The scent of jasmine floated over the air, along with a hint of spice and sandalwood. The lobby was done up in rich paneling, thick golden and burgundy carpets, with antique lights hanging from the ceiling.
In a far corner, seated in a wing-back chair with her long legs crossed, a slit in her dress all the way up her thigh, was the one witch Killian had hoped to never see again.
Jezebel Winters. She drummed her perfectly manicured fingernails on the side table, a bored expression plastered on her heart-shaped face. “About damn time, Killian,” she said as he approached.
Of course it would be her.
Rising, she offered him her hand, and he brought it to his lips. “Jezebel. I suppose I have you to thank for this generous invitation?”
Oliver’s sister had wanted Killian burned alive for his crimes, but Beatrix had intervened. The favors many in the magical community owed her had saved Killian’s life.
“Puh-leeze. You think I wanted you here? I’d just as soon never see your face again. Delphine ordered me to meet you. Something about learning to hold my tongue in a public place.” She snorted. “My tongue isn’t the problem.”
Raising her hand, she slid her fingers over the pad of her thumb. Once. Twice. Three times. Each time, faster. A tiny glow started in the palm of her hand, and as she kept up the movement, it brightened until Killian had to look away or lose his sight.
“Jezebel, please,” he hissed as he glanced around the empty hotel lobby. “Someone could see you.”
“Do you think I care, Killian? You killed my twin. My other half. The only being I hate more in this world than you is the vampire who turned him in the first place. I want the both of you to burn. Instead, I’m playing errand-girl for Delphine because for some idiotic reason, you’re here.” The disdain dripped from every word, and with the ball of magic still hovering above her palm, Killian’s heart started to pound so hard, he could feel it all the way up his neck and into his temples.
With her free hand, she shoved a small envelope at him. “Room 13. Clothes, toiletries, everything you need is in there. Now…run.”
She didn’t need to tell him twice. He took off at a sprint down the hall, but he wasn’t fast enough. The blast of magic hit him in the shoulder, sending him tumbling face first onto the thick carpet.
For a few panicked seconds, he couldn’t breathe. The world seemed to slow and took on a faint shimmer. And then she stood over him. Looking down like he was something to be pitied. Or hated. He couldn’t tell.
“Next time, run faster,” she said, then snapped her fingers, breaking whatever spell she’d cast over him, and disappeared.
In New Orleans for less than ten minutes, and already he’d almost died. What other fucked up Hell did the Universe have in store for him tonight? Trudging towards his room, he shook his head. He didn’t want to know.
A LITTLE OVER AN HOUR LATER, Killian examined himself in the full-length mirror. He’d shaven the stubble he favored, even styled his hair a bit so it no longer hung over his forehead. The black bespoke suit fit him perfectly, but then again, everything in this suite was tailored expressly for him.
His favorite soap. The expensive Savile Row shampoo. A straight razor, sharpened to lethality. The black, button-down shirt with the flattened collar, the black tie, even the shoes, polished so he could see his reflection in them.
On the dresser, he found a platinum Rolex, a fully charged mobile, and his wallet, but no passport.
“Bugger.” Getting him here was one thing. He hoped whoever was pulling his strings had some way to return him home. Because without his passport, he wasn’t leaving the States. Not unless he relied on his magic. And using magic? That was out of the question.
MADDOX
New Orleans was wet. The air felt thick, like Maddox was breathing underwater. It was also warm. He’d been here all of one human hour and already he had to mop his brow. The white suit, black loafers, and feathered mask the Traveler had assigned to him felt restrictive compared to his usual attire of robes and sandals.
He could not decide if he liked this place. It was real. Gritty. There were smells everywhere. Food. Sweat. Cologne. Piss. So many they were almost overwhelming.
“Your human side will take over while you are in the earthen realm, Maddox. While you should retain your immortality for the short period you are there, you can be injured, and you will take time to heal. You will hunger and thirst, want for things you have never imagined before. You remember this from your visit with your brother?” The Traveler crossed his arms over his chest as he looked Maddox up and down.
“Yes. I very much enjoyed food. And bourbon.” Maddox buttoned his white coat and stretched his wings to their fullest. The clothing was specially designed to allow them to move, to be free, but the Traveler waved his finger at Maddox.
“You are not to use your wings in front of humans. They will not understand. Your time in the earthen realm should be short, so you will not need to hide them completely. It is Samhain, and all of the humans will be in costumes. Simply keep them folded at your back.”
“Of course.” Maddox fingered the token in his pocket. “I won’t disappoint Azrael. I will retrieve the vial and return as quickly as I can. But…after that, will I be allowed to contact Sinclair and tell him—”
The Traveler arched a brow. “Azrael will decide that upon your return.”
A crowd passed him by, singing and dancing in a long line as they made their way down the sidewalk. Maddox reached out with his gifts to sense them. He was a lesser angel. Incapable of working miracles. But he could sample a human’s emotions. Joy. Happiness. Relief. As he wove his way through the throngs of people toward Magnolia House, the location of the vial he was supposed to retrieve, he found everyone he touched—in the spiritual sense—carried these same emotions.
And the colors. So many colors. He’d researched Samhain, and this behavior was typical. People dressed up in costumes and masks, fanciful dresses, as terrifying creatures, and even animals, yet they were all still enjoying themselves.
“Nice wings, bro!” A man slapped him on the shoulder, and Maddox almost lost control and took off into the sky to get away, but after he caught sight of the reveler—who wore a bright red suit with white trim and a fat, black belt—he relaxed.
