by Austin, RB
“Serial!”
The high-pitched tone hurt his ears, but he smiled. He’d found a kindred in Kobal. “Hello.”
“Guess what? Guess what?” The demon bounced over to him.
“Um . . .” Henry’s gaze traveled to the ceiling. A large fat rat crawled on the black tube housing the electrical wires for the tunnel. He quickly lowered his eyes, opened his mouth and—
“Too late,” Kobal screamed. His pointed teeth pushed him into American Horror Story territory. “You’ve been promoted!” He squeaked, clapped his hands and twirled.
Henry laughed. “A promotion?”
“Yes, Sonneillon asked me to pick Vetis’s successor. And I chose you.” He beamed.
Vetis, the demon of corruption, had been his recruiter. Henry hadn’t seen Vetis since his visit with Apollyon. A shudder ran through him at the memory.
His father would’ve liked Apollyon. The being commanded respect, and deserved it. Henry was proud to be fighting on the right side.
Con. The kills were over too quickly. He had to be fast, efficient, and quickly hide the body.
Pro. His nickname, Serial, had a strong tie to his old life.
Con. In time, everyone would assume The Bone Saw Surgeon had died.
Henry frowned.
Con. He’d never pick up a newspaper and read about his work again.
His strength had increased ten-fold, but he could only show it to his victims . . . at night.
No. He was on the right path. Father would approve.
Con. He couldn’t tell his father. Had to forget him.
Stop. Positive thoughts. His past had nothing to do with his future.
Henry met Kobal’s gaze. The demon was still grinning.
Pro. A promotion.
Henry smiled. “Thank you for the opportunity. I accept the position.”
Chapter 16
Lucas sat next to Sarid at the dining room table. Cade and Emma hadn’t arrived yet. “How are you, my ach?” he asked Sarid. The best thing: he had no frickin’ clue. Not even a twinge of his brother’s emotions coursed through him. Lucas’s leg started to bounce under the table.
Sarid lifted his head. Froze. His nostrils flared. The whites of his eyes turned red. His scarred features disappeared replaced by the skeletal ones of his Other.
Lucas jumped up, his chair tipping back. “Sarid!”
Gabe, who’d gone into the kitchen to check on the food, which meant pilfering bites while Martha’s back was turned, ran into the room, a drumstick in hand. One glance at Sarid, he threw the chicken on the table and slowly walked to stand next to Lucas.
“Sarid,” Lucas said. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”
Sarid whipped his head back and forth.
“What the hell happened?” Gabe asked out the side of his mouth.
“No idea.”
“What’s his read?”
Lucas focused. Got nothing
He tried again. Struggled to gain some emotion from his ach.
“Well?” Gabe asked quietly.
Sarid had stopped moving. He gripped the edges of the table, head down. Harsh, loud breaths wheezed in and out of his mouth. He was trying to control it. Keep the Other from bursting free and taking over.
“Nothing,” Lucas said. Out of his peripheral he saw Gabe shoot him a look. He ignored it. Took small steady steps forward.
A low rumble erupted from Sarid’s throat.
“My ach,” Lucas said. “Stay with us. You’re fine. Everything’s under control.”
The noise grew louder.
Gabe grabbed the back of Lucas’s shirt, yanked him to his side. “I don’t think you’re helping.”
With Lucas’s retreat, Sarid’s warnings grew fainter. Lucas caught Gabe’s gaze and motioned him to the far end of the table, toward the door, which led to the rest of the house. To the ebheds. To Emma.
Cade would be able to handle Sarid’s Other. They all had to handle the Other at various times over the centuries. Afterward, a Behn blood drive would be quickly erected and the injured party laid up for several days, but they’d survived. The same could not be said if the Other decided Emma or any of the ebheds were a threat.
Gabe nodded his understanding and slowly moved toward the entranceway. Any fast movement was seen as a threat to the Other.
Lucas stayed silent, gaze never leaving his ach.
Body curled inward. Chin on his chest. Muscles tight. Breath zoomed in and out of Sarid’s mouth. Fists were clenched on the table in front of him.
Minutes passed. Little by little the ridges of Sarid’s muscles eased. His hands slowly unfurled. His head, no longer supported by the thick muscles in his neck, dropped to the table.
Lucas rushed forward. “Gabe, tell Martha to get his tea ready.”
“No,” Sarid croaked. “Not you.”
Lucas halted. “What do you mean, my ach?”
“Gabe.” Sarid spoke through clenched teeth, as though it took all his strength just to form words. “Gabe . . . help . . . me.”
Hurt flashed, like small cuts on Lucas’s flesh.
Gabe settled Sarid’s arm around his shoulders. “Come on.” He helped him stand. “Your wing?”
Lucas didn’t hear Sarid’s response.
“Luc,” Gabe said. “The tea?”
“Of course.” Lucas pushed his feelings away and headed into the kitchen. It didn’t matter who Sarid wanted.
He sent Cade a quick text.
Sarid had managed to beat the Other back, but it wasn’t too far from the surface. His ach’s defenses would be down for a good few hours. Cade’s response was quick. Emma would stay in their room for the night. Lucas relayed the message to the ebheds. Jeeves left to bring tea to Sarid and a tray of food to Gabe. Lucas declined a similarly full plate from Martha and headed to his room to wait until the BDM. Before Dusk Meeting.
Chapter 17
Kate crossed her arms over her chest, attempting to get warm. It was too cold to walk around all night. Maybe she should break down and go to the shelter. One night in the place with a fake name would be okay. She might be able to snag a free meal in the morning.
In less than a month she’d be with Stacy. They’d move to freakin’ Mexico where this cold crappy weather didn’t happen.
If she could find her. Kate immediately dismissed the thought. First step, get to Chicago.
A gust of frigid wind pushed against her. She shivered violently, forcing one foot in front of the other. Ahead was a small alcove at the top of a set of stairs. It’d offer a reprieve until she could figure out where the hell the shelter was from here.
Another hard shiver rocked her and she huddled deep into the corner of the entrance of the building. It was better, but she was still cold. Definitely would lose a finger or a toe if she stayed here all night. Why had she let that crazy doped up guy scare her away?
Oh, yeah, because he’d been inches away from slicing her in the stomach.
Focus. She knew where the shelter was. From the bar it’d been a bit far. More toward the shittier part of town.
All week, Kate had searched for a place to stay. Nothing, aside from the abandoned building, had been in her price range. Of course, even a rat-infested, broken front door, fire hazard apartment would be above her price range.
Kate gave another shiver and curled inward.
Dammit. Sidetracked again. The cold was messing with her thinking process.
Focus. Shelter.
Where was it? She closed her eyes, leaned her head against the possibly-more-cold-than-her-skin cement wall.
Yes. Now she remembered. It was ten blocks from the bar.
In the opposite direction she’d been walking. She bit back a scream of frustratio
n.
Now she’d have to go fifteen blocks in order to get there. Her stomach groaned. Great. So didn’t need a reminder she’d only eaten wings and fries today. About twelve hours ago.
One thing at a time. Get out of the cold. Fifteen blocks. She could do it.
She had no choice.
Kate huddled in the wind free space for another minute, then pushed off. The air attacked, pitching her to the side. She struggled to free her hands from her pockets, but her gloves were stuck.
A strangled cry escaped when her ankle twisted. She couldn’t get her balance. Her knee pounded into the cement step. Elbow met the next one. Head smacked against the ground.
She stilled, assessing the pain.
All over.
Her head hurt like a mother. Elbow wasn’t so bad, her layer of clothes prevented any lasting damage. The knee was a different story. At least she hadn’t torn a hole in her jeans, but the denim was so thin she was more than likely bleeding.
Kate ripped her hands out of her pockets, stupid gloves, and pushed against the steps to sit up. Whoa. The world spun before settling. Her head was one huge throb. She lifted a hand to where it hurt the most. Yep, there was a bump. Maybe blood, too. She brought her hand down, but it was too dark to see if there was blood on the tips of her gloves or not.
Another burst of cold air. Kate gripped the edge of the step to keep from toppling. She had to get out of the cold. With the black metal railing used as support, she hoisted herself up. Then clutched it with both hands when the world tilted. She closed her eyes. The wavering scenery was making her nauseous. Not like she had anything in her stomach to throw up.
Once the wind calmed to blow-small-trees-over strength she opened her eyes. Still holding tight to the railing, she stumbled down the remaining two cement steps. Damn. This was going to be rough. One deep breath and she let go of the banister, stepped forward, then lunged back for it. She wasn’t sure what hurt worse, her head or her ankle.
Maybe she could curl up at the top of the steps. Face the corner to give her better protection against the wind. Find the granola bar at the bottom of her bag. Sleep for an hour or so. Then make it to the shelter.
Sucky plan selected, she pivoted slowly, then paused, head falling back. This wasn’t some regular old building. Her gaze ran across the stained glass windows and her head tilted up, up to the bricks’ peak at the top. It was a church.
Churches normally didn’t have alarm systems. At least the ones in Illinois and Indiana hadn’t. Her heart sped up at the prospect of warmth, and maybe a bit at the upcoming breaking and entering. Bonus, it erased some of the dizziness.
She moved as quickly as her ankle would allow. Tried first one door then the other. Locked. It was expected. But churches had many entrances. She went down the steps and cautiously limped away from the railing toward the side of the building. So far so good. Her steps grew more steadfast at the anticipation of warmth and safety. The church occupied almost a half a block. She was out of breath by the time she made it to the side entrance. Locked. Crap. One foot in front of the other, she slowly walked round back.
The building was fancier than the other random businesses she’d passed a couple blocks down. How had she not noticed it before?
Oh, yeah, thoughts about dying had kept her occupied.
Kate finally spotted the back entrance. The big ass church certainly belonged in this ritzy neighborhood. Just as much as she didn’t.
“Divine intervention,” she whispered when the doorknob turned easily. A rush of warm air assaulted her. With the wind at her back and the heat brushing over her face, there was no way she was going back into the cold tonight.
Kate crossed the threshold. Her gaze ran over the interior illuminated by the parking lot light. After memorizing the room’s layout, she allowed the door to close behind her, pausing to listen for any noises. Nothing. So far.
The small room emptied into a hallway. To the left, three doors. A light came from underneath the middle one. She stilled, barely breathing.
Silence.
Her gaze ran to the right. One door. All the way at the end. She didn’t think anyone was here, but the light under that middle door made her nervous. Kate headed to the right.
The door at the end was locked. She thought about finding a hairpin in her bag. Lock picking was a skill she’d learned at age ten when her foster mother padlocked all the kitchen cupboards and wouldn’t feed her until she’d been deemed good enough.
This door probably wouldn’t take her where she wanted to go, though.
Back to the other side, bypassing the room she arrived in, she opened the door on the right. Robes hung on a pole next to the wall. Candles, crosses, cups, and a bunch of other churchy stuff sat on shelves.
Door on the left. The room was smallish in size. It held a counter and a sink. Kate turned to the middle one.
Her heart beat faster.
With her ear pressed to the door, she closed her eyes. Nothing. Because the door was too thick or because no one was in there? Maybe she should pick the lock on the other door first.
Don’t be a coward.
Kate slowly turned the knob. Opened it a crack. Put her eye to the space.
Not wide enough.
Deep breath. She swung the door open, stumbled in after it.
Awesome. This was the door she’d hoped to find. It led to the church part of the building. Kate paused near the altar.
Two columns of pews ran down the middle, an aisle between. Another small section of pews faced each other on her right and left.
Did this many people still go to church?
More stained glass windows than walls comprised the sides of the building. The domed ceiling extended for miles. Her gaze fell on a balcony.
Kate smiled. Perfect.
She had to pull out her bobby pin to unlock the door leading to the balcony. It took longer than usual, the pain in her head not helping, but eventually the lock clicked. She closed and locked the door behind her, venturing up the winding stairs.
A piano, a keyboard, and a large organ were spaced evenly against the back wall. Stacks of songbooks sat on the floor between the instruments and against the balcony’s edge. One lonely pew was off to the side filled with sheet music.
Kate walked to a space by the balcony and glanced down. Good thing she wasn’t afraid of heights. She set her bag on the floor against the closed in railing.
Warmth infused her and she took off her jacket, flannel, and sweatshirt, leaving on the two long sleeved tees. She rummaged in her pack for the granola bar, then folded her flannel and sweatshirt and placed them inside before zipping it closed. With her bag as a pillow, she lay down and unwrapped the bar. Savoring was impossible. The granola was gone in two bites. With her jacket as a blanket, Kate curled on her side and closed her eyes.
Chapter 18
“Sarid’s taking the night off.” Gabe entered the conference room.
Lucas rubbed his eyebrow, caught Gabe watching him, and shoved his hand in his pocket to clutch the star.
“How is he?” Cade asked.
“The usual.” Gabe pulled out the chair across from Lucas and sat. “Shakes, aches. He was on his fifth cup of tea when I left.” Gabe frowned. “It’s taking him longer to bounce back this time.”
The room was silent. They knew what was coming. There was no one who could stop it. Least of all Sarid.
“Lucas?”
He whipped his head up, stilled. Why was Cade looking at him like that? Did he suspect something? Had he heard about the rapist?
Impossible. All day Lucas kept an eye on the police reports entered into the APD’s system. Not one report or recording mentioned a third man at the scene. Neither by the victim or by that asshole. Lucas was safe. It was fine. It’d be fine. Act normal. No one suspects
a thing. He forced a smile. Ran a hand through his hair. Underneath the table, his leg started to bounce.
“. . . what you found,” Cade said.
He blinked. “Sorry. Can you repeat that? Not much sleep today.”
“I’m looking for a low down on the poison vic.” Cade’s gaze ran over Lucas’s face, eyebrows drawn.
“Of course.” Lucas launched into the details of his and Gabe’s trip to the ME’s office. “Jeeves will overnight the sample.” He shook his head. “I don’t see it coming to much, though. Does it really matter what type of poison it is? We already know who’s using it. The more important question is why. Skin samples and talking to the victims, the ones who aren’t dead, won’t give us the answers we need.”
Cade cocked his head. “So what do you suggest?”
Lucas hesitated. Glanced at Gabe who was watching him, face expressionless. “I think we need to get the information from the source.” He focused on Cade, trying to gauge his reaction.
“Go on,” Cade said.
“What if instead of killing the next Fallen we interrogate it first?”
Nothing still doing on the face. “Interrogate it?”
Lucas licked his lips. Rubbed his eyebrow. “Just an idea.”
Cade stared at him for a moment. “If we take a Fallen, coerce him into giving us information—”
Lucas nodded, excitement building. He could so be on Team Coercion.
“—how are we different than the soulless monsters we hunt?”
Huh?
Cade’s gaze bored into Lucas. “We seek Fallen to eradicate them from this world. They are an abomination. Created from Apollyon in order to rise against the Creator, in order to harm Followers, draw out pain and death. Our job is to protect and save. To act in the Sonh’s stead. Kidnapping a Fallen and using whatever methods necessary to get him to talk would stray us from the path we were created for. A dark path with no return flight. The same one Fallen and Apollyon tread on every night. I will not lead us down that road. It’s not our way. It’ll never be our way.”
