Rebel Angels: The Complete Series

by Rosemary A Johns

  Needing one.

  Da, however, only held up a dove-gray feather, which he’d plucked from Rebel’s wing. “Good god! I had no idea you were this close. You must go back to Angel World. I know the brutality of your life there but—”

  “That’s bloody nonsense. You don’t know.” Rebel’s distress shocked me. His arms curled around Da’s neck.

  Da rubbed Rebel’s back. “But if you don’t return—”

  “I can’t.” Rebel shot me a look through tear-trembling eyes.

  Rebel had fled persecution. A bird cage prison. I knew that, but not why Rebel looked to me as he said that he couldn’t go back to his home or why he wept from fear.

  At the same time, I craved to rip him from Da and punish him for taking comfort in someone else’s arms.

  For keeping secrets again.

  What unknown terror was held within that dove-gray feather?

  11

  To hunt is to hurt.

  To hurt others and to be hurt by them is a line I’ve walked, unable to trust anyone but the voice in my head, since the day I was discovered — abandoned — in Hackney Cemetery.

  Yet there’s more to a hunt than the hurt. There’s the very thing I’d been struggling for: control.

  The steel sweep of feathers, slam of sugary copper, and anarchic blast of The Sex Pistols’ “God Save the Queen” shuddered tingles from my shoulder blades to my fingertips.

  I stumbled, driven back by Rebel’s onslaught.

  Oaks speared up to a gray sky, trapping me in the glade with Johnny Rotten’s punk vocals, a propulsive beat, and a killer 3-chord guitar riff.

  Rebel grinned, hopping from foot to foot. He hummed along to the music spitting from the iPod speakers that were buried beneath the twigs on the edges of our training circle.

  These sessions — calling out my powers, and then battling to leash them — had been the highlight of my imprisonment with the witches. Every day out in the woods, Rebel and I danced like only two vicious bitches can.

  I shivered, as the first snowflakes drifted between us like confetti.

  Then I booted Rebel in the gut.

  Rebel groaned but then grabbed my leg, spinning me around in the air and sprawling me onto my back. I scrambled away, but he launched himself onto me. His wings beat, silhouetted bat-like above me; gray speckled the violet. Each session one more gray feather appeared amongst the violet.

  Rebel held my arms above my head. When I struggled, arching against him, his eyes fluttered closed.

  Either there was a gun in his trousers, or he was pleased to see me.

  “In a hunt, you must work out the weakness.” Rebel stroked his wing down my cheek. “Vampires, like angels, can be hurt.” He drew the soft tip of his wing across my pinned wrists, and I shook. His lips were close to mine. Snowflakes settled on the dark curves of his eyelashes. “Go for the hands. A bandjaxed vampire is still dangerous. Fire hurts them. But you’re after wanting the quick kill. Their weakness? Neck and head.” A feathery touch swept across my throat: safety and danger all at once.

  I choked, “Get off me.”

  “Make me.”

  I gaped at him. “Are you sure you want to play this game, pretty boy?”

  He smirked. “If you win, I’ll take you out to fight a vampire by yourself.”

  I licked my lips. That was what I’d been training towards in this woodland at the bottom of the House of Rose, Wolf, and Fox.

  To be a huntress…

  “And if I don’t win?” I asked.

  Rebel’s gaze was suddenly serious. “You could keep your promise not to escape.” Then he smiled shyly. “And call me Custodian...?”

  I kneed him in the balls, wriggling away from him like a snake, as he doubled over.

  I jumped up, rolling my shoulders. “My advantage? A bitch fights dirty.”

  Rebel’s eyes blazed as he straightened, and his wings beat, whilst the snow fell in a furious flurry around him.

  “My advantage?” He unsheathed Eclipse; its flames coursed around its black core. “I fight with a sword.”

  Hell, maybe going for his balls hadn’t been such a good idea…

  “Wait…before you gank me into chunky salsa,” I backed up against the rough bark of an oak, snapping fallen branches on each step, “are you compensating for the Fang and his always having his weapon disrespect? Because I don’t have claws or—”

  Violet fire shot from the end of Eclipse, burning through the snowing glade.

  Crash.

  A branch above my head splintered under the impact.

  I ducked, shrieking. My heart thundered. “Bastard! That could’ve been my head.”

  Rebel shrugged. “Away with you, like I could miss those glasses if I was aiming for them. Now, shoot at me.”

  I stared at him blankly. “What with? My magical invisible mind blast?”

  He snorted with laughter. “Your violet fire, of course. It’s deadly special to you alone. Don’t look so amazed. You’re half angel, you must’ve felt it.”

  I shook my head, but the fire was there already because of Rebel’s attack, trembling on my fingers.

  Yet there it was again: half angel. I needed to know about the darkness that was also inside me, which insisted that Rebel was my enemy, no matter how much I hungered right now to kiss him…

  “And what about the other half?” I demanded.

  Rebel avoided my gaze.

  We hadn’t spoken about the vampire having black eyes like me. Was it shameful for an angel to be…part vampire? Was that why I was a monster?

  Crack.

  An explosion blasted just above my shoulder.

  I hissed and patted at the sparks dancing across my jacket, but Rebel was wearing his innocent expression, even as he raised Eclipse again and arced the fiery streak across my feet.

  I yelped, hopping away.

  It burst out then: The wrath. A crackling inferno fizzed across my fingertips but it was ice-cold.

  I’d unleashed a fire storm on Rebel, before I’d even remembered that we were training and I should be aiming to miss. All I wanted to do in that moment was conquer him.

  Rebel hollered, as the flames caught his right hand. His sword clattered down; the violet clung to his skin. He held his seared hand to his chest, gritting his teeth.

  I concentrated, throwing another fireball past his head to make him jump towards me. If I controlled the fire, I controlled Rebel. And that was even better than controlling myself.

  Caught in his pain, Rebel didn’t realize that I’d trapped him, until I’d thrown him against the tree and wrenched both his hands above his head against the trunk, just as he’d held me on the ground.

  When he did? It was too late.

  I leaned against him and couldn’t tell if it was snow melting down his cheeks or tears. When he struggled, the fast beat of his heart through his t-shirt, fluttered against my chest.

  “Hands and fire.” I circled my thumbs over his captured hands. “Cheers for the pointer.”

  When Rebel’s gaze met mine, I raised my eyebrow. His gaze flickered down to my lips, as his tongue swiped across his lips. I smiled, before I ghosted my mouth over Rebel’s, and he stilled.

  Angels, vampires, blokes…they were all the same.

  “Who are my real parents?” I murmured.

  Rebel stiffened in surprise and then went lax. I pressed my face close to his neck, licking and nibbling at its base. I tightened my hold on his wrists. He was still hiding the truth from me.

  Rebel gasped. “I don’t know.”

  “Yeah, you do.” I held him in place with one hand, stroking through his feathers and tracing the patterns of gray and violet. “I get why the angels are hunting an Addict like you, but why are they hunting me? Is it because I’m too much of a vampire too?”

  Rebel bucked, but I snogged him. Hard, deep, and demanding. At first, he fought it, frozen. The slam of copper was twice as sweet, however, when he thawed, lounging back into his imprisonment against the
tree, just as I’d known that he would because he’d been desperate for me to kiss him.

  The bastard wasn’t rejecting me now.

  That’s when I held Rebel’s own sword to his throat, nicking a cut just deep enough to make him gasp. “You’re dead.” I lifted an eyebrow, pushing away from him and rejecting the kiss and unspoken offer the moment that he’d melted against the oak. “I win.”

  This time, Rebel didn’t even attempt to hide his hurt. His wings curled around himself. “You cheated, princess. Be proud when you win without tricks.”

  I’d warned him that I fought dirty. I’d craved his kiss as well, but he didn’t know that. Trick or not, I’d won the chance to fight my first vampire as a huntress.

  The pack of vampires jostled and joked their way across Kingston Bridge under the snow-wreathed moon. The tingling in my shoulder blades, which Rebel had taught me to notice, told me that they weren’t humans. Yet they looked like a gang of college kids with a kiss of the Emo, with their arms slung around each other, snogging and balancing along the ledge above the frozen waters.

  They reminded me of Jade.

  Except, Rebel had sworn that this gang had been ripping out the throats of humans at the local park. Vampires of the fangs, claws, and blood thirsty variety.

  Not like me. At least, that’s what I told myself.

  I hunkered on the bank of the icy river in the shadows, fidgeting against the cold. Rebel lay sprawled on his back — a real snow angel — his wings wide either side.

  Finally, our prey straggled past: the last in the gang.

  The vampire was tiny. His hair was sprayed in a pink spike, his pretty bowed lips pierced, and his clothes black, ripped, and out punked Rebel. He flicked distracted through an app on his iPhone, as he fell further behind, separated from the herd.

  It takes a fierce warrior to shake their thing at baby vamps.

  He looks like a sweet cherub, but I’ll go with demon child. I’ll be a hero, saving humans.

  Rebel winked at me, before screwing shut his eyes.

  Slam.

  You could see the moment that Tiny Fang tasted the sugary sweetness. His pupils dilated and he swallowed.

  Slam.

  Tiny Fang shuddered.

  Slam.

  Gang forgotten, iPhone dropped, and Tiny Fang scrambled down the bank towards Rebel.

  Trap set.

  “Can you hear me, mate?” Tiny Fang crouched next to Rebel, and I tensed. “What happened?” He gnawed at his lip, caressing his hand over Rebel’s bent wing. “The wankers always hurt—”

  When Rebel surged up, Tiny Fang let out a shocked eep.

  Rebel enveloped the vampire in his wings like he was comforting Tiny Fang on his knee. Yet at the same time, Rebel slipped a leather ball gag around Tiny Fang’s head, forcing it between his snapping fangs, before padlocking it on.

  “I’m sorry, little one,” Rebel muttered, stroking over Tiny Fang’s shaking shoulders.

  Then Rebel shoved the vampire sacrificial off his knee towards me: the gladiator waiting for him. And the vampire was the lion, although one with his jaw wired shut.

  Tiny Fang’s stare at me was confused terror, and back at Rebel sprawled in the snow, outraged betrayal. I didn’t blame him, but I had Rebel to impress. This was my first fight, and no false vampire solidarity would risk me showing Rebel what I’d learned.

  Then Tiny Fang snarled around the ball gag, and his steel nails descended.

  The lion still had his claws.

  Don’t con yourself. This isn’t a fight. It’s an execution.

  The pretty vampire was made for riding, not slaying. Let him go.

  Sometimes, J, bastards are made for both riding and slaying. These beautiful kids are the enemy.

  Humans need saving. I’m training to be strong enough to find my sister and that means right now I’m a vampire hunter, yeah?

  Executing is what I do.

  Executing isn’t something you do. It’s what you are. Do you want to be the destroyer?

  It’s your choice. It always was.

  I swallowed, circling Tiny Fang, slow and predatory.

  The vampire crouched; his dark eyes were assessing. Then he sprang in a slashing whirlwind, faster than I’d even seen Rebel move. I hollered, as his claws carved through my shoulder. I bent over, pressing my hand to the gashes that burned and throbbed like I’d been savaged by a big cat.

  The pain ignited my rage. I couldn’t hold it back.

  I hooked Tiny Fang under the chin, and he staggered, breathing hard through his nose. When Tiny Fang leapt at me again, a pink-and-black doll in the vast white, I twirled out of reach of his claws and booted him in the back. He sprawled into a snowbank, struggling onto his front through the icy chill — a snow vampire — just as I shot fire at his right hand.

  Tiny Fang’s scream was muffled by his gag into a gurgle. Searing flames skipped around his skin like evil fae in the winter night. His claws shriveled back into his knuckles.

  When I swaggered towards Tiny Fang, he shrank back into the snow, as if I was a wrathful god. We stared at each other in silence. Then I unleashed the fire on his left hand.

  Tiny Fang howled, arching from side-to-side. His blackened hands were thrown out on either side of him, stark against the snow.

  Hands and fire.

  Tiny Fang was babbling something desperately through his gag. Begging, pleading, praying?

  It didn’t matter.

  I leaned over Tiny Fang, balancing my hands on either side of his small head. One twist and the bloke’s neck would be… But I hesitated.

  Fury still boiled inside, unsatisfied. Too quick, it whispered, too easy.

  I glanced back at Rebel, who watched from his seat on the bank.

  The Custodian deserved a show.

  I whispered into Tiny Fang’s ear, “Run, pretty vampire.”

  Shocked, Tiny Fang stared at me, before struggling to push up from the crumbling snowbank. Then he stumbled towards the frozen curl of the river.

  I counted to ten, studying my nails, because even a bitch has to give the prey a chance. “Coming, ready or not.”

  The angelic righteousness swelled. I hadn’t expected the buzz and flood of adrenaline. I was high on it, and the chase had only just begun.

  Tiny Fang skidded on the ice, thudding to his knees. I waited until he’d hauled himself to his feet, then I threw a blast at the ice directly underneath him.

  Tiny Fang disappeared into the hole in the ice.

  I sauntered onto the slippery river, over to the jagged hole. Looking down into the river, a pink head surfaced, whilst burned hands scrabbled to hold onto the side and not be swept away.

  When I crouched down and considered him, Tiny Fang’s eyes were wide and pleading.

  This is your choice: Destroyer or savior.

  How is any of this my choice?

  I stroked my hand through Tiny Fang’s soaking hair. “You’re It, pretty vampire.”

  Then I grasped Tiny Fang by his hair and hauled him out of the river.

  Tiny Fang could’ve skewered me. I would’ve skewered me, despite the pain in my hands. But he didn’t. In fact, he even looked grateful, simply lying on the ice, his skin tinged blue by the cold, and shivering.

  I shook my head.

  Then Tiny Fang flung himself onto his stomach and squirmed away, in the feeblest escape attempt that I’d ever seen. Yet it was enough to ignite the vampiric power underneath the angelic, entwining them. I dragged him back by his leg, flipping him onto his back. He shook, whilst I held out his arms, pinning them with my knees. I trailed a flaming finger down his cheek, watching as it left a blistering trail, before I reached to rip open his t-shirt.

  A sudden burst of wind blasted across my face, before a dark shadow swallowed me. Broken out of my violent refuge, I looked up.

  Rebel towered over me. His gaze was coldly furious. “Kill him.”

  Tiny Fang cast Rebel the same look of gratitude that he’d earlier shown me.


  I nodded, crushing Tiny Fang’s throat.

  Crackle — the blaze brightened and then…

  Silence.

  Triumphant, I bounced up. But all joy died, when I caught the disappointment on Rebel’s face.

  “Had a deadly brilliant time tonight then, Feathers?” Rebel’s tone was tight and hard. “Playing your little games?”

  Unsure, I shifted from foot to foot, whilst Rebel dropped to one knee and tenderly closed Tiny Fang’s eyes. “Didn’t you watch? I followed what you taught me. I went for the hands and—”

  “I watched all right.” Rebel gently scattered the herbs over Tiny Fang’s body, like scattering ashes at a funeral, and the vampire burned down to a black stain on the river’s ice. “I watched you enjoy the kill. How it amused you. I watched two monsters in the snow.”

  My breath came in short gasps. The cold suddenly chilled through me; I hugged myself.

  No one had ever been proud of me before. The Bitch of Utopia demanded respect, not pride. But somehow, making Rebel proud of me tonight had mattered.

  And I’d failed.

  How had I got it so wrong?

  I blinked, reddening. “You wanted me to…?”

  “Go for the quick kill.” Rebel stood, wiping his hands down his trousers like he could wipe clean his role in Tiny Fang’s execution. “A hunter brings death to save others. We’re not after getting off on it, or we’ll become monsters too.”

  The explosion burst from me, catching Rebel’s shoulder in a shower of sparks and spinning him back along the ice.

  “What am I?” I howled.

  Rebel panted, whilst his expression softened. “Different. Like me.” He straightened: an angel with a bent wing, still awe-inspiring in his punk bondage disguise. “You wanted to know why the others were hunting us? It’s because we’re different. The gits would call it imperfect or impure. That’s why we can’t be the same as them. We have to be better.”

  When I nodded, he smiled.

  In the hunt, however, there’d been both hurt and control, and I’d craved them both. Yet now the hunt was over, I hated that I’d killed at all.

  Destroyer or savior. That was the true choice. And now I’d had a taste of death, I knew how tempting the thrill was to become the destroyer.