Fallen Darkness (The Trihune Series Book 2) (3 page)

Chapter 4

Kate’s hands made contact with the bed. Images flashed in her head. All outside noises disappeared. It was like watching an old movie. The shot from one scene to the next not seamless, but easy to follow.

Too easy to realize what happened.

The bed had been used recently. Actually used often. Kate wanted to push away from the mattress but she was stuck. She’d never been able to stop a vision mid-stream. This wasn’t the worse she’d seen, but it was graphic and telling.

Kate recognized the man in the vision. He was in the framed pictures she’d dusted downstairs. Had figured he was the OB’s son.

In one of the photos he sat next to a woman with red hair. A toddler sat on the woman’s lap. The baby boy’s face similar to the man’s. A teenage girl stood behind the man. Her hand on his shoulder. The girl had her mother’s large forehead and thin nose, but her father’s dark hair.

The man in Kate’s head was not wearing a suit, though. He wasn’t wearing anything.

He looked better in the suit.

The equally naked woman he screwed on the bed had blond hair and was a few years older than the teenager in the picture. She didn’t mind his nakedness.

The vision continued a few more minutes. The woman orgasmed, then the man. Kate was thrust back to the present.

She immediately let go of the bed, falling back on her butt, hands held high above her head. The echoing sounds of flesh against flesh along with the orgasmic moans rang in her head. The lust both parties had felt now swam through Kate.

Ugh. Nasty.

It took a moment to realize she wasn’t alone. She twisted toward the door, hands still raised. Rosemarie.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Kate panted, her heart beating so hard she was surprised her chest didn’t vibrate. “Thanks. I just . . . slipped.” Standing without using her hands was awkward, but she managed it and immediately reached for her gloves.

Oh crap. Kate shoved her hands behind her back. Too late. Rosemarie would’ve already noticed her unblemished, albeit pale, hands.

The best excuse was to tell bosses and fellow employees she had scars on her hands from being burned as a child. It created sympathy and most of the time people were too polite to ask detailed questions about the obvious horror she endured.

Kate watched Rosemarie’s eyebrows furrow, her gaze moving from Kate to her now gloved palms. Kate’s shoulders drooped and she held in a sigh. Guess today was her last day on the job.

Maybe she’s undergoing plastic surgery to get rid of the scars? No. If she learned anything the past nine years, telling more lies than necessary ended badly. Best if the lie resembled the truth as close as possible.

Though there wasn’t a lie coinciding with seeing images of the past whenever her skin touched inanimate or animate objects.

Had Rosemarie asked her a question?

“I only have two more rooms to finish after this one. Forty minutes tops,” Kate added, answering the most logical reason for Rosemarie’s presence. She more than proved her capability to clean and not hock the clients’ goods the past few months.

Rosemarie nodded and after another glance at Kate’s hands left the room.

Kate pulled on a pair of latex gloves over top her pleather. So not touching the bed without double protection. She fell back in her routine and finished the rest of the rooms quickly. After shutting the window and closing the doors, she headed downstairs.

This whole day sucked. She didn’t want to find a new job. Not yet. But it was best to move on before Rosemarie started asking questions. Kate had seen the look in her eyes. The too-much-thinking-about-an-employee-she-knew-nothing-about look. Those expressions never led to anything good for Kate.

Begging for a job was second nature. She’d have something new by the end of the week.

By the time Kate reached the main level, Sophia had already left. Rosemarie was waiting by the door. She must’ve already said goodbye to the OB. Kate wiped the sweat off her forehead and followed her boss outside zipping up her jacket. Rosemarie handed Kate a stack of bills.

“Thanks.” She shoved the money in her pocket. “Hey, listen, I’m not available anymore. It’s my mom. She lives in California. Fell and broke her hip. I have to go stay with her for a while.”

Rosemarie patted her on the arm. Even though Kate was wearing a jacket and long sleeves and there was no way her boss would be able to get to her skin, she still inwardly flinched.

“Oh, Kate, I’m so sorry. I’ll keep your mother in my prayers.”

“I’m sorry to be leaving you in the lurch.”

Rosemarie waved her hand. “My niece was thinking of coming back early. Sophia and I will manage until then.”

Kate said goodbye and started down the sidewalk. Her apartment was two miles away. She’d planned to take the bus and stop at Mickey D’s, but with the loss of this job, she wasn’t going to splurge. Picking mold off the bread at home before smearing it with PB and J would have to do. One day she’d have enough money and never, ever, eat peanut butter again.

She squashed the wish at once. No plans for the future. It wasn’t allowed. Kate had no future. Nothing she could count on any way. As far as she was concerned she’d never be done eating PB.

Yeah!

Not.

The walk wasn’t bad. Especially after spending hours in the OB’s house. The cold wind cleared the stickiness from her skin.

With the money Rosemarie had handed her and the stash at home she had about two hundred. Her rent was way overdue. Had it been stupid to quit the cleaning job?

Rosemarie wouldn’t have connected Kate lying about her hands to the fact she was a wanted felon.

It was better to be cautious, though. She evaded jail the last nine years with quick foresight and not staying long in one place.

Her eyelids grew heavy despite the cheek-reddening wind. She had five hours until she had to be at Opulent. Maybe she’d work in a nap. The pillow and blue blanket she’d left on her bedroom floor never seemed so inviting. If she ever had the opportunity to sleep in a real bed she probably wouldn’t be able to do it. Might be nice to try, though. She was so tired. Not just physically exhausted either. Tired of the constant running. Worried someone—the police—would learn who she really was. Terrified she’d end up in jail. Her hands clenched into fists, making the pleather squeak. She just wanted a normal life somewhere.

Kate scoffed. What was normal? She certainly wasn’t.

A bunch of kids walked by laughing, kicking at the snow. That had never been her. She never had the opportunity to have friends, let alone time to slough off.

No, that wasn’t true. She’d been close to someone once.

Until she ran. Until she left her. Kate allowed Stacy’s image to fully form before shoving it away. Life couldn’t be lived in the past. The present was where she was needed.

She was just hungry. And tired. PB and J first. A nap second. Then off to the bar.

It didn’t take long to get to her apartment. It was in a bad part of town where drive-bys were a regular Friday night occurrence. The outside of the building was as rundown as the inside, but it only had two to three break-ins a month so it wasn’t all bad.

Kate took the stairs to the fifth floor. The elevator never worked. Her gait slowed, gaze locked on the bright orange sticker on the middle of her door.

Shit.

Her hands started to shake. It took a few tries to get her key into the lock. She turned the key. Nothing. Rat bastard changed the locks on her. She kicked the door with the toe of her black shoes.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Her heart pounded. She needed to get her stuff. The rest of her money. And the one thing that carried her through horrible days. That was most important. She took the stairs two at a time. Bypassed the Super’s door on her way out the main door. No reason to stop there. He wouldn’t let her in. Her leftover items would be considered partial payment toward the rent she never paid.

She reared the side of the building at a run. Stopped in the alley below her window five stories up. A fire escape ladder hung several feet above her head. Kate jumped. And failed to catch it. It was too high. Or she was too short. Whatever.

A pile of wooden crates sat next to the dumpster. She grabbed two of them, stacked them on top of each other. Kate gingerly put her right foot on top. The crates wobbled. Not too good. Oh, well. Inhale. Exhale. She counted in her head.

One. Two. Three.

With a push off with her right foot, she jumped as hard as she could. Arms stretched high. She reached for the ladder. The crates crashed to the ground just as the tips of her fingers grazed the bottom rung.

It was a short fly through the air to the concrete.
Fuck
. At least her gloves protected her palms. Not the case with her knees though. Great. There was a hole in her jeans. Her skin was scraped and bleeding, too.

She stood and positioned the crates again. Another steadying breath. Right foot on the crate. Kate attempted to rise. The wood creaked. Ready to give. She dropped back down. Repositioned her foot. Then slowly rose, keeping her other foot off the crate. Better. She gazed at the rung. Bent her knee. Hovered her other foot over top the crate.

One.

Two.

Three.

Kate slammed her left foot on the crate and pushed hard, exploding up. Her fingers wrapped round the bottom rung. The ladder creaked as it slid down from Kate’s weight.

Once close to the ground, she dropped down and yanked the ladder the rest of the way. With the crates back where they came from, so it’d be less obvious what happened, Kate began to climb.

In front of her window, she crouched down, glanced inside. For the first time she was happy to be too poor to afford shades or curtains.

It was dark inside and empty. No furniture. Nothing on the walls. Nothing on the kitchen counters.

Just how it always was.

Anything worth keeping was in her bedroom. She pulled on the window.

Locked.

Of course.

She searched the steel grated landings below and above. The apartment above had a potted plant outside the window. Kate ran up the steps, staying low, and paused just below the landing. A quick peek. Curtains closed. Good deal. She snatched the plant. Damn. It was heavy. With two hands, she dragged it across the grates and half-carried, half-yanked it down the steps.

Sideways in front of her window, she swung the pot low with both hands. One. Two. Three. She hefted the heavy-duty plastic pot into the window, still holding onto it. Thwack. Spider cracks expanded from the center of the window.

Kate swung the pot again, putting more of her body into it. In the middle of a forward swing she let the pot go. It sailed through the window. The pot crashed to the floor, spilling dirt and green plant. Pieces of glass fell on top of it.

She stilled. Waited for heads to pop out of windows. Curious shouts from inside.

Nothing. Of course. No one cared as long as it wasn’t their window breaking. Kate leaned in, unlocked the latch, and pushed up the frame. She climbed in, careful to avoid the broken glass and dirt. Waited again. No fast, heavy footfalls headed her way.

The couple in the apartment directly above was going at it. Again.

A mother and daughter’s screaming match sounded next door. All in Spanish.

Loud music blared from the room below.

Perfect. Kate hurried through the open space that was supposed to house a couch and TV and other homey items she didn’t care about. She paused in her bedroom doorway. Her breath left on an exhale. The blanket on the floor was in the same position as when she left it this morning.

Her gaze landed on the air vent that never did let out cold air—air conditioning my ass, Super. She fell to her knees in front of it and used her fingernails to pry the metal vent away from the wall. The clank of metal hitting the floor didn’t even register. Heart was pounding, again. Harder this time. She shoved her arm inside the hole, repositioned until she was practically lying prone, then bent her elbow to reach high, hand patting the wall.

Please. Let it be there.

Chapter 5

Lucas stood silently at the curb of a darkened street that led to downtown Astoria. Hands loose at his sides, ready to grab the Sigma at his waist, the dagger at his back, or the one at his shin. The silver throwing star in his front pocket was the most prominent, but he’d use that only if weapons or his fists didn’t work. And even then maybe not.

He and Gabe had been patrolling for the last six hours with nothing to show for it.

Absolutely insane. Last night they were tripping over the soulless bastards. Tonight it was as if they were continuously missing each other, each walking on opposite sides of the streets.

Lucas reached into his pocket and gripped the star, wishing he could ditch the gloves. Feel the points stabbing his skin. It would soothe him. The gloves had been Elias’s idea. A barrier between Lucas and any Fallen, or demon’s, blood.

His
achs
loved the idea. Though they didn’t have to wear the things. The gloves were hot and uncomfortable and a damn pain in the ass.

If he hinted at taking them off, Gabe would freak and think he was succumbing again. Tiresome.

“Got it.” Gabe strolled up, tucking his cell in his pocket. He glanced over his shoulder and waved at the female wearing a low cut red top and tiny black skirt. The
nheqeba
giggled and finger waved back.

“Was there any doubt?” Lucas drawled as they continued walking.

Gabe’s dimples flashed.

The female Follower would’ve been attracted to his
ach
even if he were wearing eau de alley with stained thrift clothes instead of a splash of Acqua Di Gio, tailor made dark gray slacks, black silk button down, and a pair of leather Ferragamo loafers. His brother’s appreciation of fine clothes was another reason why they got along so well.

Lucas stopped.

Gabe reached for the blade strapped to his waist.

The ring was faint, but distinct and telling, warning any Trihune member that a Fallen was near. And definitely loud enough to be used as a honing device.

They broke into a jog. Lucas scanned the immediate area and when it came back empty, allowed the desires he kept on lock down to unleash.

Eyes glowed. The bright blue light emanating from his eyes was similar to the light in a miner’s hat and increased his sight almost ten-fold. Fangs lengthened. Strength swept through his body.

He didn’t need the tripped out Halloween mask to use his powers, but something about wearing his true self just rocked. A visual reminder of why he was created. And most of the time it scared the shit out of Fallen.

Bonus.

The ring grew louder, like Lucas had moved the couch cushion his cell phone had fallen behind. He grasped the Sigma at his waist.

It took a stab through the heart with his dagger—which he palmed in his other hand—or the removal of their head in order to kill Fallen, but the gun slowed the bastards down.

In a line up, nothing physically distinguished Fallen from the Creator’s Followers. It was the telltale noise in Lucas’s ears that warned him when they were close. Along with the spidey sense all Trihune members experienced when any soulless creature was near. His body understood the one in front of him was not human, and unnatural to this world. And soon not to be a part of it.

“We’re heading toward the downtown area. Not away from it,” Gabe said.

Lucas echoed his confusion, forcing his fangs to retreat back into his gums, the light in his eyes to disappear, and his weapons concealed. They were indeed heading toward the city. Less houses, less dark areas. More businesses, more nighttime clubs and bars, more witnesses. Lucas slowed. Gabe did the same, glancing at him.

“We still need to go.”

“Yes,” he agreed. The ring was at ear-splitting volume. Noise Lucas could normally tune out once the enemies’ location was pinpointed. Not the case today. An enticement to get the unholy creature dead that much faster.

They turned onto Main Street. The streetlights were bright. Three blocks down Followers lined the sidewalk waiting to get into the local dance club. Two blocks away on the other side, a crowd of humans talked outside a bar, smoke wafting between them. Further ahead, a coffee shop was getting good business.

A young couple walked toward them.

Blood raced through Lucas’s body, making him dizzy. His cheeks flushed and his cock strained against his zipper. “Son of a—” He willed the lust to leave him. Though directly behind it, other emotions were struggling for dominance.

Gabe’s lips twitched. His gaze danced over the couple who couldn’t publicly get any closer without risking arrest.

Yeah, easy for his
ach
. He was only a spectator to the Followers’ lust.

Once the couple was in their car, pulling away from the curb, the urge for sex passed. Lucas continued the battle within, shoving each new emotion away. It was a perpetual tennis match. One, against way too many.

Lust was big tonight. Followed by envy. Anxiety, sadness, joy, courage. If he hadn’t had centuries of experience he’d be on the floor in a fetal position. As it was, both hands were in fists and his right eye twitched.

Thud. Worry. Heavens, did Gabe have to add his feelings to the mix? “You need to get a new emotion,
ach
.” Lucas mumbled knowing full well Gabe would hear him.

“Sorry.”

And Lucas felt his truth of the word.
Wonderful
.

“It seems more difficult for you tonight.”

“Lack of sleep.” Though fending off emotions had been growing harder the last few weeks.

It’d be fine. They’d find the Fallen. Lucas would get to kill some evil then he’d go home and find a spot to be alone. Get his ability back under control.

Gabe and Lucas stopped at the same moment. Their beacon had led them to the club. Lucas turned his head to the left, right, up to the roof. “This can’t be right.” But it was. The ring was still consistent and loud as a mother fuck. This was the place.

Lucas brushed a hand over his earpiece. “Cade, we might have a situation.”

Cade’s voice sounded in his ear. “What is it?”

“Gabe and I followed a ring to the dance club.”

Silence for five seconds. “And the Fallen are inside the club? Not next to it or on top of the building?”

Gabe rolled his eyes. “We aren’t stupid, boss,” he muttered, his own microphone transmitting the snark loud and clear.

“Just checking,” Cade replied. “What do you need?”

“Gabe and I’ll look into it. Be on alert. We may need back up.”

“Will do. Sarid and I aren’t having any luck tonight.”

Lucas frowned. His boss and Sarid were searching the east side of the city, mostly residential, a few industrial buildings. The Fallen liked to stay just as invisible as the Behns. Their normal hunts were in the quieter parts of town.

“Ready?” Gabe asked.

Lucas followed Gabe to the large black man sitting on a stool outside the club. The man’s gaze ran over the humans in line, and he started to raise his hand. Follower’s eyes widened.

Their hope was like warm sunshine on Lucas’s face. He scowled and pushed the emotion away.

“Hey, G.”

“Gabe,” The bouncer answered back, hitting Gabe’s fist with his own. “Not too busy tonight.”

Lucas eyed the waiting patrons. What did G’s definition of busy look like?

“We’re looking for a friend,” Gabe said. “He might be in here.”

G waved them through.

The music’s bass pulsed through Lucas before Gabe had the door all the way open. His gaze ran over the swarm of Followers he and Gabe would have to wade through. Seriously, what did busy look like?

Lucas sighed. He so didn’t want to go in there.