Tell (9 page)

“I'm going downstairs to put a note in the window to let everyone know the shop will be closed for a while. I'll get the broom and dustpan. You sit down and don't worry about a thing.” She directed him to another empty crate. “I'm sure Rhia will be here soon with some things to make it more comfortable up here.”

“I'm sorry. This is… Nothing is going the way I thought. I've spent the last eight years searching for some way to get rid of the curse and I haven't turned up a single damn thing that's any use.” Tell gripped her hand. “Then I had a dream about Sandra. She said the book she used is here somewhere. Maybe one of these is it. Or maybe I'm making the whole thing up.”

“You're not making it up. The answer is out there somewhere. We'll find it.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Have some patience.”

His lips curled up. “The only thing you've ever been patient with is that sewing machine downstairs. Why should I listen to you?”

Her heart fluttered. She'd waited years for him to notice she wasn't a child anymore.
If you only knew.
“Maybe I've grown up.”

His gaze roamed over her. “Can't argue that.”

“None of that talk or Rhia will kill both of us.”

“Nah, just me. She might have her kids to look after now, but she never got over worrying about you. You've been her responsibility too long.”

“Poor woman never had a break. She went straight from raising me to Sammy and that thing he does with calling animals.”

“She loves it. Loves you. How could anyone help it?” He tugged her down beside him. “You can't help but love some people.”

Sylvie licked her lips. “I think that proves it.”

“What?”

“Proves you're not being taken over. If you were, you couldn't love anything.” She leaned closer. “Give me a list of all the things you love.”

If I were one of them, we'd really set the world on fire.
Maybe living with him wasn't her best idea. Sitting so close to him, all she wanted to do was touch every inch of his body. Kiss him, try out the things she'd read about in the book about sex she kept under her mattress.

He hesitated, lips parted. “Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

“My crossbow and bolts.”

A pang of disappointment struck her. “Go on.”

“Wystan and Eban, on certain days.”

The pained looked that crossed his face made her laugh despite her heartache. “I'm sure they'll be thrilled to hear it.”

“I loved my mother, although I barely remember her.” He lowered his gaze. “She had soft, gentle hands. I remember her soap and sometimes I swear I can hear her singing. Mostly when I've been out on the trail too long.”

“I don't remember much about mine either,” she said. “Rhia took care of me from the time I was little.”

“She did good.”

“You're getting off track. What else do you love?”

“I suppose I must have loved my father. Seems like the kind of thing a boy would do. Look up to a man who seemed—who was—larger than life.” His brow furrowed. “I'm not sure how I feel about him now. Some of the things he's into seem eerie.”

“He'd be sad to hear it. He wants the best for you, I can tell.” She brushed off her skirt. “Well, I'd better get the broom. Maybe we should send Dochi to Lois's for some food.”

“Wait, I'm not done. There's one more thing I need to list.” He smoothed hair behind her ear. “I love—”

Footsteps thundered up the stairs. Tell rose and shoved her behind him.

Rhia came through the doorway. Her hazel eyes blazed. “What in the world do you think you're doing, Sylvia Duke? You can't move in with Tell and expect me to approve of it.”

Sylvie rounded Tell and faced Rhia. “It's perfectly innocent. We're not going to tumble into bed together just because we're sharing a room.” Her intentions were perfectly innocent. Mostly. She'd have to keep her hands to herself.

Rhia's brown furrowed. “That's what everyone is going to think no matter what.”

“I'm not concerned with everyone else. Just Tell and us. You're not going to sway me on it.” Sylvie squared her shoulders. “So instead of telling me I'm wrong for agreeing to it, you can help instead.”

Rhia glared at him, but her face softened when she looked at Sylvie. “I know you think this is for the best. You're smart and capable, but given the way you feel about him, doesn't a little part of you want…” She gestured at him.

“Is that what happened to you?”

“Sylvie, this is an entirely different situation than when Wystan and I got together.” Rhia lowered her gaze. “It was rushed a little.”

“A little? Oh, please. You think I don't know why you insist Sammy was born early? Everyone in this room knows he wasn't conceived on your honeymoon.”

Rhia's face paled. “That's not true.”

“I'm not an idiot, Rhia. You were never afraid of keeping knowledge from me and I know how babies are born, how long it takes for one to develop and—”

“That doesn't have anything to do with this. Unless…” Rhia reddened and she stared between them. “You aren't? Not while you were with Jeffrey?”

“No. No, no, no. I haven't touched her that way.” Tell held up his hands. “I swear.”

Sylvie pressed her hands to her face. Her skin burned hot. “
No.
This isn't about sex. It's about Seneca believing I can keep Tell from burning down the town. We're not in love.”

Liar.
Would he have admitted it if Rhia hadn't burst in?

Rhia sighed. “You can't live together like this without people talking. I forbid it. You'll never find a husband if you shack up with Tell. I'm sorry, but it's true.”

“I don't care about getting married right now. Tell's safety is important.” She wouldn't let Rhia talk her out of this. “I've made up my mind.”

“Would it make you feel better if we got married?” Tell stepped up beside her. “In name only.”

Sylvie's heart dropped. “What? No, we're not doing that.”

Wystan came through the door. “The building is still standing, so that's a good sign.”

Rhia threw up a hand to silence him. She pinned Tell with a hard stare. “Is that what you really want?”

“Father believes Sylvie will keep me from turning. Sylvie won't leave me alone, we both know that, and you want her happy and married. It's a wedding or nothing.” Tell shrugged. “There are worse people to be hitched to.”

“But what do you want, Tell?” Rhia asked.

“I admire your sister, Rhia. There's never been a day I thought I'd have to hide or run away to be rid of her. I liked it when she wanted to be my shadow. I'll take care of her as much as I can while we figure out how to stop this thing.” His face, words and manner were solemn. “I want her safe and taken care of as much as you.”

Sylvie stomped her foot. “Excuse me, but no one has actually asked if that's what I want.” She prodded his shoulder. “How about a little declaration of love, Heckmaster?”

Wystan narrowed his eyes. “It makes sense, Sylvie. You broke things off with Jeffrey and the whole town knows you've trailed Tell like a dog after a chicken since you were a kid.”

“Not because I thought I'd hound him into marriage.”

Untrue. She'd always vowed she marry a Heckmaster and once Eban proposed to Beryl, she'd set her sights on Tell. Jeffrey had been a companion, someone to do things with while Tell searched for the elusive answer to his name curse. She'd never really considered marrying Jeffrey.

Tell met her gaze. “You know I care for you, Princess. That I'd do about anything for you. Right now, we better make your sister happy.”

“Oh, yes. Let's make Rhia happy. Gosh, Rhia, I can't believe you didn't drag a preacher up here so we could settle this right now.” Sylvie drew in a deep breath. “After such a lovely proposal and everyone else deciding my fate, what else can I do but go along with this? My goodness, we'd better toddle off and find us a preacher right away.”

Tell's jaw tightened. “I think me and Sylvie need a minute.”

“Ah, honey, I think we're gonna have lots of minutes alone in the foreseeable future.” She puckered her lips. “We don't mind guests. For now, but later on we're gonna need lots and lots of privacy.”

Wystan's eyes bugged, Rhia flushed and Tell gaped.

“Let me talk to her,” Tell mumbled.

He shut the door hard as the pair left. “I know this isn't in our plans.”

“
Our
plans? We don't have plans except keeping your name-curse demon at bay. It didn't include marriage or no touching once we're married, or…or… This is not what I agreed to when I said
anything
, Tell.” She poked his chest. “I love you, but this is silly. It's too fast.”

The air stilled and all noise ceased. Sylvie clapped her hand over her mouth.

Tell's stunned look turned to a wolfish half smile. “That so?”

“You know what I mean.” She'd die if he made fun of her for saying that. Why had the L-word escaped her mouth?

“What you mean is maybe I shouldn't have mentioned that name-only part.” For a moment, he looked like his regular self. The sparkle came back into his eyes and the grin she'd grown so used to fixed firmly on his face.

She slapped his arm. “Shut up. You're impossible. I want to go back to the part where I agreed to help you ward off a demon and forget the rest of this. Please, let's drop this nonsense.”

“Too late for that. Rhia's not gonna accept this. It could be worse, right? We're good friends and yesterday's kiss proves there could be a lot more. Would it be so bad, marrying old Tell?”

The charming Heckmaster smile came through again. Sylvie closed her eyes and tilted her head back. “Can you pretend for one second this would be a dream come true for you?”

“Sylvia Duke, nothing would make me prouder than sharing my name with you. Sharing whatever kind of normalcy we can squeeze out before I explode into a demonic nightmare. That's the best I can hope for. Ain't much and it ain't really fair to you, but maybe it's enough for now. So if you'd do me the honor, please your sister and make my brothers shut their dumb mouths about how I'll never find anyone with the saint-like patience it takes to put up with me, will you marry me?”

“I don't have anything to wear,” she grumbled.

“You're worried about a dress?” He laughed. The sound rumbled in the virtually empty room. “You're a seamstress. There's got to be something here you can use. Does it matter I'm thinking a quiet ceremony with my brothers, your sister, Beryl and the kids. All right, as quiet as any Heckmaster get-together is.”

“It
matters
to me. After all the years you've known me, you think I'd throw on any old dress to get married in?”

“Don't pout. I get it, the dress is important. Fair enough.” He held up his hands to ward her off. “Pick something quick or Rhia might blame me for trying to delay this.”

“I'll be up all night sewing. This is not how I pictured the evening.” She pressed her hand to her forehead. “You still have the nice clothes you wore to Beryl's wedding, don't you?”

He groaned. “I can't believe you'd force me to wear that shirt again. It chokes me. The coat is too tight in the shoulders and don't get me started on the trousers. C'mon, Sylvie. Have a little pity on me.”

“I want photographic proof of my wedding day. You're wearing those clothes.”

“Fine way to answer a heartfelt proposal.” He sighed. “I'm sorry for this mess, if it's any consolation.”

Her frustration and worry melted as the sadness rekindled on his face. “I know. It's just…I planned things much differently. I hope you believe me when I say I'm honored to accept your proposal and I'll do my best to be a good wife, Tell.”

“I have no doubt about that. If I had to get shackled to anyone, I'm glad it's you.” His half smile returned, but it lacked solid conviction.

He spoke pretty words about being glad to share his name with her, but it wasn't what he really wanted.

It will be.

She would be such a damn good wife to him, he'd wonder why he hadn't married her sooner. Half the reason she'd allowed Jeffrey to court her was to make Tell jealous. That hadn't gone as she'd expected. Now, with a proposal in hand from the man she'd always admired, she needed to run with it.

“I have a hundred things to do. Maybe Wys and Eban can help move some of our things up here while I work on my dress. Dochi will sweep up the dust, won't you?”

Dochi, hunkered out of the lamplight, nodded. “Dochi helps.”

“Good. Then Rhia can arrange for the preacher and everything will be ready for tomorrow.”

Her stomach did another turn. Imagine that—married to the Heckmaster she'd set out to claim when she was barely old enough to think about such things.

If only the circumstances were different.

Chapter Nine

Tell tugged at the too-tight collar of his light blue shirt. Damn thing would choke him before he ever got any words out to make Sylvie his wife.

'Course, if he died, all their problems would be solved.

“You're green,” Eban said. “Are you going to be sick?”

“I can't breathe. I'm fixin' to cut all the buttons off this stupid shirt. She ever asks me to put it on again and that's it, the demon's coming out,” he whispered.

“Shut up. This is church.” Eban slapped his shoulder. “None of that talk.”

“Sylvie ever asks you to put that shirt on again and you'll probably say, ‘Yes, ma'am, happy to'.” Wystan grinned wickedly. “It bothered me some, the way you jumped right into the idea of marrying her, but I got to thinking about it. We should have seen this coming from the start. You always let her hang off you like a leaf on a tree.”

Rub it in, Wys.
“She'd have been eaten by a demon sooner or later if I hadn't watched out for her. It wasn't like she listened to Rhia or you.”

“We know the truth. Sylvie intended to marry you from the moment Astaroth stopped being a threat. This might not be quite the way she planned it, but I bet she's pleased with herself for the way it's worked out.” Wystan elbowed him. “I don't think I have to warn you about what I'll do if you upset her.”

“How about you leave my marriage to me?”

Christ, what was taking so long? Brother Redford, the Methodist preacher who'd invaded Berner to bring Christianity to the heathens, edged away from the Heckmasters. Tell seldom had anything to say to the man and after a few times of inviting him to church, Brother Redford had given up. Rhia and Beryl dragged the kids every week, and on the major holidays, Eban went along.

The chances of getting all three Heckmaster brothers in one church were slim. He hoped Sylvie appreciated the effort. Beryl, very pregnant, tried to corral her two kids along with Rhia's. The boys, Sammy and Gage, lay in the aisle, making gunfire noises as their tin soldier collections waged war. Violet slouched, half asleep, on the corner of a pew while Beryl's youngest, Jude, tugged at her necklace. Tell pitied Beryl for taking charge of all the kids. He suspected Sammy's fox lingered outside, anxious for the boy's return.

Others from town had come to watch the ceremony. Meacham with his sour-faced glamour sat near the door. Seneca sat in a row behind Beryl and the kids, as comfortable in church as any saint although with his coal-black hair, expensive clothing and handsome features, he looked every inch the sinner. Sylvie's old school friends gathered in the pews as well. Thomas Jefferson Yue and his parents sat near Meacham. A good crowd—more people than Tell had figured would come given the short notice.

The front doors opened and blinding mid-morning sunlight poured inside. A shadowy silhouette moved through. Sunlight fell on Sylvie and caught on the beads studding her crimson dress. Gold lace accented the hem of the long skirt and cuffs of her aqua-blue velvet jacket. The jacket closed around her narrow waist. Long golden-brown curls dripped down her shoulders.

“Our little Sylvie is all grown up,” Eban whispered.

Tell swallowed to loosen his dry throat. There wasn't a single sign that she'd spent the night putting the dress together. She looked fresh as a morning glory. Their gazes met and his heart tried to jump out of his chest.

“All ready, Tell?” Brother Redford asked.

He nodded because his tongue seemed stuck to the roof of his mouth. Beside him, Wystan and Eban snickered like children. Tell glowered at them.

Sylvie smiled and his ire faded. Everything around them melted into buzzing noise. She was beautiful, he'd always known that, but he wouldn't have been surprised if Heaven's angels came down and started singing her praises.

“Join us, Sylvie. Let's have a little prayer before we get started.” Brother Redford took Sylvie's elbow as she stepped up to the front of the church.

If he'd been forced to look away from her, Tell might've died. She lowered her gaze as Redford spoke to God. Then he took their hands and guided them together over his well-worn bible.

For a woman so adamant about not getting married yesterday, her beaming face showed nothing but pleasure as Redford talked of love and devotion.

“Do you, Tell Heckmaster, take Sylvie Duke to be your wife?”

He cleared his throat and found his voice. “Yep.”

Redford blinked. “Yep?”

“Uh, yes, I take her.” He pulled at his collar again. “Happy to…take her.”

To strip that provocative dress off her and uncover every inch of creamy skin.

“Do you, Sylvie, take Tell to be your husband?”

“I will,” she answered.

He tightened his fingers around hers. He was a Heckmaster, a demon slayer, a man who went his own way and killed when it was called for. Today, he became a husband.

Tell glanced toward Beryl with Gage snuggled next to her and Jude fighting for inches in her lap. Violet danced a doll across the pew in front of her while Wystan gripped the back of her dress so she wouldn't fall. Sammy squirmed on the bench, casting wistful glances at the doors.

That could be ours someday.

If Sylvie agreed to stay with him. If they found a reversal for the curse.

I need you to tell me where the book is, Sandra.

“By the power vested in me, I pronounce you man and wife.” Redford smiled at the gathered family. “I'm pleased to present Mr. and Mrs. Tell Heckmaster.”

A pinch-like pang hit Tell. Even on his wedding day, no one could say his given name. He'd hoped this day wouldn't come until after he removed the curse. Would there be anything finer than hearing his bride whisper his real name?

Sylvie squeezed his hand and tilted her head. He'd forgotten to smile as Redford presented them.

“Can we get out of here? This shirt's choking me.”

Her smile fell. “We can in a little while. Rhia made dinner for all of us. You can go to the shop and change into something that fits better, then join us.”

“I don't know. What if the fire thing flares up again while I'm around the kids?” Wys and Eban would kill him if he hurt the kids, even by accident. He'd hate himself forever if he lost it in front of his niece and nephews.

“This is a time for celebrating. We're going to have a nice time. Now come on. We have to thank your father and the others for coming. It's the proper thing to do.” She gave his hand a tug.

They made their way down the aisle together and he pasted a grin on his face as their friends came by to offer congratulations. With every handshake or salutation, Tell's anxiety faded. Until Rhia threw her arms around him and put her mouth very close to his ear.

“I've raised Sylvie since she was a toddler. She thinks she's doing this for you, because it's going to save you from some horrible thing she won't go into detail about. This is as much for her as it is for show. She loves you and you damn well better realize that's the greatest treasure you'll ever receive. Her love will save you no matter what you face. If it's the Devil, any of them, so be it. You remember Sylvie and how much she loves you.” Rhia hugged him tight. “And I love you too, for the time you carved out to make her life as wonderful as it could be in a place like this. Thank you.” She stepped back and tears glistened in her eyes.

Speechless, he could only nod.

Wystan slipped his arm around Rhia's waist. “Congratulations, little brother. Make each other happy.”

“All the Heckmaster brothers married. Who thought we'd ever see the day?” Beryl rubbed her extended stomach. “I'm so happy for you two. You're a lovely couple, aren't they, Eb?”

“If two people ever deserved to be married, it's Tell and Sylvie.” Eban grinned. “I'm starving. Are we going to eat sometime today?”

“You're starving? I'm growing two babies here.” Beryl leaned her head on his shoulder.

Sylvie's eyes widened. “You think it might be twins?”

Tell's jaw dropped. “Two little Heckmasters at once?”

“Pretty sure I'm getting two heartbeats with the stethoscope and good demon hearing,” Eban said. His grin gave away his excitement. He shared the dopey expression with Beryl.

“Congratulations.” Tell offered his hand. “Can't wait to meet them.”

Next to him, Meacham cleared his throat. He gave Eban a look that might pass for a smile in the right light. “I'd like a word with the newlyweds, if I might.”

“We should get the kids home and set the table, Wys.” Rhia nodded toward the door. “Let them have a moment with the other guests.”

He nodded and the Heckmaster clan moved outside. Only Seneca remained in the church, sitting up straight in the pew he'd chosen for the ceremony. Tell stared at the back of his head, but his father didn't move.

“Thank you for coming, Meacham.” Sylvie's tone was gracious, but held the tiniest edge.

“I didn't come to gush over how beautiful it was. You've borrowed a little time perhaps, but the task I set you is crucial to the fate of the world. You must complete the dreadnaught coats and you must prepare for what's to come. And you”—he pointed at Tell—“keep fighting it. Every inch you give it, it will take another. Stay near your wife and away from trouble. If we're all very lucky, we'll live to see those babies of your brother's born. Instead of focusing on the pleasures of your honeymoon, I'd be preparing for a war.”

“Meacham.” Seneca stood beside the red-faced demon. He'd moved so quickly and silently, Tell had missed the action altogether. “Let them enjoy the moment. It's not every day a demon—or half demon—finds the solace of love. That alone is a miracle.”

Meacham narrowed his squinty eyes. “You're a fine one to talk. I remember what they did to your wife.”

Tell's heart clenched. “Don't talk about my mother.”

“What the humans did to her is nothing compared to what that demon inside you will do to the rest of us. It ought to be a lesson that reminds everyone what happens when demons and humans mix.” Meacham scowled. “Don't forget, Sylvie, or you'll doom those you love.”

“I won't,” she whispered. Her glow vanished, replaced by pale features. “I'll start again tonight. I've nearly finished one coat.”

“One?” Meacham bared his teeth in a sneer. “I expected better of you.”

“Leave her alone or you'll be picking your ass up off the church-house floor.” The fire sparked inside Tell's chest. “She's doing the best she can.”

“We'll see how good her best is before long, I'm afraid. Good day and good luck, Heckmasters.” Meacham strode past them, his small feet barely making a sound on the floor.

“He's right. I should have been working on the coats. We'll need them if—” Sylvie hung her head. “What if he's right and everything we're doing now is for nothing?”

Seneca placed his hand on Sylvie's shoulder. “Sylvie, there's no way to predict the future. Meacham has no control over what happens. He can spout doomsday for the rest of his life and it means nothing. Tell might harness the powers he's manifested and lead a normal life. Or any demon could rise the way Astaroth tried and damn all of us. It may be important for you to finish the coats. I encourage your efforts, but don't let one bitter demon dampen this day.”

She sniffed. “You're right. I'll work as hard as I can, but I'm hoping for the best.”

“Beryl is right. It's clear you're meant to be together and you make a lovely couple. I'm reminded of my own wedding day. It's a pity Gloria missed this. She'd have made a fuss. Tell, your mother would be proud of you for making such a fine match in a beautiful, intelligent young woman. I'm proud of you as well. Welcome to the family, Sylvie, and thank you for inviting me.” Seneca gave her a little bow and moved through the door.

“Did you invite Meacham?” she asked.

“No. I take it that wasn't your idea either.”

“I suppose he thought it's fair he come since he was kind enough to issue a warning about the future.” She wrinkled her nose and stared out the open door. “I haven't forgotten the reason behind this. He can think what he likes, but I know what I'm doing.”

The abbeylubber's warnings stuck with him too. “Forget him. This might be for show, might be so Rhia feels all right about leaving us together, but from the moment you walked through those doors, I knew I'd never be able to let you go. I'm not sorry if this is the end, because it's starting out beautifully.”

She met his gaze. “The shirt is cutting off the air to your brain, Heckmaster.”

“Worth it.” He cupped her face with his hands. “You're wearing lip stain.”

A flush colored her cheeks. “So?”

“So I think you're trying to entice me into kissing you.” He ran his thumb over her lower lip. “I also think this jacket isn't covering much.” He slid his fingers across her bosom to the point where the jacket came together. One tiny hook-and-eye closure held it shut. With the flick of his thumb, the velvet parted.

Sylvie sucked in a breath and lowered her eyes. She flattened her hand against her stomach. “We're in church.”

“Fancy that.” He pushed one side of the jacket down her shoulder. As he suspected, the dress didn't have sleeves. The bodice top pushed her breasts up. The rounded mounds swelled above the beaded material. “Huh. Daring, considering where we're at. You could pop out any second.”

“Brother Redford could return any second,” she whispered.

“Wouldn't he get a surprise?” He lowered his mouth near hers. “Probably shock the poor old fella right out of his shoes.”

Her hand twisted up, sliding into the hair at the back of his head. “I thought this might wait until tonight. Maybe for a less public place.”

“But we're here now and God strike me dead if I'm ever too stupid to take advantage of any moment I might get to be this close to you.” He shivered as her fingers caressed his neck. “You're asking for trouble, rubbing my neck that way.”