Rebel Angels: The Complete Series

by Rosemary A Johns

  When I burst into the Great Hall, with the Blood Familiars winding around me like my guard dogs, the Deadmans startled. Then they gaped at me, as if I was the one with the magic.

  “Training’s over.” I held out my handcuffed wrists. “It’s time to free me.”

  Da glanced at Ma, for once uncertain. Then he abandoned the crystals that he’d been examining and prowled towards me, the grisly brush, stained with his own blood, still at his neck. He scowled at the familiars. “I see that you have mastered my children. Very clever.”

  I tilted my head. “You have daddy issues, and your kids are going Hackney style.”

  Da snatched my hands, roughly pulling them forward, before a snarl from the familiars stilled him.

  “Zach, go and wait for me in the study.” Da’s intent gaze never left mine, as he withdrew a key from his waistcoat pocket, and the handcuffs clattered to the floorboards. “You seem to have forgotten important lessons.” I saw the struggle, but Rebel still nodded, before disappearing out into the hallway. “You may dominate my familiars, but not my angel.”

  The Blood Familiars’ tails lashed.

  I leaned forward. “I freed Spark and Blaze and I will free Rebel. Just like I’ll get free and when I do, you’ll be the one in the dark.”

  Da stepped back, as if I’d bitten him.

  Yeah, I was flying.

  The short coal-black sword flamed in the bleak underground cellar like the eclipse of a violet sun.

  Rebel trembled as he held the sword, whilst his wings vibrated.

  I lounged against the wall, next to a cobwebbed wire rack of bottles of wine, with the Blood Familiars smart at my heels. I smirked, when the Deadmans dropped to their knees in front of Rebel in worship.

  Was it possible to worship a prisoner?

  When the witches had opened the iron trapdoor, shoving Rebel and me down the steps into the pitch-black cellar, I’d been dreading the gun to the head or wand action into gargoyle.

  Instead?

  Da had spun the lock on a fire-proof safe that hung on the wall, before reverentially drawing out a sword.

  Rebel had stared at him in confusion. “My Eclipse? But you said—”

  “You’ve earned your sword back.” Da had lifted out a leather harness that was threaded with gold and a scabbard, which he’d thrown to Rebel. “You deserve to wear it again.”

  “Thank you,” Rebel had murmured, shucking his leathers and buckling the harness and scabbard between his folded wings. “Does this mean that I’m not grounded?”

  Da had glanced at me and then the Blood Familiars, who’d bared a flash of sharp canine. “It means that someone convinced me to free you. I do not believe that you can be trusted. You ran once. Abandoning others is what you do, is it not? But we shall see. Do you prefer prisoner, or hunter?”

  Something in me had thrilled at hunter. And between hunter or prisoner? I’d train any way Rebel wanted to become even a half-arsed angel without wings, if I’d also be a huntress.

  A flash of thrumming excitement had shot through me. I’d needed Rebel. And part of me…?

  Wanted him.

  Da had finally passed Rebel the sword, although he’d hesitated at the last moment, and his hands had met Rebel’s. They’d both tugged on the hilt, before at last Da had let go.

  “This is your choice.” Da had stared at me, swiping his forehead with his handkerchief. “Are we safe now?”

  Then Rebel had raised the sword, whilst his thumb had caressed the sparkling crescent moon hilt. He’d been lost in it; I’d recognized the surge of power, the same as mine, curling through him. He’d shuddered as he’d whispered, “Eclipse.”

  Then the sword had blazed to life, Rebel’s wings had burst wide, and the witches had prostrated themselves at his feet.

  What had I just freed? And could I trust Rebel?

  I shrank back against the wall; the pretty punk was flying.

  When the flame cooled, Rebel swung to me. His pupils were dilated and his skin feverish. “See, princess, I’m more than an Addict. I’m Zachriel — the Rebel — and this is Eclipse.” He slashed the sword in an overexcited cross through the air. “I’ve made a mess of things but I’m free now and—”

  “Blitzed. You’re broken, so how about you put the sword down?”

  “If I were mad, I would! I’m a hunter. I’m on the hunt.”

  “You’re tripping.” I stepped towards him.

  Rebel didn’t even hesitate. He raised Eclipse to my throat.

  9

  Slash, stab, slice… A shank could carve your skin in a thousand ways. I was intimate with every single one but I’d never heard skin sizzle on the tip of a blade…smelled it sear…until it was my own.

  And it was Rebel’s sword pressed to my throat.

  Bad angel: Rebel had warned me. Why hadn’t I wanted to believe?

  Shocked, I held my breath, resting my hands on the silky heads of the two foxes who’d leapt up in the shadows of the cellar. The Blood Familiars squirmed but didn’t attack.

  “Rebel,” I entreated.

  Rebel’s gaze was glazed, but there was a flash of recognition and pain. Then he twirled and drifted up the steps. Lost, confused, and blitzed. Rebel was going to get himself hurt, thrown in jail, or killed.

  I curled to the concrete floor, wrapping my arms around the familiars.

  Spark whined, nudging me. His green eyes, which were rimmed with thick black lashes, were thoughtful, as he rested his chin on my shoulder. His brother arched his back, on guard.

  “Still believe that you can trust him?” Da asked, shoving himself to his feet. He dusted off his suit with efficient flicks. “Actions have consequences.”

  Evie burst up, like a rose sprung to violent life. Ma grasped her waist, holding her back.

  “Interlopers who hurt angels,” Evie spat with her fingers clawed around the petals at her throat, “must face their own worst terrors. My wicked love has left you alone, who shall save you now?”

  Ma smiled, deadly as a panther, loosening her hold on Evie. I stiffened, pressing back against the wall.

  Rebel had held me in the safety of his wings all night. We’d plotted how to both free and control my powers. But now he’d left me here with his family who wanted me dead.

  Evie was right: Rebel had abandoned me, just like every other bastard man.

  Da frowned, but his shoulders were stooped. “Go to your room. Now.”

  I jumped at his urgency, glimpsing the savage fire in Ma and Evie’s eyes, as they prowled towards me.

  I bolted.

  There was no use pretending. I was still as much a prisoner as when I’d worn handcuffs.

  Yet I was the fool who’d freed Rebel. He wasn’t tame at my heel like the foxes. He was wild and free and he’d left me because of a sword called Eclipse and the call of the hunt.

  When I heard the creak on the stairs and hurried whispers in the galley outside my doorway that night, I slipped out from under the wolf throw and crept to my bedroom door.

  Rebel’s pained groan and stumbled step.

  I hesitated with my fingers clutched around the doorknob, shaking with the effort not to throw it open and…

  The question was whether I’d boot Rebel in the balls for burning and then abandoning me, or snog him for coming back, before chaining him to the bed, so that he couldn’t leave me again.

  I rested my forehead against the cold oak door, before slipping down onto my knees. I frowned at the shock of Rebel’s emotions; his fear and shame spun a web around me, which I ripped down as fast as it touched my skin.

  Why the hell had Rebel kidnapped me and forced me to…feel?

  I slipped out into the hallway, shuffling along in my bare feet to peer around the crack of Da and Ma’s bedroom.

  Rebel was stretched bound across the bed. His wrists and ankles were strapped in hard leather cuffs, even if he lay on gold silk sheets. The air was thick with the scent of cinnamon, candles cast cavorting shadows, and the room was a sunburst
of sensual velvets and damask.

  Rebel had been stripped naked, except for his spiked collar, whilst Da and Ma in their dressing gowns crawled over him like he was a sacrifice.

  When Rebel’s eyes screwed shut in pain, I clenched my fists. There were gashes across Rebel’s chest, as if he’d been repeatedly knifed.

  The memory shot through me of a blade at my neck, and then slicing Gizem’s cheek. I fought to control my rapid breathing. Hell, would I always be haunted by my first boyfriend’s attack? Although, your best friend being knifed by the first bloke that you’d kissed wasn’t the sort of thing that you forgot.

  Who — what — had Rebel been hunting?

  I’d been scorched by his sword. Yet someone — or something — had managed to knife him. It looked like a bear’s claws raking his guts. Had the other angels done this? The ones who he hid from? Or was it the other supernaturals who Rebel had warned me about?

  Rebel moaned, as Ma swabbed at the blood tearing from the wounds with balled cotton wool. Then as she kissed him, hard and possessive.

  I stiffened. I knew that the witches loved Rebel and weren’t truly his family, as well as the fact that Rebel chose to submit to them, but it still hurt to witness them with him, when the ancient powers inside me snarled that he belonged to me.

  I realized that the Deadmans had stopped Rebel escaping, exactly as I’d imagined doing. But now that I saw it…? I wished that Rebel was wild and free again.

  Ma lay on one side of Rebel, whilst Da lay on the other side, predatory and dark. This wasn’t the same as when I’d seen Rebel shagging Evie. It was a claiming. A possession. Ownership. I shook to rip them away from Rebel. Not only to save him, but to save him for myself. I’d never felt this…jealous…before. But then I hadn’t been part angel until six weeks ago either. At least, this new side to myself hadn’t awoken.

  And I didn’t like it.

  Ma and Da kissed and licked down Rebel’s chest and neck, worshiping him: their shackled god. Shocked, I realized that I wished I could climb into those golden sheets with them.

  I stumbled back, rushing into my bedroom. It was too much. These new…feelings.

  Slam — I crashed the door behind me, satisfied by the bang.

  The Bitch of Utopia didn’t do fear but I was trembling from the temptation to sink into the dark.

  Instead, I climbed onto the bed — alone — unable to block out the image of Rebel stretched and bound naked, sweat glistening on his neck beneath his collar, before taking a swig of water from my goblet — alone — and burrowing back under the wolf skin — alone.

  Suddenly, everything blurred, and I retched. Clutching my stomach, I blinked, and the world pixeled. I hugged a rose pillow, as the bedroom merry-go-round spun. The wolves snarled, howling out of the ceiling.

  I whimpered.

  What was happening?

  Then I glimpsed the goblet. It meant something. A terrible truth.

  Gargoyles… Face your terrors… Actions have consequences…

  I giggled. Then my eyes rolled back, and I collapsed onto the bed.

  I stood on the top of a mountain of violet feathers, above a land of bones. I reigned, even though below me was nothing but death.

  I was death. The End. Destroyer.

  A wind whipped across the desolate valley. Sizzling energy coursed across my crackling palms.

  No, no, no… Time to wake up.

  Calm down, J is with you…because you’re inside yourself: Your own mind. That shady bitch poisoned you.

  But it’s real as…

  Oh, the spell is real, Feathery-cakes. If you don’t slay your demons in here, then you’ll be the one slain. And I’m talking a fabulous new gargoyle for the witches.

  Where have you been?

  They’re witches. If they discover me, then you’ll be in more danger than you’re in right now.

  Take me back. Away from me. I can’t be trapped—

  Only you can do that. Only you have ever been in control. And you can’t escape yourself forever.

  My feet sank into the ticklish wave of feathers, and then I fell.

  Soft and suffocating, I tumbled down until…

  Crack — my foot snapped delicate wing bones. I tiptoed between charred skulls and femurs.

  My legacy.

  I’m bad, just like Rebel. I kill and I hurt, and the things I imagine are even worse. Not only since my birthday: always.

  So, you need your ass shut away in a tower? We’re all demons. Perfection’s the lie.

  I rose up with a roar, bursting through the feathers and casting them like violet snow across the land. The bones glowed

  My land.

  I was birth. The Beginning. Savior.

  I burned with power, twining in two whirlwinds furious around me, both ancient and possessive.

  And I smiled as I became the monster.

  My eyes blinked open, fuzzy from the poison. Yet it was still there: the power from the drugged nightmare.

  It hissed one taunting word, “Rebel.”

  I swayed, staggering out into the hallway and barging into Da’s room. Then I caught my breath.

  Rebel was alone. Tied to the bed naked as before, his eyes were shut like he was asleep, but he was pretending because his fists clenched at the sound of my footsteps.

  I was part angel, but I was also something more.

  Why was Rebel keeping it secret from me?

  If I wanted to claim Rebel too, then he was mine. Lost still in the sensation of the dream, I struggled to catch at the sense of wrongness tugging at me, but it slipped away.

  I sidled closer.

  The slashes stood crimson against the paleness of Rebel’s skin; they burned livid like the flame of his hair. Fury surged that someone had dared hurt him. Somebody but me. I scored my fingers into a gash across his gut.

  Rebel gasped, and his eyes shot open. “I know I’m on that List of Asses to Kick, especially after what I did, but could you not leave off until the morning?”

  “You abandoned me,” I purred. And when did I purr? Hell, was I still poisoned…? “You allowed the witches to touch what’s mine.”

  “Did you down a few pints, whilst I was hunting, Feathers?” Rebel eyed me warily, like he’d seen the Queen drink one too many sherries and muddle up her Christmas speech.

  “And what were you hunting? Who gave you these…?” I traced over each slash, as if taking ownership of them.

  “I’m a hunter. I wasn’t fibbing when I told you that dangerous bastards were after you.”

  I froze. Rebel had been wounded protecting me? Maybe we truly weren’t enemies?

  “Who?”

  When Rebel didn’t reply, biting his lip hard, I climbed onto the bed, straddling him. That’s what I’d craved to do earlier, when I’d seen the Deadmans crawling over him. Yet I didn’t want to worship him, I wanted his worship.

  When I ground down, Rebel’s cock was as trapped as the rest of him, and he groaned.

  “Not like this,” Rebel whispered.

  I reached my hands around his neck, and he stiffened. “Then how do you want it?”

  The collar’s spikes pricked my palms, as I teased at the skin underneath. Then I began to unbuckle the collar. Someone else’s mark of ownership, it incensed me.

  “Stop it,” Rebel’s voice was hard and yet trembled with tears, “the collar’s not yours to touch.”

  I stared down into Rebel’s shocked eyes; the eyelashes were matted wet. I drew away my hands from his collar instantly, before tilting my head. “If that’s not mine to touch, how about this…?”

  I dropped my mouth to Rebel’s, hard and relentless.

  Yet far back in my mind, I screamed and booted to be free but I wasn’t in charge anymore. The growling, dominant part of me inside had been freed by Evie’s toxin.

  Rebel’s body thrust and arched, but he was struggling, wrenching his head from side-to-side. I pinned him, fire coursing through me, tingling with the taste of stolen sugar sweetness and el
ectric wings. I’d force Rebel to make me fly…but then Rebel bit. When my mouth flooded with my own blood, I pulled back.

  “Stop, no, this isn’t… Take it easy, what’s the rush?” Rebel panted.

  “I thought you wanted to kiss me?” I jerked Rebel’s head by the hair to nibble at the base of his neck.

  “I said no,” Rebel repeated. “You’re not yourself. Is this to get back at me for…? I’m sorry, so I am. Or maybe…” His expression gentled. “You’re under a spell. Evie’s rose potions mess with your mind and make you crave—”

  “I’m not offering marriage,” I snarled, “just screwing. Your lucky night in hell.”

  Rebel sighed. “Offer again when you love me.”

  Shocked, I stared down at him.

  The bastard was rejecting me?

  I growled, gripping Rebel’s wings by their delicate tips. I remembered the sensation of standing atop the mountain of feathers, above the land of bones, coursing with power.

  Destroyer or savior.

  I could bend Rebel’s wing back and break… Then Rebel whimpered. Shocked at the drugged need coursing through me, I realized that Rebel was right about Evie’s rose potion.

  I eased the pressure, shoving away from him. “I can’t love my kidnapper.”

  Dizzy, the world lurched. I stumbled to my knees, before crawling to the door.

  Large bare feet, hairy legs, and powerful thighs…

  I gazed up at the glowering giant of Da. I wobbled to my feet, edging out of the bedroom.

  When I peered back, Da had stalked to Rebel, who lay motionless. Yet Rebel’s eyes were wide and supplicating, as Da ran his hand along Rebel’s collar.

  It was no longer worship: Da’s love was toxic. Yet Rebel had abducted me. Why should I save him from the witches? After all, he hadn’t saved me. Yet even through the blurred fog of the poison, I knew that Rebel was a prisoner, just the same as me. An angel, ensnared by witches, and we’d need each other to escape.

  Because his family had tried to murder me.

  10

  Monster, freak, and mutant…with one black and one violet eye, I’d worn the labels from Jerusalem Children’s Home to the schoolyard like Victoria Crosses. No one had seen my secret face beneath.