Fallen Death (The Trihune Series Book 3) (12 page)

Sarid blinked. “Ben’s a good name for a dog.”

“Yeah, I think so, too. Mom says we can’t get a dog because we live in an apartment. But Devan has a dog and when he has to go outside, they just put him on a leash and walk him out. I’ve done that before with Devan. It’s not hard at all. I could totally do it. Don’t you think I could do it?”

Sarid glanced at Asjhone. A myriad of emotions flashed across her face. She either wanted to laugh, get angry, or cry. “How about we clear the table and then you can show me the hero super masher in your room?”

“Okay,” Keandre laughed. “But it’s Super Hero Masher.” He picked up his half-eaten pie and almost empty glass and ran into the kitchen.

Sarid waited until he was gone before speaking. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. Sorry about that.”

He didn’t know what she was referring to, so said nothing. She reached for the dishes in his hand. “You don’t have to clean. You’re the guest.”

“I want to help.”

“You must have a good mother.”

He froze.

“To have such good manners,” she clarified, eyebrows drawn.

He forced air into his lungs. “Yes.” After collecting Asjhone’s plate and the silverware, he went into the kitchen.

Asjhone followed a few moments later with the pie. “You go ahead. There’s not much left.”

He hesitated.

“Keandre has to go to bed soon.”

“Okay, then.”

“Come on.” Keandre pulled him out of the kitchen and down the hallway. He let go at the doorway and raced into his room, sliding onto his butt in the middle of a collection of brightly colored toys. Sarid moved slower, watching where he placed his feet.

“Sit down.” Keandre patted the floor next to him.

Sarid hesitated, now unsure. The demon’s silence was unnerving. Had it ever been quiet for this long? With Elias, yes. The pastor, yes. With regular Followers? Absolutely not.

It was a trick. The demon was conserving its energy. Luring Sarid into a false sense of security. Pretending to be good. A look-at-me-I-can-sit-in-the-corner-and-not-make-any-noises ploy. Biding time until it was strong enough to break free and get to Apollyon.

“Come on. He wants to play, too.”

Sarid tilted his head. “Who wants to play?”

Keandre tapped the spot next to him again. Sarid sat. The boy moved closer, rested his elbow on Sarid’s thigh. He passed Sarid a toy. The male figurine wore a brown leather jacket and had a large silver fork attached to its wrists. The spikes jutted out past the figure’s clenched fists. It reminded Sarid of the Other’s claws.

“That’s Wolverine. He’s a good guy.”

“A good guy? With nails like these?”

Keandre giggled. “It’s how he fights the bad guys, duh.”

He glanced at the other toys on the floor. “So which ones are the bad guys?”

Sarid didn’t know how long they were in the room before Asjhone appeared in the doorway. He didn’t look up right away. The boy was in the middle of a thorough explanation.

“Even if Thor’s hammer fits on Iron Man, he can’t use it. Because he’s a god, see. Thor, not Iron Man. Iron Man is just a human under this costume. Like Batman. Although Batman can’t fly like Iron Man flies. And remember Ultron is the bad guy. So he can’t fight on the same team as Wolverine.” Keandre took a breath, reaching for a bright blue figurine.

“Time for bed, lil’ man.” Asjhone stepped into the room.

“Mooom. Sarid and I barely had any time to play.”

She crouched in front of Keandre. This brought her extremely close to Sarid. He could easily reach out and run a hand over her hair.

He caught her scent. Jasmine and chocolate.

The demon purred.

He froze.

“Sarid?” Asjhone’s voice was soft.

“Yes.” He shifted to her. Her face was only an inch away.

“Oh.” Her breath fanned across his lips.

His eyes closed. Warmth, need, hunger, desire, calm, peace radiated through him.

Keandre plopped on to his lap. His lids snapped open. Head was still turned to Asjhone. Her pupils had dilated, cheeks rosy, mouth slightly parted.

“Read me a story, Mr. Sarid.”

Asjhone cleared her throat. Her gaze slid down to Sarid’s mouth. “Manners, Keandre.”

“Please, Mr. Sarid. Will you read me a story?”

“Yes.” His voice cracked.

Asjhone was the first to look away. She rose, a bit unsteady, to her feet. “Pajamas, teeth.”

Keandre hopped out of Sarid’s lap and skipped out of the room. A second later a door closed across the hall.

The air had a charge to it. Sarid’s heart beat a little faster. Not even fear that these emotions would tempt the Other helped calm him.

“Um,” she started, bit her bottom lip, glanced around the room. She walked to the window next to Keandre’s bed. Pushed on the already locked latch and pulled on the window ledge. Lowered the shade, drew the curtain over top of it.

Sarid watched her, was reminded of the locks on her door. His eyebrows drew together. “Asjhone.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder.

“I’m ready.” Keandre bounded into the room wearing faded superman pajamas, breath minty. The boy went to his bookshelf, stood in front of it, back to room.

Sarid glanced at Asjhone. Her eyes were on him.

“Okay in here?” she asked.

“Yes.” He watched her walk from the room before turning to Keandre. The boy held out a book. Sarid read the title. “Again?”

Keandre grinned.

“Are you going to make fun of my voices like last time?”

The grin widened but he shook his head no.

“How come I don’t believe you?”

The boy giggled and climbed into bed.

An image of the demon standing over Keandre flashed into his head. Claws at the ready. Sarid’s smile fell. Hands clenched into fists.

Ten more days. He’d keep control for that long. No other option was available.

Not one single hair on the boy’s head would be harmed while he was still alive. The same for Asjhone. Protecting them from the demon would be the last good deed he accomplished. As long as he fulfilled that promise, he’d go into the grim reaper’s arms willingly.

“Here you go.” Keandre held out the book to him and patted his bed.

With less hesitation than the night before, Sarid sat on the boy’s bed. Didn’t jump when Keandre moved close to rest his head on Sarid’s arm. Although like last time, he suddenly found it difficult to form words. He cleared his throat. Opened the book.

Keandre’s lids were half closed by the time Sarid finished.

“Read another one.” Keandre pleaded, mid-yawn.

Sarid chuckled, rubbed the boy’s head. “I think it’s time for sleep.”

“I’m not tired.”

He rose, held the covers as the boy snuggled into his pillow. “Thank you.”

Keandre peered at him. “For what?”

“For allowing me to read to you. For showing me your hero super mashers.”

“Oh. You’re welcome.” Another yawn. “And it’s super hero mashers. ‘Cause their super heroes.”

“Right. I’ll have your mother come in. Have a good night, Keandre.”

Eyes closed, Keandre opened his arms.

Sarid swallowed thickly. Leaned down and hugged the boy. Keandre’s body was so small it’d hardly take any of the demon’s strength to break it in half. He shuddered, stepped away.

“Night,” Keandre said.

“Night.” Sarid’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Asjhone was in the kitchen, standing at the sink, her back to him.

“He’s ready for you.” And though he’d spoken softly, she gasped, whirled around, hand on her chest. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” He studied her face. Fear. But sadness, too. Why?

“Thanks. I’ll go tuck him in.”

Sarid moved to the front room to wait. Hands behind his back, he studied the two pictures on the wall. A headshot of Keandre, grayish-blue backdrop. The other of Asjhone and Keandre together. Keandre was in Asjhone’s lap. Their heads together. Both smiling widely. His gaze moved from one face to the other. Keandre had his mother’s chin and smile, but the rest of his features must’ve come from his father. The war hero.

The growl was low. He wasn’t sure if it was from him or the demon.

Sarid glanced around the room, wondering if he’d missed it. But, no, there were no other pictures in the room. Perhaps it was too painful to keep one of her late husband. Or maybe it was in her room. Next to her bed.

He frowned.

His gaze landed on a vase. It sat alone on a shelf near the TV. It reminded him of nineteenth century African art. He moved closer.

Asjhone came in the room. “It was my mother’s. And her mother’s before that. It goes back five generations. My mother gave it to me on my wedding day.”

Sarid glanced at her, but her focus was on the vase and he couldn’t see if this was why she was sad. Did Sarid’s presence remind her of her husband?

She lifted it from the shelf. Brushed a hand over it. “I was so happy when she gave it to me. Finally, I was part of the tradition that started so long ago.” She stared at it a moment longer then carefully set it down. “It’s the only thing I have left of my mother.”

Sarid opened his mouth. Closed it. Wished he knew the right words. She’d lost her husband and her mother. He wanted to ask about her father, but was afraid it would cause more sadness. “It’s beautiful,” he settled for, feeling the complete inadequacy of the words.

Silence descended, then, “Thank you for dessert.”

“You’re welcome. Thank you for the invite.” Should he ask if he made her sad? Reminded her of her husband? Did only friends ask those questions? Were they friends? When did someone become a friend? “I should go. Work.”

She led the way to the door. He watched her unlock the bolts. Five total. Excessive, but then she was a good mother, protective. In the hallway, he paused, met her gaze. “Can I just say something?”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Go ahead.”

“You’re great at your job. A wonderful nurse. Remember that when the doctor speaks down to you again.”

Her mouth dropped open. “How did you—”

“I noticed at the hospital.”

Heat rose in her cheeks. Her gaze fell.

“No. Don’t do that.” After a brief hesitation, he lifted her chin with his finger. “You’re not at fault. She is.” He paused. “It was you. Your voice that brought me back. Your touch that comforted.”

Breath left her mouth with a soft sound. She leaned forward.

He inhaled sharply. Didn’t dare move as she gently placed her lips against his.

It was over quick, but still the longest moment in his life. Something he’d remember forever. His lips had grown warm and he resisted the urge to touch them.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

He cleared his throat. “You’re . . . you’re welcome.”

“Will I see you again?”

“Do you want to? It seemed, sometimes . . . did I do something wrong?”

Her cheeks flushed again. “It’s not you, it’s me. I swear that’s not a line.” She shook her head. “I don’t really date.”

“Because of Keandre.”

She rubbed her eyebrows. “That’s part of it. I’ve a hard time trusting people. Myself included. Well, at least, the decisions I make.”

“I don’t understand.”

Her laugh was small, full of contempt. Again, not a favorite. “I don’t live the party life. I’m up early. In bed early. I rarely go out. When I do, it’s just for a drink with friends after work. One drink. That’s it. My hobbies include cooking and reading. I’m—”

“Perfect,” he finished.

“Boring,” she said on a sigh. “Keandre’s been my life since he was born. I’m not sure I know how to be anything other than a mother.”

“I don’t date either.”

Her gaze snapped to his.

“My . . .” Demon. “Job makes it hard. I’m not good at relationships. I tend to keep everyone at a distance. It’s safer that way.”

She nodded. “Trusting is hard.”

He didn’t correct her misinterpretation. “I’ve never dated anyone before. The closest relationship I have is to the people I work with and if you ask them, they wouldn’t say we’re close. But meeting you, allowing me to read and spend time with your son, it’s meant the world to me. Even if you asked me to go today, told me you didn’t want to see me again, I’d still get on my knees and thank you for your kindness and gentleness. I haven’t had much of that in my life. Standing in your presence, no matter how many times the Creator allows it, is a gift. One I’ll treasure forever.”

“Oh, Sarid.” Her hand pressed against his cheek, right over his scars.

He closed his eyes, leaned into her touch. Too soon her hand fell away. But then she moved closer, wrapped her arms around his back, laid her head on his chest right underneath his chin. Not wasting precious time, he hugged her back. Moved his head close to hers and inhaled.

Even the demon sighed. Though it could’ve been a softly breathed,
Mine.

No. Not going to think about that right now.

Asjhone tilted her head up. His gaze lowered to her mouth. He wanted to feel her lips upon his again.

“Yes,” she said softly.

“Yes, what?” Holy Creator he could stand right here, forever, staring at her perfect face and into her perfect eyes.

“I’m sure. I want to see you again.”