Fallen Darkness (The Trihune Series Book 2)

by Austin, RB

  But if Lucas touched him, absorbed the zakaar’s emotions completely—not the fear pouring off of the male right now, but instead the deep, down to his core, cruelty—Lucas wouldn’t have any problem. Nothing would stop him from dispensing the appropriate justice.

  The male was on his feet. Pants buttoned at his waist. He slowly inched toward the door, hand on the wall for balance.

  Lucas must have thrown him against the wall too hard. Oh, well. What’s a concussion compared to the nheqeba’s wounds? The male would heal. Can the same be said for the female?

  The zakaar’s eyes darted from Lucas to the door.

  Lucas glanced at his hands. Why was he hesitating? There’d be no interruptions. Gabe was still at the HQ.

  The darkness inside this male wasn’t as severe as a Fallen’s. But only because a piece of Apollyon was in each Fallen, merging with the evil already inside. Strengthening it. And this zakaar was prime Fallen material. He’d be recruited in an instant. A Behn would be killing him as a Fallen within a month or two.

  If Lucas let him go.

  The zakaar was inches from the door now.

  Would it make a difference if he took care of the problem now? Perhaps he could save the zakaar? Extract the evil.

  Footsteps hurried down the hallway.

  Yes, it’d be a service to the zakaar. Drain his cruelty. His evil. Make him worthy of the Creator’s love and protection.

  Decision made.

  In the next second Lucas was between the zakaar and the door. The male managed a whimper before Lucas grabbed him by the throat and dragged him down the hall.

  In the first office on the right, a desk sat in the middle of an otherwise empty room.

  Perfect.

  He picked up the male by the throat and not so gently set him on the desk. The zakaar swallowed gulps of air when Lucas let go. The iciness had returned in full swing. He grabbed the front of the man’s shirt and ripped it in two, letting the pieces fall to the floor.

  “Ppplease,” the zakaar stuttered. “Don’t do this. I’m sorry. I won’t ever do it again.”

  Lucas smiled, tips of his fangs showing. “I know you regret picking up that nheqeba.” He leaned down. “I can feel it. It’s giving me a headache. But you don’t regret your action, just who you chose. You don’t feel remorse. Or shame.” He tapped the zakaar on the cheek. “And as for doing it again.” Lucas shook his head. “You can’t help it. It’s an evil inside you. I can help you, though.” He met the zakaar’s eyes. “If it doesn’t kill you.”

  The male whimpered, began scooting himself off the desk. Lucas slapped a hand on his bare chest to hold him still. He inhaled sharply. The male’s emotions stormed through him, increased by a hundred-fold, scattering his own anger and doubt.

  This is what he wanted. How it would begin.

  He straddled the Follower, had one worrying thought that the desk wouldn’t hold, before that too vanished in the midst of the male’s fear. Lucas placed his other hand on the zakaar’s chest and closed his eyes.

  Piss in pants terror. He pushed it away, although he had to use a sledgehammer affect more than a swatting hand to get a response.

  Revenge.

  Lucas peered at the zakaar. “You actually think you can take me?” He shook his head, closed his eyes once more and concentrated.

  He waded through emotions, zeroing in on the male’s limbic system. Darkness, violence, surrounded every cell, waiting to fill it, take over. Lucas’s fingernails dug into the zakaar’s chest. He barely processed the male’s scream as he mentally roped the violence, willed it toward the surface.

  The transfer had been instantaneous with the demon. This wasn’t. It was slow and draining. But it was working. Lucas could feel it seeping in until it didn’t anymore. The darkness was still present in the zakaar, though not as much as before. For some reason Lucas couldn’t take it all.

  The zakaar had lost consciousness. He was pale and his breaths shallow, but the male would live. His heart pumped strong. Lucas found he had no feeling one way or the other about that.

  He lifted himself off the Follower and swayed.

  Head rush.

  Hands braced against the desk, it took a bit of effort to get inside the zakaar’s mind and erase the last ten minutes. When finished, he placed a hand on the male’s shoulder and pushed the urge to fall into a deeper sleep.

  He frowned, shook his head, and tried again.

  Nothing.

  Well, he tried his best. Hopefully the authorities would arrive before the male woke.

  Lucas stepped away from the desk, his balance restored, the dizziness passed. A smile broke across his face. He felt it. Not as strong as the demon’s, but it was there. Zipping through his body. A strength to draw on when emotions bombarded. He reached toward the man’s chest, wanting more.

  Why hadn’t he been able to take it all? Maybe if he tried again. Drew blood this time.

  Noises outside the building reached him. Police. The nheqeba moved faster than expected.

  Lucas waited in a room further down the hall. When the officers were occupied with the victim still passed out on the desk, he flashed past and was blocks away before they could call in backup.

  Chapter 13

  Kate walked against the wind, arms wrapped around her torso. The bar hadn’t been a permanent crash pad solution, but she had hoped it’d last longer than a week.

  She’d stupidly slept too late that morning and had to make a run for it before Bev, who arrived early to greet the delivery guy, found her. In her rush Kate had forgotten to lock the door and reset the alarm. When she arrived for her shift hours later, Bev was counting inventory.

  Kate was glad she hadn’t given in and munched on a bag of honey mustard pretzels or the olives. Her boss had questioned her. Wanted to know if Kate saw anyone lurking outside when she’d left last night.

  Opulent’s boss would be on guard for the next couple weeks. She’d also check with the alarm company and learn that ten minutes after lock up, the alarm was shut off and not reactivated until an hour before she arrived the following day.

  While Bev counted her garnishes in the cooler, Kate removed her backpack from behind the bar and placed it outside. Bev would surely suspect Kate if she peeked inside her bag.

  Kate’s heart pounded the entire shift, worried someone would snag it. Her money and IDs were safe in her back pocket, of course, but the rest of her house was in that bag, which sat outside, unprotected.

  Thankfully it was still there, hidden behind the shrubs near the dumpster, when she left the bar at two-thirty a.m.

  “Fuckity fuck, it’s fuckin’ cold.” She wore two shirts, her one sweatshirt, a flannel, and her leather jacket. Her gloves normally offered a bit of comfort from the cold, but tonight the wind whipped right through the cheap material. She needed a hat.

  She should’ve raided the lost and found before leaving the bar. Visions and lice were the least of her worries. Frostbite was number one followed by hypothermia. Kate closed her stiff fingers into a ball and shoved them deeper into her pockets.

  Her gaze ran across the street to an abandoned building. Trepidation filled her. Although it had to be better than falling asleep and never waking. At least the building would offer reprieve from the piercing cold wind.

  The past few nights, while waiting for Bev to leave the bar, she’d watched the people entering and leaving the building. The homeless ones didn’t bother her. As long as Kate didn’t try to take their spot they’d leave her alone. The addicts were another story.

  Her fingers clenched and unclenched. She’d protect herself if necessary.

  The door creaked when Kate opened it. She paused inside the doorway until her eyes adjusted. It was eerily quiet. What she wouldn’t give for a flashlight.

  Most
of the windows were broken, but tonight’s moon didn’t offer much light and the streetlights worked for shit. Although probably a good thing, since she was contemplating sitting on the floor.

  The room was large and empty. One pile, either a body or blankets and tarps, sat against the far wall. The pile didn’t move. Two people to the right sat in the corner watching her. They wore more clothing than she did—the lucky bastards had hats—and she couldn’t tell if they were male or female. Either way, they didn’t look friendly.

  Kate quickly glanced away so they wouldn’t think she was challenging them or whatever. Her gaze landed on a doorway across the room.

  She walked toward it, not bothering to hope this room would be unoccupied. Most everyone would choose a room farther away from the outside. More time to clear out if the cops raided.

  “Who are you? What do you want?”

  Kate startled, a gasp leaving her lips, at the man who suddenly appeared in front of her.

  She swallowed, stepped back, hands raised.

  “I said who are you and what do you want?” His voice was high, the words tripping over themselves.

  He was a couple inches taller. Wore a black skullcap. His jacket was open to reveal a red flannel shirt. His black skinny jeans were too big for his frame. His cheeks sunken in. Eye sockets, too. He bounced from foot to foot. Hands in constant motion. Rubbing his legs. Smoothing his hat. Scrubbing his eyebrow.

  Addict.

  Kate took another step back. “No worries. Just looking for a warm place to stay.”

  “This is my spot.” The guy’s tone was hard. His gaze moved off Kate to land on the wall, the ceiling, the floor, back to her. He continued to bounce from foot to foot. Scratched his upper arm. “Why are you here? What do you want with me?”

  “No worries. I don’t want anything.” She spied a door on the far side. Maybe if she could pass him. Get into that room.

  “The sun turns black. The light of the moon covers my face.” The man laughed, scrubbed a hand down his face, shook his head. He spun, facing the wall, his knees bent, butt back, in a weird half squat. Then twirled back to Kate, arms raised like a ballerina. The wall. Kate. Wall. All in a series of weird, will-never-be-in-fashion dance moves.

  His back was turned, Kate inched past him. Her heart pounded. It was waaay past get-the-hell-outta-here time. Although, now, inside the building, away from the wind . . . She had to find a safe place to stay in this building. If she could just get to the other room.

  She risked a glance over her shoulder. The addict now moved his arms in wide arcs like he was painting the air. She hurried forward, closer to the new doorway than the old one.

  “Hey!” The man blocked her path again, a ten-inch blade in his hands.

  How did he move so fast? Kate stumbled back. Was it the drugs?

  The addict’s head bobbed in continuous motion. Nodding. Shaking. “I didn’t say you could pass. The goats didn’t give you permission. They’re watching. They know.” He advanced, the knife swung back and forth.

  She gulped, backpedaled. Her gaze swerved from the knife to the crazy addict. Meth from the looks of him. “I don’t want any trouble.”

  The man laughed, ran his free hand over his cap, rubbed at his eyebrow. “No trouble. No trouble. The goats like trouble. Want to see what I did with the goats?”

  Um, let me think. No!

  Another foot back. This was taking too long. Any second the guy was going to snap. She’d have to make a run for it. Which would involve turning around. Leaving her back open.

  The addict lunged, knife leading the charge. Kate jumped out of the blade’s way, but not far enough. It nicked her jacket zipper. Her heart leapt into her throat. Forget this.

  She ran.

  In the doorway she glanced over her shoulder. The guy stood in the middle of the room, gaze on her. Then he shook his head, rubbed his face, turned, and started painting the air again. This time his knife was the brush. “The moon will bind the goats to the sun.”

  Nerves made her body shake. She glanced at the huddle near the far end of the room. They were watching her, still glaring.

  No way could she stay in this room.

  She shoved her shaking hands into her pockets, glanced at the addict once more to make sure he wasn’t going to follow her, then left the building.

  Chapter 14

  “Hey, Luc.”

  His left hand curled into a tight fist. Lucas had been trying to get into his room before anyone spotted him.

  Act cool. Gabe won’t notice a thing. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, what’s up?”

  Gabe fell into step. “Where’ve you been?”

  Lucas rubbed his eyebrow. “Went out for a little while.”

  “In your shorts?”

  He nodded once. Twice. “Went for a run. Around town. Great workout.”

  “But you drove. Your car was gone.”

  Fuck. Had Gabe had always been a nosey pain in the ass? He ran his fingers through his hair. “Yep. Drove into town. Parked. Ran around.”

  Gabe grabbed his arm, pulled him to a stop. “Damn, you’re cold. When’s the last time you fed?”

  “I’m fine,” he said quickly, retracting his arm from Gabe.

  His ach frowned. “Tell me what you really did.”

  Lucas rocked back on his heels. His mind raced for a good answer.

  “What’s going on with that?” Gabe pointed to Lucas’s fingers. They were tapping a dance routine on his pant leg.

  He clenched his hands into fists, and said in a rush, “I was comforting Emma earlier and Cade walked in.”

  “What?”

  Lucas forced himself to take a breath, then speaking more slowly said it again.

  Gabe sucked in a breath. “Shiiit,” he exhaled. Ran his gaze over Lucas. “So where did you get hit? I don’t see any colorful neck bands.”

  Lucas laughed. It sounded high-pitched. Had Gabe noticed? “Nah, Emma stopped him from going at me.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yeah, but I thought it’d be best if I get out for a while.” He rubbed his eyebrow. “You know, let him cool down.”

  “I get it. Smart thinking.”

  Lucas ran his fingers through his hair. “That’s what I thought. So have you seen him yet?”

  “Nah, the boss man’s still with Emma. Bow chic a wow wow.”

  Lucas snickered. “Don’t let Cade hear you say that. Otherwise you’ll be sporting a colorful neckband and probably a few broken bones. Emma doesn’t move that fast.”

  Gabe grinned, dimples flashing.

  “I’m getting in the shower. I’ll meet you for mealtime, ach.” Lucas breathed a sigh of relief when his back hit the closed door. Gabe hadn’t suspected a thing.

  He was stepping under the hot water when it hit him. He’d felt absolutely nothing from Gabe. Not a twinge of worry when he asked Lucas about his whereabouts. No pinches of doubt when Lucas mentioned running around town. No amusement when he referenced Cade and Emma in the bedroom. Not one drop of emotion.

  Lucas lifted his head to the spray, eyes closed, a grin spreading across his face. He stood for a long while reveling in the sparks shooting through his body.

  Happiness. His own happiness.

  It was a great day.

  Chapter 15

  Henry Jones walked down the demon-made, underground tunnel that connected with the city’s storm drains. He inhaled and abruptly stopped, nose wrinkling. Dirt. Must. Mold.

  He shook his head. Positive thoughts.

  Pro. He couldn’t get sick anymore.

  Pro. The little car fragrant trees he’d hung in his room helped with the smell. Especially after he’d added the last fifty.

  The bed and dresser he’d purchased for his roo
m were an exact match to the ones in his old life. Comfort and familiarity had made the transformation from human to Fallen less jarring.

  If he didn’t think too much, it was just like he’d moved.

  Pro. The rent was cheaper.

  He chuckled. The sound bounced off the concrete walls.

  So many rules, though.

  Con. The sun could kill him. That had been a major letdown. He’d always preferred day to night.

  Number one pro, strength. He was definitely more powerful than his father. A feat he’d never thought possible.

  Con. He couldn’t discuss this new life with his father. Joseph Jones believed he was dead.

  Henry had a copy of his own death certificate tucked away along with his birth certificate, driver’s license, library card, employee badge, and Denny’s frequent diner card. He hadn’t wanted to throw them away. Could possibly need them one day. Well, he probably wouldn’t need the Denny’s card.

  Sonneillon had told him to burn the documents. Erase all identity. Henry had planned on it. Really, he did. He’d laid the documents in a metal can. Held a lit match between his thumb and forefinger, ready to drop it. Then his gaze landed on his birth certificate.

  They hadn’t told him he wouldn’t be able to see his family after the transformation. What did it really matter if he kept the small mementoes?

  As Henry neared the central chamber the sound of trickling water increased. It ran down the sides of the cement-lined walls. Sometimes the sleep-machine noise drove him more nuts than the smell.