King of the Wicked (The Banished Series Book 1)

by T. R. Hamby

  She murmured under her breath, but after a moment was back to sleep again.

  He held her, trying to sleep himself, but his mind wandered. It had been two months since they had returned to Rome. A lot had happened in that time: Rehearsals had resumed for Nora, so she was at the theater for most of the day, five days a week, and sometimes six. After work, about every other day, she visited Mel, and stayed the night. They had piano lessons, went out to dinner, or ordered takeout and talked and talked. One weekend, Mel took her on a short trip to France for business. They had explored the city, holding hands, and had taken a ridiculous amount of pictures on Nora’s phone.

  It was...good. So good. He hadn’t felt this way in so long…

  He thought of what Michael had said, and he frowned worriedly. No, they weren’t just fucking. Michael had never understood the intimacies of a human relationship, though. Just because they were sleeping together didn’t mean they weren’t friends.

  Very good friends.

  He had a nagging feeling, but he pushed it away. No, he wasn’t going to overthink this. It had been a while since he had felt this happy. He wasn’t going to let his mind poison it.

  In the morning he woke to the smell of pancakes. He stirred; daylight was flooding into the room. Nora was beside him, sitting up and eating from a plate.

  He turned toward her, and she smiled at him. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

  He chuckled. “Good morning.”

  “I made pancakes.”

  He blinked, still trying to wake up. “I was going to make you breakfast.”

  “Well, you were knocked out, and I was hungry,” she replied, setting her empty plate aside. She scooted down in the bed, and Mel wrapped his arm around her. “Besides, I’m a big girl now that I’m twenty-seven.”

  Mel smiled and kissed her temple. “Happy birthday, diletta.”

  She beamed. “Grazie.”

  “Are you happy?”

  She raised an eyebrow, though she was still smiling. “You asked me that last night, silly.”

  “That was before I woke you up in the middle of the night.”

  She giggled. “Yes, of course I’m happy…” She thought for a moment, before adding, “I wish Dad was here, though.”

  He squeezed her waist. “He would be proud of you.”

  She smiled at him. “Thanks.”

  “What did he do for your birthday?”

  She chuckled, tracing her fingers along his palm. “He always baked a huge cake--every single birthday. And he always hid something inside--like a ring, or a toy. I still have no idea how he did that. For my sixteenth birthday he put a diamond necklace in my cake.” She was staring at the ceiling, clearly remembering. “And when I was little my mom would throw the best parties. Princess themed, pony themed. She would find the best decorations, and the best games.”

  “That sounds...happy.”

  She looked at him. “Do you have a birthday?”

  He chuckled again. “No. And it wouldn’t matter anyway, since I’m ageless.”

  “I could give you a birthday.”

  He propped himself up on his elbow, smirking. “Oh?”

  She grinned. “Yeah...you seem like a Virgo.”

  “God, not those things.”

  She giggled. “It fits. You’re very methodical. Logical.”

  “I’m flattered,” he said dryly, and she laughed. “So what is that? March?”

  “Most of September.”

  “I’ll mark it down on my calendar.”

  She laughed again, and he enjoyed the sound, ducking his head down and kissing her.

  “You’re not hungry?” she breathed as he helped strip her shirt off.

  “You know I don’t get hungry,” he replied, his voice low.

  “Oh right. I forget sometimes. You’re going to eat those pancakes, though, right?”

  He rolled his eyes, and she giggled. “I promise I will eat them.”

  “Good. I slaved over them.”

  “Let me slave over you, then.”

  It was a rainy day, so Nora decided they would stay in. They tapped on the piano, and she rehearsed some of her parts while Mel listened. They played Scrabble and ordered takeout. It was quiet, and relaxing, and Mel enjoyed all of it.

  Later in the afternoon Nora’s phone rang. Mel paused the movie they were watching, and studied her as she looked at her phone warily.

  She moaned. “My sister,” she said, looking at him. “What should I do?”

  If Mel remembered correctly, the two hadn’t spoken since Nora’s abortion two months ago.

  He shrugged, at a loss. “You don’t have to talk to her if you don’t want to.”

  He wasn’t fond of her sister. Nora had mentioned her a few times, and Mel had gotten the impression that she was passive-aggressive, smug...and probably insecure. She had liked controlling Nora when she had been living in her basement, and had acted like a martyr when Nora had left (“But who will help me with the baby?”). She was selfish, self-righteous, and Mel knew she enjoyed tormenting Nora over the phone.

  He secretly hoped Nora wouldn’t answer, but after a moment she sighed and pressed the phone to her ear.

  “Hey...thank you…”

  A pause. Nora frowned. “You still there?” Then she flushed. “Apologize for what, exactly?” she asked dangerously.

  Mel decided now was a good time to get Nora’s presents, though he was smiling--hopefully this was the day she kicked her sister to the curb.

  When he came back, Nora’s phone was beside her on the couch, and she was pinching the bridge of her nose.

  He sat beside her. “You all right?”

  She sighed. “Yeah. I just hung up on her. I didn’t know what to say.” She shook her head. “It’s always the same shit from her,” she sighed. “Even on my birthday she has to be nasty. She thinks I’m over here playing games and sleeping around instead of pursuing a career. It’s like nothing’s valid unless I’m living next door to her, with a boring husband and a couple of bratty kids. Or,” she added, “living in her basement as her live-in nanny.”

  Mel sat and listened.

  “And I just--” she gestured vaguely, “--don’t get it. She has a husband and sons to boss around now, why does she need me?”

  “Because she’s jealous of you,” Mel said quietly.

  She frowned at him. “You think so?”

  “Yes. You’re a successful performer, something she could never do. She’s never had your talent.”

  “She always seems so smug about her life,” she said uncertainly. “Like I’m a failure compared to her.”

  “She acts that way because she wishes it was true,” he replied. “But she knows it’s not.”

  She was quiet for a moment, staring thoughtfully at the fireplace. Then she turned and smiled at him. “Thanks,” she murmured, touching his hand.

  They smiled at each other, before he grabbed the presents from the table.

  “Mel,” she sighed. “I told you not to.”

  “You didn’t tell me that. You told me I didn’t have to,” he corrected her, smirking and handing her the first box. “They’re just little things, anyway.”

  She sighed again, but there was a smile on her face. She unwrapped the first present, which was revealed to be a velvet box. She opened it, and let out a breath.

  “Jesus,” she breathed, fingering the ruby necklace. She looked at him, shaking her head in disbelief. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Let’s see how it looks.”

  He lifted the necklace out of the box, and Nora turned, brushing her hair out of the way. He paused for a moment, suddenly thinking of Lilith, exposing her neck as they waded in the stream. He shook himself, and slipped it around her neck, and she turned to face him. He had worked hard on it; a silver chain dripping with little teardrop rubies. They sparkled around her neck, and she was beaming.

  He smiled. “Beautiful.”

  “My turn.” And she went to the bedroom to look in the mirror. />
  He waited, still smiling. He was a little amazed; the necklace looked even better on her than he had originally imagined. She looked perfect.

  She returned, grinning from ear to ear, and jumped into his lap, kissing him hard. He laughed, cupping her face in his hands.

  She pulled away and looked at him for a moment. There was a look on her face that he couldn’t decipher. Then she smiled and said, “Thank you.”

  “Your welcome, diletta,” he replied, wondering what she was thinking. He kissed her again, then said, “One more.”

  She sat beside him, and he handed her the final present, which was simply wrapped in paper with ribbon. She untied the ribbon and brushed the paper back, and cocked her head.

  “Sheet music?” she asked, lifting the papers and studying them.

  “Elvis’s greatest hits,” Mel grinned, and she laughed. “All in piano...I thought you’d like it.”

  “I do,” she said, still chuckling. “I love it. Thank you.”

  “Happy birthday.”

  She looked at him for a moment, a thoughtful smile on her face. There was something there...tenderness. Warmth. And maybe a little confusion.

  “This has been the best birthday,” she whispered, hugging the music to her chest.

  He wasn’t prepared for the amount of emotion he suddenly felt. He looked away. He had that nagging feeling again, and he tried to ignore it.

  “Good,” he said, a little lamely.

  They were quiet a moment.

  Then Nora said, “What did Michael want?”

  Mel looked around, and sighed. “Just that serial killer I was telling you about. Actually,” he said suddenly, realizing, “I didn’t tell you.”

  She frowned. “Tell me what?”

  He sighed again, running a hand through his hair. “The killer. He’s an Angel.”

  She was quiet, her face turning pale. “Oh my god,” she finally whispered.

  “I didn’t say anything because you didn’t believe me at the time.”

  “That’s a thing?” she exclaimed, nearly dropping her sheet music. “Angels can just--come down here and kill people?”

  “It’s very rare,” he replied soothingly. “The last one was nearly a thousand years ago. But...yes, Angels can come down to Earth. Not many do, though--most Angels prefer not to be around humans.”

  She blinked, processing this information with a bewildered expression.

  “Well--are you close to finding him?” she asked.

  Mel didn’t say anything, but she understood anyway.

  “Jesus Christ,” she breathed, shaking her head.

  “I know.”

  “You really have nothing?”

  “Well--what you said about stealing someone’s identity helped,” he said. “Michael found a name that might fit...it’s just that none of his internet searches have shown anything useful.”

  She thought for a minute, biting her lip. Then she said, determinedly, “Give me some time. I’ll think of something.”

  “What?” Mel said. “No--no. Absolutely not.”

  “I’m only giving you ideas,” she said patiently, but he shook his head.

  “No. Thank you, but no.”

  She looked at him for a moment, and he could tell she was considering arguing. But she eventually sighed and nodded.

  He felt relief wash over him. The last thing he needed was for Nora to be involved in all this. That was a recipe for disaster. He couldn’t have anything happen to her.

  Speaking of which…

  He looked at her hesitantly, taking her hand. “I was wondering...your apartment…”

  “Sucks?” she supplied, and he chuckled.

  “It’s not just that. The area really isn’t good.”

  “I know, Mel. But it’s all I can afford right now,” she sighed. “But this part pays okay, and hopefully the next gig will be even better. Maybe, after a year…”

  She trailed off, and he hesitated. Then he said, “I could--”

  “No,” she interrupted, her eyes fiery.

  “But it would just--”

  “I don’t care. I’m not taking money from you, Mel,” she said firmly. “I have to do this on my own. And I’ve already taken enough from you.”

  He sighed. “It could still be a shitty apartment. Just somewhere safer. You could live on your own. It’s not money I would miss.”

  But she was shaking her head. “Thank you, Mel. Really. But the answer is no. I love your gifts--and the trips and the piano--but I have a life outside of here. I have to do this on my own.”

  Mel felt his head twitch again. He didn’t like how she said that--that she had a life separate from the two of them. As if this was a secret, as if this was...less, somehow.

  He looked away, his jaw tight, and she sighed. “You’re mad.”

  “I’m not, I’m just--worried.”

  That nagging. He wished it would go away.

  Nora touched his arm, drawing close to him, and he looked at her.

  “Teach me how to fight,” she said, and the sentence was so out of place that he cocked his head at her.

  “What?”

  “Teach me how to fight,” she repeated patiently. “You must know some moves.”

  “That’s not going to protect you against an Angel.”

  “I know, but it would against a human. Hopefully.”

  He frowned, considering. It might ease his mind somewhat. And he knew Nora was a fast learner. It couldn’t do any harm.

  “All right,” he finally said, and she looked genuinely excited. “I’ll have to find a place to teach you. There’s no room in here.”

  “So you know some moves then?”

  He chuckled. “Michael and I used to spar all the time. Trust me--I know plenty.”

  Nora

  Their first lesson was in an old warehouse, in the southern part of the city. Nora was jazzed up; she had always wanted to learn how to fight, and now she had a chance--with probably the best instructor out there. Mel was a little more reserved, and she could tell he had a lot on his mind. Ever since her birthday he had seemed brooding, and his head twitched a lot.

  She tried not to worry. He had been brooding before, and had gotten better. And that Angel must have been on his mind.

  He looked around the large room, frowning and rolling up his sleeves. He had just returned from a quick flight from Greece, and hadn’t had time to change out of his slacks and shirt. Nora, conversely, was wearing a tank top and leggings.

  “Not enough padding,” he muttered to himself, still gazing around the room. “I should have thought of that.”

  Nora decided to stay quiet, let him think. He paced, looking at the floor and the walls.

  Then he sighed. “Okay. First thing,” and he fixed her with a serious look, “you must tell me if I hurt you. I’ll be gentle, but I’m still much stronger than you.”

  She nodded firmly, bouncing on her heels.

  He watched her for a moment, and finally an amused smile appeared on his face.

  “Okay...stance. Move that foot back. And put your hands up--keep them loose; you don’t have to make a fist until you need it.”

  He seized her wrist suddenly, and she gasped. God, Mel was strong. And to think he was being gentle.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Keep your arms firm. Bad guys love to grab women’s wrists.”

  She nodded, and he let her go. He thought for a moment, studying her, his head cocked to the side. Nora could tell his other worries were vanishing; his shoulders were relaxing. Good.

  He finally met her eyes. “I want to see you try to hit me.”

  She nodded, readying herself. Finally, it was about to get fun.

  He frowned. “You’re not afraid you’ll hurt me?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”

  He laughed, and stepped closer. “Okay. Go--”

  She lashed out, striking him in the face. He didn’t stumble, but he grimaced slightly, surprised.

  “Christ. Good hi
t,” he said, chuckling.

  “Thank you,” she said smugly.

  He squared his shoulders, a devilish glint in his eye. “Do whatever you can to get me off of you now.”

  And without another word he seized her, gripping her around the waist and throwing her to the floor. Nora was stunned--unhurt, but stunned. Mel pinned her wrists above her head, looking down on her.

  “Knee,” he said, nodding to her leg. “Hard. To the ribs.”

  She thrust her knee into his torso, and he fell to the side--whether out of genuine pain or feigned, she wasn’t sure. But she scrambled over him, ready to strike, when he gripped her arms and threw her down again. He pinned her arms once more, and she squirmed.

  “Never do that,” he said, growling slightly. “As soon as the enemy is down, you run. You’re putting yourself back in danger when you return to them. You need to know how to survive, not to kill.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  “Now I’m exposed to you. But I can move my face out of the way, so you can’t scratch me. What do you have left?”

  “Groin?”

  “Yes--but please don’t kick me there. You’re strong.”

  They sparred about three times a week, and each session Nora got better, quicker. Mel was a good teacher, and he was happy with her progress. They would get gelato afterwards, and walk past the Colosseum.

  It was another thing they did together--they were doing so many things together now. Nora was over at Mel’s place so much that she had a drawer in the bathroom with some of her things in it. Some of her clothes hung in the closet.

  She thought about this during break at rehearsal. They were only a few weeks away from Opening Night. She was only a little nervous--after all, they had rehearsed so much that Mel said she was reciting parts in her sleep. She was ready.

  What preoccupied her was Mel. What were they doing? It had been two and a half months--not long at all--and yet they had grown so close. They spent so much time together that she didn’t know what she would do if that suddenly stopped. She didn’t want it to stop. Her realization in Denmark was still true today: She was in love with him. Maybe hopelessly. She didn’t know.

  But she had her suspicions, and this was what she considered now. She knew he was naturally affectionate, and had probably been overly attentive to all his past lovers. She knew he was a big gift-giver; she knew he was protective. But this didn’t change how he looked at her. He looked at her like he loved her too.