Free Fallen Death (The Trihune Series Book 3) by RB Austin Page A

back and threw it. It sailed through the air, blade over handle, before finding its mark. The Fallen’s thigh.
    Yes! Hurt. Hurt.
    As predicted the Fallen let go of his catch with a scream of pain.
    Hahahahaha. Hurt. Hurt.
    Sarid launched himself into the air, the Fallen his landing pad. He crashed into the monster, knocking it to the ground.
    “So you got it, then?” Gabe grumbled, less than enthused.
    Sarid wrapped his hand around the dagger lodged into the Fallen’s quadriceps and yanked.
    Another scream.
    Again. Hurt!
    Sarid hesitated.
    Again. Again. Hurt. Maim. Maim. Maim.
    Sarid shook his head back and forth. The Fallen bucked underneath Sarid and swung out with a right cross. The monster’s fist slammed into Sarid’s cheek. Sarid jerked back, in momentary shock of what the fuck. Taking advantage, the Fallen punched him in the diaphragm then pushed Sarid off of him.
    From the ground, Sarid’s gaze flared a brighter shade of blue. Fangs punched out of his gums. Seconds later, a red haze fell over his eyes. He and the demon stared at the Fallen now scrambling to its feet.
    “Sarid!” Gabe called out.
    Did his ach see the Other so close to the surface? Or was Gabe concerned for Sarid’s safety?
    Didn’t matter.
    Both things were well under control. He jumped to his feet, snagged hold of the monster’s jacket, and jerked the Fallen toward him, right into his fist.
    Contact! The Fallen’s head snapped back.
    The next movements were a blur. Punch after punch was thrown with barely a thought for placement. At some point they’d fallen back to the ground. Sarid was straddling the Fallen.
    Hurt. Hurt. Hurt.
    When the Fallen stopped moving, Sarid rose. His chest heaved. Knuckles were bruised and bloody. He reached for the second dagger strapped to his back. It took two tries to grip the handle. His hands were slippery with blood.
    Hurtkillmaim. Hurtkillmaim. Hurtkillmaim. Kill. Kill. Kill.
    “Master?”
    Sarid froze.
    “No, not my master,” the Fallen whispered. “But you are like my master.”
    Shock hit first. Then confusion.
    He stared at the Fallen. Its body, the surrounding concrete, everything in sight was bathed in red.
    Not blue. Not his Behn light; the good light. But red of the demon, of evil. He felt the demon rise to the surface and was in too much shock to stop it. “Yesss.” The guttural word escaped from Sarid’s lips and ended on a hiss.
    But it wasn’t his voice or word. He hadn’t been the one to answer the Fallen.
    Sarid moved so quickly that neither the Fallen, nor the demon, had time to react. He plunged the dagger into its heart. Watched fear, then life ebb from the enemy’s eyes before it burst into dust.
    He fell to his knees then forward onto his hands. Breath sawed in and out of his mouth. You are like my master. The Fallen’s master. Apollyon.
    He kept his eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to see a world through red, which would only prove the Fallen right.
    “Sarid?” Gabe’s voice was low and trembled slightly.
    An ache ran through his chest, but he shoved it away. Fear was good.
    Fifteen days, he’d promised the choghen . As soon as the clock timed out, it’d be over.
    “Sarid?”
    “I am fine.” He forced his eyes open. Clear. No red. No blue. The relief was short lived. It didn’t matter what his eyes saw right now, he knew the truth. You are like my master.
    Sarid stood, pushing the thought and the emotions that rose with it down. He caught sight of the Follower at Gabe’s feet. Gestured toward him.
    “Alive, but unconscious,” Gabe said. “Heartbeat steady. He’ll live. Fallen probably only got a couple pints. I spread Elias’s medicine on his neck in case of poison. As soon as we’re clear, I’ll call an ambulance.”
    The Fallen didn’t have fangs. They had to use a knife to make a small cut on the jugular. The monsters would then suck the victim’s blood until the soul released.
    Four and a half months ago, the Behns learned Fallen were infusing their