Fallen Death (The Trihune Series Book 3) (10 page)

“You’re a good mom.”

She warmed at the compliment. “Thank you. I try. Sometimes I don’t—”

“No. You are. That boy feels loved. Wanted. To a child that’s more important than food.”

His words caused a pang in her chest and her eyes flicked to his cheeks. Without forethought, her hand lifted toward him.

He stepped back.

She dropped her arm, cheeks heating. “I’m sorry.”

A breath released slowly and his eyes fell closed. “No. It’s not you. It’s—” Then he abruptly whirled and walked out of the room toward the front door.

She blinked in surprise, but followed, watched as he paused in front of the door, cocked his head before unlocking one bolt after another.

Was he going to leave without saying goodbye? But once in the hallway he turned.

“I shouldn’t have come.” He spoke to his feet.

The words hurt more than they should’ve since for the past thirty minutes she’d been thinking the same thing. “Will I—we—see you tomorrow? For dessert?”

He hesitated. She moved closer, gripped the edge of the door. Wanting him to say yes. Hoping he’d decline.

His head lifted. Indecision marred his features.

Funny. If by funny, she meant, completely unlaughable. What a pair they made.

“It isn’t a good idea, but I’ll be here.”

She smiled. “Tomorrow, then.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Spun around. Strode past the elevator. At the end of the hall, he headed through the door that led to the stairs.

Asjhone shut the door. Locked it. Pressed her forehead against the cold wood. Fear bubbled below the surface, threatening the moment. Her smile faltered.

No. She’d trust her instincts. And Sarid . . . for now.

Trust.

A word that scared her more than death.

Chapter 23

Gabe strolled into the conference room and glanced around. A lot had changed since Sarid’s Other made an explosive appearance.

A projector sat on a rolling cart near the front of the room. Its corresponding screen hung on the wall behind it and showed two spreadsheets—the six-month Fallen death toll and the kill locations.

Recently, completely by accident, and not at all pre-planned Gabe learned the screen was awesome for watching movies. He totally hadn’t snuck into the room, plugged in Pioneer Elite speakers, dragged down his favorite chair, sat with a bowl of Martha-made popcorn, and watched
Captain American: Civil War
. But if he had, it would’ve been totally awesome. Better than going to the theater.

The podium stood to the right of the projector. Cade was behind it now, in the middle of talking about something that was probably important.

Comfortable chairs—but not as comfy as his lounger—surrounded a large heavy oak table that commanded most of the space in the middle of the room. The table could fit twenty-five people, though only a few spots were occupied. Most of the Behns stood in groups of their own Sept.

Gabe made a beeline for the table near the entrance. The
ebhed
had dressed it with refreshments and snacks.

The food and drink routine started when the other Behns arrived. What Gabe wanted to know was why. This should’ve been a staple at every boring Sept One Before and After meeting. Gabe would’ve made it a point to arrive on time if he knew someone might snag the last snickerdoodle.

Although a perk to living with a full house was sneaking into meetings late and Cade not notic—oh. Gabe paused, cookie halfway to his mouth. The boss’s eyes were trained on him, lips thinned in displeasure. Gabe flashed dimples, shrugged, then popped the cookie in his mouth. Delicious. He grabbed another one.

“We need to hit him now. When he’s not expecting it,” John said. The blond-haired, blue-eyed Behn was the leader of Sept Two, which was based in Greenland. He had boy-next-door good looks, the ability to sense other’s powers, and a not so sweet personality.

Cade gave Gabe one last I’m-not-happy glare, then focused on the Sept Two leader. “We don’t know what he’s expecting. He could be doing this to attract our attention.” Cade waved a hand to the screen. Instead of the Fallen spreadsheets—or the best Captain America movie so far—a live feed to CNN was projected. Apollyon’s face was large and close. “Maybe he wants us to attack now.”

The room fell silent when Lucas, who sat at the computer attached to the projector, raised the volume.

“. . . report came in from Israel where the man claiming to be the Son of God appeared one week ago. The world has been in uproar wondering if this is another Waco or Jonestown Massacre. While others, who have spoken to this man, have no doubts. Let’s turn to Brent in Jerusalem now.”

“Hi, Marsha. Reports have come in just today that the Prime Minister of Israel is erecting a temple for the man claiming to be Jesus. In his speech he delivered a complete declaration and believes with all certainty the man is who he says he is.”

Marsha touched her earpiece. “Hold on a minute, Brent. More reports are coming in. Five other countries have pledged to build temples in hopes that he will visit.”

“I agree with John,” Lars said once the report was muted. “We need to attack now.” He was second in command at Norway’s Sept Four. The brown-haired, square-jawed Behn had knives strapped to his body and looked fiercer than Lady Gaga in her meat dress.

Although if Gabe could always hit his mark, he might wear knives like jewelry, too. Nothing impressed females more than showing off a dangerous talent.

“Temples mean more people to worship him,” Lars continued. “More followers equal more power.”

“It’s more than Followers believing in Him that makes the Creator powerful.” Drew’s voice had an uncharacteristic hard edge. He was one of the few sitting in a chair. The second in command Behn from Sept Seven Alaska had dark brown hair and was able to see the history of an object through touch. He’d been the first Behn to arrive at the HQ, coming early to train Kate on her own psychometry powers. Of course, that was before everyone found out she was Katie the Key. Elias trained her now.

“I didn’t say it did.” Lars’s eyes flared Behn blue, fingers twitching near one of the knives strapped to his waist. “What I said was Apollyon having more followers, lower case F, gives him more power. Do we want to wait until he’s all powerful and we have no hope of killing him?”

Drew seemed appeased by the clarification, but shook his head. “I still think we need to wait. Not everyone is drinking the poison punch.”

“But enough people are. And the longer we wait, the more who will.” John ran his fingers through his blond hair and gazed around the room. “We need to find his weaknesses. We can’t go in blind.”

“Hold up,” Cade said. “Who said we’re going in? We’ve called this meeting to discuss our options.”

“Talking isn’t getting it done. This is our third meeting in one week,” John said.

Gabe swallowed a snort. The Behn needed to be thankful. Three in one week? Ha. Try two every single day, buddy.

Cade’s eyes flared as he glared at John. “And running in half-cocked will get us all killed. We’re the only defense between Apollyon, his Fallen and the Creator’s Followers. It’s our duty to protect humans at all cost. We can’t do that if we’re dead. How many of us have been injured by a Fallen?” His glowing blue eyes swept the room, though it seemed like the Sept One leader didn’t expect an answer. “And have you forgotten the demons my Sept ran in to recently? One nearly killed Gabe.”

Half of the Behns glanced in his direction. Gabe swallowed his fourth cookie too quickly and started choking.

“Well, that doesn’t seem like a big feat.” The soft, sarcastic, feminine voice came from the right side of the room and sent a rush of anger through his body.

Hands fisting, he opened his mouth, but Cade cut him off.

“The one with wings stands next to Apollyon right now. We know nothing about him either. Or how many more demons roam the earth. We do know they are stronger than a Fallen.

“Wouldn’t Apollyon have ten times the strength? He’s had nothing but time these past five hundred years to gain power and build an army. Why has he made an appearance now? What’s his purpose? We find these answers, and we might find a way to defeat him.

“He expects us to rush at him. Apollyon knows we know he’s not who he says he is. We no longer can play offense. The rules of the game have changed and the prophecy will be our guide.”

“Except we can’t even decipher it,” Zachariah called out. The Behn standing next to Lars was also from Sept Four. He was the youngest Trihune Member, turned when he was in his early twenties. The boy liked to play with rapier swords. The blade smaller in width than Gabe’s pinky.

“We have the key,” Lucas said. He sat at the table next to Drew. Kate, his
bahshrett
, or soul mate, sat on his other side. Learning Kate was the key had been an awesome achievement, but then Apollyon showed himself and the hope of finding the map started to seem, well, hopeless. The rush of yeah-we’re-winning had quickly faded.

“What good is a key with no map?” Lars asked.

Lucas came to his feet, his eyes immediately flaring. Lars took a step back, a knife suddenly in hand. Kate put a hand on Lucas’s arm, trailing it down to interlock their fingers. The tension in Lucas lessened, but he didn’t remove his gaze from Lars even when the Behn made a show of holstering his weapon.

“We agree with you and John,” Ares said to Lars.

Ares was one of two Woyrs who’d come to stay at the HQ, and always looked like he needed a haircut and a shave. His brown hair was wavy and hung past his collar.

If Gabe morphed into an animal on a regular basis, he wouldn’t want hair hanging in his eyes. Shaggy dogs were cute, but who wanted to deal with shedding issues in the bedroom.

“And I know,” Ares continued. “You’ll have the support of my father and the rest of the pack when we’re ready to move.”

“Not surprising,” Gabe, not-so-quietly, muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” There was that feminine voice again, but this time the tone was filled with anger, cracking like a whip. Enyo moved to stand next to her brother, Ares. Hands on hips.

Gabe steeled himself but felt the sucker punch anyways when his gaze met her stormy, light as the sky on a cloudless day, blue eyes. “It’s a known fact Woyrs like to fight. Rumor is, more time’s spent fighting inside the pack than with actual Fallen.”

Enyo lunged, her frame shimmering. Ares grabbed the back of her neck, pulled her close, and spoke softly. All Behns had super hearing, so no matter how quiet, the scolding was heard by all. But it was spoken in a different language, one only known to Woyrs, and even then each pack had their own variation.

The fight left Enyo’s body and she lowered her gaze to the floor. Ares let go and she stepped back a few paces, not lifting her head. Her cheeks were flushed red, hands fisted at her side.

Gabe’s own hands clenched and he had the strong desire to punch Ares. Once, maybe five, times.

Ares met his gaze, his expression almost sympathetic. Gabe barely swallowed the growl crawling up his throat.

“Enough,” Cade yelled, though at the moment no one was actually talking. He rubbed a hand down his face. “This is getting us nowhere. ‘Together you are stronger.’ Does anyone remember that part from the prophecy? We need to find a middle ground.

“I understand John and Lars’ point. The need to get rid of evil is a constant thrum in my body, as strong as my heartbeat. We kill Apollyon and this war we’ve been fighting for over three hundred years will be finished. I want that as much as anyone here, especially for the safety of my unborn child, but one wrong move and the fight becomes something worse. We won’t defeat Apollyon if we can’t even hold a discussion without arguing.”

The meeting broke up after that. John apologized to no one in particular about his behavior then left, sharing a look with Lars who followed. The rest of the Sept Two and Sept Four Behns trailed after them.

Gabe didn’t pay attention to when the Worys left, though he did notice Seymon went with them. The Behn from Sept Three Russia—with his intense blue eyes and unknown power, which could be the ace up their sleeve or make them all look like jokers—had his head tilted toward Enyo as she spoke to him. Gabe didn’t listen to what she said. Didn’t want to.

He walked up to Cade who was still at the front of the room, now surrounded by Lucas, Kate, Drew, and the other two Behns from Sept Seven who’d arrived after Drew. Lucas had his arm around Kate’s back. Her head rested on his shoulder.

“So, should I kill John and Lars now or later?” Gabe asked.

Cade stopped mid-sentence to throw an are-you-fucking-kidding-me-with-this-shit-right-now, can’t-you-ever-be-serious glare.

Gabe nodded. Yeah, it wasn’t his best line. He’d been feeling off lately.

“How close are you to finding the map?” Cade asked Kate.

“I’m sorry, Cade, but I have no idea. I’m trying.”

“We know you are, baby.” Lucas stroked her back.

Kate gave him a small smile. “Elias said something at our last meeting. I was going to tell everyone, but then the arguing started.”

“What is it?” Cade asked.

“He said to find the map I need to follow in the Sonh’s footsteps.”

“His footsteps? Like from when he was here on earth?” Drew asked.

Kate shrugged. “I guess.”

Gabe rolled his eyes. “Has anyone asked Elias for the CliffsNotes version of his cryptic comments? Although he probably doesn’t even know what he’s saying half the time either.”

“It’s a place to start,” Cade said in response to Kate. “Which is better than what we’ve had. I’ll speak with John and Lars. Let them know. Hopefully this will delay their jumping the gun plan.”

“Or knife.” At Cade’s raised eyebrow, Gabe explained further. “You know, because Lars and his knife fetish. He’s jumping the knife—oh never mind.” He shook his head. “I’m out of here. Need to get some sleep before patrol tonight.”

As he passed the poolroom, a girly giggle reached his ears. He didn’t pause or allow his gaze to waver. And here he thought dogs didn’t like to get wet.

With a scowl, he kicked it up a gear and ascended to the first floor. Food first. Then a place to crash that wasn’t anywhere near the HQ. His contact list was full of willing females that wouldn’t mind sharing their bed for a few hours.

A heavy weight settled on his chest. He ignored it and pushed open the kitchen door, almost colliding with Jeeves who carried what looked like Martha’s awesome Apple Crunch pie. The
ebhed
grabbed the pie tin with his other hand to steady it, then bowed.

“Hello,
adohn
. What can I get you?”

“How about not taking off with that pie? Is that one of Martha’s?”

Jeeves smiled. “Yes. She just finished it. I’m sure she’d be happy to bake another one. This is for
adohn
Sarid.”

Gabe raised an eyebrow. “Really? He requested pie?”

“Yes. Most unusual. Martha said the
adohn
was quite agitated. Needed the perfect dessert that would appeal to a woman and a young boy. But if you’ll excuse me,
adohn
, I need to get this to
adohn
Sarid. I already told him I was on my way.”

“Of course,” Gabe said absentmindedly. He barely registered Jeeves’s bow before the elderly man left the kitchen.

What the hell was Sarid up to?