Fallen Death (The Trihune Series Book 3) (5 page)

Chapter 12

“What’s going on in that head of yours, lil’ man?” Asjhone asked.

It was the following night. She and Keandre were walking the short distance to First Baptist Church. He hadn’t said a word since they’d left the apartment. His small hand was in hers, and she gave it a squeeze.

He shrugged.

“How was gym today? Did Ms. Massie let you play basketball again?”

He shook his head. “We had to play hockey.”

“Hockey’s fun.” She remembered hating it when she was in school.

Another shrug.

Asjhone stopped, crouched until she was eye level with him. “Talk to me.”

His lower lip started to quiver.

Her eyebrows furrowed. Dozens of scenarios ran through her head, each more drastic than the last. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t want to go to latchkey after school again,” he finally wailed.

She raised an eyebrow. This is what the melancholy and tears were for? She opened her mouth, ready to give a pull-on-your-big-pants, you-can’t-get-everything-you-want speech, when she paused, studied his expression. “Why?”

“Only baby first graders go to latchkey after school.”

Asjhone resisted the urge to remind him that less than a year ago he was a first grader. “Says who?”

“Anthony.”

“Anthony Jaynes?” With the mother who didn’t have to work because her husband was a wealthy businessman. The one who volunteered for every field trip and classroom party.

The boy was probably dropped off on time every morning and picked up right at dismissal, too. She bit her lip to stop the spew of her own insecurities. Anthony’s life was no different than her own growing up. She felt a pang in her chest. This wasn’t what she’d wanted for her son. “You’ve been in latchkey after school before, lil’ man. You know older kids stay, too.”

He shook his head, chin on chest. Tears slipped off his cheek and fell to the ground. “They pass out animal cookies and milk. That’s a baby snack.”

She sighed. “I wish I could get out of work early enough to meet you, but I can’t.”

“Can I go over Devan’s house after school? Please, Momma.”

She stood. Reached for his hand before continuing down the sidewalk. “I already answered that question, Keandre. I’m sorry you’re upset. I’m sorry you have to go to latchkey. I work so we can eat, have clothes to wear, and a roof over our heads. Mrs. B won’t be gone long. You’ll ride the bus again when she’s back.” Asjhone braced herself for a temper tantrum, but his shoulders just slumped as more tears quietly fell.

Asjhone hated upsetting him. Not that kids should get whatever they wanted, but she understood not wanting to spend ten hours at school every day. Most mornings he was the first one there. Latchkey fed him breakfast and gave him a snack after school. Those were her jobs. How could she be a good mother and work full time? Did families with two parents ever feel this much guilt?

Staying with Tamera Mackie was out of the question. She was a nice person, but Asjhone didn’t trust her enough to keep Keandre safe.

The budget had already been rearranged to pay for after school care. But what if she cut back on grocery money? By her last count, there were ten premade meals in the freezer and fridge. If she picked up the basics, no cookies or other desserts, which would mean no Superman ice cream, could she afford to take off early two or three days a week until Mrs. B returned? That is, if someone could cover her shift. The church picnic was soon, though. She’d promised to help out with food. Another expense.

Did she want to rearrange her schedule? Or was it important for Keandre to tough it out? To learn he couldn’t get what he wanted all the time?

Didn’t he already know that?

How many times over the years had she told him no? No to karate lessons. No, he couldn’t get a Wii. No, she couldn’t afford bunk beds like Devan’s.

“Hello, Ms. Williams,” a male voice called out.

They had reached the church. John Haines, Keandre’s bible study teacher stood at the door.

“And how are you today, young man?”

Keandre shrugged.

“Answer, Mr. Haines, Keandre.”

“Not so good today, Mr. Haines. Thank you for asking.” Keandre kept his gaze on the ground.

John raised his head, concern and a bit of amusement in his eyes. Asjhone gave a small shake of her head.

John patted Keandre’s shoulder. “Let’s hope we can improve your day. Go ahead and head down. Mrs. Haines will meet you at the door.”

“Bye, Mom.” Keandre spoke without looking at her.

John didn’t say anything until he was out of sight. “Is everything okay?”

“He’s upset about going to latchkey after school. Mrs. B was watching him, but had to leave to take care of her sister.”

“Ah, yes I heard about that. I hope her sister’s doing all right.”

“She called this morning. Her sister will be released tomorrow, but Mrs. B’s going to stay for at least two weeks. Maybe longer.” Other members were coming in behind Asjhone. She moved to let them by. “Let me know if Keandre needs me.”

“I will,” John said. “And check in with the pastor. He might know someone who could help until Mrs. B returns.”

“Thank you. I will.”

Pastor Ken Jones was surrounded when Asjhone stepped into the worship area. He caught her gaze and waved. She smiled back and found a seat in the half circle.

Ten minutes later, her bible open to Samuel 17, she followed along as the pastor read.

When finished, he closed the cover of his well-used bible, adjusted his black-framed glasses, and walked around the podium. Seemingly lost in thought, he kept his gaze on the floor, hands clasped behind his back.

Asjhone liked this church. It wasn’t the Baptist church she’d grown up with, where the men dressed in suits and the women wore dresses and large hats. Asjhone had so many hats growing up one closet had been devoted entirely to storing the circle boxes.

Pastor Ken was down to earth. Didn’t seem to care what the members wore. His demeanor was so inviting and warm, it made her want to divulge all her secrets. Which she’d never do, but if there was anyone in her life she could trust, it was those she’d met at this church.

She started attending the Tuesday night bible study for Keandre, so he’d have at least a small part of what she had growing up. Money was out. As well as a large extended family. But she could instill in him the manners and lessons her parents had lovingly taught her.

“The Philistine was a huge man,” the pastor began. “A beast. Others had seen him and fled, fearful for their lives. But not David. He knew it wasn’t the size of the giant in his life that mattered, but the size of his faith. David had faith that the Lord gave him all he needed to defeat the giants in his life. Do you have that faith? When times are scary and tough, do you focus on the giants in your life or your faith?

“There’s a saying, the Lord does not give you more than you can handle, but I don’t agree. The Lord piles it on to see how you react. We’re only human. We’re not God. We don’t have his infinite power.

“So, do you worry about all you have to deal with? Do you curse and get angry? Scream out, why me? Or do you raise your hands? Ask the Lord to send you help? Ask the Lord to give you strength to cope?

“Do you focus on the giant in your life or do you focus on faith that the Lord will help?”

After the session, Asjhone stood in the back, stirring sugar into her coffee.

“How are you today, Asjhone?” the pastor asked.

“It’s been a rough start to the week, but I’m getting through it. Your teaching was especially fortuitous.”

“The Lord works in mysterious ways. On troubling days, I’ll open my bible and the message I need to receive is right in front of me. It’s a sign that the Lord is watching. He’s saying, ‘I’m here. I care.’”

She nodded. Took a small sip from her Styrofoam cup. “I wondered, do you know anyone in the congregation who could watch Keandre after school. Mrs. B left for a couple weeks to help her sister.”

“Yes, I heard about that. I’ve been praying for Velma’s health. Well, I can definitely make an announcement Sunday at both Worship services.”

“Thank you, Pastor. That would help.”

“What time does school dismiss?”

“Three-thirty. I get off work at five-thirty and am home most nights by six.”

“I’d be happy to watch him the rest of this week.”

She blinked. Shook her head. “Oh no, that wasn’t why I brought it up. I couldn’t possibly impose.”

“You brought it up because you need help.” He placed a hand on her arm. “And I want to help. My afternoons are spent working on Sunday sermons. Keandre would be a welcome distraction.”

She scratched her cheek. “I don’t want to put you out.”

“Nonsense. Although I did agree to meet a parishioner tomorrow at five o’clock, so if you don’t mind, I’ll bring Keandre to my house. He can work on his homework or watch a bit of TV while I visit.”

“Are you sure? I mean, his school does have an after school program. I can—”

“Asjhone.” His tone was kind, soft. “Please allow me to help. You, Keandre, and the other members of this church are my family. Family helps family.”

Warmth flooded behind her eyes. She swallowed before speaking. “Yes, Pastor. Thank you.”

Chapter 13

Asjhone held Keandre’s hand on the way home. The sun was setting, but was bright enough that she felt safe walking.

“You’re quiet. Aren’t you happy? No latchkey tomorrow.”

Keandre’s eyebrows furrowed, and he glanced over his shoulder.

Asjhone turned as well, but spied no one. “What did you discuss in bible group tonight?”

“Hurry, Momma.” Keandre walked faster, pulling on her hand.

“What are you rushing for? It’s just bath and bedtime when we get home.”

Another look over his shoulder. “I don’t like what he’s saying. It’s scaring me.”

Asjhone whipped around, tripping on a crack in the sidewalk. An older lady was getting into her car about a half a block away. On the opposite side of the street, two teenagers had just left a coffee shop. Air rushed from her mouth. She scanned the surroundings once more. “Who are you talking about? There’s no one around us.”

He shook his head, yanked on her hand.

She frowned. “Did Mrs. Mackie allow you watch a scary show again?”

“No, Momma.” Keandre didn’t slow down. His hand was tight on hers.

“So you and Devan were watching TV and she didn’t know?” She sighed. “That’s why I don’t like you over there. She doesn’t supervise. Both of you are too little to watch whatever you want.”

Fear flickered across his face, and he twisted again to look behind them.

Asjhone’s anger at Tamera spiked. Was it too much to monitor a child’s TV habits? She thought of something to distract him. “How about we skip the bath tonight and have a piece of Ms. Tynice’s apple pie instead?”

Keandre glanced up, eyes wide. “Really?”

She nodded, smiling. Sometimes it just hit how much she loved him.

“Can I have ice cream with it?”

Annnd the guilt was back. “Sorry, lil’ man. We don’t have ice cream yet. But I’ll warm up the pie. Add some whip cream. How does that sound?”

Disappointment was clear, but he said, “Okay.”

Keandre’s fear never completely left until they were in the house with the door locked. She’d have to talk to Tamera about the shows Keandre could and could not watch.

Chapter 14

Sarid closed the door and set off on foot, forgoing the Hummer locked in his garage. The apartment building and garage were rigged with a massive alarm system, similar to the HQ’s. Not only did it run along every window and door, but it’d also send Sarid a text if anything over twenty pounds crossed the property line.

His place was on the outskirts of town, next to one of two cemeteries in Astoria. Sarid—well, Jeeves—had purchased the entire building thirty years ago. Once all the Followers had moved on, Sarid inhabited the place. The cemetery had sealed the deal.

Cemeteries, churches, and other places deemed holy made the Other a bit twitchy. Not come to the surface twitchy, but don’t make a sound, be very quiet so not to disturb and draw attention. The apartment had been built on what was originally half the cemetery.

In the early nineteen hundreds, after a tornado destroyed most of the area, city officials decided to quietly remove the broken headstones and relocate the whole ones to the side with the least amount of damage. Decades later, the apartment had been built on the empty side of the property.

The place allowed Sarid to restore his strength in relative peace—

Male. Up ahead. On the right. Cut off his balls and shove them up his nostrils. Hurt!

—such as, not listening to a round the clock Tourette’s spasm of savagery.

Today his strength had completely returned. As promised, Gabe and Lucas gave blood when they dropped him off two days ago. Yesterday they sent Jeeves with more blood and his Hummer, clothes, and food. Without blood, he’d have been laid up for at least three more days.

It never failed to surprise him, even after all the times his
achs
had to clean up the demon’s mess, most especially, its victims, they still gave him their blood.

Female. With child. Leaving that shop on the left. Two for the price of one.
The demon laughed.
Kill!
Cut the child out. Use its cord to strangle the mother.

And he could never return the favor.

He hadn’t inquired—not wanting to confirm what was already suspected—though was quite positive his blood—
he
—was tainted.

Ooh, young love at the coffee place. Let’s tie boulders to their waists and throw them into the river. True love never dies, right?

Self-preservation had demanded he learn to ignore the demon’s ramblings. Plus, it was as annoying as shit. Most of the time he managed, but today was a bit much. If the
choghen
hadn’t been expecting him, Sarid would return to the apartment.

Hospital.

He sucked in a breath. Clenched his hands into fists.

His nightmares the past two days drove him to reach out to the pastor.

While he’d slept, the demon’s intentions played out in his mind. Sarid hadn’t been able to stop the Other. It’d ripped its way through the children on the playground, blood splattering across its face and chest. Claws had impaled flesh, like a knife through butter.

The screams, so full of terror, had matched Sarid’s, and were what woke him every time. Low chuckles in his head prevented further sleep.

Then the dreams where the demon had gone back to the hospital. Found Asjhone. Tore her into pieces.

Sarid shuddered.

Mine.

His heart leapt.

Normally for the Other, one kill was just as good as the next. Only one other time had the demon fixated on a particular Follower. As soon as it had gained control of Sarid’s body, it hunted down the woman and killed her.

The world was filled with darkness. It didn’t have the luxury of losing one of its more kind, beautiful, caring, and gentle souls.

Find Mine. Hospital. Safe? Find her.

How many innocent lives could’ve been saved if he’d made this decision sooner?

He’d put his own needs and wants first. Allowed Lucas and the others to convince him the deaths weren’t his fault. The guilt belonged to the Other.

But that wasn’t completely true. Sarid could’ve stopped the demon anytime he wanted.

Mine.

“She will never be yours,” Sarid growled. A gasp startled him from his musings. “I’m—” He started to apologize to the young woman, but she saw his face, gave a small scream, and raced across the street without looking. Thankfully, it was clear of cars.

Sarid sighed. Maybe he should’ve drove.

Ten minutes later, he knocked on the
choghen’s
door.

“Hello, Sarid. Come in.” Pastor Ken’s smile was warm. He moved aside to allow Sarid entrance. “I’m glad you called.”

Rip out his heart. Slash his throat. Crush his head between our hands. Pop. Hurt! Kill! Maim!

Sarid stepped over the threshold, pausing to wipe his feet on the mat just inside the door.

A sound he’d never heard before had him lifting his head in confusion. A child ran into the room. Sarid stumbled back, crashing into the wall.

“Hi. My name’s Keandre. I’m seven. Almost eight. What’s your name? Hey, what happened to your face? Does it hurt?”

The Pastor walked around Sarid, stopping next to the boy. He leaned down. Whispered in his ear. Sarid couldn’t hear the conversation over his pounding heart.

The boy was older than the ones on the playground. The ones he and the demon had killed over and over again every time he closed his eyes. But it was still a child.

No. No. No. No. No.

Sarid threw his body into lock down. Didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

He was in control. It’d be okay.

The
choghen
moved. His back to Sarid, blocking the boy from view. “Keandre, this is the friend I told you about. He’s come over to talk. Can you go into the kitchen now? Start on your homework?”

“Yes.” The boy angled his head to look around the pastor. “Sorry I was rude,” he said, then skipped out of the room.

Once the boy left, the pastor turned, raised his hands. “It’s okay.”

Make him leave.
The demon said.
Want the boy.

“Why’d you let me come here?” His voice was high. “Why—”

The
choghen
laid a hand on Sarid’s arm.

The demon’s snarl was cut off in mid-stream. It retreated to a far corner in Sarid’s mind.

“Calm.”

Sarid inhaled deep then exhaled. Twice more before he relaxed his posture. But not his guard. “I shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe.”

“It’s perfectly safe. I have faith in you. More than enough to pick up the slack.” The
choghen
sat on the couch and stared pointedly at Sarid.

Sarid forced his body to move. To sit in the chair closest to the door and within easy view of the entrance to the room. He didn’t want the child to sneak up on him.

Pastor Ken didn’t need to continue touching him. The demon knew one of the Creator’s clergymen was near. It would behave.

The
choghen
waited patiently, hands folded in his lap, for Sarid to begin.

“I’ve made a decision.” Sarid paused.

The pastor nodded.

“It’s time to end us.”

Confusion flickered.

“It’s for the best.”

The
choghen
opened his mouth.

“It was going after the children. In the park. If I hadn’t run in front of the semi, it would’ve killed those children.”

The pastor glanced behind him at the open doorway. He rose, left the room. Sarid heard him speaking softly to the boy then the
choghen
returned, shut the door quietly. “Death is not a decision for the Creator’s Followers to make. It is the Creator’s, in his infinite wisdom, to decide when to call a person home.”

“I’m not human. Nor will I ever be called to His home.” He wasn’t bitter about this. It was a fact. Something he’d reconciled with a long time ago, after he’d made his first kill . . .

The voodoo queen had laughed as Sarid rose from the table. Everything in sight tinted red.

A trick. A reaction from the queen’s potions and chants. Something the master had done before bringing him here.

He raised his arm.
Heavier than usual. Bulkier.

Another peal of laughter. Gleeful. Victorious.

He growled. The sound was strange, foreign, but in that moment . . . right. The noise echoed his emotions. Pooled them together into one complete, fulfilling release. He tilted his head back and did it again. Longer. Deeper.

The queen’s laugh faded. Her hands lifted in front of her body, palms out. A gesture of appeasement. Then her eyes widened. Mouth parted. She stepped back. A retreat.

Another sound erupted from him. This one different. A warning.

The queen didn’t listen.

Without thought, his arm swung up from his body then out in a wide arc.

Blood splattered. Two large pieces thumped to the floor.

More laughter.

But it was his.

No, not his. He wasn’t . . . him.

Sarid stared with his red vision at the voodoo queen, dead on the floor. What was this? How could this be?

He lifted his arms. Stared at the hard, scaled skin. The long, sharp claws.

The master had made sure he would never touch another female again.

Body and nails of a beast.

What was he?

Strong. We are strong. And we’ll no longer play the victim.

The voice was not his, but Sarid wasn’t scared.

The queen was dead. He—and the thing that he now was—had killed her.

He’d willed his mind to feel anything but what it did. To be afraid of his soon-to-be hanging for killing the woman. Dread at the master’s return. Panic at what the scales and claws meant.

But he had felt none of those. Only joy. The queen had died, and he’d been happy about it.

Pastor Ken’s voice brought Sarid back to the present.

“Do you not follow the Creator? Do you not fight under His name every single night?” The questions shot out, one right after the other. His tone almost harsh.

The demon lifted his head, but made no other movement. Sarid studied the man across from him. “Are you . . . angry?”

Glasses pushed to his forehead, the
choghen
rubbed his eyes, then placed the frames back on his nose. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have gotten upset.” He stayed silent for a moment, then, “Why are you telling me this? Why didn’t you just do it?”

“I hoped you could help me get ready.”

“Do you know what I think? You want me to change your mind. If your decision was firm, the deed would already be done.”

Sarid was shaking his head before the
choghen
finished. “There’s a woman,” he started then stopped.

The pastor’s eyebrows rose. “A woman?”

He nodded.

When Sarid said nothing else, the
choghen
asked, “Where did you meet her?”

“In the hospital. When I was brought in.”

The pastor paused, then inhaled quickly. “Is she still alive?”

“Yes. Though if the Other gains control . . . Do you remember your sermon from last week?”

“I do.”

“‘The biggest way to blow your spiritual potential is to do your own will.’ That’s what I’ve been doing all these years. I’ve been selfish. Do you know how many deaths, deaths of innocents, I’ve witnessed over the years? Thousands. Thousands of the Creator’s Followers murdered because I was too selfish to end our life.”

“Perhaps the Creator called those souls home. Using the Other as the instrument as opposed to illness or a car crash or some natural disaster? The desire to live is not selfish, Sarid,” the pastor said softly. “The Creator gave you life. It’s something to rejoice in, be thankful for. Yes, your cross is heavier than most, but that doesn’t mean you give up.” He paused. “Maybe there’s a way to remove the Other—”

Sarid’s hand cut through the air. “There’s not. I’ve already tried. Our souls are entwined. If one of us dies, the other will die as well.”

The
choghen
fell silent.

“You know I’m right. My life is not more important than any other Follower.”

“Have you discussed this with Cade? Elias?”

“No. I’m discussing it with you.”

“Don’t they have a right to know? To offer an opinion? Objection?”

“No.”

“Will you wait? Four weeks?” The pastor spoke rapidly. Moved to the edge of his chair.

“For what purpose?” Sarid shook his head. “No. It’s too risky.”

“What’s the shortest time you’ve had between an Other appearance?”

He thought about it. “Fifteen days.”

“So you can wait fifteen days, then.”

He frowned. “Again, for what purpose?”

“You came to me for preparation, yes? So, you come to me every day for fifteen days.”

Sarid said nothing for a moment then gave one single nod.

A phone rang in the distance. “I’m sorry. I need to get that. Will you excuse me for a moment?”

Once the
choghen
left, he stood and faced the picture window. Pastor Ken had been a good friend over the years. He was there when Sarid wanted to talk, or just sit nearby when he sought peace from his demon and didn’t want to be alone in his apartment. He’d do this one thing for the
choghen
. Fifteen days, then he’d end his life for the good of all.