Vampire Mage

by Rosemary A Johns

  After all, we both know winning a place here as honoured queen is your deepest wish come true…

  I snarled — alive to myself once again — diving off the bed. The water bowl tipped over; rusty coils spilled out, staining the covers. Ash snatched Rebel’s hands like he didn’t dare let go in case Rebel vanished; purple that deepened to black still noosed Rebel’s neck.

  Rebel wasn’t dressed in the shift anymore, at least. I shuddered to see him wearing his spiked collar and leather coat again. Yet the reality was overwhelming. Rebel was alive, but I’d almost lost him.

  I shook my fuzzy head, focusing instead on an attempt to remember. After the heady drink of blood, followed by Anael kneeling…what’d happened…?

  I clenched my fists, but the buzz of borrowed magic and victory had blurred the memory.

  When I stared around the chamber, I noticed Firebird’s bowed head. He knelt in the far corner next to the mirror; his small body was mottled with bruises. Ceri knelt next to him, rubbing into the skin over his ribs a lavender paste, which I hoped was for healing because my brother had kicked Firebird’s arse epic style.

  Yet I sprawled on a bed, whilst Firebird knelt on the floor because he was a slave.

  Not in the world of the Silver Queen.

  When I prowled towards Firebird, he quivered, bowing his head lower.

  Ceri set aside the bowl of paste, wiping his finger sensually clean of it down the centre of Firebird’s curved back; Firebird whimpered. “There’s a lush sight: our sexy champion, just like I knew you’d become, see.” He kissed the back of Firebird’s neck with a tenderness that shook me. Nathanael had been a Discipliner: the bastards who’d trained, beaten, and stolen Ceri’s wings. Yet Ceri handled Firebird now that he’d been raised a Phoenix, as gently as woven glass…like his death had absolved him. Ceri sighed dramatically. “Will my queen still not play with me?”

  “I thought we were done playing?” I dropped to my knees in front of Firebird, pulling him onto my lap.

  Whoever Firebird been before, now he was mine.

  Firebird peeked up at me through thick lashes, resting his head on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, my Feathers,” he muttered, “for failing you. Please punish me.”

  My guts twisted. “You could never fail me.” My gaze met with Ceri’s; Ceri leant forward, massaging Firebird’s shoulder, even as he furrowed his own brow in concern. “You’re my fam and…” Hell, I hoped Ash and Rebel were listening too. “…that means I’ll always have your back. It doesn’t matter what you do, I’ll love you because that’s what fam means.”

  “I’m getting a piece of this loving.” Ceri whooped, swooping in to nip light kisses down my neck. I squirmed, shifting Firebird to one side, although he clasped onto my hand. I glimpsed his smirk, however, when Ceri dug his thumbs into my feathers, and my breath hitched. “Do you know the torture you’ve put me through with only my hand — and this whole fantasy with you in kinky Domme mode — to get me through?”

  “We tried that fantasy in the Under World: it sucked.” Ash soared across the chamber, enveloping my other side with his wings. “Although, Violet in kinky bondage wear was hot.”

  Rebel sniggered, diving after Ash to wrap his legs around me from behind, tracing patterns down my back. “Feathers is always hot, so she is.” His voice was raspy and sore. “And she’s ours.”

  I shivered, relaxing into their embrace.

  Hot ginger, sweet copper candy, citrus orange, and warm bonfires…the scents mingled and wove around me, spiralling me higher: building me stronger.

  How had I ever survived without my fam? Please, never let me have to again.

  Except: two scents were missing. Drake’s frankincense and Mischief’s sweet popcorn.

  Where were my Undeserving?

  “Is there a chore or ritual going on?” I asked, pushing down on the waves of panic.

  “Not the most romantic way my love making’s been described.” Ceri licked my earlobe. “But once I get started, the poets will be lining up to write sonnets to this shag, see.”

  “Sonnets to your muppet arse.” Rebel grinned, nuzzling my back.

  Ceri cocked his head; his brunet mane tumbled into his eyes. “It is a fine arse.”

  “I mean, some big job that Mischief and the Commander are working busy bee at, almost like they’re servants…” I gripped Ceri’s hair, dragging him up to meet my gaze; his eyes were suddenly serious. “Do you think…?”

  “Still you engage in such dishonourable depravity.” Och’s frosty voice cut across the warm tinglies building in my shoulder blades.

  I stared up at Och, who stood with his hands smartly behind him, as sombre as the ghost at the feast. He towered over my vampire and angel fam like I’d broken every taboo.

  Which I had.

  Ceri had instantly drawn back, falling with his forehead to the floor and his wings out; he’d dragged Firebird with him, who’d yelped at the jolt to his ribs. Both quivered before the Discipliner: Firebird’s own brother.

  I glowered at Och. “Door, meet hand.” I rapped on the floor. “It’s a depraved thing the dishonourable kids invented called knocking.”

  Och drew himself up to his full patrician height. “I wish to speak to you…away from your slaves and creatures.”

  Ash growled, but I hadn’t missed the way Och’s gaze flickered to Firebird.

  I nodded, disentangling myself from the web of blokes and following Och to the far side of the room. Then I rammed him against the glass.

  Crack — the back of Och’s head smacked against the glass, but he didn’t even wince.

  I gestured for Rebel and Ash to stay back, even as they leapt up. Och’s inscrutable mask had fractured, and all I saw now was a brother who’d learnt that his younger brother had been raised from the dead.

  Rahab’s trick had been against Och as much as Mischief.

  “Mage Drake hid my brother’s death from me,” Och whispered, not even attempting to wriggle free of my arm, which pinned him to the glass. “I was unaware Nat…that my brother had been…I was unaware, until Mage Drake told me of his resurrection...” His gaze swung again, as if magnetized, to Firebird’s kneeling form. “He doesn’t remember me. He fears me.”

  “Why could that be? The toys, hugs, and fun with Santa Och? Wait, you’re more like sticks, slaps, and stolen wings with Grinch Och.”

  Och clenched his fists. “I never take joy in discipline, but everyone has their place.”

  “Then your brother’s is now as a slave.”

  Och narrowed his eyes. “I suggest you don’t—”

  “Treat him like one? What are you going to do? Report me for following Rahab’s orders?”

  Och hissed, finally shoving me back. “At least, let me say… I wished to say goodbye, but now I realise…” Och’s laugh was hollow, “…I’m nothing but a stranger and I’d only scare him.”

  “Touching, bro. Do you care when the other Phoenixes cry in terror? Or do you flog them, until they know their place?” Och turned away his head, but I snatched his chin, twisting him back to face me. He’d wanted to see his brother and the truth: so, let him bastard face it. “What about the Broken, when you steal their wings? Or Fynchan? Do you even know his name?”

  “I’ve been blind. Is that what you wish to hear?” Och broke away from me; his cold eyes gleamed in the light. His shoulders shook, as he punched the glass. “I’ve thought over every possible way to release myself and my brothers since we were brought here. Yet it’s never been possible to save all three of us, and I’d never leave the others behind. Mage Drake does that…uses one sibling against the other. Now you, our Queen, have my brother as your slave, I can never be disloyal or even hesitate in my duties again, don’t you see? What can one blind angel do?”

  “Not as much as an army of them.” Ceri slunk towards us; he wasn’t cowering any longer, but was as untamed as he’d been in the Ghost Caves.

  I thrilled at the transformation.

  Ceri lounged next to Och: li
ke they were equals. I traced my finger down Ceri’s caramel shoulder. “This is my Lion Boy. You know him as a Broken, but in my army, he’s a General. And he outranks you.”

  I don’t know which of the bloke’s eyes widened more. Then Ceri pushed out his chest, standing straighter. He raised his eyebrow at Och.

  And that took bastard courage.

  Och glanced over my shoulder at Firebird, who’d lifted his head to watch us with interest. Then Och gave a curt nod to Ceri. “Then this fool is at your disposal, sir.”

  Ceri flushed, even as his smile brightened.

  Hell, even I hadn’t thought we’d get a sir out of Och. There was no way to miss the irony of a Head Discipliner who was prepared to take orders from a Broken slave.

  “And my other brother?” Och asked, carefully.

  My magic snapped in alarm and rage; flames sizzled down my skin in an uncontrollable wave. I gripped Och by the back of his neck, slamming our foreheads together. “The one you’ve tormented all his life for not being blind?”

  Och gave a superior smile. “The very one.”

  When Ceri tapped my shoulder, I flinched. “My cariad, he’s…there. Please, please, please…”

  I glanced away from Och, behind him at the wall. Only the mirror no longer reflected back the chamber but through into my brother’s side of the lodge.

  I let out a wail, stumbling past Och to hammer my fist clanging against the glass.

  Mischief knelt in the Looking Glass room, swaying as if he’d been whammied with magic or mind control. Anael stood over him with his fist wrapped around Mischief’s long hair.

  Mischief had never knelt for me; he’d never have knelt willingly for Anael.

  Silver licked out of me on the wings of shadows, pressing against the mirror to break it. My ancient powers roared at the wrongness of Mischief being forced to kneel.

  Mischief glanced at the glass wall, biting his lip. He knew I could be watching, and it fractured him, as much as the binding of his magic. And Anael knew it too because when my brother had knelt for me in Neptune’s Courtyard, it’d been the tribute of a conquered warlord: I should’ve known he’d find a way to hurt me back.

  Anael had learnt his tricks from his daddy Mage. How to Control 101: Hurt someone through the person they love. And Mischief had been the Undeserving who Anael had seen at my side.

  Yet what Anael couldn’t have known was the way Mischief’s magic boiled within me at the sight of Anael’s casual dominance, driving my pulse higher, until I pounded the mirror — clang, clang, clang — howling.

  Voices called out to me; hands tugged at me.

  When Anael leant down to bite Mischief’s neck, however, silver flared from my fingertips, the wall shattered in a scream of murdered glass, and the Mirror Lodge came tumbling down.

  24

  Two days, twelve hours, and three minutes: that’s the longest I’d ever gone missing from Jerusalem’s Children Home.

  It hadn’t been a game but to escape retribution; I’d smashed the glasses of Mr Sandy Hair. But then he’d touched me and not in the caring way; he’d been lucky it’d only been a headbutt. I’d already had enough street smarts, however, to know who’d be believed.

  I hadn’t even had the words to tell what he’d tried to do to me.

  What he’d done so many nights after that…

  When J had screamed at me to run and hide, I’d dashed out into the cold dark and found myself a hidey-hole behind the playground under the cardboard boxes. I’d freaked with the sensation that only now had my life become real.

  Eventually, the feds, along with Mr Sandy Hair shaking his head in disappointment, had dragged me out of my cardboard home and back to the light of Jerusalem’s. I hadn’t been fooled by the carers’ fake smiles of relief or concern, but their anger had been real.

  I’d returned the bad runaway. I could never escape from that label again.

  Yet I’d learnt my lesson: when you shatter your world, you can’t run or hide because the true bad bastards will always find you.

  My eyes fluttered open, even as my eyelids were heavy like rising from deep sleep. I shook my head, wetting my lips. A thought skittered, just out of reach, as fire sizzled underneath my skin.

  What the hell happened?

  I forced myself up onto my elbows. Then I stared at the nicks that stung along my forearms and the backs of my hands.

  Shattering glass, as I exploded the wall between my chamber and my brother’s…

  I was death. End. Destroyer. And I happened.

  I sat up, even as my head spun.

  Don’t freak out, but we’re not in Kansas, Feathery-slayer.

  You’re not making headline news, J.

  Focus, girl. You’re in your brother’s land now, and he could either be the Legion’s Terminator or your own.

  Believe me, we want this crazy bitch on our side.

  I clutched my thumping head with a groan, forcing my eyes to focus.

  Hell…

  A forest of twisted iron trees surrounded me; their branches tangled up to a steel sky, which swirled in constant motion. When I shuffled backwards, breathing hard, my hands brushed over the rough ground that was made of coiled rope. I scrambled to my knees, only to slip on the pebbles beside a gushing blood-red stream. Dark shapes darted underneath the water: bronze mechanical fish.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” Anael sauntered towards me, as I twisted back to him. He appeared different here: more relaxed, younger, and wilder. “A Hidden Land for an Invisible Prince.”

  “Mischief and the others,” I choked out, desperate for the answer, even as I quaked to know it because what if I’d killed them…? “Are they waking up somewhere in this fairyland too?”

  Anael waved a haughty hand. “Your Underserving teleported them away. He tried to take you too, but I wanted to bring you here.” His gaze sharpened. “What’s your Underserving concealing?”

  I launched myself up, grabbing Anael by the throat. He didn’t struggle, only studied me curiously. “No one hurts my fam.”

  “How droll,” he raised his eyebrow, “you steal my birthright, take all I’ve trained for from childhood, including the attention of my father, and destroy my home…even now have your hand around my throat…and yet you claim not to hurt fam.” I flinched. “I believe we truly are related.”

  I snatched my hand away from him, stumbling backwards.

  “Yet you wept for me.” Anael’s eyes darkened; his mouth twisted downwards. “Who would weep for the Butcher?”

  “Who would weep for a misfit, runaway, bitch, orphan, freak like me?” I crossed my arms. “Turns out, I’m also epic. Who knew?” When Anael grinned, for the first time, I believed it was genuine. “But I thought Rahab had you locked up in that tower? Looks to me like you’ve come down with a healthy dose of the free.”

  Anael’s grin died, as he reddened like a kid before a tantrum. “My father believes I’m trapped but then he’s…stupid.”

  Crack.

  I jumped at the thunderclap. The steel sky flashed with lightning, whilst the deep roll of thunder echoed. Twisters roared in howling mouths.

  I shivered, as rain pelted from the sky.

  When my brother had a tantrum, he bastard went for it.

  “Can the all-nosey Mage hear you disrespecting him? Because I’ve already smashed more than a window and—”

  “Father only hears what I want him to hear.” Anael shrugged one elegant shoulder with a flick of his hair. “Bored now.”

  The storm shutoff like it’d never been tearing down.

  I wrung the water out of my hair. “Why this freakshow world?”

  Anael’s princely mask dropped, and his gaze became uncertain. He tugged at his bottom lip, before huffing. “Is this not…right?”

  I swallowed. This island was all he’d ever known. He had no idea what true trees, fish, or grass were made of, only what he’d heard from the others who were allowed in the world. He might think he was free, but this was no different to
hiding in a cardboard box. “Yeah, it’s legendary. How’d you magic it up?”

  Anael blinked, and a black rainbow burst over the iron forest in sparkling splendour. Now that was bitching.

  “I’ve lived my entire life in the Mirror Lodge, do you not think I’ve learnt how to reshape it like father? This is my playground.” Anael slunk to a tree, winding around it.

  Slowly, under his caress, the tree reformed into an angel.

  I gasped, as the iron angel’s eyes blinked open, staring at Anael in adoration; Anael tenderly kissed the angel.

  “These are my friends. As I’m a prince, father never let me mix with the riffraff, only Drake. Well, there was also once Barakiel, father’s favourite.” I stiffened: The Lightning Angel, who’d been imprisoned on Angel world. Anael forced himself to take a deep breath. “Then Barakiel was taken from me. My…love…offended father.”

  I remembered Barakiel’s emaciated form curled in a cell with his wings strapped down to his back…all because he’d been the prince’s lover. Yet now I understood Drake’s caring dedication to the beautiful prisoner; Drake’s loyalty to my brother warmed me with a trust that I rarely experienced.

  “After father disappeared Barakiel, even though Drake promised to help him if ever he could, it’s been…lonely.” Anael stroked the iron angel’s wing. “But I’m hidden here…safe.”

  My throat was tight; I couldn’t swallow. I rubbed my foot through the rope grass, even as the friction warmed to heat. This was my brother’s childhood fairy tale, which he’d escaped to, warped to darkness because he’d known no light. And now it was his adult fantasy. How could I blame him, when in the real world of the Brotherhood he faced the control of Rahab, who made him kill himself to order?

  Now there was no hiding, however, and I had to shatter his fairy tale, as I’d shattered his home. And that shattered me.

  I’d only wanted to keep Anael safe, but that’d been as much my fantasy, as this was his. Anael was as powerful as me: I shouldn’t have been protecting him, I should’ve been enlisting him to fight at my side because I was a leader, and leaders made those choices.