief over his nose. “Astaroth saying
hello
. And
go away
.”

Rhia coughed, burying her nose and mouth in the crook of her elbow. The wind ripped the bonnet off her head and caused golden-brown strands of hair to fly around her face. She bent low in the saddle. The wind tugged at his hat, but the stampede strap held it in place.

As suddenly as it started, it stopped.

“All hail the mighty and powerful Astaroth,” Wystan muttered. He nudged his horse around a patch of cactus, onto a narrow path. The scrub thinned and a gaping hole opened in the earth. The barrier across it was faintly green and shiny like a soap bubble. The stench of brimstone hit Wystan's nose and he coughed.

The Pit was perhaps a hundred feet in diameter, jagged chunks of volcanic rock stood up like teeth around the edge of the hole. It resembled a ragged barghest mouth. He put his hand on the butt of his bowie knife. Wystan didn't come here often. Tell was the one who didn't mind watching the Pit for escapees. The smell didn't seem to bother him.

Charred rocks ringed the Pit, crunching beneath the horses' feet.

“It's huge. Eban said you can throw things into it.” Rhia's voice was muffled behind her sleeve.

“I always bring back the carcasses of the creatures he sends.” Not to mention dozens of whiskey bottles. He hoped they shattered as they fell, creating a shower of glass each time he threw one in. No sound reached the top of the shaft. Only a dull hum that seemed to be created by the power of the seals.

“Satisfied?” Wystan drew his horse to a stop. He wiped sweat from his brow.

“Tell me about your father.” Her request was quiet, but had force behind it. “How does a demon come to love anyone?”

Wystan clenched his teeth. “Let's talk about your father instead.”

She blinked and ducked her head. “He was a mudraker. At first. Then he bought a large newspaper in Washington, DC. Reputable, he said.” She laughed, but it was half sob. “It would have been if he hadn't taken bribes from politicians.”

“They paid him to lie about their actions.” Wystan glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

“Yes. He had enemies. Sylvie doesn't know. I told her he died in his office. It turned out that he had debts. There was no money to keep living in Virginia, so we came West.”

“Couldn't find a teaching position in the East?”

“No teaching positions, but I did find one as a housekeeper where I could bring my sister.” Her mouth tightened. “It wasn't what I thought it would be. Then there was the ad for the position here. I seem to have inherited my father's bad judgment.”

There weren't many places a person could end up worse than Berner. He couldn't deny her lack of judgment. “What about a husband?”

She shook her head. “I didn't want to marry.”

“I gathered. Does that have anything to do with Sylvie's reaction to Eban last night?” His horse shifted and Wystan leaned to accommodate the movement.

Rhia didn't answer.

“I reckon a hot hole in the ground isn't enough to convince you to leave Berner.” He touched his horse with the reins, signaling it to turn around.

“I couldn't leave if I wanted to, Sheriff. We're out of money. I hope you're planning to pay me eventually for the knowledge I'm passing on to the students. I'm good at what I do.” Her horse followed his, shoes ringing against the rocks.

“Eban thought I'd better. I'll have to run it past the townfolk, but I imagine they'll be pleased to know the school's open again.” Even if he wasn't. Couldn't trust Astaroth to send a minor demon with experience in teaching to the surface. No, they had to get their very own human in Berner.

The ground under them rumbled and cracks split the rock. Wystan's horse cried out in fright and Rhia's reared, nearly unseating her. The shield across the Pit expanded, bubbling up as though the heat beneath it was too much.

“What is it?” Rhia asked, her voice strained with fear.

Wystan freed his knife from the sheath, fighting to remain in control of his horse. The animal wanted to run and he didn't blame it. Even as the son of a demon charged with protecting what was left of the town, he didn't much want to face anything that emerged from the Pit.

Steam rose from the cracks, obscuring the barrier from view. The ground stopped quaking, but his horse whinnied in fear. Its ears swiveled and its eyes rolled.

“Rhia, look at the pretty ribbon.”

Sylvie's voice issued from the swirling steam. Rhia sat up straight in the saddle.

“What…”

Wystan reached out and grabbed her arm. “It's a changesteed. They can mimic voices,” he whispered. “Don't answer it.”

“How does it know Sylvie?”

“Can we get ice cream? Just this once? I won't ask again until I'm thirteen. Please, big sister?”

A range of emotion crossed Rhia's face. Disbelief, fear, worry, terror. Beyond the steam, something scraped against the stone. She looked at Wystan with wide eyes. He shook his head, passed her the horse's reins, and dismounted.

On the ground, he felt smaller, more vulnerable. The changesteed could see through the steam, was extremely strong, fast, cunning, and hungry. Fortunately, it had the disadvantage of being freshly discharged from Hell.

“What are you waiting for, Wys? Aren't you going to kill it?” Tell's voice rolled out of the curtain in front of the Pit.

He knew it wasn't his brother. Knew Tell was tracking a lesser demon who'd arrived last week.

“Come on out. No need to play games.” He gripped the knife loosely and took a step forward. “I know you just got here, but it's never too soon to go home again.”

“Wys, don't be that way.” The changesteed was remarkably convincing. “You wouldn't threaten your little brother.”

Wystan sneered. “You don't know me that well, do you?”

“Sheriff?” Rhia's voice cracked. “We should go.”

It stepped out of the vapor, six feet tall at its sloping shoulders. A wide mouth gaped with uneven teeth. Big eyes bulged from its face and pointed ears pricked forward. Its long legs carried it over the rocky ground without breaking stride. Cloven hooves clacked on the stone.

“Wystan. Astaroth sends warm regards.” A deep, gravelly voice issued from the creature's throat.

The horses' hooves clattered on the rocks and one of them screamed in distress. Killing the changesteed would take more effort than a bargest. It was safer for Rhia if she wasn't around.

“Rhia, go.”

“Wys—”

He waved his arm at her. The changesteed crouched and sprang. Lifting the knife, Wystan braced for the impact of the beast. It crashed into him hard enough to take him off his feet. Sharp jags of rock bit into his back. A cloud of fetid breath clogged his nose. With all his strength, Wystan drove the knife into the changesteed's chest. The blade sliced through sinew and cartilage, but the tip stopped shy of the closest thing it had to a heart. Demons didn't have hearts, didn't require blood to circulate through their veins. Brown sludge oozed over Wystan's hands and the creature's jaws snapped. Foamy flecks of saliva dropped onto his face.

He wrenched the weapon free of the creature's chest and it sank jagged teeth into his shoulder. In response, he pushed the knife into the softer tissue below its rib cage. The changesteed yelped and turned him loose long enough for him to spill its entrails. Ichor spewed from its mouth, but it didn't stop snapping.

A shot rang out and the changesteed collapsed on top of Wystan. He craned his neck around and saw Rhia sitting calmly atop the horse, smoking rifle in her hands. The changesteed's black mouth and yellowed teeth were inches from his face. He pushed the carcass off and removed his knife from its guts.

Rhia looked down at him, expression grim. “You still think I won't fit in here?”