Vampire Mage

by Rosemary A Johns

  I panted, edging closer to the second chain that led behind the trestle table.

  Here little Monsty-monster… Nice creatures of the night don’t lurk, unless they want spankings…

  I licked my lips; my gums tingled.

  Charcoal grey eyes sparked in the dark: twin stars. Then Ash — the vampire Brigadier — prowled on all fours around the gilt-edged trestle table towards me; he was naked too.

  I jumped; my heart pounded. I was dizzy with desire, ecstasy, and relief.

  I grinned so hard the sides of my mouth throbbed. “If I had to be tied to another creature, you’d be my first choice.” I didn’t miss his flinch on creature. “Who’d have guessed a fanatical cult weaves freedom into chains?”

  I shuddered at the collar around Ash’s throat, linked like mine to a ring by the hearth: it shone brilliant gold. The olive skin of his neck around the collar was blistered, as if the collar had burned.

  In the dark, Ash was a deadly panther, even if he’d been leashed. I ached to run my hand through his tumble of sable hair. I scanned him for injuries, as I had Rebel, but except for the sores around the collar, he was unmarked.

  Maybe the mages only needed the collar?

  Hell, these past twenty-eight days, I’d yearned for Ash, whose aromatic scent was now calming my fear, almost as much as I’d thirsted for Rebel’s sugar blood and the stroke of our Bond.

  My ancient powers wanted…needed…both my blokes: vampire and angel.

  Wasn’t that love?

  The walls hummed, thrumming in time with the magic that beat through me.

  Ash pounced, pinning me under him, and I squeaked. He smirked. “Hey, gorgeous.” When he wrapped his grey wings around us both blanket-like, I shuddered, remembering Drake’s ash smudged feathers…and tears. “Hot as you are naked and styling the bondage look like me — what did I warn you about kinky angels? — this wasn’t what I wished for every night. I’m lodging a formal complaint.”

  I couldn’t help the sharp stab of hurt that he hadn’t wished for me, as I had him. But what could I’ve expected? I’d been the reason his sisters had died in Lucifer’s light. He’d had an entire month — alone — to grieve, think, and kick my arse to the curb.

  Why would he still love me? Blokes always abandoned me.

  Even as the thought pulsated through me, however, somewhere far back I knew it was wrong. Yet I couldn’t calm my panicked pulse or thundering heart.

  I struggled to escape the strong band of Ash’s arms, even as I wished I could sink into his embrace. Kunel’s terrors still shanked my mind in flashing points: I stiffened at each shadowed fear.

  “I wished for you to be safe, Violet,” Ash said, softly. “Not here with me in chains. Safe, happy, free.”

  At last, his words broke through my thrashing and the tar-black buzzing in my mind.

  Ash hadn’t abandoned me: he’d sacrificed himself.

  Again.

  I kissed him, pulling him closer, until the confusion was chased away. “How could I be any of those things without your sexy arse?”

  Ash pulled away. “Although it is sexy, you don’t mean that. I’m not like your angels: a toy to make the fear, worries, or hate in your head go away. I’ve been nothing but a whore: there for other’s pleasure. And I won’t be that again. What are they doing to you? What are those…shadows?”

  Flushing, I booted at him, scrabbling away, as my chain clinked, slithering after me like a metallic umbilical cord.

  Clink — my back hit an unwashed cooking pot; my stomach growled at the scent of rich meats and herbs, which still clung to it.

  I’d only been fed on porridge, which was the slop served up to apprentices, and my insides felt hollowed out. I couldn’t stop the moan, as my tongue darted across my lips.

  Ash sprawled on the slate floor with a twist of his hips like he was on a silk four-poster. “If I’m a really good boy, sometimes the cooks let me lick clean the pots.” And why did even that sound appealing? “Note to self: Oliver Twist impression isn’t popular with angels.”

  Hell, I wished I’d seen that. “You’re popular with me, and I’m the bitching queen.”

  “Popular enough to forget that I’m the mages’ pet now? Or are you back singing the vampires are the Big Bads marching tune? Do you think I…deserve this?” Why did he have to sound so uncertain as he fidgeted, linking his hands behind his head?

  Twenty-eight days separated from me and his fam…

  “You asked what fun party games the bastards have been playing with me, but I want to know what they’ve been doing to you to have made you forget that fam is fam. And that means—”

  “What?” Ash whispered, stiffening. His eyes were half-lidded, but he never took his intent stare off me. “You’re…” He swallowed, “…in Hogwarts the X-rated version but you can learn here. The Slytherins, who treat me as the class mascot, see you as a champion. Our retro punk angel is Mage Drake’s boy…” He reached as if to touch his collar, but only hovered his fingers over the front of it, afraid to touch: it flared warningly, and he winced. “I’m the creature, not you. I wish I could be more than that, and I was once. But I’ve played the pet before and I can do it now, if it means you’re free.”

  I rocked, light-headed, whilst static crackled up and down my skin, spitting to escape and blast the world for letting Ash believe that. “Fam means,” I replied, each word as sharp as a polished shank, “that I love you.”

  Ash blinked at me.

  Then I dived at him, howling with violet and black that blurred the kitchen to nothing but Ash, Ash, Ash…

  I snatched him by the shoulders, tumbling him over, until we were yanked by the chains at our throats with mirrored yelps. Then I straddled him, licking down the line of his long neck, whilst he gasped.

  My steel nails shot out, gouging thin lines down Ash’s chest. He whined, arching into their touch, as I groaned at the intensity of the sensation: trembling shocks that radiated from their sensitive tips. I quaked, biting my lip at the overload. My wings burst to flames at the rush.

  Then I lapped at the trails of crimson, juddering at the bursts of rich power and longing.

  Home.

  Hell, Ash’s blood was home, and I hungered to drink every drop of him and live in his scarlet…

  My eyes widened.

  Ash’s dazed gaze focused, as if he’d caught my thought, then he slammed his lips against mine: hard and possessive. His fingers tangled in my hair, holding me still. Here was the dark solider of the Under World, who’d dominated the Devil’s Trident in a dance with death that’d paled even mine.

  No one’s bastard pet.

  When I ran my fingers through his feathers, he keened. Meant as a punishment to torment by Lucifer, Seducers were hypersensitive and kept on a constant edge because they couldn’t reach their own completion unless their wingtips were touched. Seducers were meant to be toys: to give pleasure and not receive.

  Ash wasn’t Lucifer’s anymore, however, his pleasure was his own.

  So, I didn’t tease, as I caressed along Ash’s wings. I burnt to sear away the mages’ touch on him, the lonely days, and his doubts, as well as to prove my love, which tottered new born. His prick pulsed between our bodies like his obsidian wingtips. I crawled over him, stroking his right wingtip, before sucking it hard between my lips.

  Ash’s back bowed, as he howled. Yet then he snatched my hand, sucking my claw into his mouth.

  Hell, hell, hell…

  Electrified, it was my turn to howl, as I closed my eyes, slamming my other fist, nails out, screeching across the slate. The winding coils from my gums to my wings built to a wailing crescendo, until finally nothing but black…

  Groaning, I opened my eyes.

  Back in the land of the living, Violet-hell?

  What in the holy big ‘O’s, was that, J?

  That was a Seducer’s big ‘O’, and there’s nothing holy about that slice of heaven. Your Geek Fang and his wand had a magical moment: he took you to he
aven.

  Death and sex in the same clever nail mods. Kudos to the Fangs.

  If you were his food, the Seducer would be snacking on you. If you paint Eat Me on your arse, sooner or later some dick will take a bite.

  Not Ash. I trust him. He’s earned that.

  And all it took was the sacrifice of everything he had.

  I winced, unable to banish the memory of Ash’s sisters in the Fire Catacombs being burned alive by Lucifer’s Light because I’d taught them to talk. How I’d been forced to watch their deaths alongside Ash, when all I’d been able to offer them had been hope.

  And it’d been a lie.

  Everything had been an illusion. What was real now?

  The walls pressed against me: the humming louder and more oppressive.

  I shifted up onto my side, huddling my arms around my knees.

  Ash lounged against a three-legged stool, which was beside the table; he might as well have been smoking a cigarette. “So, that was an I love you shag?” His tone had lost its vulnerability and was back to teasing. “I’ve heard about those. Does that mean you haven’t…forgotten…that I love you?”

  “You may have knocked me out but you haven’t screwed my memory.” I forced myself to ignore the shadows crowding from the walls and their warning whine that set my teeth on edge. “I’ll remember, as long as you don’t go forgetting you’re fam. Why would you…?”

  “Do you have to know?”

  “You mean pretend?”

  “We’re already collared, what more role play do you want?”

  “I only want the truth.”

  I hated the way Ash’s gaze became blank. I knew the look — I’d worn it myself at Jerusalem Children’s Home to hide from my abusers. I’d seen it on Drake because of my mother, the Matriarch, who now violated as Marked Wing my father, Lucifer.

  I never wanted Ash to look that way.

  “The truth?” Ash tugged at the chain, and it clanked. “I’m yours to be used. So, use me.”

  I stared at him, breathing hard. Then I shuffled over to him, even though he cringed back, stroking a wave of hair out of his eyes. He stiffened like I was going to pounce on him and use him again like he’d offered. Instead, I leaned in, scenting the divine orange and clove aroma on his neck, before kissing him tenderly just under his ear.

  He shivered.

  “What this cult does to us, calls us, or convinces us to think… it doesn’t make us what we are. You’re my bloke: a funny, loyal, Stars Wars obsessed geek. And you’re also the dark Brigadier with freaking swag.”

  Ash grinned. “That’s why you love me, monkey muffins.”

  I raised my eyebrow. “You want to go there? Because I’m sure there’s a butter knife around here…”

  I scanned the gloom of the kitchen: the spitting hearth, soot-blackened chimney, trestle table that gleamed with shanks…

  I dived for the table, just as Ash caught me around the middle with a whoop. “What’s wrong, babe…?”

  “You’re going down. Where’s the garlic crusher…?” I spluttered with laughter, as Ash nibbled kisses along the chafed skin around my collar.

  “Sorry,” he nibbled a final kiss, but his gleaming eyes didn’t look sorry. “If you can hold back from my cutesy name death, why have you been locked here in chains?”

  I sighed. “Disobeyed.” Ash glanced up at me sharply. I knew we were both remembering the searing heat and stink of the Fire Catacombs and his own disobedience against Lucifer. “You’re not the only one who can play the defiance card. Rahab’s not like my dad but he’s still a tyrant. You think I’m safe here? Then you’ve been drinking crazy juice because Rahab rules with punishment.”

  “You can’t just rebel,” Ash’s voice had hardened to steel. ‘This isn’t the Under World, where anarchy is prized. You’ll be broken. And these aren’t kids playing at wizards but zealot cult soldiers. If you want to fight them…” He stared at me, questioningly. “Then you’ll have to toughen yourself to be like them or you’ll be the one who snaps. After everything we’ve sacrificed…” His breath hitched, and I bastard knew he was thinking of his sisters’ tiny fingers raised to the viewing panel, whilst fire blasted through the furnace, just as I was. “…Don’t you want to take down the true Emperor behind Angel World?”

  Hell, Ash knew me too well. How had he always been able to worm under my skin, digging at the parts I’d thought hidden?

  The shadows lapped at my mind, hungrily, as the walls ballooned closer.

  I wrapped my wings around Ash, as I peeked around the kitchen. “I’m on it, bro,” I whispered. “I’m working undercover.”

  Ash kissed me, urgent and hard. Startled, I tried to pull back, but he murmured against my lips, “Castle Drake is alive, Violet, like an evil Tardis. Mage Drake doesn’t need spies, when he’s everywhere at once. Whatever you’re planning…however you’re playing the Legion…keep it inside that beautiful brain of yours.”

  The whining in the kitchen became a furious buzzing in my mind, threading hot magic through my brain as it quested…

  “What about the brat Commander, Rahab’s son? I’m in a brutal Hunger Games style contest with him. But if he knew—”

  “He can’t. Unless you want to report on yourself to the Mage…? The angel grew up here; he’s no newbie to suffering. And we’ve all sacrificed for you.” Ash’s eyes were as hard as he’d told me I needed to become. Why did I forget my fam were each other’s ancient enemies and only reluctant allies because of me? Why would Ash care if Drake hurt? It was only me that it tore up inside. “Break the Ice Commander. Win the battle. Then we’ll be by your side to help win the war.”

  I blinked away tears, holding Ash closer to hide them. “If this was Rebel…?”

  Ash tensed but nodded. “If this was our Irish angel, he’d have already volunteered to be broken.”

  Then why did I feel like I was being shattered? “My brother—”

  “Isn’t you.” I started at Ash’s sudden intensity. “You can’t save everybody, and not everybody wants saving.”

  “By the Phoenix, have you no honour?” Kunel’s nasal sneer broke across the gloom.

  Startled, I peered up, as Kunel and Och, like the Blond-haired Avengers, marched clattering across the kitchen. The fire flared in the hearth, surging up until we were lit by its flames.

  “Nope, but I have a killer smile and sassy wit. Does that count?”

  “Plus, a biteable arse,” Ash muttered.

  “Oh,” I smirked up at Kunel, “and a biteable arse.”

  Exploding mage: the cooks were going to have a hell of a mess to clear up in the morning.

  Kunel’s blotchy face loomed closer. He snatched my chin. “You were chained here, apprentice, to teach you how low you could Fall, but instead you’ve revelled in your debasement, even touching the Fallen’s dirty whore.”

  Black rose in roaring waves inside me at the way Ash flinched at each word. I’d wanted to know why he’d changed: and with each venomous word I learnt the truth.

  At least, I thought so, until Kunel narrowed his eyes and commanded, ‘Down, creature.”

  Suddenly, Ash scrabbled back from me, his eyes wide. He juddered like he was being shocked throughout his entire body. His wings spread out in agony, and he whimpered.

  I twisted to Kunel. “Bastard, stop.”

  Kunel smiled but only tutted, before repeating, “Down, creature.”

  This time, when he hesitated, Ash howled. Steam rose from his seared feathers; scarlet dribbled from the corner of his mouth.

  The collar smouldered molten gold, as the skin beneath bubbled into blisters.

  A bastard shock collar… No wonder the mages didn’t need anything else to mark Ash.

  I snatched onto Kunel’s trousers, shaking them. “Please…”

  Ash threw himself onto his front, prostrated before the angels. Slowly, his shaking stopped, and the steam settled.

  “A Compulsion Collar punishes disobedience or even hesitation.” Kunel chort
led. “Some days I think the Brotherhood could be reformed so much more smoothly if we used these on apprentices.” Och didn’t join in Kunel’s laugher. He scrutinized me: his gaze was serious and inscrutable. “But they are useful in the interrogation and training of Fallen. To teach them their place.”

  “You know the place of my boot? Your balls, bitch.”

  “Time to stop talking now.” I eeped, as Och yanked the chain with a hiss of magic out of the metal ring, hauling me up and dangling me in front of him, until the collar choked me. I coughed, clawing at my throat. His icy stare met mine. “Somehow, you’ve tricked my brother; Zophia risked everything for you. Do you even know or care how you’ve destroyed him, creature?” When he shook the chain, I gurgled; my lungs ached, desperate for air. “He’s always had so little here. So, when I fought for the assignment on Under World for him, it was his chance. And he threw it away for you. Yet you’re the traitor, are you not?”

  Even as my vision greyed, I knew I was missing something.

  Traitor?

  “Now your spark is poisoning our dear Duma,” Kunel enthused, like the camp leader and not the prick who’d forced a sobbing Drake to crawl through the gauntlet. “If he wasn’t lit by your spark, he could return to the love of the Brotherhood. I must save our boys from you, cutting out your cancerous influence, if you don’t reform.”

  I spluttered with the pain and the aching truth of their insults. I’d stolen both their chances with my Angelic Power, which incited loyalty.

  Was I no better than either of my parents?

  Better than a creature?

  Should I be saving the Legion and the world from Rahab or myself?

  I sagged, as Och twisted the chain. The shadows swallowed me.

  Suddenly, the kitchen pans began to rattle and clink. The fire roared. Kunel dropped me with a holler, whilst the room lurched to the side like it’d sneezed.