by Austin, RB
“I’m a member of the Trihune.”
Kate’s expression didn’t change.
“We hunt down bad guys.”
She stiffened. “You’re a cop?”
“Not for humans.”
“Humans?”
He inhaled deeply. How had Cade explained this without Emma running away or believing he was completely mental? “I’m not human. I’m a Behnshma. We were created to protect Followers—humans—from Fallen.”
Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and her eyes flashed to the door.
“I’m not crazy,” he said quickly. “I can show you.”
Her eyebrows rose. Hands flexed and unflexed.
“You want to know how I got us out of the bar without being caught, right? It’s because I’m a Behn. I have certain abilities. Like moving fast. Faster than—”
“A speeding bullet,” Kate finished. She stood. “Really? Are you going to rip off your shirt and show me the big S on your chest? Do you think I’m stupid or something? That I’m just going to fall for this bullshit. I don’t know what your angle is, but I’m not playing anymore. I’m out of here.”
This wasn’t going to plan at all. Lucas jumped to his feet. “Kate, please. Let me show you. After, if you still want to leave, you can go.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine.”
Lucas closed his eyes. A moment later he reopened them and parted his lips. Through the flare of his blue gaze, he watched her eyes widen, mouth fall slack. She scrambled back until her head hit the wall. He blinked and his eyes no longer emanated light, and he closed his lips over his retracting fangs. “The blue glow of our eyes allows us to see farther in the dark.” Probably best not to mention what the fangs were for. “As I said we can run fast. Faster than the human eye can trace, which is how I got us out of the bar. I picked you up and ran past the cops outside the door.”
She was still glued to the wall. Heart pounding. Breaths ragged.
“Relax, Kate. I’m the same person you ate with a few minutes ago. Still have a lot of money. Still using you as a distraction for my life. Nothing has changed.”
“Nothing has changed?”
He was pleased to note her voice was steady, if a bit high. “Not really. So you know a little more about me than you did five minutes ago. Not that big of a deal.” He paused. “Why don’t you try it? Tell me something about you. Then we can both get some sleep. You’re probably tired.”
She still didn’t move. Just watched him with wide, brown eyes. He detected no deception in her reaction. Her fear and panic were genuine. Speeding heart. Uneven breaths. Beads of sweat on her forehead. Muscles clenched, ready for flight or fight.
So she didn’t have prior knowledge about the Trihune, which meant she wasn’t working for Apollyon. Just as he figured. Cade would be happy with the report, though.
He slowly sat on the end of the bed. “You have a secret, too. Something you keep from others. Just like I do. It has to do with why you wear those gloves all the time.” He paused. “Your eyes change, too, Kate.”
Her head jerked back. “My eyes don’t change.”
He said nothing. She stared at him for a long moment then slowly sat, body angled toward him, though muscles still tense. Lucas remained quiet.
Her gaze bounced around the room, stopped on the dresser. “Fine. I have a secret, too.”
When she fell silent he gave her a nudge. “It involves contact? Skin to skin?”
Hands fisted and unfisted. “Yes,” she whispered. “I get visions. Memories from what I touch. Feelings, too, from the emotions surrounding the memory.”
Feelings? Like him? “From anything you touch or comes in contact with you?”
“Yes.”
“Is it just from inanimate objects or—”
“Most anything. Live or not. Person or not.” Her gloved hand ran across the plain navy blue comforter on the bed. “This is yours? You’ve slept here?”
He nodded.
“Then I would most likely see you. Feel what you’ve felt here.”
Lucas thought of the nightmare he had yesterday. Of his time in the ceremonial chamber with Elias.
Naked. Strapped to the cold, marble altar. His sire stood over him, ready to perform the ritual that would remove the demon’s essence trapped inside his body.
No. He wouldn’t want Kate to see or feel his fear and helplessness. And the pain. Horrendous pain.
A soft snort drew his gaze to her.
“Now who wants to run?”
He studied her expression. Self-loathing, resignation, and her own hard-edged attitude all rolled into one. What would she do if he took her hand? “So food doesn’t affect you? Or utensils?”
She shrugged. “I’ve never had a vision when I was eating. My guess is food and liquids can’t hold emotions or memories. And it acts like some kind of barrier between my mouth and the fork or glass.”
He was silent for a moment. “I think we can help each other, Kate.”
“I don’t need help,” came the quick, stubborn response.
He smiled. Couldn’t help it. She was adorable.
Her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes narrowed. “Why are you smiling?”
“I’m happy we met.”
One side of her mouth curled upward. “Ah, yes, your distraction.” She cocked her head. “Why is your boss punishing you? What did you do?”
Yeah, not getting into that. “It’s a long story.”
“So you still want to keep some secrets private?”
He smirked. “Do you feel like sharing why you have multiple IDs with different last names? Or how about just telling me your real last name?”
Kate flashed a grin.
Lucas froze. In that quick moment she went from cold fascinating beauty to absolutely desirable. He completely missed her retort. Her expression said she wasn’t expecting a response.
She pushed flyaway strands of hair behind her ear. What did her hands look like underneath the gloves? He’d caught a brief glance on the balcony of the church, but hadn’t paid much attention. He wished he had.
“Psychometry,” he murmured.
“What?”
“Psychometry. It’s the power to see residual information of an object or person by using senses. That’s what you have.”
She straightened, leaned forward. “So you know of others like me?”
Lucas hated to kill her hope. “I’ve heard of others who do what you do, but I’ve never met anyone.” Perhaps he could reach out to the other Septs. “Did someone in your family have the same thing?”
She shrugged, face hardening. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never met my parents.”
A flood of questions rose to the surface, but he didn’t voice any of them. “So what are your plans?” And how could he change them?
“My plans?”
“To find your bag. Are you working tonight?”
She frowned, slowly shook her head. “I think I’m done working at Opulent.”
“Why? I don’t think the break-in will be tied to you.”
“You can’t be sure of that. Besides it’s time to move on. I’d planned—” She broke off.
“What?”
“Nothing. Actually I’m really tired. I need to sleep.”
“Right. Of course. You must be exhausted from work.”
Lucas stood, headed to the door. He paused, turned. She was in the same spot, watching him. “I leave later today, heading back to Oregon. If you’re interested there’s a job opening at my Headquarters.” When she didn’t refuse outright, he continued. “It’s mostly cleaning. Maybe preparing meals.” The HQ was a big place. The ebheds would be happy for the help. “The money’s good.” He’d pay her himself.
Lucas paused outside the closed door, waiting to hear the window open. Nothing. Like she hadn’t moved.
With a frown he headed to the couch in the front room. He’d told her the truth.
He wouldn’t stop her from leaving, but as a Behn he had to erase her memory before she stepped one foot out the door. Or window.
Chapter 33
Kate sat on the bed. Would he really let her go? Just like that? She’d be stupid to believe it. And she’d already been stupid way too many times to count.
Why had she told him her secret?
He already figured out most of it, though. She touched her temple. Was it true? Did her eyes change? Wouldn’t she know if they did?
The image of his glowing eyes and fangs sprang in her head. She shuddered. Holy fuck. He was no longer Rich Guy when he changed like that. The man could tear her frickin’ head off with those fangs. And his eyes. They were like mini flashlights. The light warm when it landed on her.
Her hands clenched. She wasn’t afraid, though. She could take care of herself.
He touched her. Outside the bar. Skin on skin. No one had touched her in years. His hand had cupped her cheek. So gentle. Almost like a caress. Something else she wasn’t used to.
Shock had stilled her. Then her power had sprung to life, reaching for a memory, but something changed. Instead of a flashback, her power grabbed . . . What had it been? Suddenly she’d been so tired. Couldn’t keep her eyes open. Then everything faded and she woke in the church.
He hadn’t explained what he did to her.
Kate cupped her cheek. His hand hadn’t been soft. Not like a rich guy’s would be. It was calloused, rough from hard work, but so gentle.
A noise of disgust left her and she dropped her hand.
What had he said? He was a Bens-ma? Whatever. That didn’t tell her anything.
She heard the word Trihune before. In the church. Still didn’t understand what it meant, though.
He was a cop, of sorts. That she did understand.
That fact scared her more than the fangs and flashlight eyes. How messed up was that?
It didn’t matter, though. Unless she decided to work at his Headquarters. She’d cleaned office buildings before. It was an okay job. Similar to cleaning houses.
He mentioned preparing meals, too. Maybe that was like getting coffee and donuts ready for conferences or something. She worked at a donut shop before.
Her heart thudded. He knew her secret. If she were smart, she’d sneak out the window, leave town, and never see him again.
But she knew his secret, too. A bit bigger than hers. He wasn’t even human. Had said so himself.
Kate paused. Was she human?
Lucas might know someone like her. How often had she wished to find someone with her ability? But it’d been a dream, like the one of her parents coming to take her home. Infantile and useless. A hopeful delusion unable to provide food or warmth.
But what if?
If she worked for him, she wouldn’t have to hide her ability. Wouldn’t have to quit when the boss found out she wasn’t wearing gloves to hide burn scars.
He’d get her out of town, which was a must, and she’d have a job.
Oregon was farther away from Chicago, though.
But she had no ID. Couldn’t buy a ticket to Chicago even if she did have the money.
Kate leaned her head against the wall. One foot still dangling off the edge of the bed, the other curled under her. Exhaustion settled in her body. She closed her eyes.
It was decided. She’d work for him. Make some cash. Then take off for Chicago. Maybe he knew where to get a fake ID?
Her eyes flashed open. No. She couldn’t ask him, was already relying on him for too much. Had been ready to spill her guts to a man—could she still call him that?—she barely knew. Oh, he liked scotch, rare burgers—fangs, raw meat. She shuddered. Don’t go there. Just don’t—wore really expensive clothes, was rich, and had work troubles. That was it. They weren’t friends. He was using her. She’d use him. As soon as she was done, she’d be on her way.
Kate patted her pocket. She’d keep the watch for now. Might need it at some point. And if not, she’d return it.
She wasn’t a thief.
“Hang on a bit longer, Stacy,” she whispered. “We’ll be together soon.”
Chapter 34
Sonneillon walked in darkness toward Apollyon’s hidden room. It was miles away from the newly turned recruits. If anyone tried to find it, well, they wouldn’t make it. The absence of light, many twists and turns, and the hidden holes that dropped unsuspecting victims twenty feet to meet the protruding stakes made sure of it.
He’d just finished cleaning the chamber where the turn took place. The once gray cement floors and walls had been stained to almost black over the centuries.
His clothes, smeared with blood and other Follower excrement, were now burning in a metal can.
The three recruits who hadn’t survived had been disposed of. Newly turned Fallen were still unconscious in their large room.
Sonneillon paused outside the metal door. Silence reigned on the other side. Perhaps Apollyon was already sleeping. It’d be easier that way.
This was one of the more unpleasant tasks, but he’d do it. As he’d completed most everything else Apollyon requested of him these past centuries. The end result was worth the price.
He opened the door slowly, aware of every creak. The rusty hinges were its own alarm system and wouldn’t be oiled or replaced for something newer or stronger. Whoever dared entered these premises without an invite would be leaving in garbage bags. Even in his weakened state, Apollyon could tear shit up.
The light in the room was no different than the hallway before it. No matter. Sonneillon’s sight allowed him to see just as easy in the dark as in sunlight. It was the being inside this room that had him treading carefully.
The loss of three recruits was one of the better outcomes of a turning, but it still angered Apollyon. Sonneillon would rather avoid Apollyon when he was angry.
The room’s lavish furnishings weren’t much of a shock anymore. Though stepping from cement tunnels through a rusted metal door onto plush carpet with his stained black boots just seemed farcical at times. The bed—more than likely, stolen from some 16th century king—was the most prominent piece of furniture. A large oval mirror with a gold border stood in the corner. The wooden door on the opposite wall opened to Apollyon’s wardrobe—embarrassingly large for a male.
Unexpectedly, Apollyon wasn’t lying on the bed. He sat in a large leather loveseat that didn’t fit in with the rest of the King Henry the VIII décor. Chin on fist, he stared at his reflection in the oval mirror.
“Are you well?” Sonneillon asked, closing the door behind him. The back of the rusted metal door was wood and contained hand-carved ancient symbols.
He shifted his gaze in the mirror to meet Sonneillon’s. “I need more.”
Apollyon’s human form, aged about thirty years, had dark brown hair, blue eyes, and was in peak physical condition. In this form, he didn’t need to eat or drink to sustain his life. He healed himself from any injury except those caused by the sun. Like the Fallen, he couldn’t be outside while the sun shone.
Today, he was paler than normal. His white robe stained with fluid, some of it his own.
“More?”
“Yes, more.” His head whipped around, narrowed eyes flaring red for a q
uick second, lighting the interior of the room. “Night after night the Trihune slaughter my children while I’m stuck in here.” He waved a hand to encompass his room. “Unable to protect them.”
“It’s for your own safety that you stay hidden,” Sonneillon reminded him quietly. He walked around the bed and opened the closet. He chose a pair of loose fitting slacks and a shirt.
“I know that,” Apollyon snapped.
Sonneillon set the garments on the bed and turned to face him. “Come. Let me help you change. You’ll feel better after you’ve rested. You can greet the new Fallen. I know you like to be the first person they see when they wake into the new life you’ve given them.”
“Stop handling me, Sonni. It’s annoying. I’m not addle-brained. And I’ve told you what will make this better. More! More recruits. More Fallen. More children to fight the Trihune.”
Sonneillon moved to the middle of the room. Apollyon braced both hands on the arm of the chair and pushed to his feet. He swayed and grasped the fabric of the chair. Sonneillon knew better than to offer assistance. Once balanced, Apollyon shuffled forward.
Back straight, chin high, he allowed Sonneillon to undress him. The task was performed because Apollyon was too weak to do it himself, but nothing in his demeanor indicated his feeble status. To show weakness was equivalent to being weak.
“Nothing to say?” Apollyon asked.
Sonneillon gently pulled the shirt over his head. “You know my opinion on this matter. The last time we spoke you were in agreement.”
Apollyon yanked the garment out of Sonneillon’s hands and pushed it down over his chest and stomach. “Well, my opinion has changed.”
Once the clean pair of pants had been tied around Apollyon’s waist, Sonneillon picked up the discarded clothes and set them outside.