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

Chapter 7

Sarid rose, forcing his muscles to move. It was always like this after the demon escaped. Body sore. Head pounding. The light the doctor shined in his eyes had made him want to punch the wall. His earlier escape from bed hadn’t helped the situation.

He needed blood to help ease the transition. His body didn’t appreciate changing shape.

A phone hung on the wall near the door. Sarid shuffled toward it. Paused. Cocked his head. Asjhone was speaking.

“. . . ran in front of a semi. With no clothes on.”

Her words came out fast like she was nervous. For some reason that bothered him.

“That doesn’t seem like the actions of a sane man,” she continued. “And now he wants to leave without treatment. His blood pressure hasn’t lowered since he arrived. Respiration is at an equally dangerous level. He needs to be x-rayed. It’s our duty—”

“Besides the BP,” the doctor interrupted, tone sharp. “Which the patient says is normal, he’s not showing any other signs of internal injury. Our
duty
is to help those who want to be helped. Your
duty
is to do what I say.”

Sarid inhaled sharply. His eyes flared, emitting a bright blue light.

The demon growled softly.

Asjhone’s reply was barely audible. “Yes, doctor.”

“Discharge the patient immediately.”

Sarid didn’t remember moving, but his hand was outstretched, clasping the door handle.

Kill the doctor.
The demon whispered in his mind.

No one should talk to her like that. The female had been caring and gentle, even after Sarid scared her. And when she touched him . . . he’d never felt anything like it. Never had been so soothed. At peace. For a brief moment, he was free. No longer weighed down by his past or the demon.

Then the doctor arrived. Sarid had wanted to throw her out of the room. Her touch, cold. Smile, fake.

Asjhone was—

Mine.

He froze. No. The demon hadn’t said—

Mine.

Sarid staggered away from the door. His heart began to pound. Too fast. It made him dizzy.

He had to get out of there. Now.

His hands shook. He picked up the receiver, pressed a few buttons until he managed to get an outside line, then dialed the HQ.

Jeeves answered.

“Astoria Memorial. Hurry. Send Cade. Inform Lucas digital clean-up is required.”

Cade, Lucas, Sarid, and Gabe were the Sept One Behns. There were seven Septs total, each with their own part of the world to protect against the Fallen.

The Fallen were supernatural monsters created by Apollyon—their enemy—and needed souls to survive. Followers, or humans, didn’t live through the process.

Behns were one of three species in the Trihune. The other two; Woyrs and Shaydes.

Sarid had never seen a Shayde. Those creatures protected the division between heavens and the underworld and rarely traveled to earth.

The Woyrs were part wolf, part human, and like the Behns, they’d been divided into groups and dispersed around the world.

“Right away,
adohn
,” the HQ’s butler said, using the Trihune term to show respect.

Sarid replaced the receiver. He was still unsteady on his feet, but didn’t want to get back in bed. If the Other tried to take over again, he needed to be ready to run.

An image of the demon’s long sharp claws sweeping out, arcing toward Asjhone’s neck flashed in his mind. He shuddered. Squeezed his eyes shut.

No. He wouldn’t let that happen.

Calm.
Think calm thoughts. The Other responded to changes in emotion. Over the years, Sarid learned composure was the best way to keep the demon contained.

Eyes still closed, he focused on the Followers outside the room. Behn hearing wasn’t as acute as the demon’s, but with concentration he could listen to the staff and patients three floors above him.

He weaved through the voices, searching for one in particular. After fruitless searching, he realized she must not be talking. Was she upset?

His hands clenched and unclenched. Gaze strayed to the door. He wanted to find her.

Wanted to find the doctor. His eyes flared Behn blue.

Yes. Kill her.
The demon said.

Sarid forced himself to relax. Detach his emotions.

Another way to remain in control of his body was distance. From people. From possessions. The demon reveled in destroying Sarid’s attachments.

It was a dick like that.

The first decade after he’d been saddled with the demon, Sarid had roamed, sticking to wooded areas, far away from villages. He’d been living in South America for the better part of a month when he managed to coax a fox to eat from his hand. Soon Sarid had been allowed to pet him on occasion.

The next time the demon broke free, the fox had been its first kill.

When Sarid purchased a sculpture in Greece, the Other had smashed it.

Having a favorite shirt or pair of pants was out of the question.

It was better to keep himself apart. From everything.

His
achs
in the Sept respected his need to remain on the sidelines and never pushed for a deeper kinship. Sometimes he was jealous of the brothers’ easy camaraderie with one another.

Sensations ran down his spine. A thump, a caress, and a tingle. His
achs
were near.

“In room T-23,” he spoke softly.

Seconds later Gabe entered. “Hey, man. How’s it going?” The Behn wore his usual outfit of fancy expensive. He flashed dimples before throwing something across the room.

Look at his clothes.
The demon whispered.
Does he think he’s a banker? What an idiot. Let me hurt him.

Sarid caught it. A pair of his sweatpants. Good. He’d forgotten about clothing. “You were in the area?” Had to be. The HQ was in a secluded area thirty miles from the hospital.

He gives you piece of shit clothes to wear. He wants to look better than you. Just one swipe down his cheek will change the pretty boy. I won’t go deep.

“We’ve been following the news.”

Sarid paused, one leg in the pants. “Casualties?”

“No. You’re good. Just a bunch of scared kids and their parents. A few mentioned seeing a monster running down the street. Cade was on his way to visit them before Jeeves called.”

All Behns had the ability to erase short-term memories. Cade had the ability to go inside a human Follower’s mind and erase the long-term ones. For a demon-clean up, Cade was always called in. Better to be safe.

Sarid frowned, pulled the pants up to his hips.

Gabe stepped closer, hand outstretched.

The demon growled.

Sarid stiffened.

Gabe dropped his arm. “No casualties, remember? It’s a good thing.”

Sarid nodded and headed for the door. Before he could reach the handle, it opened. Lucas was there. His brown hair was cut close to his head, blue eyes concerned as they landed on him. Lucas was Sept One’s second in command and a computer expert.

Fuckwit. Couldn’t handle his emotions. Shouldn’t he be in a corner, sucking his thumb?

Lucas was also an empath. He recently had a go-around with his darker side. It tried to suck him in, but he’d fought his way back.

“I got your name out of the system.” Lucas held up a file. “And the paper trail.” His gaze ran up and down Sarid’s length. “Let’s get you back to the HQ. You need blood.”

Sarid stepped out of the room. Gabe and Lucas followed.

Why do they stand so close? Make them back up.

Cade was ahead. The Sept One leader’s gaze moved from Follower to Follower, pausing for a brief moment on each. His hair was long and black, held together at the nape of his neck with a leather tie. Three deep scars marks clustered near his left eye. Small pox scars, from when he was human.

“I found the doctor listed in your file,” Cade said as Sarid neared. “Also have the ambulance team’s address. I’ll hit them after you’re secured.”

Sarid caught the scent on an inhale. His head jerked up, gaze immediately zeroing in.

Asjhone stopped at the far end of the hall. Her eyes fell upon him, then his brothers. Fear flashed across her face. She cringed, body pushing against the wall.

The demon growled.

Sarid wanted to do the same.

They’re scaring her. Hurt. Maim. Fix it. They’re scaring Mine.

“What about that one?” Cade motioned to Asjhone.

The demon’s growl was louder this time.

“Leave her,” Sarid bit off.

“But if she—”

He faced Cade. Sarid knew his eyes flashed blue then red as the Other made its displeasure known.

No one will touch her!
The demon roared in his head.

“Cade,” Lucas warned.

The Sept One leader’s gaze stayed on Sarid, his hands rose slowly, palms out. “Be at ease, my
ach
.”

“You will not touch her with your mind.”

Kill them all. They’ll hurt her. Mindwipe will read her thoughts. Pretty Boy will smile at her. Thumbsucker will sense her emotions.

Cade’s hands were still raised. “Of course not, my brother. Let’s leave this place before other Followers come.”

He’s lying. Will wait until you leave. You must kill them.

No. She’s safe. Cade won’t go back on his word,
Sarid said to the demon.

Protect what is mine. She’s Mine.

Sarid stiffened.

Asjhone was safe from his
achs
. Safe from everyone.

But him.

He turned slowly. Made his way to the exit, not giving in to his, or the demon’s, wish to glance back at the gentle, caring, beautiful Asjhone one last time.

Chapter 8

Asjhone watched, eyes wide, heart in her throat, as Sarid and his thuggish-entourage left the hospital. A few minutes passed before she was able to ease away from the wall.

Her breaths were erratic. The man with the long hair . . . his eyes . . . even from a distance . . . She’d been frozen. Had wanted to run. Scream. Unable to do either. He’d stepped toward her. Was going to come after her. Until . . . Sarid—

“T-3’s results are in.” Tynice touched her shoulder.

She jumped, was unable to stifle the small scream.

“Hey, you okay?”

Asjhone clasped a hand over her chest. “Sorry. What was that?”

Her friend cocked her head. “What’s going on with you? You look terrified.”

She swallowed, shook her head, forced a laugh. “No. Just zoning. What did you say about T-3?” After Tynice repeated herself, Asjhone followed her back to the hub and paged Dr. Jones. Erika sat at one of the desks on the computer.

“Erika, did you discharge the patient in T-23?” She strived for casual.

“In twenty-three? We don’t have a patient in there.”

“Oh, I know. He left already.” Pause. “Did Dr. Behall ask you to discharge him?”

Erika’s eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.” She stood. “Seven is asking for more meds. The poor thing.”

Tynice gave Asjhone a quizzical look. “Sure you’re okay?”

She didn’t quite manage a smile. “Yeah.”

Tynice patted her shoulder before leaving. “Tell that boy of yours to let you get some sleep tonight. You’re losing it.”

As soon as Tynice left, Asjhone sat in the seat Erika vacated. She pulled up the list of today’s patients. Checked it once, twice, three times before racing to T-23. The file was missing from the outside pocket. She opened the door and froze. The room looked as if it hadn’t been used. The sheets had perfect corners. Not a wrinkle in sight. The cardiac monitor was rolled off to the side of the bed, cords wrapped neatly.

Somehow Sarid, or his band of goons, had erased his name from the system, stolen his chart, and put the room back together.

Well, those three things weren’t
impossible
.

But why didn’t Erika remember him?

She glanced over her shoulder, spied Dr. Behall. After a moment of hesitation, called out, “Dr. Behall.”

The doctor stopped, but didn’t turn. Her eyes stayed on the chart in her hands. “What is it, Asjhone?”

“I just wanted to ask . . .” She bit her lip, braced herself for Dr. Behall’s wrath, then began again. “Are you’re sure you don’t want me to call psych before I discharge the patient in twenty-three.”

Dr. Behall had glanced up when Asjhone paused, irritation evident, but now it changed to annoyed confusion. “What are you talking about?” Her gaze moved past Asjhone to room twenty-three. “I don’t have a patient in T-23. Check the files again.” She started down the hall.

Asjhone jogged to catch up. “You know, the patient who was brought in by ambulance. Hit by a semi. Ran in front of it. Naked.” Asjhone’s cheeks grew warm. Why had she mentioned that last part?

“Check your files,” the doctor snapped. “I don’t know who you’re talking about. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to patients I actually have.”

Asjhone watched her go. What the hell was going on?