Vampire Mage

by Rosemary A Johns

  Because I could still hear, see, and feel them shuddering through me.

  Rap, rap, rap.

  Mischief’s graceful hand knocked on the oak above our heads.

  I opened my eyes, drawing back from the kiss.

  How did Rebel always make me forget that it wasn’t just the two of us against the Big Bad World?

  Had he expected to die tied to that whipping post? What had Rahab been saying…doing…to Rebel over the last month? At least I’d had Drake, Ceri, Mischief, the fox brothers and the new magics nudging me towards the Brotherhood. But Rebel had been alone. Had he been messed up as badly as Ash?

  When Rebel pecked a kiss on the end of my nose, I realised I’d been staring.

  “Oh goodie, is this the line for the kissing booth?” Mischief rested his head on my shoulder. “What’s the going rate for an apprentice…sailor doll…champion… Excuse me, what are you again?”

  And there was the Sugar Plum Sass I hadn’t missed.

  When Rebel growled, I swung to the side, expecting Mischief to end up on his arse at the receiving end of my enraged punk. Instead, Rebel noosed his arms around Mischief with an intense fierceness, whilst Mischief soothed, “I have you now.” And yeah, that led to a serious case of my raised eyebrow. “We all do.”

  Ash met my eye, questioning. Ash’s tight black jeans, shooter, and Devil’s Trident had been restored at my dogged insistence before the Mage’s Challenge. His Compulsion Collar, however, had been removed, and I’d never been so relieved to see Ash’s neck, even if it was chafed. He lounged against an elm, fiddling with his holster like it no longer fitted. Or as if it was the only distraction stopping him from fighting Mischief for Rebel in an angel tug-of-war.

  Mischief peered over Rebel’s head at me: he was ashen, and his eyes squinted, like even the pale moon in the fairy tale wood was giving him the Godzilla of headaches. Already strained from healing Rebel, the multi-teleportation (and hell did that trigger my geek crush instincts) to bring us here had hit Mischief hard. Worse, his gaze flickered with a pain that he was trying to mask: a constant pressure.

  Spells still screamed make-believe, yet Rahab had planted one in Mischief’s mind that would expand, like the glass box trapping my brother, to collect the familiars.

  We’d also all been whammied with a Compulsion Spell: we couldn’t escape the witches’ grounds. Rahab prided himself on understanding his boys — and girl — so he could pick us apart and remake us.

  Lame.

  If the Cult Leader for Dummies understood me at all, he’d have known that I wouldn’t abandon my fam: brother, Ceri, Blaze and Spark, or Drake…

  I’d never abandon the Broken kids, Underserving, apprentices, and Phoenixes…the bastard world to the Legion’s warped teachings.

  Rahab thought we were alike? Screw that.

  Mischief flinched, as moonlight struck his face through the branches, before holding himself to rigid stillness to hide it. “After all,” his mouth twisted, “we’re in the presence of a soon-to-be Champion of Light. However could we fail?”

  Yeah, sarcasm.

  I booted at twigs, snapping them in sharp gunshots; Mischief winced. “Then why don’t I feel like a champion?”

  “No one does,” Mischief’s voice became soft. “Did you imagine it’d buzz like Christmas or your wedding day? Perhaps there’d be a neat god pill to pop?”

  “How about just a little tingle?”

  “Do you deserve one?” This time Mischief’s smile was too wide. Ash straightened; his hand slid to his shooter. Still Mischief cradled Rebel in his arms. “You risk your true family for the Butcher. Tell me, you’re quick to claim his kisses, but does Zachriel know the cost—”

  “Lay off.” Rebel pulled away from Mischief; his fingers traced along the black collar around his neck, seeking comfort. “Sweet heaven, I knelt for Feathers. I’ve ballsed up everything I’ve touched, but not her. Although I’m a bad angel, she’s treated me like I’m good; I’d die and be resurrected a thousand times for her.”

  My eyes burned with shamed tears. What did I know about love?

  The Unicorn Angel has a point, even if he is showboating his pretty ass.

  This battle for your brother will have a cost. At the end, I hope his monstrous hide is worth it.

  And what about my monstrous hide, bitch? Am I worth it?

  Always.

  Ash took a step forward. “We’ve lost enough brothers and sisters; Violet can’t be blamed for not wanting to lose anymore,” Ash’s voice was low and intense. He shared a glance with Rebel that shredded me. “And you’re not dying.”

  “Brilliant!” Rebel grinned, bouncing on his toes. “So, how do we do a flit with these familiars?”

  “We have the element of surprise,” Ash smoothly slipped into Brigadier mode: hell, he was hot like this. “But it won’t last for long. Check out the stables.”

  I scanned across at the Head Coven: The House of Snakes.

  A grand red-brick Elizabethan mansion squatted in a toad-like pile of blackened chimneys and spiralled turrets. An army of windows glared back at us, which were lit by the full moon.

  Behind the mansion lay the stables. I was betting a Seducer and an Addict that there weren’t horses inside.

  I nodded, “We have a winner.”

  “How does it go afterwards for the Blood Familiars with Dr Frankenstein, mate?” Ash prowled towards Mischief. “Capture, feed, find good homes?” He snatched Mischief by the elbow, hauling him closer. “Or more like: capture, beat, experiment on?”

  Mischief laughed, yanking himself free and twirling to the edge of the wood. “Do none of you perceive that this is not about familiars? Or initiations, champions, or challenges? This is about saving the world, you tiny creatures, from Rahab. I’ve fought this battle, not for a year, but my entire life.” When Mischief panted, I drew back from his unleashed regal rage. “I wait, hidden in the shadows, whilst you prance in the glorious light. You wish to be our leader…? Then you will lead.”

  I crushed my nails into the palms of my hands, as my pulse pounded. I remembered the rockfall in the Ghost Caves: Mischief’s different but formidable power, which he’d been forced to hide his whole life. I knew about being different, but Mischief had suffered for it, whilst sacrificing for those who were weaker.

  Mischief had plotted against Rahab for centuries. Yet he didn’t seek power, only to free his people.

  That was a bastard hero.

  It also made him as dangerous as Rahab.

  I told you this would be the choice: if you wish to be Protector, everywhere is a battlefield, and these are your sacrifices to make.

  You ride the world like a dick and you’re on top.

  If you’re not ready, then get off and let Silver Angel grind his sweet way to heaven. Because you’re not the only leader of this supernatural pack.

  Cheers: that’s an image I’ll never be able to bleach from my brain. And I’m not jealous—

  Lying to me is only lying to yourself, hooker. The Wizard Who Snarked has stronger magic than you. He’s been plotting rebellions for centuries longer than you. And pretty in punk has a man crush on him.

  Just remember you have one thing he’ll never have.

  What?

  A biteable ass, girl.

  I sniggered, then flushed.

  Mischief swung to me. His eyes flashed, as he murmured, “Or do you forget what Ceri showed you in the Broken Nursery so soon?”

  My breath caught; I shivered.

  How did Mischief think I could forget Fynchan clambering into my lap, clasping his arms around my neck like he trusted me and laughing, as I made fire unicorns dance?

  I’d broken Mischief out to save the slaves. I was their champion. Yet how had Rahab twisted me into his creature?

  Mischief wanted a leader…?

  I stared between my fam, who studied me back. “Then just call me Simon Says, bitches.”

  Mischief gave a sharp nod.

  “Let’s say the spell cas
ters have the familiars in the stables,” I glanced back across the lawns. “What’s the chances the furry critters will come quietly? Blaze and Spark hunted me the first time—”

  “Do you know why the witches are the vampires’ enemy? They hunt us.” I didn’t understand the way Ash glared at Rebel.

  Rebel hung his head, pressing himself against the oak.

  I frowned, glancing between them. “Not following, bro.”

  “Don’t,” Rebel whispered. “Not now…”

  “Once they capture us,” Ash bit out, still not looking away from Rebel, “they transform us into familiars.” I gasped, biting hard on my lip. “We’re not capturing creatures for Rahab, but vampires. How honoured do you think his guests will be?”

  I tremored, folding my wings around myself like that could change the truth. All this time I hadn’t known… “Blaze and Spark…?”

  My Blood Familiars: fam.

  I was their Keeper, but once they’d been vampires, the same as Ash, until that’d been stolen from them by witches.

  Blaze and Spark had been vampire brothers.

  “My mates,” Ash said. “They still are. I always looked out for them the best I could. Even when they were—”

  Crack — I swept Rebel’s legs out from underneath him, slamming him to the undergrowth; the twigs popped in protest.

  I held Rebel down by his throat; silver sizzled on my fingertips.

  “Don’t take off his head,” Mischief warned. “Control your beastly rage.”

  “Why? This bastard’s adopted family of psycho witches transformed Blaze and Spark into familiars. Did you hunt them? Hand them over for your sadist da to hurt? Were you even planning to help us against the Head Coven or are you still the spell lobbers’ bitch? Were you planning to betray us? Was Ash going to make a pretty wolf?”

  Rebel let out a sob, not even struggling, as I tightened my grip. Then I was flying backwards through the air, blasted by stinging silver. I landed with an oomph on my arse.

  Mischief stood in sparkling splendour next to Rebel; he held out his hand to Rebel, hauling him to his feet.

  Rebel clasped his neck, rubbing the redness. Hell, had I done that? I hadn’t even summoned Mischief’s magic, but it’d sparked.

  I paled at the danger, not to myself but to my fam and the bastard world.

  “Even you do not believe that nonsense tirade.” Mischief tossed his hair. “My name is traitor: it’s not Zachriel’s. If you truly believe he could do any of those things, then it’s not only trust that’s missing within your astounding mind.”

  “My fam are vampires, I’m half vampire, and yet this secret…?”

  “I’m sorry, so I am.” Rebel peeked up at me through his thick lashes. “Ages ago, my adopted family tried to teach me to hate, so I’d hunt vampires to turn into familiars. Whip my arse for fibbing, but I’d never hate. And I didn’t hunt for new familiars.”

  “Is that why you had us hunting those fanatic bastards, the Pure, instead?”

  Rebel nodded. “I’d never hurt a slave. Cop on! Don’t you know that about me yet, woman?”

  Ash marched to Rebel. “That’s why this…” When he clouted Rebel — crack — in the nose, I flinched. “…isn’t your balls. But if you ever hurt Spark and Blaze…?”

  Rebel grinned around his cradled nose. “You’ll kick me in the bollocks like the bad bastard you are? Just so you know…? Ditto, muppet.”

  When Mischief grimaced, pressing his hand to his forehead, I stalked to the edge of the wood. He might be used to handling pain (and his magic might feed on dishing it out), but the sooner we stole the familiars, the sooner he’d be free of his headache.

  Mischief glanced at me in surprise. “Lucky me, you’ve remembered we’re not on a pleasure jaunt. After all, if we don’t return within a single night, it’s only my brain that’ll splatter like an alien birth.”

  “We’re in our own series of 24,” Ash muttered. “Will they defuse the bomb in his brain in time…?”

  Mischief ignored him, scowling. “Or do you wish to squabble some more? Pause for some make-up sex perhaps? We do have a whore here at least…”

  Ash growled. “Make that two. You should show me your moves, silver hips.”

  How was I supposed to save the world, whilst the blokes at my back couldn’t see past their ancient divisions to the truth that they were so similar they could be geek brothers?

  Mischief’s expression darkened, but before he could snap at Ash, I snatched his wing, dragging him closer.

  Then I nodded at Rebel and Ash, who drew in, until we stood together in a circle. My wings rubbed against Ash’s: sweet and intimate. I linked my pinkie with Rebel’s, rubbing my thumb across his in apology. When his gaze met mine, it was sad and as distressed as the shadows across our bond.

  I’d betrayed his trust by doubting him in the surge of my new powers and I couldn’t take it back.

  Hell, I wished I could take it back.

  Mischief hesitated, awkward on the edge of the circle.

  I smirked. “You too, grouchypants.”

  “If you insist on such displays of unnecessary affection.” Yet he pushed Ash aside to nestle in next to me, gripping my hand hard. His wings were warm as they stretched over us all, including Ash.

  “We’ll be out in the open all the way to the stables.” Ash rubbed against Mischief’s feathers. Was that a bastard purr from Mischief? “Prime witch pickings.”

  “Now if we’d had Drake’s Power of Invisibility…”

  Mischief perked up. “Sneaky little Duma, hiding his light under a bushel.” I bit my tongue. Way to reveal Drake’s tricks. When Mischief’s eyes slyly narrowed, I had the feeling he didn’t plan to send Drake a congratulations card. “Why do we need the golden child, however, when we have this?”

  Mischief let go of my hand, stepping back. His wings beat, just once, then silver broke in a wave over all our heads.

  Lights danced; my vision blurred. I swayed, only held up by Rebel’s grip.

  Then the wood shot back into sudden clarity, and I steadied. I peered around at the others. They were still there.

  When Mischief grinned at me, triumphantly, I shook my head. “Sorry, bro, epic fail.”

  Mischief sighed. “Move your arm, sailor.” When I shook my arm, I gasped; it shimmered multi-coloured, camouflaging with the trees behind. “Shape shifter,” Mischief smirked. “I believe in sharing talents, remember?”

  “That’s a fine thing!” Rebel’s smile was dazzling, as he hopped from foot to foot. “We’re after doing this together.”

  “And if we’re caught — together,” Ash held up his hand to stem Rebel’s enthusiasm, even though he was struggling to get out the words, “I know what it is to be at the mercy of wicked witches. Here are the rules and they’re non-negotiable.” His jaw clenched. “No eating, drinking, or heroics. The Head Coven train vampires, Addicts, and mages: we’re not the Justice League, we’re the Suicide Squad.”

  I wet my lips, spreading my wings. “Then let’s play the supervillains.”

  I soared into the night sky towards the most powerful witches in England and an impossible challenge, with vampires and angels camouflaged at my back. If I failed, Ash would be lost to the mages and Rebel would die. And if we were caught, we’d become the witches’ creatures.

  14

  Creatures cowered, crawled, and crouched in the witches’ stable. Piss, dung, and fear stung my nostrils; I held my sleeve across my mouth. Ranks of gleaming eyes stared back at me from the stacked cages in the shadows.

  Yowls, chirps, grunts, squeaks…

  Rebel poked his fingers through to a white Arctic wolf, which loped forward, sniffing, before snapping at him with a snarl.

  “Sweet Jesus…” Rebel fell backwards, bottom shuffling into Ash who caught him, hauling him back to his feet.

  “Shh, familiar POWs, unless you don’t want your captive arses sprung from jail?”

  Silence.

  I grinned: this Keeper still h
ad it.

  Although, the Creepy Factor of being scrutinised by the intelligent gazes of squirrels, red pandas, ring-tailed lemurs, chimps, and badgers almost cancelled out the Cuteness one.

  “No rush,” Mischief gingerly shifted his knees away from the path through the stable, which was moulded with stone snakes. “I believe it’s only our lives dependent on the success of this mission. Plus, of course, this spell pressing on my brain like an unwelcome parasite. Not to mention…” He stroked the nose of a foal, which was nuzzling through the bars of a cage. He shook his head; his gaze was troubled. “…Until I was sent to the Under World, I would’ve had no concern for the fates of Blood Familiars.” His laugh was bitter. “Sometimes, I wish I’d been able to wallow in my own safe ignorance. Truth is much harder once faced.”

  “Then let’s break out these bitches and break open that bastard spell.” When I seized the red squirrel’s cage, the squirrel chattered at me, before sweeping its bushy tail around and hopping back.

  A buzz tingled down my shoulder blades and gums. It prickled across my skin in goose bumps.

  Hold your sweet ass, Violet-puss. You’re buzzing like you’re riding one of your pretty boys. Your magic’s calling out to you. Have you blocked it for a reason?

  My magic is riding me, J. Like how it hurt Rebel in the wood…?

  I must’ve been watching the wrong channel because I could’ve sworn it was your hand around the loyal little punk’s throat…?

  I slipped, but the magic’s dangerous. You warned me before…

  Come on, girl, you know you want to say it.

  You were right.

  Halleluiah, the heavens themselves did weep.

  All right, bitch, you’ve had your moment.

  I could tame the Devil’s Trident, but this is different. The magic shouldn’t be tamed, it needs to become part of me, like the shadows. I just don’t know how yet.