Fallen Death (The Trihune Series Book 3) (18 page)

Chapter 33

TWO DAYS LEFT

Sarid bounded up the stairs to Asjhone’s apartment, bouquet in hand. The woman at the store said those were their most exotic flowers. At one time Gabe said women liked flowers. Sarid thought of nothing else but the pleasure on Asjhone’s face when she opened the door. She’d been working hard lately. Double and triple checking her work, afraid the doctor was going to try and get her fired.

He’d contemplated visiting the doctor.

Yes! Hurt. Maim. Just a bit. For the way she treats Mine.

Asjhone wouldn’t like it,
he told the demon. Again. For the fourth time.

She did so good, standing up for herself. He didn’t want his actions to negate that. As soon as she said she wanted help, though . . .

Hurt. Maim. Kill.

Not kill.
He said to the demon.

He paused outside her door. Held the flowers out in front of him. Pursed his lips. Moved his hand behind his back.

A surprise? Or the first thing she saw?

Forget flowers. Knock on door. Find Mine. Touch.

Sarid had just put his arm behind his back again when the noises from inside registered.

Keandre was crying.

He never heard Keandre cry before. Throw a temper tantrum when he didn’t want to go to bed or eat his peas, yes, but not cry.

Next he heard ragged inhales. Asjhone.

He stood inside her apartment, not even aware of his decision to open the door. And why wasn’t it locked? A glance in the kitchen, confirmed what he already knew. Empty.

In the front room, she knelt on the floor. Back to him. Her shoulders shaking.

Keandre’s cries were louder in the house. He resisted the urge to rush in the boy’s room. First, he needed to see Asjhone. He set the flowers on the coffee table.

“Asjhone?”

She startled, whipped around. Tears streamed down her face.

“Angel, what’s going on?” Then glanced behind her. Saw pieces on the floor. Broken, colorful, African ceramic pieces.

Her tears fell faster. The curls she’d gone back to bounced around her face and shoulders. “Keandre. His ball.”

“Sarid! Mr. Sarid!”

Asjhone’s expression turned so fierce Sarid recoiled. “Not another word, Keandre! I mean it. You don’t want me coming in there.”

Keandre’s cries resumed, only louder, which Sarid didn’t think was possible. He glanced toward the hallway, swallowed. What punishment had she given the boy?

Boy? Hurt?
Protect.
The demon whimpered.
Mine. Hurt boy?
Another whimper.
Sad. Fix.

Sarid knew how he felt.

“Ouch. Dammit.”

The smell of blood reached him before Sarid spied the cut on her hand. He took the hand-size broom and dustpan from her, set them on the floor, then examined the cut. It was small. The blood already started to clot. “Let me finish here,” he said softly. “You go wash that off, put a bandage on it.”

After one more tearful glance at the broken vase, she left the room. Sarid swept the pieces, dumped them into the flower-covered garage bin from the bathroom Asjhone must have brought out. With a wet rag from the kitchen, he wiped the floor to catch specs of broken pieces. After making sure Asjhone was still down the hall, he allowed his Behn gaze to flare. It coated the world in blue, but he was able to see greater and with it found a piece of sharp ceramic that could’ve easily cut Keandre’s bare feet. He was just emptying the can in the kitchen garbage when she walked in, a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle bandage on her left palm. She’d scrubbed her face of tears, but her eyes were red rimmed and her sadness, the devastated look on her face, almost broke him.

She motioned toward the broom and dustpan he placed under the sink. “You didn’t have to do that.” Her voice was low, devoid of emotion.

“I wanted to.” He pulled her to him. Her breath hitched and she wrapped her arms around him, laid her head on his chest. “I’m sorry your vase was broken.”

“It was the only thing left I had of my mother.”

“I know,” he said, then hesitated, wanting to ask about Keandre. Images flashed in his head of whippings, restraint, burnings. His gaze fell on the counter. “Did you not eat?”

She shook her head.

“Let me fix you a plate.”

Another shake. “I’m too upset to eat.”

He rubbed her back. “What can I do for you?”

“This is good. This is what I need.”

He held her tighter, rested his chin on her head. He’d stay there all night if she needed him, too.

Keandre had quieted, but then as if afraid of being ignored, cried out.

“That kid just doesn’t know when to shut up.” She stepped out of his arms. Fists clenched.

Fear spiked and before she could leave the kitchen, Sarid grabbed her arm. “Let me.” He licked his lips. “I’ll talk to him. You, you take a bath. Try to relax.”

She paused, indecision running across her face. Then Keandre yelled again and her body tensed. Heat filled her cheeks. “I’m not going to tell you again, Keandre! You are on my last nerve.”

Sarid cupped her shoulders, turned her around, placed a kiss on her forehead, nose, mouth. “Go take a bath. It’s been a long day. You deserve it. I’ll talk to him.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” He headed down the hall, placed himself in front of Keandre’s door while she got things from her bedroom. In the bathroom doorway she laid a hand on his chest, rose on tiptoe to kiss him. “Thank you.”

He waited until the door was closed before facing Keandre’s room. No matter what, Asjhone loved her boy. She wasn’t like his mother.

Pinned to the ground, ropes had wrapped Sarid’s ankles, wrists. A crowd had surrounded him. Closing in.

Tears had streamed down his face.
An apology tripped from his mouth, on repeat until it became one long plea.

“Help me, Mother.”

She knelt. Gripped his head. Held him still. “You deserve this,” she hissed. “Now shut up and take your punishment.”

The blade pierced his cheek. Pain, searing and excruciating, tore through him.
His screams had been high-pitched and never ending.

Sometimes boys needed to learn things the hard way.

Find Boy. Help.

No matter what they wouldn’t be mad at Asjhone.

Hand shaking, he sucked in a breath and opened the door. The room was dark except for the Snoopy nightlight in the corner. Light from the hallway fell upon the small bed.

Keandre squinted into the light, hand raised to shield his eyes. “Mr. Sarid!” He bounded across the room and threw himself against Sarid’s legs, clinging.

Sarid scooped him into his arms. No limbs appeared to be broken. His relief was brief.

The boy buried his face into Sarid’s neck, tears dripping onto his shirt.

Sarid rubbed his back, carried him to the bed and sat down. He gently grasped Keandre’s shoulders and pushed him back, bracing himself for what he would see. He cupped the boy’s face, twisted his head to one side, then the other. His eyes narrowed. “What happened?” He ran his hand down Keandre’s body. Inhaled deep. No blood, fresh or dried. Did he have internal injuries?

Keandre sniffed, swiped his hand under his nose. “Mom won’t let me go camping with Devan, and then she took my ball away and I can’t play with it for a whole month. That’s like forever. And she sent me to bed early like a baby. Alls I got for dinner was a PB and J. That’s it. No dessert. None of that pie she made. I’m starving. I only had a ham sandwich for lunch and then two cookies when I got home. But that’s not enough. I’m starving!” His voice rose, tears brimming again. “I’m going to die in here and Mom doesn’t even care. And I really want to go camping. Sleep outside in a tent and fishing and doing other fun stuff. Mom never lets me do anything. And now I can’t even play ball and Devan will find someone else to play with ‘cause I can’t anymore. Mom doesn’t even care.”

Sarid couldn’t speak for a moment. The boy’s punishment for breaking Asjhone’s precious vase was no ball, a sandwich, and an early bedtime. He glanced toward the doorway. He could hear her in the tub. Too easily remember the pain on her face. The utter anguish in her eyes. The flash of anger when she yelled at Keandre from across the house. If he hadn’t had any other reasons to love her, then this would be it. She truly was an angel.

Keandre’s last words registered and he focused on the boy. “I don’t think that’s true, do you?”

His lips pursed and he shrugged, folded his arms across his chest.

“Why did Mom take your ball?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, dropping his gaze.

Sarid lifted the boy’s chin with his finger. “Your mom was upset when I came in. Her vase was broken.”

Keandre’s lower lip quivered.

“She really loved that vase.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose! I got so mad I couldn’t go camping and it slipped out of my hands.”

“Did you tell her you were sorry?”

“Yes. I told her over and over and she still yelled at me. Still took my ball and won’t let me have any dessert. Still sent me to bed.”

Sarid tilted his head. “What do you think she should have done?”

“Not sent me to bed. Let me have my ball. And go camping. She knows Devan’s dad. I never get to have any fun. And let me eat some lasagna. She knows I like lasagna. Not a stupid sandwich. I had a sandwich for lunch.”

“Hmm. Balls can slip out of hands. And you always bounce your ball in the house, so Mom should’ve moved the vase.”

The boy frowned.

“She should move all the pictures and breakable things out of the house because you like to bounce your ball. Sometimes accidents happen. She should understand and not get upset. Like if Devan came over and accidently stepped on your Captain America masher, breaking a piece off of it. Even though you asked him not once, not twice, but many times not to do karate in your room and to be careful about that area, well, it wouldn’t be Devan’s fault if he stepped on it when he was practicing his moves.”

The frown deepened. “Yeah it would. I told him to be careful.”

“But he didn’t mean to do it. Practicing karate is better in your room because you have carpet.”

Keandre’s lower lip pushed out, forehead scrunched in concentration as he stared at his blanket.

“Would you want Devan back in your room after he broke your toy?”

He shook his head.

“Even though he didn’t mean to do it and was sorry.”

“No.”

“Even though it was technically your fault for leaving the toy on the floor where if at any moment Devan decided to practice his karate moves it could get broken.”

Keandre didn’t respond. A moment later, he slipped off of Sarid’s lap and laid down in bed. Sarid pulled the covers up. Rubbed a hand over the boy’s head.

“Was Momma really sad?”

“Yes.”

Tears filled his eyes. “I didn’t mean to make her sad. The ball didn’t slip out of my hands. I threw it, but I didn’t mean for it to hit the vase.”

Sarid kissed the boy’s forehead. “It might be a good idea to keep quiet. Give her time to herself. In the morning, maybe say you’re sorry again.”

Keandre rubbed his eyes. “I will.”

“Ready to go to sleep yet?”

Keandre shook his head, yawned. “Will you read me a story?”

“Not tonight. I need to take care of your mom.”

The boy sighed. “Okay.” Then raised his arms.

When Sarid leaned down, Keandre wrapped his arms around Sarid’s neck. “Good night, Keandre.”

“Night.”

On the way to the kitchen, Sarid grabbed the flowers from the coffee table. He glowered at the large bouquet in his hands. Bad timing.

Under the sink he found a glass vase and filled it with water. After setting a slice of a lasagna on a plate, he wrapped the rest for the fridge.

The kitchen was clean when Asjhone stepped into the room, a robe on, belt tied around her waist.

He poured a glass of wine from the bottle he brought over two nights ago. She smiled, a sad smile. Head resting against the doorframe, she glanced around the kitchen. “You didn’t have to do this.”

He set the microwave to sixty seconds.

Asjhone was silent as she ate, her gaze on the flowers in the middle of the dining room table. He refilled her glass when it emptied and ignored her protests when he took her finished plate and headed into the kitchen. Later he found her on the couch, eyes on the empty shelf. Sarid sat next to her, picked up her hand that wasn’t holding the wine and stroked the soft skin. Asjhone rested her head against his arm.

“Thank you for the flowers and for being here tonight.”

“It’s where I want to be.”

“Do you think who a child’s parent is matters? Like how the adult is, there’s a strong possibility the child will be that way, too? Nature verse nurture. Genes and blood verses learned behaviors.”

Sarid studied her. “Why do you ask?”

“Keandre was mad when I told him no to camping. He started yelling like he does and bounced the ball so hard it hit the shelf.”

“Do you think he did it on purpose?”

She rubbed her forehead. “No. But he was angry enough to throw the ball like he did. Too angry to think about his actions. When he gets like that, he reminds me so much of—” Asjhone bit her lip. Shook her head. “It scares me. I don’t want him to grow up and get angry like that.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”