Maddox took off around the corner as the witches exited the gate. A few moments later, he approached the same door he’d used the previous night. Only this time, it hung open.
The kitchen was deserted. Broken glasses littered the floor and his shoes made odd sucking sounds as he crept towards the hall.
The whole manor felt…wrong somehow. As if whatever had happened the night before had left it stripped bare. Maddox knew little of curses and even less about the one leveled the previous night, but he had vague memories of a large crowd running and screaming all around him as he’d fled.
Sending a quick burst of his celestial power to swirl around him, cloaking him to all but those specifically searching for him, he made his way down the same grand hallway as the night before. Velvet wraps, coats, purses, and the occasional shoe were strewn about the rooms.
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.”
