Fallen Darkness (The Trihune Series Book 2) Read online

  Damn. It was frickin’ hot in the ridiculously enormous, Victorian house. The old bat a/k/a OB liked to crank the heat to equator levels.

  Her eyelids drooped even further. She had another bad dream last night. Same as the previous ones. Restrained. Clothes ripped. Then the worst part, skin against skin contact.

  She shuddered, nausea rising. Sweat dripped down her forehead. She swiped at it before moving to the next tall glass-door cabinet filled with ugly, breakable little statues. The OB wanted the figurines dusted and the shelves and doors Windexed. God, why would anyone collect these frickin’ things?

  Kate carefully lifted a piece, flipping it over to read the bottom. Hummel. Never heard of them. She sighed. Whatever. A job was a job. She began to empty the cabinet piece by piece. When two shelves remained, the door to the study-slash-parlor-slash-just-another-crap-filled-room-with-horribly-stiff-furniture opened with a squeak.

  “Kate?” Her boss stuck her head in the door. Rosemarie was five inches shorter than Kate, and Mexican.

  “Yeah?” She turned, a Hummel in hand. This one a small boy holding an umbrella. That’s it. Nothing else. OB had a matching girl, too. Ridiculous.

  “I’d like you to start cleaning the third floor. Sophia will finish this room.”

  Sophia was Rosemarie’s daughter and always received the better parts of the job. Whatever.

  “Sure.” She set her piece next to the other ones and headed out of the room.

  Kate was just filling in until Rosemarie’s niece returned from maternity leave. The pay was crap, but the house cleaning bit wasn’t altogether bad.

  She didn’t have to work with the public, so less chance of anyone recognizing her, though that hadn’t been an issue for some time. Plus she could wear her gloves without so much as an eyebrow raise.

  Her pleathers reached the insides of her elbows. Kate liked to wear shirts with sleeves long enough so the gloves and fabric overlapped. With long sleeves, she could wear latex over her pleathers and no one realized she had them on. Except in a house like this where she was dying of heat stroke.

  One more month of cleaning ritzy people’s houses before she had to worry about finding another part-timer that wouldn’t interfere with her hours at the bar. Probably should think about skipping town in a few months. Though Philadelphia wasn’t all bad. She’d lived here ten months so far. Not as long as other places, but getting close to it.

  With a tote of cleaning products clenched in her hand she trudged up the stairs. Ugh. The higher she went the worse it was. Sweat now dripped down her back.

  What didn’t Sophia want to handle on the third floor? Kate’s mind flashed on the nasty things she’d cleaned before. She shuddered.

  It didn’t matter. Work was work. Plus, safe bet, there weren’t any cabinets filled with ugly figurines at the top.

  Waves of dizziness swept through her. Her lack of sleep was extremely detrimental today. She hadn’t eaten breakfast or lunch either. Not a good combo with heat and exertion.

  The third floor ran the whole length of the house. The steps led to a long hallway with six doors, three on each side. A seventh, directly at the end of the hallway.

  It looked like a floor on a hotel. Does the OB run a brothel? Kate bit back a laugh, picturing the gray haired, Hummel-loving, eighty-year-old woman working as a Madam.

  Of course, if this were a hotel, it’d have a better heating system that could cater to thin-blooded, papery-skinned old women.

  Kate walked down the hall to get a scope of the job. Six bedrooms and a bathroom. From the size of the rooms and the width of the hallway, the floor was probably used as servants’ quarters way back when.

  Nothing out of place in the rooms, though. Sophia must’ve not wanted to deal with the heat. Or the two flights of stairs. The woman was vastly overweight.

  It was the same tasks for each bedroom whether the room was generally occupied or not. Strip the sheets, replace with clean ones. Rotate the comforters with fresh ones. Dust. Vacuum. Wash the windows.

  Before starting, Kate tried to open the windows. A circulating breeze would definitely help. Of course, only one window on the whole floor wasn’t painted shut. And it was all the way at the end of the hall and had to be propped open with a hardcover book. By the time Kate made it to the room with the breeze, she was dying. Strands of hair clung to her face and her shirt was permanently stuck to her back and chest.

  Screw this.

  She quickly stripped the bed before reaching for her gloves. Kate peeled off the latex, dropping them into the garbage can. After a glance down the still empty hallway she started on her pleathers. It took a few minutes to work the suckers off. Jesus. Who thought she could be this hot in the middle of a Philly winter? Maybe she should consider a move to Alaska next. Never been there. All-time glove wearing might be appropriate, too.

  Kate stood in front of the window, hands in front of her, twisting them back and forth in the cool breeze. Cotton gloves would be cooler. But did she want to take the chance? The fake leather offered more protection. Nothing was getting through those suckers.

  No, she couldn’t risk it. Wasn’t worth it.

  Her gaze settled on kids playing across the street, a golden retriever ran between them. She lifted her face to the warm breeze, eyelids falling shut. Just for a second, though. She didn’t want to accidently touch anything.

  Next she became aware of noises in the hallway. The kids and dog had disappeared. How long had she closed her eyes?

  Kate lunged for her gloves she’d set on the edge of the nightstand. Her foot twisted in the comforter on the floor and she began to fall. Her hands automatically extended.

  The scream was inside her head. Gaze locked on her outstretched hands aiming straight for the bed as if the world was in slow mo.

  Why was she so stupid? Her knees knocked into the ground with a hard bang.

  That was going to hurt later.

  Hands hit the mattress.

  Maybe it’d be okay. No one used these rooms.

  Chapter 3

  Finished with his shower, Lucas wrapped a towel around his waist and went into the walk in closet. He’d already cleaned and stored his weapons in the specially made dresser. Except for the trinity star. That sat on a table by his bed.

  Dressed in a pair of gray Armani slacks, white V-neck wool sweater, and loafers, he slipped the star into his right pocket. The cell in his left. Then headed out.

  Just inside the conference room, Sarid leaned against the wall. The claw-like scars on his cheeks glistened with sweat. His shirt was damp and a towel hung around his shoulders. Desperation laced his normal emotional makeup. Not good.

  “My ach,” Lucas greeted.

  His brother nodded.

  Lucas combated his brother’s jumble of emotions one by one. When finished, it was as if he’d run at top speed for the past four hours. Must have lost more blood than he figured.

  “I thought you and Cade encountered our enemy tonight.”

  “We did.”

  Lucas frowned, eyeing his ach, searching for the telltale signs Sarid was going to lose it. Perhaps the game of ball would come too late.

  “I have it under control,” his brother said quietly. Which was why he hadn’t changed. He planned to go back to the gym.

  “I’m here if you need me, my brother.”

  Sarid nodded.

  Laptop open, Lucas loaded the two documents used at every ADM. First, a spreadsheet to tally the number of Fallen kills. Second, the city grid to mark the location and time of each enemy sighting.

  He began to enter his and Gabe’s data for the night. They had dispatched nine Fallen. After an earlier check in with Cade and Sarid, Lucas learned they had a lucrative night in a rundown building by the water, dusting a whole lot of their enemies back to
the dirt where they belonged.

  After too many quiet weeks in January, Lucas was glad business was back to booming. The inactivity had started to wear on him. Too much time on his hands meant too many thoughts straying toward their sire’s apocalyptic warning.

  A thump between his shoulder blades said Cade was near. Trihune members could recognize each other on sight, but an internal alert sounded before the person even came into view. Each member had his own distinct tell and Cade’s was a soft, closed-fisted punch across the back.

  Lucas continued to punch in his numbers, picking up the voices of Emma and the Sept One leader. They stopped in the doorway.

  Cade murmured something.

  Lucas wished he were anywhere else.

  Emma giggled.

  Then they kissed.

  Not soon enough, Cade lifted his head. Emma’s breathing had increased. Cade inhaled then gave a low growl before whispering in his bahshrett’s ear.

  Bahshrett, or soul mate, was a Trihune term no one in the Sept had learned until a month ago.

  Lucas cleared his throat. His boss had to know a whisper in the presence of Behns had the same effect as a shout across the room. He shifted in his chair. Focused intently on the screen in front of him, desperately tried to tamper the wave of arousal sweeping through, warming his blood.

  It was mostly Emma’s. Cade’s might be in there, too, but humans were the strongest emoters.

  Lucas’s empath abilities worked on human Followers, the enemy Fallen, and his Behn brothers. He could sense their emotions, and with touch manipulate it.

  Followers were the easiest to read, shape, and block.

  Fallen emotions were not difficult to discern since they were human before their transformation.

  Only the strongest emotions could be picked up from Behns. Subtle shifts in mood were, for the most part, behind a gray shroud, practically invisible.

  Lucas would never be able to get a read from ebheds. Their status as Trihune servants protected them against any mental supernatural intrusions.

  The demon Lucas had come into contact with a month ago was completely different. He hadn’t received any emotions from that being. Only the perception of evil and its violent nature.

  Before the demon, Lucas easily handled his reactions to the invading emotions. It was similar to smelling dog shit. He noticed the smell, recognized it, then discarded it as unfavorable. Ever since he came into contact with the demon, his reject shield had been slow on the uptake.

  “How’s the shoulder?”

  Lucas turned to Cade. His boss’s shoulder-length black hair was tied back, the small pox marks from when he was human clearly visible near his left eye.

  A quick glance in the hallway verified Emma was already gone. Tension drained. “Fine.”

  “Good. Where’s Gabriel?”

  Footsteps sounded outside the room seconds before Gabe appeared.

  Cade glanced at the clock. “Less than five minutes late. It’s a record.”

  Once Gabe was seated Cade listed off his and Sarid’s kills for Lucas to record. Stunned silence reigned for a minute.

  “Unbelievable.” Lucas shook his head. “Where are they all coming from?”

  “Elias stated something was coming,” Cade said. “Something huge.”

  “It would’ve been nice if the big guy was more specific than epic and soon.” Gabe frowned.

  The war was different now. The last meeting with their sire had changed it all. It’d been a collective WTF as Elias spilled secrets of their true reason for existence. Cade had taken it in stride, but he had Emma. She was his reason for life now.

  They were all disappointed in Elias’s lack of knowledge, or more specifically, his inability to spill more. It wasn’t just Apollyon’s Fallen they were fighting, but demons, as well.

  Cade had seen a being with wings, too. First thought, angel. But apparently it’d been in league with a second demon that had kidnapped Emma.

  “I’ve put a call in to the other Septs, asking for a Fallen tally report by the end of the week.” Cade paused, leaned back in his seat. “I’ve been kicking around an idea and I want your thoughts.”

  Lucas’s head jerked up. Gabe’s mouth fell open. Even Sarid wasn’t using the wall for support anymore.

  Cade scowled. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

  Gabe chuckled, his dimples flashing.

  “What do you say about bringing in achs from other Septs? If they aren’t dealing with their own high numbers.”

  “Might be a good idea. Especially if this increase continues to happen,” Lucas said.

  Gabe shrugged. “I’m down with that.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Sarid said. “Bringing anyone new into the HQ is always a problem for the Other.”

  Cade frowned. “I don’t want to create a dangerous situation, but I’m worried if this pattern continues we won’t be enough to keep Followers safe.”

  “Yes. They must come first, which is why I’ve disagreed. The Other is still not used to your female’s presence. It’s been difficult.”

  Ah. Sarid was having problems controlling his emotions, despite the all-time high Fallen fights and the hours spent in the gym. The Other liked to come out and play not so nicely when unsatisfied with Sarid’s payments. Apparently Emma’s arrival had upped the ante.

  From Cade’s expression, he hadn’t known this. What did they talk about on patrol? He and Gabe knew everything about each other.

  Lucas thought about the trinity star in his pocket. Well, almost everything.

  “I didn’t realize you were having problems,” Cade said.

  “I didn’t tell you because there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  The Sept One leader’s frown deepened. “But if Emma’s—”

  “There’s nothing to be done,” Sarid interrupted. “The Other is getting used to her. Nothing will happen to your bahshrett. Trust me.”

  “I do. And I’ll table bringing in other Behns for now. Maybe it’ll be unnecessary. This,” he motioned to the spreadsheet projected on the wall. “Could be an anomaly.”

  Sarid nodded. “If there’s nothing else—”

  Cade stood. “We’re finished.”

  “Sarid,” Lucas called out before his brother could book it out of the room. “How about some ball with Gabe and I?”

  His ach paused, moved his gaze to a point over Lucas’s shoulder, seemed to focus inward for a moment, then slowly shook his head. “Not a good idea today,” he said, and left.

  The room was silent for a long moment. All eyes on the empty doorway.

  “This isn’t going to end well,” Lucas said.

  Gabe sighed. “It never does.”

  “We’ll handle it,” Cade said. “We always do.”

  Chapter 4

  Kate’s hands made contact with the bed. Images flashed in her head. All outside noises disappeared. It was like watching an old movie. The shot from one scene to the next not seamless, but easy to follow.

  Too easy to realize what happened.

  The bed had been used recently. Actually used often. Kate wanted to push away from the mattress but she was stuck. She’d never been able to stop a vision mid-stream. This wasn’t the worse she’d seen, but it was graphic and telling.

  Kate recognized the man in the vision. He was in the framed pictures she’d dusted downstairs. Had figured he was the OB’s son.

  In one of the photos he sat next to a woman with red hair. A toddler sat on the woman’s lap. The baby boy’s face similar to the man’s. A teenage girl stood behind the man. Her hand on his shoulder. The girl had her mother’s large forehead and thin nose, but her father’s dark hair.

  The man in Kate’s head was not wearing a suit,
though. He wasn’t wearing anything.

  He looked better in the suit.

  The equally naked woman he screwed on the bed had blond hair and was a few years older than the teenager in the picture. She didn’t mind his nakedness.

  The vision continued a few more minutes. The woman orgasmed, then the man. Kate was thrust back to the present.

  She immediately let go of the bed, falling back on her butt, hands held high above her head. The echoing sounds of flesh against flesh along with the orgasmic moans rang in her head. The lust both parties had felt now swam through Kate.

  Ugh. Nasty.

  It took a moment to realize she wasn’t alone. She twisted toward the door, hands still raised. Rosemarie.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Fine,” Kate panted, her heart beating so hard she was surprised her chest didn’t vibrate. “Thanks. I just . . . slipped.” Standing without using her hands was awkward, but she managed it and immediately reached for her gloves.

  Oh crap. Kate shoved her hands behind her back. Too late. Rosemarie would’ve already noticed her unblemished, albeit pale, hands.

  The best excuse was to tell bosses and fellow employees she had scars on her hands from being burned as a child. It created sympathy and most of the time people were too polite to ask detailed questions about the obvious horror she endured.

  Kate watched Rosemarie’s eyebrows furrow, her gaze moving from Kate to her now gloved palms. Kate’s shoulders drooped and she held in a sigh. Guess today was her last day on the job.

  Maybe she’s undergoing plastic surgery to get rid of the scars? No. If she learned anything the past nine years, telling more lies than necessary ended badly. Best if the lie resembled the truth as close as possible.