Vampire Mage

by Rosemary A Johns

  Hell, I’d never expected to feel so alive in death: again, with the irony.

  The only angel missing was Rahab. It’d be even more ironic, if he hadn’t been judged worthy of the light.

  “Not to interrupt your fun,” Anael slouched up onto his elbow, “but you do know where we are, surely?”

  I blinked. “Together.”

  He rolled his eyes. “And…?”

  “Heaven…?” Suddenly, as the high began to fade along with Mischief’s potent blood, I became less certain about what had happened in the moment before the wave had hit. The blur in front of my eyes began to clear.

  Anael waved a lazy hand. “Stand up.”

  When I stumbled to my feet, I noticed that Mischief hadn’t been in the cosy group snuggle, but was hunched to the side with his arms crossed. He wouldn’t meet my gaze.

  My feet sank into the mountain of violet feathers. I stared out over a valley of glowing bones, choking on the stink of ash. The skies raged, burning: I shielded my eyes, backing away, until I bumped into Drake’s shoulder. He steadied me.

  The land of feathers and bones from my visions: they were real…?

  Or had we been transported into my mind and dreams?

  “Where the hell are we?” I demanded.

  “Calm yourself. We’re alive, although how long we shall survive in this realm of gods…?” Drake shook his head; his curls fell over his eyes. Gods…? He attempted a smile, but it barely curled the corners of his lips. “Do I still have so little skill as a kisser that you must choose to swap saliva and blood with Zophia and drag us to the Realm of the Seraphim?”

  The realm of the deadly and ancient angel gods…?

  I twisted to Mischief, who bowed his head under my scrutiny. “But you told me only the Emperor’s son could…?”

  Mischief finally raised his gaze to meet mine; his eyes twinkled. “Ta da!”

  I flushed hot and cold: Mischief was the Archduke of the Seraphim. And he’d known all along.

  Anael’s gaze was assessing. “What a naughty secret to hide from us.”

  Rebel burst up, snatching Mischief around the neck and dragging him closer to me; Mischief didn’t struggle. “You great idiot; we trusted you.”

  Drake’s icy glare made Mischief shrink back. “You truly are a traitor.”

  I traced Mischief’s cheek with the back of my knuckles, whilst Rebel fisted his long hair, holding him still. Yet I knew Mischief was allowing himself to be manhandled: he’d taken on Rahab with me. He was the Archduke.

  His powers were no longer hidden.

  When I lowered my hand around Mischief’s throat, however, he remained unresisting. “Your mother was right: you’re a Sly Imp.” Mischief’s eyes gleamed with tears but he defiantly didn’t let them fall. It ached to flay him like this, but he’d lied and masked himself for too long, and now we were stranded in the world of my nightmares. My steel nails shot out, grazing his neck. Mischief hissed but he didn’t pull back. “I swore to behead you, if you tricked me again. Tell me how everything you pulled back in Castle Drake wasn’t one big illusion?”

  Ash slinked up, prowling between us: The Brigadier comes to the party. “Enemy terrain. Unknown hostiles. No backup.” Ash stabbed a finger at Mischief’s chest. “No executing the Imperial Highness, whilst we need a guide or hostage.” Then he shrugged. “At least we finally know who the true Emperor is…”

  Why did it excite me that I wasn’t alone in the royalty gig, at the same time as my angelic and vampiric sides seethed to hear Imperial Highness on Ash’s lips? And why didn’t it surprise me that Mischief was the rightful son of the Emperor of the gods, despite having been treated as an Undeserving?

  “I was saving you all,” Mischief’s voice was low and brittle. “Saving my family.”

  I huffed. “You scheme and plot; it’s what you do. All I wanted was for Rahab to notice and train me: just like you with your daddy. Now, thanks to our help, you’ve jumped realms. Don’t pretend that wasn’t your true plan or that you haven’t dreamed about it since you killed the bloke who raised you.”

  This time, the tears did escape Mischief’s eyes.

  When I caught Rebel’s gaze, I hadn’t expected the sad reproach. Hell, even if I was right, I regretted voicing the words: Mischief had told me something agonisingly private, and I’d used it to shank him. J had taught me that, yet only now did it feel wrong.

  Mischief slumped; his wings drooped. “Despite what you clearly believe, from the moment my brothers and myself were held on that damned island, my dreams were focused on one thing alone: saving the Broken, Phoenixes, and Undeserving. To free my people.” He raised his gaze to mine: sharp as ice. “I sincerely doubt that I shall be invited into the loving arms of my true father. I was, as you know, abandoned as a bastard son.” I flinched at the raw pain that bled through his steely tone. “Put aside your unwarranted mawkishness,” his gaze softened for a moment as it flickered to Ash, “and execute me because I have no value as either guide or hostage.”

  When I trembled, my nails nicked Mischief’s neck.

  At a sudden yank on my skirt, I glanced down.

  Firebird knelt amongst the feathers, glancing between Mischief and me in agitation. “Please, if he has done wrong, he can be punished but not…? He’s loved by the Phoenixes because he’s our Defender.”

  Mischief swallowed hard. “Turn away,” he whispered. “Grant me this one thing: do not watch.”

  Hell, Mischief was begging his own brother not to witness his death, even if his brother only knew him as the Defender of his kind.

  My nails retracted so quickly that I staggered backwards. Then I launched myself at Mischief, snatching him away from Rebel and clasping him.

  Mischief blinked. “Perhaps you have a different definition of execution…?”

  “Perhaps I’ll never kill one of my own, even if they are Machiavellian Archdukes. And perhaps I’m just buzzing that we’re all alive.”

  Spark’s ears twitched. “Aye, but we’re also above a valley of bones in the Realm of the Seraphim. The Seraphim—”

  “Right, like we know anything about those bastards,” Blaze scoffed. “That’s why you’d be a head case to go exploring here.” Blaze beat his wings, raising into the smoky air. “Just like the head case Seraphim. The numpties declared themselves gods and swaggered off to this world centuries before we were born.”

  I raised my head from Mischief’s shoulder: we truly were in the realm of the gods. And I’d struggled to accept bastard magic…

  “They’re shifters,” Mischief muttered (and I didn’t need like me tagged on to get his flush of shame). “It’d be just like the arrogant deities to have been walking amongst us, spreading tales of their deadly nature and glory. They certainly spread their seed.” He grimaced, and I nuzzled along his jawline in reassurance. “But we can’t know.”

  Maybe your Scottish fox brothers should watch their colossal mouths, Violet-divinity, or they’ll find themselves with more than ears and tails. Plus, the Unicorn Kid needs his cute mouth washed out…

  J, where the hell have you been? We rewove the Legion’s story. Plus, our Sugar Plum Angel hid—

  Excuse me, I was busy gagging on your hypocrisy.

  How many secrets are you hiding? Have you told anyone about the voice who speaks to you?

  Who am I, Violet?

  Cold washed through me, as I recoiled from Mischief. He furrowed his brows in confusion.

  “My Queen?” Drake strode towards me, but I waved him back.

  My heartbeat was suddenly too loud; my mouth too dry.

  No, no, no…

  J had always been my secret: he’d raised me, saved me, and never abandoned me. As a kid, unlike my parents and the angels, he’d always answered when I’d called.

  Almost.

  He’d only gone silent, when I’d demanded to know who he was…

  I loved J, even if I’d never known whether he was real. Yet what if he was real…?

  “Well, my son
and the Silver Queen seeking an audience with my fabulous self. I’m honoured.”

  I froze: J’s voice burst into my head. Except, not J’s voice. It was similar but colder, harder, and regaler.

  When I glanced around, however, everyone else had also stiffened.

  I rubbed my foot through the feathers. “Any chance I was the only bitch to hear that?”

  A sea of shaking heads.

  I tried to warn you. You’ve demanded trust, but you held onto the only secret that mattered.

  Me.

  Who are you, J?

  Haven’t you guessed yet? Don’t you know me well enough after all these years?

  Jahael?

  “I don’t believe we formally requested to see you,” Mischief said, stiffly.

  A delighted laugh. “Sure you did: blood called to blood. BAM! Don’t try to trick your daddy, I know how much you wish to show off your skills.” I didn’t miss the warning edge, nor did Mischief who cast a troubled glance at me. “I know who’s naughty and nice because I have the inside track, darlings. And one of you naughty creatures has hidden me inside their heads from the moment of their birth.” I panted, pressing my nails into my palms to control my rapid breathing. Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t… Rebel studied me, cocking his head; his eyes narrowed in both concern and sudden understanding. “You wondered how I walk amongst you…? I’ve been there all the time: inside your Silver Queen.”

  I stared down at my boots, unable to look up at the gasps and shocked whispers.

  “We Seraphim are angel gods, but say hello to my creation: A Fallen god.”

  Rich frankincense, then I was cocooned in the safety of violet wings. “I always knew there was something extraordinary in your mind.” Drake rested his forehead against mine. “Did I not tell you how special, important, and powerful you are?”

  “I lied,” I whispered, “I’m sorry, sor—”

  Drake’s lips pressed against mine, and there was heaven in the flare of frankincense infused stars. When he drew back, he placed one final chaste kiss on my lips, before insisting, “You have no talent for lies, and I should know, since I’ve lived my life amongst them. If you’d known you housed a god, you’d have been considerably more insufferable than you already were.”

  Rebel sniggered.

  Anael raised an eyebrow. “My sister, the insufferable god.”

  “What happened to worshipping deities, bitches?” I growled.

  Mischief twirled me away from Drake. “At least we know what’s up with the kneel thing now.” I tried to cross my arms, but he caught my hands between his instead. “Childish.”

  When I licked the end of his nose in retaliation, he trapped me with his wings. “Let’s put on a show for daddy dearest. After all, he’s inside you. He’s seen…everything…you’ve done from the moment you were born.” I flushed: I’d thought Lucifer’s spy lights intrusive but to think Jahael had seen everything…? Strike that…was watching everything…? Mischief grinned wickedly. “We’re both children of the Seraphim: we shan’t be invisible again.”

  I wriggled my feet more firmly into the feathers, staring down at the valley of bones.

  This was my land: ancient, deadly, and secret.

  Yet here I was finally free of all secrets to be myself, just like Mischief, even if I was trapped in a mysterious realm, cut off from my own world with my fam.

  I swear on all the sequins on Broadway, I’m still the bitch who raised you. Don’t forget, I love you.

  You betrayed me. All these years I wanted you to be real...but now I just want you out of my head.

  You still need me. I promise, I won’t abandon you.

  I stared up into the fireball sky; it flared in crimson streaks.

  So, the Emperor of the Seraphim wanted an audience with the vampire god?

  I grinned: bring on the fireworks. Because in this world of gods, the Seraphim had just welcomed in a monster.

  They were in for a hell of a shock.

  The End

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  About the Author

  ROSEMARY A JOHNS is a USA Today bestselling and award-winning fantasy author, music fanatic, and paranormal anti-hero addict. She writes sexy angels, savage vampires, and epic battles.

  Winner of the Silver Award in the National Wishing Shelf Book Awards. Finalist in the IAN Book of the Year Awards. Runner-up in the Best Fantasy Book of the Year, Reality Bites Book Awards. Honorable Mention in the Readers’ Favorite Book Awards.

  Shortlisted in the International Rubery Book Awards.

  Rosemary is also a traditionally published short story writer. She studied history at Oxford University and ran her own theatre company. She’s always been a rebel…

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