Fallen Death (The Trihune Series Book 3) (21 page)

Chapter 35

Asjhone had heard the front door open and walked over to the bar. She’d poured bourbon into a tumbler, then headed out of the room. Her movements had been slower than usual due to her seventh month belly.
Plus, she was tired.

Even with a nap in the morning and one in the afternoon, by ten o’clock at night she was beyond exhausted. From what, she didn’t know. She no longer had a job. Though growing a baby could be considered work. She rubbed a hand over her bulging stomach and smiled. “I can’t wait to meet you, lil’ person,” she whispered.

When her husband came into view, she examined his expression, gauging his mood. Her steps faltered, but she didn’t stop. Smile still in place, she rounded the dining room table, held the tumbler out in front of her. “Hello, honey. How was your day?”

“Fucking ridiculous. The judge decided to up the court date for Simonds, so now I have to do twice the fucking work in half the time.”

She made a sympathetic noise. “How about I rub your shoulders after dinner? Ease some tension.”

“I have a better way to ease tension.”

His smile hadn’t changed from when they first met. What used to make her burn, now just made her stomach turn. She offered him the bourbon. “Dinner will be ready in just a minute. It’s warming in the oven.”

He paused in the process of loosening his tie, finger between the silk fabric and the collar of his shirt. His gaze slowly lifted from the table. “What the hell is this?”

She froze. Her hands began to shake. The liquid inside the glass he’d yet to take sloshed. She tightened her grip. “It’s your place setting.”

“Do I look like an idiot! I know it’s my goddamn place setting. Why is there only one?”

Blood drained from her face. Buzzing sounded in her ears. “I . . . I was hungry earlier. The baby—”

“The baby,” he sneered. “You could’ve had a snack if the baby,” another sneer, “was hungry.”

Asjhone nodded, head bobbing up and down. “Yes. Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

“No. You didn’t think. You never do.”

“You know, I’m still hungry. I’ll make myself a plate, too.” She forced a smile. Held out the glass. “Here, take your—”

He knocked the tumbler from her hand. It fell onto the table and shattered. Glass flew everywhere. She flinched, twisting away. Something warm trickled down her neck. Before she could move away, her husband gripped her upper arm, squeezed.

She stilled, gaze on the glass shards on the floor near her feet. “I’m going to get a broom. To clean up.” Her voice shook and she hated it. “Then I’ll get our dinner ready.”

“No. You can do that in a minute. I’m not hungry just yet.” He swung her to face him. Clutched a fistful of hair, tugged until her gaze lifted. “You’re going to ease my tension now. Before we eat.”

She tried to smile. Couldn’t. “Of course, sweetheart. I can’t wait.” Trembling hands glided up his chest. “Let’s go into the bedroom.”

“No. Here.” He turned her toward the table. Pressed a hand between her shoulder blades and pushed. She bent forward as much as she could, braced her hands on the table.

He yanked her hips back. Shoved her dress up to her waist. Tugged her underwear down.

A zipper sounded. “Spread your legs.”

She complied, closing her eyes.

Then it began. Minutes felt like hours. Finally, he pushed into her a final time, his breaths heavy. She fisted her hands on the table. He pulled out. Zipped up his pants.

She rose. Pressed her dress back down. Didn’t even try to reach for her underwear.

“I’ll take my dinner in the study. I have some work to do.”

Voice barely above a whisper, “Of course, sweetheart.” Her body had already begun to shake. Where was her sweater?

His touch was gentle when he gripped her shoulders. Expression tender, kind. She swallowed. Managed a smile. He brushed a finger over her cheek. “After you serve me dinner and clean up the glass, come into my study. I’ll take that back rub you offered.”

“Of course.”

He’d leaned in and kissed her cheek. Then his gaze had lowered, disgust twisting his lips. “You have blood on your chin. Make sure you clean it before getting my dinner.”

Chapter 36

Gabe pulled his Bugatti in front of Sarid’s apartment and shifted into park. He hit the volume control on the steering wheel to blare Thomas Rhett’s “Get Me Some of That”. He didn’t care what anyone said. Chicks dug country boys. Ride a cowboy, not a horse. Case in point. Plus, he looked damn good in one of those hats.

Sarid emerged from around the building, phone up to his ear. When his
ach
opened the door, Gabe lowered the sound.

“No, it’s fine. You’re not bothering me. I’ll be happy to speak to him.”

A voice came through the phone. Gabe heard it as clear as if the person were next to him.

“Why can’t
you
read me a story, Mr. Sarid?” It was a child.

Gabe almost wrenched his back twisting to face his
ach
.

“I have to work tonight, Keandre. But I’ll be over tomorrow with a surprise if Mom tells me you’ve been good.”

“What is it? What is it?”

Sarid smiled.

Actually smiled. Gabe often wondered if the Behn’s lips were able to curl in that direction.

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you. Now be good for your mom.” His voice dropped. “Did you talk to her today?”

Keandre’s tone lowered as well, but Gabe had no trouble hearing. “Yes. I told her I was sorry. That I didn’t mean it. But she still won’t give me my ball back.”

“Apologies should be said because you mean them not because you’re trying to get something from the other person.”

“I did mean it.” The child countered.

“Good.” Sarid paused, then, “Punishments are hard, not fun. But they’ll teach you something, too.”

What the fuck? Was the big guy parenting a child? How did he even know a pint-size Follower?

“Not to play ball in the house,” Keandre monotoned.

“Yes. That’s one lesson.”

“What time are you coming over tomorrow?”

Gabe frowned. This was no good. He made a U-turn in the street and headed toward the suburban part of the city.

“Love you, too.”

Gabe barely stopped his jaw from dropping.

“I’ll call you on my break tomorrow.” This time a woman’s voice.

“I can’t wait.”

The car filled with silence when Sarid ended the call. It wasn’t the normal quiet he’d reluctantly grown used to. The kind he’d fill by talking about nothing and everything. This time the air had a charge to it. Which meant things might blow up in his face if he opened his mouth. And not in a good way.

He cleared his throat. “So, has our boy finally become a man?”

Sarid narrowed his eyes. Didn’t respond.

“I knew there was something different when you came into the car. You just seemed more . . . grown up. There was this glow.” Pause. Still no comment. “So, how did it feel?”

Nothing.

“What, no play-by-play?”

Silence.

Gabe exhaled. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” He waited a full two minutes before tapping the volume button on the steering wheel.

“The demon is quiet around her.”

Volume lowering. “What?”

“The Other. It’s comforted by her.”

“Seriously? No death threats?”

Sarid shook his head.

“Huh.” After a moment, “So have you told her she wouldn’t like you when you’re angry?”

He glowered. “Of course not.”

“Right. Because how in the underworld would you explain that? Oh, by the way, no big deal, but I transform into a huge killing monster when I’m angry. But at least I don’t turn candy apple green. And my hair doesn’t get all crazy like I’ve ran out of hair gel and was caught in a violent windstorm. So, really, it’s not that big of a deal. Just if you see this thing, run like hell because you’re more than likely going to die.”

Sarid growled low under his breath, but didn’t respond further.

Silence ensued once again. Gabe didn’t try to fill it. No longer in the mood to hear about some guy’s horse, girl, or guitar. Up ahead he switched off his headlights and parked next to a curb in the middle of a subdivision. It wasn’t until they started walking that Gabe glanced at him. “Do you think she’s your
bahshrett
?”

Sarid’s head whipped round. “No!”

Gabe raised an eyebrow.

He scowled. “This is not permanent. We will not be staying with her.”

We? As in . . . Gabe opened his mouth.

“We are a danger to her.” Sarid’s eyes flared Behn blue for a brief moment then red.

“Whoa, whoa, calm down, big guy.” Sarid, no, the Other, stared at him. Gabe stepped back, increasing the distance between them. “We’re all good here.” His voice was low, calm. Inside his heart was beating out of his chest.

Sarid in the middle of his violent headshake routine, stilled, snapped his head up. Gabe heard the ring a few seconds later.

Fallen.

Sarid took off. Gabe caught up with him three blocks later. His
ach
had slowed in front of a bungalow. Possible basement. Blue shutters. A flowerbed along the front.

Gabe raised his hand, ready to stop Sarid from going further, when he thought twice, dropped his arm. “Everything good? No demon visits tonight?”

“Front or back?” Sarid asked, turning to him. And, thankfully, it
was
Sarid.

A scream broke out. “Front,” Gabe said, but Sarid was already there. Damn annoying at times, his
ach
was.

Sarid tried the door. Unlocked. He met Gabe’s gaze over his shoulder.

Beretta palmed, Gabe nodded. The ring was louder in the house. His gaze swept the room. Flower printed couch. Small television on a worn rolling stand. Recliner with a yellow and black afghan over the back.

Something hissed then scurried across the floor and under the couch.

Another shout sounded from the back of the house. Followed by a slamming door. Gabe followed Sarid through a hallway to the kitchen.

“I got the Fallen.” Sarid beat feet out the back door.

Gabe crouched by the
nheqeba
. She lay on the linoleum floor, blood dripping from a wound on her neck. He placed two fingers on the uninjured side of her neck. Closed his eyes, listened.

No pulse. No heartbeat. He made the sign of the cross on her forehead with his thumb, placed a hand on the crown of her head. “May your journey to the Creator be swift.” Then, he rose.

In the backyard, Sarid fought with one Fallen. Gabe palmed his knife, ready to be of service. Ten seconds and a gust of Fallen ash later, it proved unnecessary.

Sarid wiped his own knife on his pant leg. “The Follower?”

Gabe shook his head.

Inside the house they removed their fingerprints from the front and back door knobs before leaving. Three blocks away, Gabe tugged out his cellphone and called 9-1-1.

“So, what’s that ‘we’ stuff back there?” He asked once they were clear from the scene. “Did you mean you and the demon? Are you saying you actually converse with it? About things other than death?” When Sarid didn’t respond, “do you trade knitting tips? Cookie recipes?”

A muscle in his
ach
’s jaw twitched. But his eyes hadn’t flashed blue or red, so . . .

Uh, no. Probably should cool it. Because when a monster could kill faster than a line of shoppers sprinting toward the last pair of Gucci boots on sale it was the safe thing to do. A big
Ssshh, don’t wake the beast.

But if Gabe learned anything over the past five months, knowledge was the equivalent of bringing a rocket launcher to a knife fight. He opened his mouth, prepared to be as annoying as hell until his
ach
started singing like that female he’d been with last night, when Sarid finally spoke.

“Tell me what’s been going on at the HQ.”

Yeah, not the convo he had in mind. He cut a glance at his brother, then sighed. “One day soon, my
ach
, you’ll sit down with the Sept and tell us exactly what’s inside you.”

Emotions ran across Sarid’s face, but nothing Gabe could grab on to.

“Are you worried what they’ll say? Lucas and Cade will not forsake you. What’s one demon compared to hundreds of years of brotherhood?” After a block of silence Gabe let the matter drop. For now. “Did you hear about the temples being built for Apollyon? He’s been traveling from place to place. It’s like the Followers are on the if-we-build-it, he-will-come train. And he’s healing people. Polls are iffy, most still think the guy’s a one way stop to cult suicide, but those who’ve seen him, the Followers in the Middle East he visited, are believers. And if temples continue to rise then eventually—”

“He’ll make his way around the world.”

“Yep. The maps Luc brought back from the Cathedral are actually coming in handy. Katie had a vision from one. Said they were from when the Sonh was on earth. She and Luc are planning a trip. Cade’s still trying to hold back John, Lars, and the Woyrs. Who knows how long Bossman will be able to keep them contained.” Gabe glanced at Sarid. “It’d ease some tension if you were back home.”

Sarid was shaking his head before Gabe even finished. “It cannot be.”

“What if you brought your girl with you? You said she calms—”

Sarid growled. Loud, menacing. “She will not be dragged into our war.” His eyes flashed blue.

“Whatever you say, big guy. Just letting you know we miss you.”

Sarid blinked and the Behn light vanished from his eyes. He shoved his hands in his pockets, stared straight ahead. “This is the way it has to be. It’s safer for all.”

“Yeah, okay. But it won’t be for forever, right?”

Sarid avoided his gaze.

“My
ach
?”

Sarid cocked his head. “Fallen. Up ahead. Left.” He broke into a jog.

“We’re going to continue this conversation, Sarid,” he called after him. With a shake of his head, he followed his
ach
. If Gabe had to get Lucas and Cade in on it, he would. Sarid was a part of their Sept One. He belonged at home.