King of the Wicked (The Banished Series Book 1)

by T. R. Hamby

  She was quiet for a moment. Mel could tell she was thinking.

  “My mother killed herself,” she whispered, and he felt his heart drop. She looked at him desperately. “Please tell me she’s not there.”

  He shushed her, cupping her face in his hand. “She’s in Heaven. And it’s safe there...it’s happy. There’s no fear, no despair.”

  She looked relieved, letting out a breath. She looked down at her hands.

  “She was...unwell,” she said slowly. “She was either sleeping all day, too weak to get up, or was out of the house, just...losing her mind. She tried taking care of us, but...she wasn’t always able.”

  She paused, shivering slightly. Then she glanced at him, and mumbled, “I think I got it from her.”

  Mel remembered the medications she had asked him to fetch, and he felt his heart sink again. No...not Nora. Hadn’t she been through enough?

  “It started after my dad died. It would have happened anyway, but I think his death just...started things. I was in the hospital a few times. It took me a long time to finally feel sort of normal again. My sister didn’t think I could do it. She didn’t want me to move out when I finally did. You know she’s controlling.”

  She let out a breath and wiped at her eyes. “Anyway...there’s my sob story.”

  He studied her. “How are you now?”

  She smiled at him. “I’m good. Really good. You know, I just--have a condition.”

  “You’re not the first friend I’ve had who’s had a condition,” he said gently. “If you ever feel unwell...please, tell me. I know the best doctors--the best therapists…”

  She smiled at him, fondly, then leaned in and kissed him. Mel closed his eyes, sighing, and cupped her face, kissing her hungrily. She moaned, raised up and straddled him. He slipped his hand beneath her shirt, and she gasped.

  It was strange. Mel had just been thinking about Lilith...talking about her, aching for her...and now he wanted Nora. He needed Nora.

  But he suddenly pulled away, gripping her waist and frowning.

  “Are you sure?” he murmured. “We should probably wait. It’s only been a couple days.”

  She let out a frustrated breath, and he chuckled.

  “Here,” he whispered, giving her neck a kiss, “lie down.”

  She stripped off her sweatshirt, and he stared--she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Then she laid down, resting her arms above her head. Mel hovered over her and kissed her, letting his hand wander, loving the little noises she made, the way her body arched beneath his hand.

  “You’re so…” she breathed, but she trailed off.

  “So what?”

  “Just kiss me.”

  He chuckled and ducked down, kissing her hard. She believed him now--and she wasn’t shying away, wasn’t afraid of him. She was kissing him, clinging to him, and it meant so much that he was surprised. And relieved. Very relieved.

  Nora

  So it was true. All of it was true. The anger, the Immortality...all those fantastical stories. They were real. Mel King was an Angel, one of the first ever Created.

  There were moments when Nora still doubted this. But then Mel’s wound, almost grotesquely knitting itself back together, flashed in her mind, and she knew that it was true.

  If only it was easier to accept.

  Mel left early in the morning to attend the reading of his client’s will. She slept in--she was exhausted--and when she woke, it was ten. She showered and dressed, lost in her thoughts, Mel stuck in her brain. Physically she was much better: The bleeding was light, and the cramps were almost nonexistent. She wasn’t dizzy or nauseous. She felt normal again.

  She wasn’t sure what to do with herself. Mel had talked to her before he left, said there was another car in the garage she could use if she wanted to go out. But after last night, she didn’t want to be out in the open. So she wandered into the library instead, and discovered some boxes on the floor. A mindless task is what she needed. She opened them and found books--several old books. Some of them were sealed in plastic bags and wrapped in bubble wrap, and she knew they were rare and ancient.

  She figured Mel could always rearrange them later, and set about unpacking and organizing them on the shelves. They were amazing pieces--old copies of the King James Bible--ironic--The Pilgrim’s Progress, lots of Shakespeare, Chaucer--all before the 1700s. She chuckled; it was typical that Mel could just purchase whatever he wanted like this.

  Then she stalled, realizing that Mel probably hadn’t just bought these today...he’d probably had them for hundreds of years.

  Because he was there when they were published.

  She shivered, and took deep breaths. Don’t freak out, she told herself. It’s not the end of the world. It’s not the end of the world.

  She finished putting the books away, and then went into the piano room, and practiced singing for a while.

  She thought of what Mel had told her. The story was amazing--he had been there throughout all of human history, and before. He was the start of Angelic history...he had a brother and sisters...he had had friends...and he had had everything taken away from him. Including his love, the world’s first Woman.

  She hated how much he had been wronged. He had been tossed out of his Home, alone, after Lilith was killed. Forced away from his family and his friends. He was a pariah, even today. And the worst of it was Lilith’s death.

  It made Nora angry--furious, actually. Mel was good; he was kind, and still he had been shunned. It hurt her how sad he really was. She wanted to shield him from his own pain...make him laugh again.

  If she could change things, what would she do? She would bring Lilith back to life, for a start. She would bring them Home, to his house in the Immortal World. And he would be happy again.

  But what about her?

  She frowned. What about her? Was she any more a part of his story than his last lover?

  No. She wasn’t. But she realized, with a terrible jolt, that she wanted to be.

  She struck a jangled chord. “No,” she told herself firmly. “You can’t. He can’t...he’s...taken.”

  Her heart ached, and she shook her head at herself. “Don’t be stupid,” she whispered.

  The feelings had been developing over the last few days, maybe even since they first slept together. He had been so affectionate, and she had enjoyed it--savored it. But then she had needed help, and she had been so amazed at his selflessness. He could have turned her away, or even just given her some money. But he took her in, took care of her, and even brought her to Denmark. Because she was his friend, and, like he had said, he cared about her.

  Could he love her? Was it even possible for him to love another mortal? She didn’t know.

  She realized she was crying, and she brushed at her eyes, shaking herself. She couldn’t tell him that she loved him. His mind was clearly on Lilith. She couldn’t take that away from him. Should she wait for him?

  She wasn’t sure. She would have to think about that later.

  She heard the front door open, and she made sure her eyes were dry. She tapped a tune on the piano, smiling as Mel appeared, dressed very handsomely in a three-piece suit.

  She whistled. “Don’t you look di bell’aspetto,” she greeted, as he leaned against the doorjamb.

  He smirked. “Thank you, diletta.”

  “You stopped calling me Angela.”

  He shrugged. “I knew it was getting on your nerves. Diletta sounded sweeter. What have you been doing?”

  “Practicing,” she replied. “How was the reading?”

  He rolled his eyes, and she giggled. “Very boring. I’m glad it’s over. We can go home tomorrow.”

  Nora frowned slightly, fingering the keys. What would happen then?

  “And then?” she asked, knowing she shouldn’t.

  She felt him looking at her, but she avoided his gaze. “Well...I thought maybe...you’d want to practice, while you wait for rehearsals to start again.”

  She finall
y looked at him, frowning. He had his hands in his pockets, a cautious look on his face.

  “So I bought a piano.”

  She gasped, clapping a hand to her mouth. “Mel, you didn’t.”

  He smiled. “It’ll be delivered tomorrow. I’ll have to move the couch…”

  “Oh my god--Mel--”

  And she got up, throwing her arms around his neck. She smacked his arm, and he laughed, holding her.

  “You really shouldn’t have, you millionaire asshole,” she moaned, though she was beyond relieved. She would be seeing him again...maybe every day. He wanted to see her. He wouldn’t have gotten the piano if he didn’t.

  He chuckled. “Maybe you can give me lessons.”

  “I’ll give you hours of lessons,” she gushed, pulling away to beam at him. “You’ll need it. You really are terrible.”

  He laughed again, and then bent his head and kissed her. She smiled against his lips, loving the feel of him, so relieved that they were going to keep seeing each other.

  He pulled away, studying her with those icy blue eyes. “Did you enjoy yourself? Last night?” he teased, and she rolled her eyes.

  “I feel selfish. I didn’t...make you enjoy yourself,” she said.

  He smirked. “That’s all right. I always enjoy hearing you sing.”

  “Shut up,” she laughed, holding a hand over his mouth, and he grabbed her wrist, taking her hand away and kissing her neck.

  “Oh,” she said as he pulled away again, loosening his tie. “I put away your books for you.”

  He raised his eyebrows, surprised. “You did?”

  She nodded, and together they went to the library. Mel studied the shelves, running his fingers along the books, his brow furrowed.

  “Organized by author,” he said, glancing at her. “Very good.”

  “Did you own these? You know...when they were...new?” she asked quietly.

  He looked wary, and she could tell he wanted to be cautious with her about the Immortal thing. “Yes--most of them.”

  He thought for a moment, then said, “I used to live in London, not long after Shakespeare’s time. I had a large house, and I had so many books. Damn thing burned down during the Great Fire. I was able to save this,” and he pointed to a small black bible.

  He shook his head, the memory clearly fresh in his mind. “I wanted to move to Florence after that, but I had a wife, and she--”

  “You had a wife?” Nora exclaimed, shocked.

  He looked at her and smiled. “No need to be scandalized, diletta.”

  She let out a breath, shaking herself. “You’re right. Sorry. It’s just...I thought you didn’t fall in love again--and, well, you also don’t seem like the husband type.”

  He chuckled, looking at his books again. “I didn’t fall in love. But being forever single back then was frowned upon, unless you joined the cloth. I needed people to respect me. Lisette was at the mercy of her father...she was no better than a slave to him. She wasn’t eating. So I married her, got her away from him. She lived a much happier life after that.”

  Nora was fascinated. “Were you...faithful?”

  He nodded firmly. “I couldn’t break her heart. She had already suffered enough.”

  “How long?”

  “Twenty years.”

  “And…” She hesitated, then bit the bullet. “Did you have children?”

  He smiled, and there was reassurance in his voice. “No. I can’t get humans pregnant.”

  “Oh...really?”

  He nodded. “Two different creatures.”

  “How long did it take you to figure that one out?”

  “You have no idea,” he muttered.

  “So…” she began, frowning. “Have you...had a lot of wives?”

  He thought for a moment. “I tried to avoid it. Like you said, I’m not the husband type. But there were situations where women were safer with me. Other times it was just...unavoidable. Humans are obsessed with marriage, and anyone who isn’t participating is considered other. So...in recent history...seventeen.”

  “Seventeen wives?” Nora breathed, staggered. “Since when?”

  “Since...Dante,” he replied. He studied her worriedly, and she shook her head.

  “Sorry. It’s just a lot,” she said quietly. “I mean...all these people you’ve known...I mean, seventeen marriages. How do you have the emotional capacity to--to be friends with me, after all that?”

  He smiled and took her hand. “I’m an Angel, remember? It’s easier for me--to be present. Those women...I cared very deeply for them. They were my friends. But they’re in Heaven now, not here. They would want me to move on.”

  She absorbed this. It was all so strange, and a little unnerving, to know that Mel had had other women in his life, women he had actually married. So many people...so many years. And yet here he was, looking into her eyes, silently promising her that she still mattered to him.

  She looked at him. “Did they know?”

  “Only a couple. I think some of the others suspected something...unnatural. But all of them were loyal.”

  “Of course they were,” Nora said, squeezing his hand. “Why wouldn’t they be loyal to you?”

  “Different times,” he said. “They still burned people back then. Are you hungry? I got Chinese.”

  They ate on the couch. Nora decided to hold off on the questions for now, give Mel room to breathe. She could tell he had a lot on his mind, and she wondered if his nightmares were staying with him during the daytime. He did some work afterwards, making some calls and texting his associates, and she practiced some more at the piano, rehearsing her part in the show.

  When evening came Mel had a surprise.

  “I know you Americans like s’mores,” he said as they went outside. There was a stone patio, with a firepit in the center. Nora was bundled in a coat and boots, while Mel, to her slight amazement, was wearing a T-shirt and jeans.

  “I still can’t believe you’re not cold,” she breathed, sitting on a bench.

  He chuckled, stacking logs in the pit.

  “Have you ever been cold?” she asked, hugging her knees to her chest.

  His face fell a little, and he cleared his throat. “Yes. Hell is...very cold.”

  She could see it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, and she stopped with the questions again.

  He seemed to shake himself, and he smiled again. “Let me show you something.”

  He took out a lighter, still kneeling by the pit, and flicked it, so a little flame appeared. He glanced at her, cautiously.

  “Don’t panic,” he said warningly, and she steeled herself.

  He carefully held a hand to the flame, and with a little twitch, the fire erupted, engulfing his hand. Nora jumped a little, but kept her cool, watching as he held his hand aloft. The fire roared, but his skin remained untouched. He placed his hand in the kindling, and in just a minute the whole pit was aflame. He then shook his hand, and the flames dancing on his skin vanished with a puff of smoke.

  Nora stared at him. “What was that?”

  He smiled and sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “We called them Talents,” he said quietly. “Many Angels have them. My brother, for instance, is the strongest of any of us. My sister Judith is the wisest--helpful, since she’s been on my side this whole time.”

  Nora listened raptly, warming by the fire. “What about Agatha?”

  His head twitched, and his smile was almost conflicted. “She’s the smallest of us four--but still strong. She...she can weaken any creature. I’ve never been sure how it works...she seems to just drain the life out of her subject. Michael may be strong, but she’s undefeatable.”

  He was quiet for a moment, and Nora studied him.

  So that was how Agatha had killed Lilith. She had sucked the life right out of her, leaving her body an empty shell on the ground. She shivered--it was horrific.

  She looked at Mel again. His jaw was tense, and she could see he was brooding. />
  “So…” she said cautiously, and he looked around at her. “Other Angels can be hurt by fire?”

  He nodded. “Yes. They can be killed by fire. Except for me.”

  “That axe killed you.”

  “Right...Immortal Blades,” he said, wincing at the thought. “Anything forged down here won’t kill me. But up there...a sword, a knife, an axe...could force me right into Nonexistence.”

  “Nonexistence?”

  He heard the concern in her voice, and he gave her a reassuring look. “Don’t worry.”

  “You know, just because you tell me not to worry doesn’t mean I won’t,” she chided, raising an eyebrow, and he chuckled.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just hate scaring you.”

  “You hate scaring people,” she murmured gently. He looked surprised at her shrewdness. “Your anger terrifies them. You’ve scared innocent people before, including me, and it...it hurts you.”

  He was staring at the fire, his brow furrowed, and she could tell that her boldness had hit a nerve.

  God, that was stupid. She didn’t know why she had said it. It seemed that ever since he had been shot she had been saying stupid things.

  She opened her mouth to apologize--but changed her mind.

  “I’m not afraid of you, Mel,” she said. “You saved my life. And...you’ve been my first real friend in forever. Years. I trust you. I know you won’t hurt me.”

  He was quiet for a moment, still staring into the fire. Then he let out a breath, turned and held her face, kissing her. She was surprised at his force; he was almost frantic, tangling his fingers in her hair.

  He broke away suddenly, and she saw he was flushed. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head, and he looked so confused--so vulnerable--that she shook her head too, brushing his hair soothingly. Then she pushed him back against the bench, sitting on his lap.

  “Nora,” he said, and she shushed him.

  “Mel. Breathe,” she whispered. “You’re nervous.”

  He frowned, as if surprised at this information. He reached out, brushing his fingers down her neck, taking deep breaths. It was the same hand that had been on fire, and it was cool to the touch, electric on her skin. Nora looked down on his face--his tight jaw, his furrowed brow. She longed to relax him, to make him happy again.