by RB Austin
“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?
Chapter 24
TEN DAYS LEFT
Sarid stood in a dimly lit hallway in front of a faded red door, trying to calm his racing heart. He didn’t get this freaked out when facing five Fallen all intent on killing him. He moved the pie from his left hand to his right, wiped his damp palm on his pant leg, did the same with the other side.
This was a mistake. His erratic breathing proved it. If he couldn’t get control, things would turn monstrous.
Pun intended.
The demon whimpered. Mine.
Yep. This was wrong.
But he didn’t move away from the dirt-streaked flimsy piece of wood. Was that why she had all those locks? They weren’t cheap models either, especially compared to the other items in her place. The used couch, table, and television. The newest pieces of furniture had been in Keandre’s room. Although he hadn’t seen her room . . .
He froze. It wasn’t nerves now that made his heart skip a beat. Dammit. This wasn’t going to work. Normally just the thought of touching a woman caused a cold sweat to break out over his body. He wasn’t cold now. More like Africa-hot.
“No. I can’t.” He’d learned self-restraint eons ago, had a doctorate in it. Walk away. That’s all he had to do.
Please. Stay. The demon whispered. It’d been quiet on the way over. Not one vile word uttered.
Sarid had been too preoccupied of where he was g
oing and who he was going to meet to think much of it then. But now, he wondered. Had the demon stayed quiet so he wouldn’t change his mind? And if so, what was its purpose? What did the demon want?
He shuddered at the thought.
Resolve firmly in place, he turned away. The crunch of aluminum reached his ears. He pivoted, set the beautifully made dessert on the floor in front of Asjhone’s door, then strode away.
No! Mine! Go back. Mine. Mine.
“Sarid?”
He froze, closed his eyes as her voice, just that one word spoken from her lips, soothed him. His inhale was deep, the deepest of the day. There was a rustle of clothes, the crinkle of the pie tin.
“Are you . . . are you leaving?”
Rounding, he stared at her. Indecision raged once more, but knew, the moment she spoke he knew, he was powerless to make any other decision. “No. I’m staying.”
He followed her inside.
“This looks good.” She held the pie in her hands. “Did you make it?”
“No.”
She paused as if waiting for him to say something else, then when he didn’t, “Why don’t you go sit at the table? I’ll bring this out with some plates. Do you want coffee?”
“I’ll help.”
“You don’t have to do that. You’re a guest.”
“I’d like to.” He was rewarded with a smile. His heart skipped a beat.
“Okay, then.” She placed the dessert in his hands. “Bring this to the table, then meet me in the kitchen.”
He proceeded down the small hallway, walked around the couch to the table a few feet behind. After placing the pie in the middle of the table, he entered the kitchen through the doorway off of the dining room.
Asjhone was inside, on tiptoes in front of an open cabinet. His gaze fell to her jean-clad rear end.
Stop it. Not appropriate.
Two steps into the kitchen, he reached above her to grab the cup she was aiming for.
She gasped, whirled, which trapped her between Sarid’s body and the counter. “You scared me.”
“Sorry.” He took a step back. Then another one.
Her laugh sounded a bit off. “You might as well get the other one.” When he didn’t move, she motioned to the cupboard.
“Of course.” This time he waited until she was out of the way before getting it. “Just two?”
Asjhone nodded. “Keandre will have milk.”
Sarid pulled a glass from the shelf below, then paused. There were several well-faded plastic cups with comic book characters on the very bottom. He replaced the glass and grabbed one of those.
Keandre ran into the kitchen, a basketball in the crook of his arm. “Mr. Sarid! Come see my room. Then we can go outside and—”
“Keandre,” Asjhone said softly. “Mr. Sarid brought a lovely dessert. We’re going to eat first. When we’re finished you may ask our guest if he’d like to see your room.”
Keandre’s shoulders slumped. “Okay.”
“Put the ball in your room, then sit at the table, please.”
Keandre made a face before stomping out of the room. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.
“No ball in the house,” she called after him. There was one more bounce then silence.
Asjhone glanced at Sarid. She folded her arms across her chest, leaned against the counter. “How are you feeling?
He blinked at her serious tone. “Fine.”
Her lips pursed. “You never completed those tests in the hospital.”
Understanding dawned. “I am fine, Asjhone.”
“Have you had any dizzy spells? Abdominal pain? Swelling in your legs? Headaches?”
He shook his head.
“That rules out internal bleeding, but at the hospital your blood pressure was too high. You’re not taking medication for it, right? How’s your diet?”
“I promise, my blood pressure is normally that high. It’s been that way for a very long time. And my diet . . . is also normal.” For a supernatural warrior.
She frowned. “You’ll tell me if you start to feel off? Or if any of the symptoms I described begin to happen.”
“Immediately.”
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to come in for tests.”
He shook his head.
“I guess I’ll have to settle for your word.” Another frown.
“You can trust me,” he said. “I’ll let you know if I start to feel ill.”
“The coffee’s going to take a minute,” she said finally, glancing away, hands lacing and unlacing.
Had he said something wrong? “Shall I take the plates and silverware out?”
“Yes.” Her relief was evident.
For the first time he wished to be more like Gabe or Lucas. Neither had problems communicating with people. Even Cade’s ability to read minds would be helpful right now.
When she moved toward the cupboards near the sink he stepped forward to help, and was suddenly in her personal space. She froze.
He stepped back, spoke softly. “Tell me where they’re at. I can get them.”
“Plates are in there.” She pointed to a cabinet to the right of the sink. “The silverware is in that drawer.”
Sarid grabbed three plates and three forks, paused in the doorway. “Should I get something to cut and serve the pie?”
Her smile was quick and didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll grab it.”
He glanced at her once more then left the room.
Keandre sat at the table, legs kicking. His eyes grew big when Sarid entered. He looked at the doorway where Sarid had just come, then leaned over the table. “I have Super Hero Mashers in my room,” he whispered. Although anyone within four feet could’ve heard him.
Sarid cocked his head. “Is that . . .”
“Only the best toys in the world. Devan only has four of ‘em. But I have six. I’ll show you after dinner.” As soon as Asjhone came into the room, he sat back in his seat.
Sarid smiled at the warning look Asjhone gave her son. When her gaze moved to him, her eyes widened and she stumbled. He rose, plucked the cups from her hand, and set them on the table. Cheeks darkened, she sucked at the warm liquid that had spilled on her hand. Air caught in his throat at the same time his groined tightened. Horrified at the reaction, he sat quickly, kept his eyes on the table.
Asjhone lifted the top to the pie tin and began to slice it. She placed a piece in front of Keandre, touched his hand gently. “Stop kicking.” The table immediately stopped rocking.
Keandre picked up his fork and poked at a piece of crumble on the top. “Did you bring any ice cream?”
Ice cream? Jeeves hadn’t told him to get ice cream. He darted a glance at Asjhone, but she was frowning at Keandre. “No. Sorry.”
His shoulders slumped. “S’okay.”
Asjhone served him, then herself. She took a bite, closed her eyes. A moan of pleasure escaped.
The sound rolled through him, causing different nerve endings to spark. He barely suppressed a groan. If this kept happening, he wouldn’t be able to stay.
“This is great, Sarid. Where did you get it?”
“A . . . friend made it for me.”
She studied his face. A few moments later, her forehead furrowed.
Silence descended. Sarid ate without tasting. He should’ve asked Gabe for conversation pointers. Although ‘hey, babe, want to meet up later’ or ‘how have I walked through life without knowing your name, sexy’ were probably all his ach would suggest and those didn’t seem appropriate.
The hospital. Asjhone had been most comfortable inquiring on his health. “How was work today?”
“What do you do?” Asjhone asked at exactly the same time. She laughed. A light, amused sound that d
emanded a reaction.
Holy Creator, he loved her laugh. He grinned.
She inhaled sharply.
He couldn’t look away. “You first,” he said softly.
Her eyebrows drew down. “Um, what?”
“How was work today?”
“Oh, right.” She made a face. “Work was okay.”
“That face doesn’t match your words.” He was rewarded with another laugh. This time a short self-deprecating, uncomfortable sound. Not his favorite.
She forked a bite, chewed slowly, swallowed. “This is the best apple pie I ever had.”
“I’m glad you enjoy it. I can get you the recipe if you like.”
“Really? I love baking. Cooking, too.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Did you—” He glanced at Keandre who seemed more interested in mutilating his pie than listening to the adults. Next time he’d have to ask Martha for a different dessert. Next time? Would there be a next time? “Lose a patient?”
“Oh, no, nothing like that. Thank the Lord. It was a close call with one—construction worker, severed his femoral artery, lost a lot of blood—but he’s going to make it. They got him into surgery in time.”
“I’m glad.”
She took another bite, avoided his gaze.
“You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t wish to.”
Her eyes rose to his, a small smile flashed across her face, before she exhaled, paused for a moment longer, then blurted, “It’s a co-worker . . . I, we don’t get along and it’s . . .” She shook her head.
“Doesn’t make work fun or enjoyable. Lowers your morale.”