Fallen Death (The Trihune Series Book 3) (9 page)

Chapter 21

ELEVEN DAYS LEFT

Sarid just wanted to get it over with. What was the sense in drawing it out? The Other could break free at any moment. It didn’t terrorize Followers on a schedule. The monster escaped when Sarid lost control. And he was slowly losing it.

Since learning Keandre was Asjhone’s son, his nightmares had changed. Every child on the playground now resembled Keandre. Sarid woke expecting to be covered in the boy’s blood. Each afternoon, before falling asleep, he’d pray for no dreams. Would work his body beyond exhaustion to help achieve it.

At night, he’d patrol with Gabe. Would kill every Fallen they came into contact with, leaving little for his
ach
to do. Yeah, Gabe wasn’t happy about that. At all.

Afterward, he’d run laps in the cemetery until his chest burned for oxygen. Did push- and pull-ups in one of the apartments; his makeshift gym, until his arms were jelly. Sprinted in the stairwell until his quads screamed.

When his body could take no more, he’d pressed a little harder before collapsing in whatever room he happened to be in, soft place to land or not, and sleep until nightfall where he’d get up and do it all over again. Twice he’d slept at the pastor’s house, taking comfort in the demon’s quiet. But that didn’t stop the nightmares, which meant they were coming from him and not the demon.

He was headed to the
choghen’s
house now for their daily discussion, or the don’t-kill-yourself-there-are-reasons-to-live-let-me-explain-them-to-you, one-sided conversations where all Sarid did was nod and try to sit—or stand or lie—in a position that didn’t make his overworked muscles seize in agony.

His Behn abilities did help him heal faster. What would take humans days to recover, took him hours. But that didn’t lessen the pain involved with the process.

A few minutes later, he drove his Hummer into the church lot—no way could he survive the two-mile walk today—and squealed to a stop. Most every parking spot was filled. Church had been over for an hour already.

Not here again. We don’t need the Righteous Man. He spouts babble from the Cursed Book, goes on and on until our ears bleed. Kill! He’s not necessary. There are plenty of RMs around. One less won’t matter. Take him to the river. Perform the ultimate baptism.

Sarid got out of the car and walked—okay, limped—around the building.

Wait. Changed my mind. Let’s stay. Have fun.

Followers were everywhere. It felt as though his lungs stopped working.

Take that one. Wrap hands around neck. Squeeze until his eyes pop. Then that one. One slice from neck to groin. Watch all her insides spill to the outside.

But he couldn’t run. Seriously, he couldn’t.

He wanted to honor his meeting with the
choghen
and this was the only time he could do it today.

Why had the pastor agreed to the time change? He had to have known this wasn’t a good idea. Sarid clenched his hands.

The Righteous Man did this on purpose. Maybe he wants to see you fail. Maybe he doesn’t realize the strength we possess. Let’s show him. Then he’ll give in to your wishes. Allow you to relinquish your promise to wait.

Sarid blinked. So the demon agreed? That they need to die?

Ooh, look at that little one’s curls. She’s like the one from the playground. Still would look better with blood dripping from—

Sarid clenched his fists.
Shut. Up.

The Other chuckled.

Sarid’s gaze finally locked onto the
choghen
, standing in the middle of what seemed to be half the town. He’d rounded the perimeter as far as he could, and then had no choice but to thread his way through, ignoring the usual stares and retreats.

So many to choose from. Won’t be picky. Look at that Follower. Hat is way too big. Trying to compete with Mr. President. Let’s give him an up and close view of what happened to the sixteenth vampire hunter. Whoa, old lady perfume. No need to say anything else. Wait, wait. That one. He’s about to croak just standing there. One slice across the jugular. It’d be a kindness. Or that girl. A kindness, too. Though most especially to her friends. Not up for killing? How about a maim? Some broken bones. A punch in the head, here. Kick to the nuts, there. Nothing major.

Almost to the pastor he caught a scent. And not the old lady’s perfume.

As if he had no choice, his head turned. He stiffened, came to an immediate stand still, locking his muscles down. Protests sounded from all around him.

Mine.

Sarid shook his head.
No. No, she’s not yours. She’ll never be yours.

Mine.
Mine. Mine.

“Stop it!”

A startled gasp broke the spell. More than one shocked and frightened Follower surrounded him. Oh. He’d spoken out loud.

“Sarid.”

Pastor Ken was at his side, hand on his arm. The demon screeched in protest before retreating. Sarid inhaled. Forced himself to not look over his shoulder. He shook his head, focused on the
choghen
.

“Why didn’t you tell me this was going on?” He was shouting. Didn’t care.

The
choghen
tilted his head. “I did. I discussed the picnic with you yesterday. You helped me set up the tent and tables.”

Sarid paused. Thought back. He did remember helping with the tent. Had listened to the pastor speak, mostly about the Creator’s stand on suicide, and Sarid had . . . tuned out. “Oh.”

“I was surprised when you called this morning, but I thought . . . had hoped . . .” The
choghen
studied Sarid’s face. “Would you like to come back later?”

“I can’t. I have to go to the HQ. Cade’s insisting.” His body protested his rigid stance. Don’t relax. Can’t look at her.

“Well, you don’t have to stay. I know this is making you uncomfortable.”

“I made a promise.”

“Yes.” The
choghen’s
smile was sad. “But I’m unable to meet with you now.” He gestured to the crowd.

Sarid lowered his gaze. Maybe he should leave. Try to come back before patrol. If things didn’t take too long with Cade and after he used the HQ’s sauna, which was a must.

“I’ll relieve you of your promise for tonight. It’s okay.”

He frowned. Opened his mouth.

Asjhone’s inhale was sharp.

His head whipped around, automatically focusing on her location twenty feet away. Her hand was raised to her mouth, eyes wide. He followed her gaze. Keandre ran across the lawn. Chased after a dog heading right toward the parking lot where a car had just started.

Sarid wasn’t even conscious of making a decision until he was already moving across the grass, sore muscles forgotten. He managed to hold on to some sense of decorum and didn’t use his Behn speed. But just barely. His gaze bounced from Keandre to the dog to the car who’s reverse lights just lit.

“Keandre! Stop!” Asjhone screamed.

The boy didn’t respond.

Dog was on the pavement now.

The car’s brake lights went off.

Dog zoomed behind the car. Safe.

Keandre was five seconds slower than the dog.

The car began to back up.

With a burst of speed, Sarid scooped the boy into his arms and one-eightied. The car barely missed his legs.

The driver slammed on its brakes. Sarid set Keandre, wide-eyed, onto the grass.

“You’re okay.” Sarid hesitated only a moment, before running his hand over the top of Keandre’s head.

The car door opened.

A low growl rumbled in his chest. Sarid whirled to the driver, a young woman. A teenager.

“Did you even look behind you before you backed up?”

She paled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see—”

She was going to hurt the boy. Swift punch to the neck. Asphyxiation!

“Exactly. You didn’t see because you didn’t look. You could’ve killed the boy!” A red haze fell over his vision.

Place one hand on her jawline, the other at the back of her neck. Twist!

Tears filled the girl’s eyes, slipped down her cheeks. “I’m-I’m—” She focused on Sarid. Mouth dropped open. She retreated. Hit the side of her car.

Hard blow to the kidneys. Internal bleeding!

Sarid stalked closer. Towered over her.

Clap our hands against her—

A warm hand settled on Sarid’s forearm. His tense frame relaxed. A long breath escaped.

“It’s all right, Sarid.” Her voice was low.

He closed his eyes to hide the demon redness. Concentrated on her hand upon his skin. She tightened her grip, pulled slightly. He took a step back, then another one.

“It’s okay, Sharon,” Asjhone said.

“I’m so sorry, Ms. Williams. I didn’t see him.” The girl’s voice broke.

Asjhone’s hand left Sarid and she hugged the girl. Sarid wanted to pull her back. He clenched his hands.

Keandre sat on the grass, watching his mother. The
choghen
and a few other Followers congregated around the boy. The dog, now leashed, was with its owner a few feet away. The pastor lifted his head, met Sarid’s gaze, and dipped his head once.

Sarid frowned. Glanced at the still gathering crowd of Followers. Some stared at him, but not in fear. No, they were smiling.

Whispers reached his ear. “He was the one who saved Keandre.”

“He grabbed him right before the car hit.”

“Thank the Lord he was here.”

Sarid pivoted. He had to get out of here.

Asjhone blocked his path.

The tears in her eyes sucked the air from his lungs. He lifted his hand to—he didn’t know, caress her face, catch the one tear that fell, take her hand, pull her into his arms.

He swallowed. Backed away.

“Thank you.” Her voice trembled.

His heart clenched. What was he supposed to do?

She threw her arms around his waist. Rested her head against his chest.

He sucked in a breath, arms stiff at his side.

The demon! Panic seared him.

But the Other wasn’t agitated or screaming Mine. It was . . . calm, at peace.

What was he supposed to do? This never happened.

By the time he realized what he should, and wanted, to do, and his arms started to rise, to wrap Asjhone’s back, she pulled away, ran toward her son.

“Never, ever do that again.” Asjhone gripped Keandre in a fierce hug.

Keandre was pale. His skinny little arms practically strangled his mother’s neck.

“You scared me.”

“I’m sorry, Momma.” The boy’s words were teary.

Sarid watched mother and son. A strange emotion pierced his chest. He pushed it away. Forced himself to retreat.

“Sarid?” It was the pastor.

“I have to get out of here.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. No. I have to get out of here. I’ll come back later. Before night.” And ignoring his still aching body, he ran.

Chapter 22

“Why did we have to leave early? I wanted to stay.”

Asjhone’s hands hadn’t stopped shaking. It took two tries to get all the locks unlocked and the door opened. Why had she thought the picnic was a good idea? “You need a bath tonight. And it’s a school night.”

“I had one last night.”

“No that was Friday night.” She locked the door behind her. Doorknob. Two deadbolts. One swing lock. And the chain lock.

“You’re no fun.”

Asjhone sighed. “And you almost died today, so give me a break, okay?”

Keandre didn’t reply and Asjhone glanced at him. His eyebrows were furrowed. Dammit. Probably shouldn’t have said that.

“Can I get bubbles in my bath?”

She laughed, it was slightly hysterical. “Yes. Now go play in your room. Dinner won’t take long.”

Later that night the phone rang. Asjhone was in the bathroom stuffing Keandre’s water toys back into the suctioned-cup hammock holder attached to the wall.

“Asjhone, this is Pastor Ken. How’s Keandre? And you?”

“He acts like nothing happened. Was upset we left early. I’m . . . okay.”

“Of course, you’re not. That was a scary incident. Children are resilient. They brush themselves off and keep going after a tragedy. For adults, who see all possible outcomes of a situation, it’s a bit harder. But it’s important to recognize and admit your feelings. Don’t push them away or belittle them. It’s not healthy.”

Tears pricked her eyes. She closed her lids and pinched the bridge of her nose. It was nice having someone who cared.

“I’m sorry,” the pastor said into the silence. “Didn’t mean to slip into sermon-mode.”

She cleared her throat. “No. Not at all. You’re right. And thank you for calling. It’s nice of you.”

“I’m here whenever you need me. Please don’t wait for a call next time. You have my number?”

Asjhone nodded, then realized he couldn’t see her. “I do.”

“Good.” He paused. “That’s not my only reason for calling. You left so fast, you forgot your dishes. By the way, your fried chicken was outstanding. There wasn’t one piece left. A shame, too. I was hoping for leftovers.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. And I’d be happy to make you some. Or invite you over the next time I make it.”

“Now that’s an invitation I wouldn’t refuse.”

“And don’t worry about the dishes. I can pick them up tomorrow. You’re still able to watch Keandre after school, right?”

“Yes, but I’ve sent someone over to return the dishes to you.”

“Oh. You didn’t have to do that.”

“No trouble. He was here anyway. Was headed your way.”

Asjhone stilled. “He?”

“Sarid.”

“Sarid?” Her voice squeaked. “You told him where I lived? You gave him my address? He’s coming here?”

“Asjhone, I—”

“But, why? Why would you do that? Why would you give him my address?” She could barely hear herself. Blood pounded in her ear. It felt as if her whole body was vibrating.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d be upset. After this afternoon, I thought you were over your misgivings. Your name was in the church directory, so I figured—” he released a breath. “I’m sorry, Asjhone. Let me call him. Tell him not to come.”

The church directory. Of course that would come back to haunt her. The only way to get a copy of the directory was if she put her name in it, and when they first moved to the area, she needed one to find a babysitter for Keandre. It was how she found Mrs. B.

Did that mean Sarid was in the directory?

“Monsters are all around, Asjhone. Even inside us. But not all are evil.”

“What? Why would you say that to me? What are you talking about?” There was a knock on the door. She froze, inhaled sharply.

The pastor was speaking again. She didn’t register a single word.

“He’s here.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

The pastor paused in mid-sentence. “What was that?”

She cleared her throat. “He’s here.” Her words trembled and she was embarrassed. Then angry that she was embarrassed because this was all the pastor’s fault.

Why had he given out her address?

“Don’t open the door. Let me call him. I’ll tell him you’re indisposed. He can leave the dishes on the floor.”

Yes. Yes, she wanted him to do that. So she could stay safe behind her locked door and windows. Safe.

Another knock.

She jumped.

Keep her son safe, too.

Like Sarid had done earlier today.

What would’ve happened if Sarid hadn’t gotten there so fast?

It was too easy to picture. If Sarid hadn’t been there, she wouldn’t be in her apartment right now. Best-case scenario she’d be in the hospital next to Keandre’s bed, holding his hand, listening and processing the different beeps from the machines connected to his little body.

Third knock.

She owed Sarid so much more than hiding in her house. “It’s fine, Pastor. Thank you for calling.” Asjhone hung up, only feeling the teensy bit guilty when she hit the end button in the middle of him speaking.

On her way to the door, she wiped her palms on her pant legs. Her shaking hands had returned and the locks took forever to unlatch, but then the door was open. She inhaled. Had he always taken up so much space?

The width of his shoulders practically matched the size of her doorway. His head almost reached the top of the doorframe. She didn’t remember what he was wearing at the picnic, but he now wore a black leather jacket with a white shirt that did nothing to hide the muscles in his chest or stomach. His jeans looked worn. Frayed at the bottom hem. He wore a pair of boots that definitely had mud play dates
. He
was a historian?

Focus, Asjhone.

Heat filled her cheeks. How long had she stood there checking him out? Her eyes lifted quickly—great, he probably thought she was looking at his package. Although, now she was thinking of his package and what she’d seen at the hospital—ah, stop it.

Wait a minute. He was doing the same to her. Not checking out her package, but checking
her
out. His gaze roamed slowly over her body.

Did he like what he saw? She cringed. Seriously? Just a minute ago, she freaked about opening the door and now was worried about her appearance.

A quick glance down. Maroon cotton stretch pants. Long-sleeved black V-neck T-shirt with wet spots from Keandre splashing. Bare feet.

Not the most flattering. She crossed her arms over her chest.

His eyes lifted to hers. He cleared his throat. Shuffled from side to side, then thrust out his hand. “Here.”

Asjhone took the containers. Someone had cleaned them. Probably one of the seniors. “Thank you. You didn’t have to go to the trouble of bringing them by.”

He shrugged, shoved his hands in his jeans pocket, rocked back on his heels.

Okay, this was awkward. Why had she worried about opening the door to this man? “Well—”

“Mr. Sarid!” Keandre ran around the corner, charging toward them. A blur of blue superman pajamas and fresh clean smell. He careened around Asjhone and hurled himself at Sarid’s legs.

Sarid froze. Eyes wide with panic.

She’d done practically the same thing at the picnic. Beyond relieved that her son was safe, alive, and unhurt she had, without thinking, threw her arms around Sarid. He’d stiffened then, too.

“Lil’ man,” she started.

But Sarid slowly brought his hand down on Keandre’s back. Glanced to her quickly, as if asking for permission. She smiled, nodded. Relief and something else crossed over his features.

He started to bring his other arm around when Keandre hopped back, grabbed Sarid’s hand, and yanked on it. “Read me a story.”

“Keandre,” Asjhone admonished.

“Please,” Keandre added.

“Is that how you ask a question?”

“Will you read me a story, Mr. Sarid?” Keandre, still holding Sarid’s hand, jumped up and down. “Please. Please. Please.”

“Really, stop pulling on the man’s hand.”

Her son let go, but didn’t stop bouncing.

“Why are you acting so crazy? It’s like you just ate a bunch of candy.” She lifted her gaze, a small smile on her lips. Sarid was watching her. Expression, again, hard to read. Probably didn’t have kids. Asjhone had been a mother for seven years and sometimes thought the zoo would be a calmer place to live.

“May I?” he blurted out.

Surprise filled her, then she processed what Keandre had said. He’d asked Sarid to come inside. A man, a very large man. Into his bedroom. To sit next to him.

Emotions ran through her, none as big as the fear that speared her heart into gear.

This was too soon. The picnic was her small starting point. To bring her back from the ledge of complete paranoia.

Look how that turned out.

This? Was too much too soon.

“Please, Momma. Please can he come in?” He glanced up at her, using his Shrek-cat impersonation. In his gaze, she found her courage.

“Okay. One story.”

He grinned.

“And be polite.”

“I will,” he said quickly, then grabbed Sarid’s hand, pulled him into the house, and around the corner toward his room. “Come on, Mr. Sarid. My room’s this way.”

Asjhone watched them, her smile falling. She closed the door, hesitated, then threw the two deadbolts, swing lock, and chain lock. Her anxiety deepened. The kitchen windows were first. Then the dining room. Front room.

Finished, she stood in the middle of the front room, listened to the deep timbre coming down the hall. She couldn’t completely hear his words, but the tone, it was . . . not completely scary.

Find something to do. The bathroom. She’d been cleaning it when the pastor called.

The window was checked first. Then she drained the tub. Hung up the towels. Keandre had smeared toothpaste on the counter when he brushed his teeth. A quick wipe to the counters. Toothbrush back in its holder. Light off. Return to the front room. Now what? She sat on the couch. Rose to her feet.

Went into the kitchen. Washed the already clean containers Sarid brought her. Dried them. Put them away.

Front room again. On the couch.

Tynice’s novel lay on the coffee table. She opened it. Relaxed into the cushion.

Keandre laughed. A high-pitch giggle that always brought a smile to her face. Then Sarid spoke. A different warmth filled her.

No. Stop it.

With a grimace, she pulled the book in front of her face. Tried to concentrate. Forced Jules and Dalton’s banter to suck her in.

Another laugh. The rich and low voice.

Ugh. She threw the book on the couch, pressed her palms over her eyes. What was happening?

She wrapped her arms around her chest, bent forward until her forehead rested on her knees. A long inhale.

What were these feelings? What did her instincts say about Sarid?

She continued to breathe deep, tuning out the sounds from down the hall, searching her mind. Thoughts came and went. Images, too. Of Sarid. When they first met. At the pastor’s house. The picnic. His interactions with Keandre. She focused on breathing. Staying detached. Gathering facts. Dissecting her emotions. Especially how he made her feel. Searching for warning bells.

“Are you all right?”

Asjhone sat up so fast her head spun. Her hand gripped the arm of the couch. She stayed still until the dizziness passed. Sarid was in front of her, on the other side of the coffee table. Their gazes caught. Held. There was that heat again, except it was hotter than anything she’d felt in a long time. She forced her eyes away. Cleared her throat. Stood. “Story time all done?”

“Yes. You seem . . .”

Her gaze flashed back to him when he didn’t finish. “What?” Did her voice really sound that breathless? Her heart began to pound. His eyes flicked to her chest then back up. Almost as if he heard—

“Will you come tomorrow?” Keandre came into the room. “Please. You read books better than Mom does.”

“Hey,” Asjhone said, not really offended. It was probably true. By story time she was more than ready for the day to be over. This made her frown. She needed to spend more in-the-moment time with Keandre. Not always focused on the next to-do item.

“Sorry, Mom.” Keandre hugged her legs. “Can you, though?” he asked Sarid.

Sarid’s eyes were on her; expression, again, asking for permission. She opened her mouth, and, “Why don’t you come for dinner, too?” popped out. She bit her bottom lip.

Instant. Regret.

Sarid’s gaze roamed over her face then down to Keandre, where his features softened, then back to her. “How about dessert instead?”

Relief rushed through her. She tried to hide it. “Dessert sounds good.”

“Yeah.” Keandre threw his fist in the air.

Asjhone laughed. “Time for bed. School tomorrow.”

Keandre’s shoulders slumped. “Okay.” Then he glanced up, hopeful. “Will you tuck me in, Mr. Sarid?”

“We used enough of Mr. Sarid’s time tonight. Say goodnight, then get into bed. I’ll be right there.”

After one pitiful good bye, some shuffling feet, and a Mom-issued warning, Keandre finally left the room. Alone, face to face with Sarid, Asjhone wished she could call her son back in.