“‘Neath silver moon or dark of night.
“In shadow deep or brightest light.
“From this hex none shall be spared.
“For wrath knows not peace nor care.
“Betrayers! Gather close and hear.
“I damn you to your darkest fear.
“I bind you to dread’s cold embrace.
“Until your truth you boldly face.”
Greenish curls of smoke rolled in from the garden, winding around Killian’s ankles and cementing him in place. His heart seemed to freeze as well, his breath caught in his chest. In the doorway, Delphine swayed on her feet, her mouth open slightly in shock.
Endless seconds passed, the terror rising inside of him, until a percussive force shook the entire mansion, knocking him to the ground where he fell on top of his champagne flute.
A sharp stab of pain lanced through his abdomen, and his ears rang, the screams and shouts all around him muffled as he tried to right himself. Delphine staggered to her feet and took off for the stairs, lurching with every step.
Something sticky dripped from his ears, and when he touched his cheek, his fingers came away wet with blood. Burning pain stretched across his chest, a thin line of agony he clutched at while he tried to stand.
His first step sent his shoulder slamming into the wall. His arms and legs were heavy and leaden, and as he fumbled for the piece of glass that had impaled him just above his belt, a chill of foreboding washed over him. Along with pain in his wrist like he’d never felt before.
He tugged the sleeve of his jacket up.
Fuck me.
His cuff turned to dust that floated to the ground in a slow-motion spiral. Magic crackled over his skin, electric and hot, and he pushed himself off the wall and started to run.
If he stayed in this mansion another moment, he was a danger to everyone. Hell, the entire city of New Orleans should be as afraid of his magic as he was.
MADDOX
He stumbled up the stairs, blind, his wings flapping uselessly as he tried to get his bearings. Where was he? Nothing made any sense. His head hurt like someone had driven a spike through it, and he banged into more than one person as he tried to fight his way to where he thought the door might be.
He’d been so close. Almost halfway up the stairs, but then his entire world had stopped, and he hadn’t been able to breathe, to move. Nothing.
When the mansion had shook like God herself was trying to bring it down, the paralysis had disappeared, but it had taken his vision and most of his hearing with it.
His feathers bent, and a bone in his left wing snapped as he tried to escape. The pain stole his breath, but then fresh air hit his cheeks. He still couldn’t see, could only hear a dull roar in his ears. More than once, he fell, scraping his hands on the stone steps just outside the mansion.
The scent of his own blood turned his stomach, and as he pushed to his feet, bright lights broke up the darkness. Several of the humans screamed and shoved at him, and Maddox found himself turned around, dizzy and disoriented.
His foot slipped off the curb, and he flapped his wings again, but with one of them broken, he only managed to spin himself around in a circle. A car horn blared, white-hot light seared his eyes, and then he flew.
But not in the way he’d intended. Pure, unadulterated agony ran through his limbs, his back, and his chest from an impact like he’d never felt before, and when he hit the ground after a screech of tires and a man’s curse, he tried to get back up, but he couldn’t move. It wasn’t only his wing now. His arm, several ribs, even his collarbone were broken too. His legs. He tried to shift them, but let out an agonized cry when he could do nothing but flop around helplessly.
The last vestiges of darkness cleared from his eyes, and he stared up at the inky sky, at the full moon overhead.
He didn’t think he could die—not after only a few hours in the earthen realm, but his body hurt— so much—that he feared he was wrong. And even if he lived...he couldn’t move. If the witches found him with the sand, they’d torture him for the rest of his existence.
Footsteps. So many footsteps. All around him. Maddox reached out with his good arm and wrapped his fingers around an ankle. “Help,” he whispered.
The owner of the ankle tried to shake off his hold, but then stopped. “Fuck.” A second later, the most perfect face he’d ever seen hovered over him, and the man pressed warm fingers to his neck. A spark ran through Maddox from his head to his toes, and his entire body started to tremble. “You’re hurt, mate. Don’t move. I can’t stay, but I’ll call an ambulance for you. They’ll be here soon.”
“N-no,” Maddox begged, snagging the stranger’s wrist in a weak grip. “P-please. Do not…leave me.”
