My Maddie (Hades Hangmen 8)

“This how you like it, sick fucker?” Poppa asked and sliced the blade along my skin on my arms. My teeth clenched and my eyes closed in relief, as I felt the flames drain away and rush down to my hard dick. Someone laughed again, but the flames were about to leave me. When they left me I could breathe. Until they came back. But I’d be able to breathe, and Isaiah would be safe.

“More,” I pleaded when the blade left my skin. “More, Poppa… please…”

Poppa started slicing into my skin, over and over again. Deeper and deeper until my muscles began to tense at the pain. My hands curled into fists, and when he stabbed the knife deep in my forearm, I screamed as the release left my cock and the flames drained from my blood.

Laughing. They were laughing. I didn’t know why they were laughing so much. Maybe it was because I was healed? Maybe it was because I was good. Maybe they were happy with me. Maybe I’d done well.

“And you?” Poppa said, pointing the knife to Isaiah. “You a sick fucker too? You gonna come in your pants if I cut you too?”

My eyes snapped open. “No!” I ordered and tried to push away from the tree. “He’s good. Please, Poppa. He doesn’t have the flames like me. He’s blessed by God. Not the devil.”

Poppa turned to me. “But we think he just might belong to the devil, like you.”

“No!” I called and my heart began to pound. Isaiah was good. He wasn’t like me. I killed him because I was bad. But he came back because he was good, like Jesus, he came back from the dead. He wasn’t evil. I didn’t want him to die again. I wanted to have him back with me. Mama said I had to always protect him. She made me promise her. I didn’t want to break my promise to her again. “Don’t. Please,” I begged.

But Poppa ripped off Isaiah’s leather jacket and threw it to the ground. He took hold of his bare arm and sliced the blade along it. Isaiah hissed in pain, but he didn’t scream. “No!” I shouted instead, trying to get free from my restraints. “No, no, no!”

“No hard on? No fucking coming in your pants like your friend here?”

“Back the fuck off. Leave him alone,” Isaiah said.

But Poppa kept cutting my brother. Kept slicing his flesh. When Poppa and Pastor Hughes were finished, Isaiah was covered in blood. They weren’t meant to hurt him. They hurt me, not him. They were meant to cut me, not him. Not my brother. He was good, not evil like me. I didn’t understand why they were hurting him.

“Enough,” Pastor Hughes demanded. He turned and smiled at me. I relaxed a little. Was it over? Was it time to leave Church and go home?

But then he bent down and took a snake from a cage on the floor. My body froze. “It was this that made him drop to the floor like a fucking pussy.” He brought the snake closer to me. I could feel my blood dripping from my arms. Poppa had just made me release the flames from my cock. But I could feel the flames quickly coming back, could feel the demons crawling under my skin, taking over again. The snake hissed and Pastor Hughes stroked its head. Poppa came forward, slicing off my shirt and cut. Pastor Hughes stepped round him and brought the snake to my bare chest. “You don’t like snakes, huh?”

The snakes body began crawling over my skin. I held my breath. I didn’t want it to feel the flames in my blood. I didn’t want it to bite me. I wanted to be free of the flames. I wanted to be saved. I wanted God to save me, then my poppa would like me, would want me. Maybe if they went, he would love me, and he wouldn’t have to cleanse me with his seed anymore. It hurt so much, and I didn’t like the cellar. It was so cold.

But then the snake struck and sank its teeth into my chest. I roared out, as it moved along to my stomach and bit me again. My cheeks were wet again. I squeezed my eyes shut as the snake kept on biting. My body went numb and I wasn’t able to fight the truth anymore—I was still evil. I was still filled with the devil’s flames. Poppa still wouldn’t like me. He would still hurt me when he cleansed me. The snake bit me more and more, but no longer felt it.

I didn’t notice they had removed it from my body, until I heard Pastor Hughes say, “Now him.”

I rolled my head to the side and saw them cut Isaiah’s shirt from his chest. He had tattoos too. He had flames on his skin like mine. “No,” I said, but my voice was croaked and weak. Why would he have flames tattooed on his skin.

Isaiah turned his head to me. “Flame? Flame? Please?” I saw a tear fall from Isaiah’s black eyes. The pain in my chest was so strong that I thought my heart had broken. But when Pastor Hughes brought the snake to Isaiah’s chest I couldn’t look away. It wouldn’t bite him. He was good. He was pure. My brother wasn’t like me. He was better than me. Not evil.

The snake left Pastor Hughes’s hands and crawled over Isaiah’s body. I watched the snake as it slithered over his skin. Then the snake bit down into Isaiah’s flesh. Isaiah screamed out. My heart started slamming against my ribs. No, no, no. Isaiah was good. It was why he had died in my arms. My evil had infected him, then killed him. The flames had scalded him to death. But I watched as the snake kept on biting Isaiah, drawing blood, leaving its mark of two holes all over his skin. Two holes that told me he had evil in his blood too. Isaiah’s cheeks were wet. He was crying. I hated it when Isaiah cried. Blood smeared all over his skin. When Pastor Hughes took the snake back, he and poppa laughed.

“This is just too much fucking fun,” Poppa said and then moved away toward the fire.

Isaiah turned to me. “Flame…” he pleaded. I didn’t know how to help him. He was evil too. He had demons in his blood too. The snake showed that he did. Like me, he was evil too. Had I condemned him? Had my flames stayed with him after death? Had he been brought back to me with evil in his blood?

Isaiah turned his eyes toward to the clearing. Poppa and Pastor Hughes had put the snakes away and dragged the girl in the cage out onto the grass. Then they released their holy seed inside her. One by one they cleansed her with their seed. She must have been evil too, that’s why they were cleansing her. Maybe that was why her mouth was sewn shut with thick black thread, so the evil couldn’t escape from her body if she spoke.

“Flame. How the fuck are we gonna get out from this?” Isaiah asked. I had no answer. I was numbed by the truth that Isaiah was evil too. And I was never getting rid of the flames. The demons were never gonna go. I was never gonna be healed.

The flames grew hotter, burning me from the inside. But I let them burn. As Poppa and Pastor Hughes cleansed the bitch on the ground, I just let the flames burn.

Chapter Eight

Maddie

“We’re not far out now, Madds,” AK informed me from the driver’s seat. I swallowed the nerves I was trying to conceal from the others with a simple nod. I cast my gaze outside of the van, into the gathering dusk beyond. With each mile we drove an uneasy feeling grew upon my heart. I did not know what we would be walking into—something in my soul told me that it would not be good. But how could it be? Flame and Asher had fled the safety and love of our home to track down the men who started the fire, with the single focus to harm them, no, to rob them of their lives.

“Are you well, Maddie?” Sister Ruth asked. She checked my pulse.

“Yes,” I replied and held my head high. Sister Ruth had been diligent with my care in the hours we had been on the road. We had made no stops. I had not planned to. Getting to Flame and Asher was my sole focus. The Hangmen had pulled away from the van yet remained visible up ahead. I could see their taillights through the windshield. One by one their lights switched from amber to red. I leaned forward as AK pulled the van up behind them.

“Flame and Ash’s bikes,” Viking said, serious for once. In fact, he had scarcely cracked one joke on our travels to this place. AK showed his concern for Flame on his sleeve, and always had. But Viking was ever the comedian, the one to break tension with jokes and laughter—inappropriate as they generally were. However, no jokes accompanied us to the abandoned bikes. It served to tell me how worried Viking was for his best friend. Many times, t

hroughout the drive I had wanted to place my hand on his shoulder, to offer him comfort. AK had Phebe, Zane and Sapphira. Viking was alone, save for his Hangmen brothers. I was not sure if he ever shared his burdens with another without the backdrop of comedy.

AK pulled the van to a halt and got out. Bella reached for my hands. “He will be well, sister. I believe it.”

I kept my eyes on Styx and Ky, and the other men who had circled the bikes. I could not answer Bella for fear I would fall apart. The van door opened and AK stood on the other side. “We’re going in. Y’all stay here. We’re leaving Rudge here with y’all.” He met Rider’s eyes. “Grab a gun, you’re watching them too.”

Bella tensed, but Rider squeezed her shoulder as he silently attempted to soothe her worries. As the van door closed, Ruth, Bella and I were plunged into silence. I heard the men moving into the forest. Darkness was falling rapidly, providing them with a protective shield. I was anxious. I closed my eyes and strained to listen to what was happening beyond the safety of the van. There was nothing until a cacophony of guns sounded out all around us, like thunder slicing into a peaceful silent sleep. I squeezed Bella’s hand, betraying the instant fear that spiked like poison in my veins. I listened even harder. God, if he is safe, let me hear him. Let me hear them both.

Suddenly, the gunfire ceased, and I held my breath waiting for what was to follow. Then I heard it. I heard it like a beckoning to my soul. His voice—Flame’s voice. Though, the familiar sound only filled me with relief for a moment. Because the screams, the agonized timbre of his voice cut through the air like a banshee—he was in pain.

I moved automatically. I did not care that I had been ordered to stay in the van. Instinct carried on the wings of love, made me open the van’s door and run toward the forest.

“Maddie!” Rudge whispered harshly, grabbing my arm to stop me.

I yanked my arm back. “That is my husband screaming in the forest. My husband. I will not be stopped.”

“Fucking hell, mate! Styx’ll have my bollocks in a bloody vice for this,” Rudge spat out and rushed in front of me. I turned, to see Bella and Sister Ruth following me with Rider taking up the rear, a worried expression etched on his face. I tracked the flattened grass path that Rudge was following. Voices drifted from the direction I assumed was the clearing. Then I heard him again.

Flame.

“GET THE FUCK BACK!” I exhaled in relief on hearing Flame’s voice. He was alive. Something was terribly wrong with him. His tone was strained, his words were slurred, but I found some comfort in the fact that he was alive.

“He said get back! What’s wrong with y’all?!” A silent sob fell from my lips when Asher’s voice sounded next. He was protecting Flame.

My feet moved quicker until the flames of a fire pit could be seen flickering through the gaps in the trees. Suddenly, my feet came to a complete stop. I closed my eyes and immediately felt my hand cradle my stomach. I could not move. I could not step into the clearing to see Flame and Asher. I could not handle what the gunshots might mean. Then—

“GET THE FUCK BACK! DON’T TOUCH ISAIAH. I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!”

My eyes snapped open the second the name had slipped from Flame’s mouth. Isaiah. He was speaking of Isaiah. Dread infused my soul, and I pushed my feet to move. My heart beat wildly in trepidation. Flame rarely spoke of Isaiah.

Feeling the reassuring touch of Bella’s hand on my back, I rushed into the clearing. My eyes widened at the sight before me—men, dead on the ground. All but one, who was still alive. He lay on the dirt. Smiler’s foot was squarely on his chest to restrain him. The man was bleeding, but he was alive, his eyes watching the Hangmen like hawks. My eyes searched for Flame and Asher. But I stilled when I saw a young woman trapped in a cage. She was naked, her numbed gaze staring at the Hangmen. My stomach clenched when I saw her mouth… no… her mouth was sewn shut. She had marks on her body and blood stains between her legs. I instantly recognized what that blood signaled. Its placement and what it meant… what she had recently gone through. I had also gone through it, far too many times in my life.

My heart shattered for what she had been through… was still going through.

“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ISAIAH,” Flame continued to scream. Then his voice weakened, forcing my heart to twist into a tight knot. “He’s good. They bit him, but he’s good. Not evil. Not like me. He can’t be evil too…” I followed the sound of Flame’s voice to a heavily wooded area. I locked eyes with Hush and Cowboy. Their eyes appeared sad as I passed them by. I steeled my nerves for what I would find. One by one, the Hangmen, who hovered near the tree line, looked at me with sadness and concern—Beau, Tanner, Bull, Tank… I inhaled a fortifying breath, and then turned slowly. Blood drained from my face at the sight that greeted me. Consciously, my hands covered my mouth and I felt my heart echo the cutting pain that burrowed in my soul.

“Flame,” I whispered, then cast my eyes to the tree beside him. “Asher…”

Asher’s dark gaze caught mine. “Madds,” he slurred. My eyes tracked down his shirtless body. He was covered in blood. Covered in knife wounds and pierced by dual holes all over his body. His cheeks were pale, and his eyes were half-lidded, as though he had been drugged. “Maddie… help him…” Asher whispered. His head rolled in the direction of Flame. He fought for consciousness, but I detected desperation in his eyes. Even through his own pain, he petitioned me to aid Flame.

Flame.

I could not look in his direction for fear of falling apart. I closed my eyes and drew in another deep breath. I had to. I had to face this. You have faced difficult trials before, I reminded myself. My own trials I could defeat, I had the will to triumph. But when it came to Flame, when it came to the other half of my soul…

“Please…” The pained broken voice I knew and loved endlessly spoke directly to my heart. Lifting my head, I forced myself to bear witness to my husband. I silenced a threatening sob from escaping my mouth as I cast my attention upon him. My legs shook. I was thankful to feel a supportive hand on my back, helping me to remain standing when I felt like crumpling onto the ground. Bella, I recognized her touch. She was still with me. “Please…” I heard again, a mere whisper in the silent forest. Flame’s tortured eyes met my own. His face was pale and his body… I blinked, trying to stave off the tears and sorrow I felt roaring through my very being. The low and rasped timbre of his voice vibrated through my chest, the cry for help taking root within my soul. He recognized me. Even through this, he recognized me as his.

“Flame,” I said and moved toward him, body trembling, weak from shock. In my peripheral vision I saw AK and Viking close by. I felt their eyes upon me as I approached my husband. The closer I got to Flame, the more his injuries were revealed to my searching gaze. His skin was covered in blood—some I could see was not his own. As with Asher, I observed the knife slices to Flame’s flesh and the dual holes that pierced his already scarred skin. In empathy, I felt teardrops trickle down my cheek. But no matter how strong I endeavored to be, seeing my husband and my Asher this way, defeat and fear in both their gazes, destroyed me.

Thick ropes kept Flame and Asher bound to their respective trees. Flame’s black hair was wet with blood and it fell over his eyes. AK tried to approach Flame; hands held high in surrender. But Flame’s eyes switched from pleading to vengeful in a split second. “Don’t,” he snarled at AK. “Don’t fucking come near me.”

AK stepped back and resumed his position beside Viking. Viking placed his hand on AK’s shoulder in support. AK turned to me, anguish written all over his face. “He won’t let us cut them down.” AK edged closer to where I stood, speaking softly so only I could hear. He ran his hand over his cheeks. I knew him to do this when he was concerned. “He keeps referring to Ash as Isaiah.”

My eyes closed, then I glanced to Flame. His lost eyes were roving over the Hangmen, as though he did not know who they were. He was completely lost. Even surrounded by his family and the pe

ople who loved him most, Flame had regressed to become the lost little boy I had met once before. The one trapped in the eternal hell of his abusive childhood. The frightened little boy whose poppa hurt him, and whose little brother had tragically died in his arms. Cradling my bump, I knew why this had occurred. Our baby… our baby had forced Flame to relive the death of his baby brother, and the cruel circumstances surrounding the loss.

“Flame…” I whispered. This time I failed to hold back the lump clogging my throat. Failed to hold back the tears that visibly betrayed my fear and sorrow for the man I loved most in this world.

“Don’t let them hurt Isaiah,” Flame pleaded me. I heard low murmurs from the Hangmen, as Flame referred to Ash as the brother he had lost. They would not know to whom Flame was referring. His voice was slurred too.

AK must have seen my confusion at Flame’s slurred speech. He flicked his chin at Rider who was approaching with his medical bag. He must have gone back to the van and retrieved it. “Madds,” AK called. I saw anger engulf his face. “They had snakes.” His meaningful stare stilled my body. “They had snakes. The fuckers tied them up and the snakes bit them.” I nodded to show I had heard the information, yet inside, it destroyed my every cell. “It doesn’t look like they were too venomous. Bull has seen their type before, but the sheer number of bites has left them both numb and confused.”

Snakes. Fire. Knives on their arms and bodies. The bad men here had unwittingly amplified Flame’s biggest fears and made them real.

“We need them cut down, so Rider can fix them up,” Viking said. “But the stubborn fucker’s refusing to let us near them.” Viking shook his head. “Even us. He doesn’t recognize his best friends.”