King of the Wicked (The Banished Series Book 1)

by T. R. Hamby

  Could it really be happening? After hundreds of thousands of years, could Mel really love again?

  And why Nora? In the grand scheme of things, she was a nobody. She wasn’t special; she wasn’t powerful. She was talented, but not that successful. She was just another human.

  Did he really love her? Well, again, he looked at her like he loved her. Like she really was special. He was constantly touching her--holding her hand, playing with her hair, wrapping his arms around her. He listened to her, even when she was yammering on and on.

  And on her birthday, he had gotten that look. She had said she had a life outside of their time together, and he had looked...hurt.

  She hugged her knees to her chest; she was sitting at the edge of the stage. She couldn’t help but hope. She had never felt this way about someone before...and if he loved her back...it would mean everything.

  Bezi suddenly sat beside her, leaning back on her elbows. “How are you and the old guy?”

  Nora rolled her eyes. “We’re good. We’re just, you know...hanging out.”

  “He had lunch with Antonia,” she said, curiosity in her voice. “Twice this week.”

  Nora felt her insides go cold, and she looked around at her. “Really?”

  She nodded.

  She was worried for a moment. Mel hadn’t mentioned that. But then she shook her head, relieved.

  “It’s probably about being a patron,” she said. “The show might need more money.”

  Bezi shrugged. “Yeah, maybe. My aunt is a bit of a...what do they say in English? Troia?”

  Nora frowned. “A slut? She’s married to your uncle, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah, and they cheat on each other all the time,” she replied. “It’s practically an open marriage.”

  She worried again. But no--Mel didn’t have any time to see another woman. He was too busy, juggling his job, his time with her, and his time hunting that Angel. And he probably would have mentioned if he was seeing someone else. He didn’t lie to her.

  They ended early, so Nora took a cab to Mel’s place, sending him a text letting him know she was coming. When she arrived, he was still dressed in his work clothes, chatting in French on the phone.

  But he smiled when he saw her, slipping an arm around her waist and kissing her, before returning to his call.

  “Should I go home?” she asked when he finished the call. “You’re still working.”

  “I’m almost done,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist again. “How was your day?”

  She smiled. “Good. We start dress rehearsals on Monday.”

  “Have you started singing your lines backwards yet?”

  She chuckled. “I might try.”

  He smiled at her, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I missed you.”

  She felt her heart leap. He was looking at her in that way again, that way that gave her hope that he loved her. And those words, too--I missed you. This couldn’t be coming from a simple fling.

  She drew close and laid her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “I missed you too.”

  He held her, his breathing steady, and she closed her eyes.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “Yeah...I just have some things on my mind.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No...maybe later…”

  His phone rang, and he sighed. “Ancora uno, diletta.”

  And he pulled away, pressing the phone to his ear and pacing. Nora remembered when she had first wondered how he knew so many languages--before she knew for sure that he was an Angel. Had she loved him then? Maybe not quite.

  Had he loved her then?

  That didn’t matter, though. What mattered was if he loved her now, and she couldn’t stop wondering.

  She decided to distract herself with a video game. Mel had a PlayStation, and she turned it on and popped in a game, then sat on the couch, listening to Mel’s flawless French while battling zombies on the TV. His call lasted a long time, and by the time it was over she was on Level 9.

  He leaned on the back of the couch, kissing her cheek. “You are ferocious.”

  She giggled. “Thank you. It’s all your lessons.”

  “I think you’re just talented, as usual.”

  “Come watch.”

  He came around and sat beside her, and she leaned against him. He played with her hair, occasionally giving suggestions as she continued playing.

  It felt so nice.

  A thought came to her mind, and she frowned, clicking furiously on the controller.

  “Mel,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  She hesitated. Then, “So when Angels die--that’s it? They don’t Exist anymore?”

  He was quiet for a moment. Then he replied, “Not exactly. There is a...Higher Plane, for lack of a better term, that Angels go to if they die. No one really knows much about it--just that it exists. We know so little about it that ‘Nonexistence’ is just the word we use for it.”

  “But other Angels don’t Regenerate like you do.”

  “No--that’s just me. Since I don’t have access to the Immortal World, my body eventually deteriorates. Michael doesn’t have to Regenerate because he Travels back Home regularly.”

  “What happens when you Regenerate?”

  He was quiet again, and she looked up to find him hesitating. He glanced at her, then murmured, “My scar hurts--like it did when I first got the wound. It gets hard to breathe...and then I sort of die. Then I go down to Hell for a while. I mostly sleep down there, while my body renews.”

  She frowned. “For how long?”

  He looked away--almost guiltily. “About a year.”

  She felt her heart drop. A year. A whole year without him.

  She paused the game. “When?”

  He sighed. “I don’t know. It’s unpredictable. But...I’m bleeding now. Angel skin is usually impenetrable. And I look older--obviously. So...it can’t be long.”

  She suddenly had tears in her eyes. She got to her feet, turning towards the balcony, willing herself not to start sobbing.

  Fucking typical. First she meets the love of her life, and now he has to go away for a year--to a place that probably didn’t have cell service. She would be alone...utterly alone.

  Her heart ached so much that her chest hurt, and she took several breaths, a couple tears rolling down her cheeks.

  She heard Mel stand and come up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing, and kissed her hair.

  She leaned into him. “You can’t ask God to...make an exception?” she whispered, and he chuckled sadly.

  “God and I aren’t on speaking terms,” he replied, “though you’re welcome to take it up with him. I hear he listens to prayers.”

  She rolled her eyes, tracing her fingers along his arm.

  “I’ll come back,” he said gently. “I promise. I’ve done this thousands of times; I always come back. You’ll see me again.”

  His words meant so much, and she shivered. This had to be coming from someone who loved her, didn’t it?

  They were quiet for a moment. Then Mel said, “You know...that I care. About you. Right?”

  She frowned. What did he mean by that? He was so cautious, his words so stilted.

  His phone suddenly rang again, and they sighed, breaking apart. Nora turned to face him as he glanced at the screen. He shook his head, declining the call, and slipped his phone back in his pocket.

  “Who was that?” she asked.

  “Antonia. We’ve been discussing next season. She wants more money.”

  His phone buzzed--a text. He rolled his eyes, went over to the piano and leaned on it, tapping on his phone.

  Nora watched him, her heart racing. There was a small flash of anger, desperation.

  “That’s why you took her out to lunch?” she asked, and her tone was a little accusatory.

  He looked at her, frowning. “Yes,” he replied, oblivious. “How’d you know?”


  “Bezi told me.”

  He looked back at his phone, which was buzzing again. “I see.”

  “She said you took Antonia out twice this week.”

  This time Mel must have caught her tone, because he tensed, cocking his head. The air cooled a little, and Nora knew he was getting angry.

  He finally looked at her, his eyes piercing. “Yeah. I did.” he said coolly.

  She wasn’t afraid. She lifted her chin, studying him.

  He was studying her too. Slowly he straightened, facing her. “Are you going to ask me if I’m fucking her?” he asked.

  She flinched a little at the word, but stood her ground. “Are you?”

  “No,” he said firmly, looking into her eyes.

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I didn’t think I had to tell you,” he said, annoyed. He took a deep breath. “I promise--I’m not seeing anyone but you.”

  The air warmed again.

  But Nora wasn’t finished. She had to ask--it was too late to go back now.

  “Why?” she asked.

  Mel stared at her for a moment, then looked a little pained, and sat down on the bench. “Please don’t, Nora.”

  “I’m asking you. I have to know.”

  He didn’t reply, just stared down at the keys.

  She was angry again, and she marched up to the piano. “Mel, I have to know--”

  “Nora.”

  “No--I have to know what’s happening between us.”

  He swore under his breath, avoiding her eyes. He looked almost desperate, and still pained. “We’re--good friends--”

  “That’s all I am to you?” Nora whispered, and he exploded.

  “For Christ’s sake,” he growled, standing up so fast that he knocked the piano back a few feet.

  She stared. She had never seen him show his true strength before, and there was the piano halfway across the room. She looked at him--he was shaking, and his eyes were nearly black.

  She let out a breath. She had completely unnerved him. But she didn’t feel overcome by fear or dread--the air was still warm.

  Because he wasn’t angry. He was scared.

  “I’m going for a walk,” he breathed, and he immediately left, letting the door swing shut behind him.

  She swore. Fucking great. Everything was going so well, and she had to ruin things. He’d probably never trust her again. He would worry that every innocuous lunch with a female friend would turn into the Inquisition. Every hug, every kiss would turn into an interrogation--Do you love me, Mel? I don’t know--we’re good friends.

  She thought wildly about what to do. She could wait for him to blow off steam. That was probably the most sensible approach. Or she could chase after him--beg for forgiveness, reassure him that she wasn’t a crazy person.

  She decided to chase after him. He might turn her away, but at least she would have tried. She raced out of the apartment, taking the slowest elevator ride to the lobby, and went out the front doors.

  It was a miracle that she caught sight of him, heading east. He was fast, and the sidewalks were crowded--she was only able to follow him.

  She wondered where he was going until the Colosseum came into view. The warehouse? The crowd still hadn’t thinned, and she was several yards away as she watched him slip into the old building.

  It took her a moment to finally get to the door, and she eased in.

  Mel

  Mel was walking so fast it was a miracle he didn’t crash into anyone. His heart was racing wildly, pounding painfully in his chest, and his eyes stung.

  No. No no no no. This couldn’t be happening. How had he not seen it?

  But he had, all this time. That nagging in the back of his mind had always been there. He had just ignored it. Maybe if he ignored it, it wouldn’t be true.

  It couldn’t be true. He couldn’t love Nora. Because if he did, then Michael would kill her, like he did Lilith.

  Lilith’s face flashed in his mind, that reassuring smile before she crumpled to the ground, lifeless, and he felt such pain that he nearly stumbled. Then it was Nora’s body on the ground, pale and stiff, and he shook his head.

  It was like it was happening all over again. He wanted to scream--

  Michael. Michael was nearby. Mel felt a flash of anger, and what was once an aimless walk turned into a journey.

  The warehouse. Yes.

  The rest of the walk was a blur. He barely remembered pulling open the door, stepping inside, taking the rusty stairs to the second floor. He was breathing heavily, shaking, and when he left the stairs he held his head in his hands and paced.

  Lilith in his arms. I love you, Mel.

  Lilith dead on the ground.

  Nora smiling at him.

  Nora dead on the ground.

  His anger vanished, replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread, of panic, and he let out a cry, hunching over, breathing raggedly.

  Suddenly he could feel Michael at his side, grasping his arm. “What is it? What happened?”

  Mel sank to the floor, shaking. He couldn’t think straight; those horrible pictures were flashing through his mind, over and over…

  “Mel--say something,” Michael insisted, shaking him.

  “Get off me,” he moaned.

  “Not until you tell me what happened.”

  “You...killed her...you took her from me,” he breathed, and the words brought fresh pain, so powerful that he writhed, groaning.

  Michael was silent. Then he whispered, “You’re panicking, Mel.”

  “I didn’t get to say goodbye…”

  “I know.”

  “God, make it stop…”

  “Just breathe, Mel. Breathe.”

  He shook his head, clutching his side, where a sharp pain was. “I can’t do this. I can’t love her. She’ll die too; I’ll lose her too...you’ll kill her too…”

  “You’re not breathing.”

  He forced himself to take a deep breath, shuddering. Lilith’s corpse was still before his eyes, and it morphed into Nora’s back and forth, back and forth…

  He moaned again, feeling sick. “I did this to her. Oh, God...I killed them…”

  “Mel. She’s not dead. She’s alive, she’s safe, and she’s probably wondering where you are right now. Breathe.”

  It took a long time, but finally his heart began to slow. His mind cleared a little, and the pain began to subside. Those horrible images faded.

  He looked around, and found Michael close beside him, with a hand on his arm. He stared at him for a long moment. Then anger, white-hot, flooded through him, and he grabbed Michael by the shirt and threw him several yards into the wall.

  He hit the wall with a tremendous crash, sending dust and concrete to the floor. But he got up immediately, brushing at his shirt.

  “What the hell?” he shouted.

  “Don’t you fucking dare,” Mel shot back, striding towards him. “I should have done this centuries ago.”

  And then they were fighting, struggling against each other, throwing blows and parrying. Michael caught Mel around the arm and threw him onto the floor, so violently that the walls shook. Mel swore--things were much more painful now that his body needed to Regenerate. He got to his feet, and they started again, striking and kicking, growling at each other like hungry wolves.

  Michael threw him across the room, and said, “Fine. You were always a little shit, always the favorite, always strutting around with your ridiculous jewels and your ridiculous nickname.”

  Mel stared at him, almost surprised, before laughing harshly. “Yes, and you were always an arrogant prick who thought he was better than everyone else--especially me.”

  “Judith and Agatha prefer you to me,” Michael said, and it was almost a moan.

  Mel felt his head twitch. He had never noticed that. “You always loved that I was weaker than you,” he hissed.

  “You were always jealous.”

  “Of course I was. You were Father’s favorite son, and I was
nothing to him.”

  They weren’t fighting anymore, but simply staring at each other. Mel’s breathing was slowing, and his anger was lessening.

  They were quiet for a moment. Mel had aches all over his body, and his shirt was bloody. He was sure he looked a mess.

  Michael finally sighed. “How are you feeling now?” he asked quietly.

  Mel wished he wouldn’t ask that; he was still trying to stay angry. “I’d like to hit you again.”

  Michael’s lips twitched. Then he said, “This is about her, isn’t it? The woman you’re seeing?”

  He swore under his breath, looking away. Despite everything, he felt a little better, a little calmer. Nora appeared in his mind, and he sighed, relieved--she was safe.

  “You’re in love again,” Michael said. “After all this time.”

  Mel shivered. He was still afraid. He looked at Michael. He opened his mouth to speak, but Michael cut him off.

  “I won’t touch her,” he said firmly.

  Mel just stared at him.

  “I won’t touch her,” he repeated. “I won’t even come near her, if you don’t want me to. Even if Father asked me, I wouldn’t--but to be fair, he hasn’t said a thing. I don’t think he cares.”

  Mel stared at him for a long time. His chest hurt again, and he looked away, his eyes burning with tears. It was more than he could hope for, and it took him a moment to actually believe it. Was Michael being honest?

  He shook his head. “Why.”

  He looked at Michael, who hesitated.

  Then Michael said, “I never wanted--”

  He stopped, grimacing, and looked away. After another moment he whispered, “Atonement.”

  They were quiet again, for another long time. Mel looked at his brother, who was still avoiding his eyes, focusing on the concrete floor.

  He really meant it. He was going to leave them alone.

  Mel let out a breath, an overwhelming wave of relief washing over him. He smiled--Nora. She was safe. And what was more...maybe--if he hadn’t completely ruined things--they could be together.

  “Have you told her?” Michael asked quietly.