The pull deep in his chest took him down the stairs to the basement, past the crypt—which was shuttered tightly once more—and to another, smaller and plainer door. This one had no handle. Only a thick deadbolt. It was not guarded by magic. Not that he could sense. But his power would not work against human inventions. Only the spiritual.
Pulling out Killian’s phone, Maddox dialed the number Sin had made him memorize years ago when his brother had first taken up residence on earth.
“Who is this?” Sin said, his voice booming in the deathly quiet cavern.
Mad jabbed the volume button several times, then whispered, “It’s Mad. I don’t have a lot of time. But I’m in this realm, and I need your help.”
“Mad? Where are you? I’ll come to you—”
“No. Don’t. Trust me, Sin. This is something I have to do on my own. Mostly. In your work with that human law enforcement agency…did you ever learn how to pick a lock?”
Ten minutes later, after much swearing and frustration on both of their parts, the lock tumblers clicked, and the door creaked open. “I have to go, brother. Please do not try to find me. There is magic at work here. A curse. And we don’t know what its effects will be.”
“Maddox, wait.” Sinclair’s plea was so full of emotion, Maddox stopped just inside the door. “You’re in New Orleans, aren’t you?”
“H-how did you know?”
“There are rumors everywhere. Witches going insane. Dark magic taking over. If you get into trouble, there’s a vampire I know. Her name is Mist, and she can be found at the House of Voodoo every night after sunset. Tell her I sent you.”
“Mist. Thank you, Sin. I…I hope I get to see you again.” Before his brother could protest, Maddox ended the call and shut off the phone. The last thing he needed was the damn thing ringing and alerting someone to his presence.
Creeping down the stairs, he caught the scent of iron heavy in the air. Also, a hint of Killian. He was here. A dozen cells lined a long hallway, and at the third one, he stopped, horror stirring in his chest.
Killian lay on his back, his breathing labored. His unbuttoned shirt was singed in a dozen locations, and his skin was almost bone-white. “N-no,” he moaned as he shook his head—the only movement he seemed to be capable of bound as he was. “Forgive...me.”
“Killian?” Maddox pulled out the hairpins he’d found in one of the ballrooms upstairs and went to work on the cell door’s heavy lock. His witch didn’t answer, and another black circle burned his flesh just over his heart. The agonized cry tore Mad apart, and he bit his lip as he tried to concentrate on the tumblers and tune out Killian’s suffering.
He’d always been a quick study, and as soon as he had the door open, he cupped the witch’s cheek. “Killian, it’s Mad. Open your eyes.”
With a grunt of surprise, Killian jerked, and his blue-gray eyes struggled to focus. “Brilliant,” he rasped. “I’m hallucinating.”
“No, you’re not.” Maddox prayed he still had some of his angelic strength left as he grabbed the small padlocks securing the ankle fetters. With a quick snap, they broke off in his hands, and he freed Killian’s legs. The wrist cuffs...those he had to pick, and when he was done, he took Killian’s arm. “Come on. We have to get out of here.”
Shaking his head and blinking hard, Killian let out a shuddering breath. “The spell. It’s gone.” His confused gaze went to his wrists, and he turned his hands over, squinting at the chafing from the metal cuffs. “Maddox? I’m not dreaming?”
“No. But even if you were, dream-you needs to come with me. Right now. Can you walk?”
“If you help me.” Killian draped his arm around Maddox’s shoulders and warmth seeped into Mad’s every pore. He needed Killian. Needed to hold him and make sure he was going to be okay.
“I’ve got you, baby,” Maddox said quietly, then cringed. Why had he called Killian that? At least the witch didn’t notice—or didn’t care.
“There’s another witch here.” Killian’s voice was faint, even right in his ear.
“I don’t know how long we have before someone—” A cold draft made Maddox shiver, and he checked all around them to make sure they were still alone.
“I have to see her.” Killian tugged him down to the far end of the dungeon and peered into the last cell on the right. “Witch. Witch!”
A woman lay on the floor next to the door, her skin gray. Killian sank down to his knees and reached his free hand through the bars to touch her neck before toppling over into Maddox’s legs. “Fuck. She’s dead.”
“Can we get out of here now?” Maddox asked. “Something’s…coming. Something dark. I can feel it.”
He practically hauled Killian against his chest as he wrapped an arm around the witch’s waist to support him. Before they could take a step, Killian turned, reached up, and cupped the back of Maddox’s neck. Digging his other hand into his pocket, he came away with a small pile of celestial sand.
“Truth, Maddox. Did you come here for me or for the sand?”
Mad stared down at the grains glittering in Killian’s palm, closed the man’s fingers over the dust, and leaned in, pressing his lips to Killian’s jaw. “For you.”
Killian
He didn’t know why he’d asked the angel about his intentions. It shouldn’t have mattered. Killian could have died in the dungeon—or gone insane from Jezebel’s torture—and now he was held against a fighter’s body, Maddox’s warmth strengthening him with each step, and almost back above ground.
The sand weighed him down, tethered him to this world of magic he wanted no part of after Delphine’s betrayal. He thought about just letting it go, but then he’d be leaving it in the one place Maddox didn’t want it to be, and he couldn’t disappoint the man that way. Not after the feel of Maddox’s lips on his skin.
As they rounded a corner and found themselves in the grand ballroom, Maddox froze, then pointed to one of the room’s three exits. “Someone’s coming,” he mouthed and pulled Killian towards another door.
A blast of magic hit Killian square in the back, and his body stopped listening to his commands. He slumped in Maddox’s arms, barely managing to grunt, “I’m…sorry. Take the sand. Leave me.”
“Killian Wade! You will burn for this,” Jezebel shouted as she raced for them. But Maddox just threw Killian’s paralyzed body over his shoulder and took off at a run. They burst through the mansion’s front doors, and Maddox ducked down an alley, around three other buildings, and then cut through a narrow side street, evading the occasional blasts of magic Jezebel hurled their way.
Even with Killian’s extra weight, Maddox was faster, and when they could no longer hear Jezebel’s heels clicking on the sidewalks, Maddox eased Killian to his feet and propped him up against the side of a building.
“Killian, baby, listen to me. I need you to tell me how to break this spell.”
He couldn’t speak. Every muscle in his body was locked tight, even his hand, where, in his fist, the celestial grains were still held securely.
Maddox searched his face, then pulled him closer and kissed him. Not a gentle brush to his cheek, but a kiss that consumed him. When Maddox’s tongue darted out to trace the seam of Killian’s lips, the marks across his chest flared to life, but this time, the searing agony didn’t follow. Instead, they were warm, comforting, and seemed to reach deep into his soul.
The spell loosened, and Killian opened for the angel, each fighting for dominance as Maddox pressed him harder to the wall. The thick, hard rod against Killian’s thigh set off his own arousal, and as his dick responded in kind, the last vestiges of the spell shattered.
“Maddox,” Killian whispered. “You…”
“Can you stand?” the angel demanded.
Nodding, Killian took a step back, suddenly worried he’d done something to offend Maddox. But in the next second, Mad stripped off his shirt and draped it over his shoulder. “You’re not going to like this. Hold on. Arms around my neck, legs at my waist. And Killian? Onc
e we’re airborne, start dropping the sand. Scatter it to the winds. If we can’t keep it safe, then we’ll make sure no one has it.”
“I don’t understand—” Despite the absence of Jezebel’s magic, Killian’s mind was still addled. The sun was starting to set. He’d passed at least six hours in the dungeon, the torturous spell denying him any respite and the iron leaching the magic from his body.
But he fell silent as Maddox’s wings burst forth, pure white, more than seven feet across, and covered with lush feathers.
“We’re going to fly, Killian. It’s the only way we can get out of here safely.”
Maddox grabbed the backs of Killian’s thighs and hefted him so Killian could wind his arms around Maddox’s neck. Hooking one foot over the other behind the angel’s back, he relished their closeness, even as his stomach pitched at the thought of flying.
“Do you trust me, Killian?” Maddox asked, holding his gaze, emotion churning in his dark brown eyes.
Killian kissed him back, hard and fast. “Yes. With my life.”
A breeze ruffled Killian’s hair as Maddox’s wings flapped once, twice, and then…they were off the ground, Killian staring up at the cloudy sky as Maddox carried him off somewhere he hoped they’d both be safe.
Chapter Eight
Maddox
Having Killian’s arms around him settled Maddox in a way he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before. Like he was home. They flew over the city, and when Killian let go of the celestial sand, Maddox hoped to all that was good in his life that Azrael would forgive him. Better to ensure it was destroyed than to let it fall into the wrong hands.
“Where do we go?” Maddox asked, his lips close to Killian’s ear.
“I don’t know this city.” Killian’s voice was weaker than it had been only a few minutes ago, and his grip around Maddox’s neck loosened slightly. “Somewhere…I can rest. Hotel. No good to you like this.”
“Hang on, Killian. Don’t let go. Please.” Maddox’s left wing was starting to tire and ache, and he didn’t think he could fly them much farther. Digging deep inside for any shred of power he had left, he tried to cloak them both as he dove towards a side street on the outskirts of the city.
As soon as they landed, Killian slumped in his hold. A delicious scent—sweet and rich and fried—wafted over them, and Killian groaned. “Food. I’m knackered. Don’t suppose you...brought my wallet?”
Maddox flushed, the heat crawling up his cheeks. “Um, I might have spent some of your money on these pants.”
A weak smile curved Killian’s full lips. “Cursing and stealing? Angels are nothing like I imagined.”
“I’ll pay you back,” Maddox rushed to assure him. “I just—”
“No.” Brushing a shaking hand down Maddox’s hip, Killian whispered, “I’m winding you up, mate. Joking.”
“At a time like this? You can barely stand.” Maddox hated the anger in his voice, but he was so worried about his witch he couldn’t think straight.
“Trying to get you to smile.” With a sigh, Killian glanced around them. The side street was empty, and a few doors down, a handful of tables and chairs were arranged outside a little cafe. “Are there any bills left?”
Opening the wallet, Maddox pulled out three twenty-dollar-bills. “I’ve never paid for anything before. The last time I was in this realm, my brother took care of everything.”
Sliding a single twenty free from the rest, Killian pressed it into Maddox’s palm. “This should be enough for some sweets. Beignets. Six of them. And strong tea. Earl Gray or Oolong.”
“Beignets and tea? That will be enough?” Maddox crushed the bill in his fist, and the idea of leaving Killian out here, exposed, didn’t sit well with him.
“Enough for now. I can’t bloody think straight.” The admission cost Killian, the price a dulling of his eyes and a hollow tinge to his tone. “I’m no good to you like this, Maddox.”
“I need you to promise me something,” Maddox said as he helped Killian to the chairs and eased him down. “You will keep watch while I am inside. I almost lost you at Magnolia House. I won’t risk that again.”
Killian pulled him closer. His lips slanted over Maddox’s, and their connection flared, the heat of it driving the ache from his wings and the slight throbbing from around his temples. “I don’t know what it is about you, Mad,” Killian whispered when they finally parted, “but every time I kiss you, I feel…stronger.”
Maddox very much wanted to hear Killian use his nickname again. And spend hours kissing him, just to see how much stronger Killian could get. But then the witch shuddered, and Maddox pushed himself up. “We’re going to test that more…after we eat.”
Killian had his head in his hands when Maddox returned with a tray of beignets and tea, and it wasn’t until he touched the witch that he let himself breathe. “What was that spell that vile woman used on you?”
A few drops of tea sloshed over the edge of the mug as Killian took a tentative sip. “That was Jezebel. She fancies locking spells. In the dungeon, she forced me to relive my greatest pain over and over again. Upstairs, before we escaped, she quite literally turned my body into a prison. I couldn’t breathe or move, and what little I had of my own magic…she used against me.”
“I do not like this Jezebel. Her name suits her.” Maddox bit into one of the beignets. The fried pillow covered in powdered sugar made him moan, and he took a moment to savor the treat. “I forgot how good earthen realm food is.”
Killian laughed, the sound weak, but at the same time, still rich. “You surprise me, Maddox. Constantly.”
“Is that a good thing?”
Reaching across the table, Killian brushed his thumb across Maddox’s lips and came away with a lump of powdered sugar. And then did the sexiest thing Maddox had ever seen. He licked the sugar off his own thumb with a smile.
“Yes. It is.”
Grateful for the table hiding his growing erection, Maddox tore into another beignet, focusing on the fried dough so he could have a moment to breathe. Or try to. Magic. Danger. Jezebel. Forcing his thoughts back to the present, he swallowed hard. “Why does Jezebel hate you so?”
The heavy sigh should have warned Maddox to leave it well enough alone, but he couldn’t. Not when he suspected he was falling for the witch.
“Killian? Tell me.”
“I killed her brother.”
Maddox jerked up, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. “You…what?”
The horror on Killian’s face was enough to make Maddox’s heart feel like someone was squeezing it in a vise grip. When the witch spoke again, his voice was so full of emotion, Maddox had to strain to hear the words.
“We grew up together. The three of us. Oliver and Jezebel are—were—witches too. Until Oliver was attacked by a vampire when he was twenty. Though I suppose he was still a witch, just one who couldn’t go out in the light of day.” Killian ran a hand through his hair, and a faraway look settled in his eyes. “We spent every night together, lived just a few kilometers from one another. And I…cared for him. He was the first man I ever kissed.” Killian’s voice lowered even further. “And the last. Before you.”
Shock kept Maddox from saying anything as Killian pushed his plate away and scowled into his tea. “I’m a bloody pisser of a witch, Maddox. Never could get a handle on my magic. My High Priestess—the leader of my coven—swears it’s because I’m too powerful. But I know that’s not the truth. I’m simply rubbish at it.”
As the silence spread between them, Maddox used his gifts to reach out and sense Killian’s emotions. So many churned within the depths of his soul. Regret, shame, sorrow, loss, grief…
Killian met Maddox’s gaze, and desperation surged over their connection. An intense need to find acceptance lingered in his eyes, and Maddox reached across the table for Killian’s hand. “Tell me. All of it,” he said quietly as he linked their fingers.
But in the next moment, Killian groaned, his free hand clawing at his chest
. “The curse…it’s getting stronger,” he whispered as he loosed the top two buttons of his shirt. His brand, the one Maddox now recognized as his very own wings, was glowing red hot, and Killian wavered in his seat, finally collapsing back and panting through the pain.
“We need to get you somewhere you can rest,” Maddox said as he leapt up and then draped Killian’s arm over his shoulders. Now, the only thing he saw in Killian’s eyes was sorrow.
Chapter Nine
Killian
He should have kept his mouth shut. It had to have been the spell. It addled his mind. Made it hard to think. Or hell, maybe the curse. After all, he’d kissed an angel. More than once. And he’d wanted to do it again.
Until he’d admitted his darkest secret. Now, as Maddox helped him down the street, he doubted he’d ever have the chance to be this close to the angel again once they got where they were going. Maddox would leave, and Killian…he’d have to figure this curse shite out on his own.
“We should find a boarding house. Somewhere with only a few rooms,” Killian said as they wove their way through the few people out and about on the edges of the city. “They might not computerize records. And I need to make some calls.”
Maddox nodded and then handed Killian his phone, but didn’t otherwise speak. He looked shell-shocked, and Killian tried to hold on to the spark of connection they’d had ever since he’d rescued the angel outside the mansion, but the pain in his chest, his exhaustion, and the terrible look on Maddox’s face warned him that was folly.
Two blocks away, now acutely aware he wasn’t wearing any shoes, Killian spied a row house with a “Rooms for Rent Nightly” sign in the window. A place like this might not run his credit card right away. Not if he looked…normal. Which, of course, he didn’t. Fuck. He was going to have to use his magic.
Wicked Omens (Cursed Coven Book 5) Page 5