King of the Wicked (The Banished Series Book 1)

by T. R. Hamby

  “You are at least the closest thing to an Angel I know,” she murmured, starting to drift off to sleep.

  Mel chuckled. “I could say the same about you.”

  Michael

  Hunting for an Angel was much harder than hunting for a human. Angels could Travel, could hop across continents, or jump back and forth between Earth and the Immortal World. They didn’t leave much trace of themselves, although this one had been sloppy, leaving his ring behind. Michael would start there.

  He hadn’t visited the Immortal World in a couple months, but naturally nothing had changed. Where he had lived was a large valley, in the shadow of a mountain and on the bank of a great lake. Thousands of clay houses--some large, some small--were cluttered in the valley. The Great City, they called it--the First City.

  He went to Judith’s house. He and Mel had two sisters--Judith and Agatha. Judith was wise--that was her Talent--and gentle. Agatha was boisterous and headstrong, and had, once upon a time, looked up to Michael.

  Judith was on the balcony, sitting with her oldest daughter, Dina. They sensed his Presence and looked around, catching sight of him at the threshold. Judith smiled warmly, but Dina stiffened.

  She looked at her mother. “I should go,” she said, glancing warily at Michael.

  Judith sighed, taking her hand. “Stay,” she pleaded gently.

  “No--thank you,” she replied, standing. “Goodbye.”

  Michael felt a strong pain. He remembered when she was little, how he would scoop her into his arms, making her shriek. Now she looked at him as if he was a stranger.

  He stood aside, and she hurried past him, down the stairs and out of sight. He watched her go, then turned to Judith, who had gotten to her feet.

  She gave him a sheepish smile, then wrapped her arms around his neck. “It’s been a while,” she said, kissing his cheek. She had always been the most affectionate of them, Mel being the second.

  “I know. I’m sorry,” he said, pulling away and looking at her. “How are you? Your children...Agatha?”

  She squeezed his arm. “Everyone is well. Agatha is well.”

  He felt another pain. Agatha barely spoke to him anymore--which he deserved.

  “I have our letters,” she said, brightening, and she went inside, to a desk made of stone. She took out a thick bundle of letters and handed it to him.

  “Agatha wrote more this time,” she said. “I think she’s finally getting the hang of writing.”

  Michael smiled. The letters were for Mel. He hadn’t seen his sisters since the War, as he wasn’t allowed back Home, and Judith and Agatha weren’t allowed to visit him--punishment for siding with Mel in the War. Michael had been acting as mailman for centuries now.

  He stuck the letters in his pocket, and then withdrew the jewel.

  “Have you ever seen someone wearing a ring with this stone?”

  She frowned, brushing her braids over her shoulder, and took the jewel from him.

  She shrugged, shaking her head. “This is Mel’s territory.”

  “He said it’s from here, not Earth.”

  She sighed, and shook her head again, handing it back to him. “I don’t know. Most of us wear rings. Why?”

  But she immediately realized, and she held a hand over her mouth.

  “Not another one,” she breathed. “No, Michael.”

  He nodded gravely. “He’s killed two women already.”

  “I don’t understand,” she growled, showing a rare flash of anger. “Why?”

  “They’re playing God,” he replied darkly. “That’s Mel’s theory, anyway.”

  She thought for a minute, folding her arms and looking out on the lake. It was midday, and their sun filled the room with light, made the lake sparkle like diamonds. Michael remembered swimming in the lake with Mel, wrestling, hurling each other underwater. It seemed strange now.

  Judith finally looked at him. “Go to the northern mountains,” she said firmly, “where the younger ones are. You know they are less...reverent towards Father. They don't...fear him like we do. I bet he’s from there. Someone might recognize the stone.”

  Michael sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was go to the northern mountains. The younger Angels were annoying, to say the least, acting much more like humans than the older Angels.

  But Judith was right. If anyone was going to defy Father in so abhorrent a way, it would be a younger Angel.

  “How is he?” Judith whispered, a touch of sadness in her voice.

  Michael couldn’t help but sigh, feeling a surge of annoyance. She knew he and Mel only spoke when they had to, and they certainly didn’t share how their lives were going.

  He shrugged. “The same as ever, I imagine.”

  She was patient, and she stepped towards him. “How are you, Michael?”

  He felt another pain. He looked away for a moment, composing himself, and then managed a smile.

  “Busy,” he replied.

  Judith nodded, though he could tell she could see right through him. She embraced him again. “Come back soon. I miss you.”

  He held her, his jaw tense. He didn’t have to be reminded that she missed him. She was the only one who did.

  Mel

  200,000 Years Ago

  “Fold it this way,” Lilith said, “and then over this way.”

  “How did you come up with this?” he exclaimed, amazed. They were sitting in the clearing near the Tree, weaving baskets. Well, Mel was attempting to weave a basket, and Lilith was constantly correcting him, giggling.

  “I don’t know,” she said with a grin. “I just look at things and see what they could be. You can do so much with these leaves; they’re so sturdy, yet bendy.”

  She looked at him, her eyes bright. “And I’ve been trying to heat clay, like you told me. I made a little bowl.”

  Mel smiled. “Perfect.”

  He was amazed at her ingenuity, her quick learning. He had a feeling that with just a little practice she could build a better house than he ever could. She constantly had a new invention to tell him about--a net for the fish, a trap for the rabbits. A stone pit for the fire. A woven pallet for sleep.

  She suddenly sprang to her feet, a mischievous smile on her face. Mel watched, amused, as she darted across the clearing, and turned to look at him.

  “Come here,” she said, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

  He chuckled, and got to his feet. He knew this game; they had played it before. He approached her, and she darted away. Mel chased her, and she shrieked, running around the clearing, her black hair swaying. They were both grinning, breathless. She zigzagged across the grass, and Mel finally caught her, spinning her until they tumbled to the ground.

  She was laughing, holding her stomach, and Mel was watching her, grinning.

  They had been meeting like this for a couple weeks now, mostly in the clearing, although sometimes--when she was sure the Man was asleep--Lilith took him to the stream. She always had something amazing to show him--once a smooth blue stone from the stream, another time an injured rabbit she was nursing. The rabbit eventually died, and she had been nearly inconsolable. It was her first experience with loss, and Mel had had to comfort her.

  He hadn’t minded. He wanted to be there for her--wanted to be with her. He constantly worried about Michael finding out, and telling Father. He knew Father wouldn’t like it. Mel’s task was to guard the Tree, not frolic with the Woman. And, if he knew--and maybe he already did--Father certainly wouldn’t like how Mel felt for her.

  He was confused--bewildered. He had never felt this way before. No Messenger had. It was a strange feeling--strong, obsessive. Overwhelming. All he thought about was her now. He longed to make her happy, longed to see her.

  The feeling was painful, too--very painful. He didn’t think she felt the same way. They were simply friends, and this hurt.

  They were still lying on the ground. Lilith looked at him, her dark eyes curious.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked.


  He hesitated--he couldn’t tell her how he felt.

  He settled on his own question. “Are you happy?” he murmured.

  She smiled and nodded. But then she frowned a little.

  “He doesn’t love me,” she said, a hint of sadness in her voice.

  Mel frowned. He was unfamiliar with the word. Lilith was always making up words--she had named all the creatures there, the trees, the stream.

  “What does that mean?”

  She sighed, looking up at the sky. “He doesn’t...care for me. He doesn’t...want to be with me--more than anything.”

  He considered this. It almost sounded like the emotion he felt for his sisters--and his brother, when he wasn’t jealous of him. He cared about them above all others...except, now, for Lilith. He realized, with a jolt, that he wanted to be with her more than anything. He needed her to be happy...needed her to feel the same way for him. It would make him happier than he had ever been.

  He looked at her. “Does that...make you unhappy?”

  She frowned, shrugging. “I just thought...we were supposed to be together. But I frustrate him.” Her breath hitched. “He thinks I’m a nuisance. He doesn’t want to talk to me...he just ignores me.”

  Mel felt a hint of anger, and she shivered, looking at him.

  “You’re angry,” she whispered. She had learned about his anger a while ago now.

  He tried to control himself. “He shouldn’t treat you like that.”

  She studied him for a long moment. Then she whispered, “Will Father punish us? For...what we’re doing?”

  He felt a surge of anxiety. He avoided her gaze. “I don’t know. I...I don’t think I’m supposed to be doing this with you.”

  “Why do you do it, then?”

  He closed his eyes. Because I love you, he wanted to say. He started, shocked.

  But it was true. She had described exactly what he was feeling--a feeling that no Messenger had ever felt before.

  He finally looked at her. “Because you make me happy,” he said firmly.

  She stared at him for a small moment. Then she smiled, blushing, and he wondered what that meant.

  “You make me happy too,” she murmured, taking his hand and squeezing.

  He felt a jolt where she touched him, and he smiled.

  “I don’t care if it’s wrong,” she whispered firmly. “If I didn’t have you...I would be alone.”

  He felt a surge of relief. Yes, that was true. Perhaps that was something he could mention--if Father ever found out. Which, Mel realized with a pang, he probably would.

  But no point worrying about that now. He was with her, and she was happy, and she wasn’t alone.

  And then he realized, with another start, that this was true for him too. If not for Lilith, he would be alone too.

  Mel

  He woke with a start. He was on his couch, back home in Rome. He had just spent a few days in Russia, picking up an order of jewels for the galleria. It had been a boring trip, but good for thinking--and he needed to think. Lilith had been so heavy on his mind; it had seemed like a good idea to get away, to new surroundings. St. Petersburg had been snowy, and he had spent a lot of his time in bars, sipping vodka and brooding.

  It wasn’t something he usually did. But he had needed it.

  He wasn’t sure how much it had helped, though. He still dreamed of Lilith--and not good dreams. He could see her body, crumpled on the ground, and it made him shudder, holding his head in his hands. God, Lilith. God.

  His phone buzzed, and he looked at it--Nora. He felt himself brighten a little. They had been texting back and forth while he had been gone. Rehearsals were still canceled, and she had been spending her time cooped up in her apartment, bored.

  He opened the message.

  You’re home?

  Now he smiled. Yes. Do you want to come by?

  It only took a moment for his phone to buzz again. I’ll be half an hour.

  Good. Mel sighed with relief. She would be a good distraction.

  He liked Nora. She was spirited, plucky. And she had been fun, that night they spent together. It had been a while since he had had that much fun.

  He took a shower, but as he dried off, he felt a Presence coming from the living room. Michael. He rolled his eyes, threw on some clothes, and padded out of his bedroom.

  Michael was standing by the couch, his hands in his pockets.

  Mel stuffed his hands in his pockets too. He was feeling especially cold towards Michael right now, what with all the nightmares he was having. He wanted this visit to be short.

  Michael picked up on his anger, and he looked away. “I have a lead.”

  “Go on.”

  “His name is Ariel,” he said. “One of the younger Angels. I found a friend of his; they identified the jewel. A gift from his mother.”

  “How touching,” Mel said dryly.

  He ignored this. “He’s about your height, brown hair, brown eyes. But there’s a complication.”

  Mel waited.

  He looked frustrated. “He has a Talent. He can suppress his Presence. We won’t be able to sense him.”

  Mel felt his anger increase, and he swore under his breath. “That makes it a thousand times harder to find him.”

  “And he can pretend to be human if we do,” Michael replied stonily.

  He folded his arms, seething. “That’s all you got?”

  He nodded. “I think his friend told me everything...hopefully. It was difficult getting information out of him.”

  “And you still don’t know where he is?”

  Michael tensed, and his dark eyes glittered with anger. “You’re welcome to look, too.”

  Mel wasn’t intimidated; he was used to getting on Michael’s nerves. “Where were the victims found?”

  “Via di Castagna and Via di Parete.”

  “For Christ’s sake,” Mel growled, pacing. “That’s miles apart.”

  “He’s smart...sloppy, but smart. We might have to wait for him to make another mistake.”

  “Or kill again?” he hissed.

  Michael folded his arms too, his jaw tight. “I’ll take Castagna. You can take Parete.”

  “We can’t sense him. It’s almost pointless.”

  “Fine,” Michael said, walking to the middle of the room. “Play with your diamonds. I’ll find him.”

  He vanished before Mel could retort.

  He swore. He had the strongest urge to kick something, but resisted. He took deep breaths, trying to get his anger under control. Nora would be over soon, and he didn’t need to scare her again.

  Michael was right, as much as Mel hated to admit it. They needed to patrol the streets, look for anyone resembling Ariel. It was all they could do for now, and it was better than nothing.

  God, Mel hated killer Angels. He almost hated them more than human ones. Angels were so much stronger than humans, and they could be Talented--use their powers against them. The fact that they chose to hunt such vulnerable creatures as mortals was sickening.

  He managed to calm down, and dressed in something nicer than the sweats he had thrown on for Michael.

  There was finally a knock at the door, and he opened it.

  Nora looked striking, wearing leggings and a knitted dress. She had a beanie tugged over her curly hair, and was wearing eyeshadow and lipstick.

  Mel loved all of it, and he smiled. “Ciao.”

  “Ciao,” she grinned.

  “Hungry?”

  “Starving,” she said, and he stood aside to let her in.

  “I didn’t have a chance to shop,” he said, walking her to the kitchen, “so I thought takeout would be okay.”

  “Oh, let’s have Chinese,” she said brightly. “I have a huge craving.”

  He pulled up an app on his phone, and Nora hoisted herself onto the counter, swinging her legs and smiling. Mel put in their order, and then went to her, slipping his arms around her waist and kissing her. She moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck,
and he sighed. This is what he needed.

  She pulled away, and cocked her head, brushing at his hair. “You’re tense.”

  He was surprised. “How astute of you.”

  “I can feel it in your shoulders,” she replied, smoothing her hands over them. She hesitated, blushing slightly, before asking, “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Mel paused. He wasn’t sure it was something he should mention to her. But it would be helpful--talking to someone--and it wasn’t like she believed him anyway.

  He looked down, brushing his hands along her waist. “I like this dress.”

  “You’re stalling.”

  He smiled, amused. He looked at her, and was taken aback at the genuine concern on her face.

  And suddenly he realized--he needed to tell her.

  “You don’t walk around at night, do you?” he asked worriedly.

  She frowned. “Not usually.”

  “Don’t do it anymore,” he said firmly. He hesitated again, before finally saying, “There’s a serial killer.”

  She looked stunned. “Seriously? What--is it on the news?”

  “No,” he said cautiously.

  She stared at him for a moment, before understanding appeared on her face. She sighed. “Another Angel story?”

  “Yes,” he replied, “but you have to take this one seriously. Or forget the Angel part--there really is a killer out there. He’s killed two women already.”

  She folded her arms, raising a dangerous eyebrow. “How do you expect me to believe this, Mel?” she said impatiently.

  He was frustrated. “What can I say to make you believe me on this one?” he asked desperately.

  She stared at him again, this time for a while. He could see she was thinking, weighing her options.

  Finally she nodded. “Fine,” she said gently. “I believe you.”