Rebel Angels: The Complete Series

by Rosemary A Johns

  And now he was asking after Rebel?

  I was going to mess him up.

  I unsheathed Flight in one arcing howl. Blinding white burst in glorious flaming wings, before fading, haloed.

  “In the dark,” I growled. “And that’s where I’m putting your traitor arse.”

  “Traitor?” When Wings raised his hand, steel claws shot out of his nails, just as fangs descended from his canines. “That’s a kick in the bollocks.” He tilted his head. “Why don’t you come with us? Stop the battle. Save the babbies. And…” He fluttered his eyelashes, smiling around his fangs, even as his stare was killer-hard. “Enjoy the loving of a real fella for once.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at Eah, who was grasping onto Star like a comfort blanket, amongst the army of teenagers. I took one wary step towards Wings, only to be wrenched back by Drake’s arm around my waist.

  “Imagine the babbies,” Drake whispered fiercely into my ear, “without their heads.”

  I shivered. “She wouldn’t—”

  “She’s watching. And she would kill us all if it amused her.”

  Did you forget, my daughter? Now, time to play. Three, two, one…

  As if they could hear the Matriarch’s signal as well, the angelic army rose into the night sky.

  And dived.

  Screams, hollers, bellows.

  Blasts of violet, white, and gold.

  Flames dazzling lit the night, in spitting arcs of sizzling death. Shanks, swords, and axes. Violet butterfly wings sparred with moth-gray. Fangs and claws bit and slashed.

  Crimson painted bodies built in mounds: my mountain of feathers and bones, where I was both savior and destroyer, the Beginning and the End.

  Eah disappeared amidst the chaos, although I could see the star flashes of the shank that I’d lent her, hacking through the vampires.

  The bitch was doing me proud.

  Still no sign of Ash…

  I spun, slicing off another bastard’s head with Flight who’d heated to a lava intensity and whined furiously. I watched for Drake’s cue, twisting to the right towards the London Planes, before blocking an alpha prick of a vampire in black leathers and red-dyed hair.

  Leathers had been poised to leap on a huddled gang of Wings who were already bleeding. I snatched him by the lapels, twirling him round, before sticking out my leg and tripping him over my ankle.

  Leathers landed on the grass with a groan.

  I glanced at Drake, who’d split himself with some freaky head magic into multiple copies, as if he’d been cloned, to draw attention onto himself — and away from the kids.

  Each clone dripped bloody from a split lip, with purpling eyes swelled in bruised face. Still they didn’t stop sweeping their wings like steel fists.

  Drake might be Rebel’s jailer and the Matriarch’s Wing but he had skills.

  When Anpiel knelt by a Glory whose throat had been torn out, violet glowed from her fingers, knitting the skin back together again.

  Drake wasn’t the only one with skills.

  Then I shrieked.

  Leathers had sunk his steel nails into my calf and was using my leg to help himself stand.

  Hell, no.

  I tried to shake Leathers off, but he clung on with his claws.

  Suddenly, a war cry, like something out of Peter Pan, and the previously cringing Wings leapt onto the vampire’s back, battering him with their little fists.

  I grinned. “Don’t mess with the Monster Princess and her boys.”

  Then Eah’s shriek echoed across the park, “Feathers, please, Feathers…”

  I yanked back my leg, puncturing oozing holes, before I staggered towards the yell.

  An albino Fallen, who owned Ash and had dragged him back to the vampires in our last battle, had Eah shanked on his long claws in front of him like a broken puppet. Eah shuddered, as crimson dribbled from the corner of her mouth, but she still clutched Star.

  I stumbled towards her, lost to the anarchic clamor and sweet copper blood of the battle in my own tunneled daze.

  Flight trembled.

  Albino’s white hair swung to his waist. He raised Eah higher; her legs twitched.

  Eah’s gaze met mine: hope. Because Eah saw me and reckoned that I’d save her.

  Because I was the one who’d lied to her.

  I hollered, leaping towards Albino. But then screamed, as claws sliced into my back, pinning me, just like Eah.

  Leathers licked along my neck. “I wonder if you’re as sweet as the Seducer says?”

  Ash? Did Ash talk about me? Was he forced to? Or had I been wrong to trust him?

  Yet even through the pain, I thrilled to hear that Ash was alive, even if I’d die.

  Albino’s fangs gleamed in the light of the wild moon. The hoops in his ears sparkled. And then he snapped Eah’s neck.

  I wailed, booting back against Leathers.

  When Leathers’ claws sank in further, I gasped. My back slicked with blood, bonding my dress to my armor in a warm gush.

  These bastards could stick their ancient wars, schisms, and feuds. Kids were killed in the crossfire of their parents’ games.

  Somehow, if I survived, I’d find a way to stop it.

  Albino tossed Eah’s corpse off his claws like old food caught between his teeth, and Star tumbled as lifeless as the tiny hand that it fell from.

  I snarled, still skewered by Leathers; he pressed deeper. I knew that if I faded into the inviting dark, I’d never wake up again. I’d just be another dead body, scarlet-clawed like Eah.

  A reject.

  Because there were only two choices: survive or die.

  8

  Once, in the apartment block hell of Utopia Estate, I’d been just one kid soldier, high on the power of the shank and gang at my back.

  Until one day…?

  That power had been turned on me.

  And now?

  True kid soldiers had been marched to war and for a second time, as I stared out over the trammeled chaos of London Fields, I was powerless.

  Drizzle teared from the moon-drowned sky, hiding the wetness that wept silent down my cheeks.

  Leathers shoved his claws deeper into me, and I shuddered. My hands edged to my sides, slippery around Flight’s hilt; I held onto my sword by my fingertips.

  Would it be so bad…to let go?

  Just like little fingers had dropped Star. Little fingers dead on the grass.

  Spinning, spinning, spinning…

  Down into a dark tunnel.

  Enough.

  Life and death are a cycle, my daughter, but this is not your time.

  Please, J, I… Cheers for everything. Please believe at least that I love you. You’re—

  And who’s J?

  Hell.

  My befuddled mind snapped to attention.

  A mate. Ignore me, I always suck the crazy juice when I’m about to get ganked.

  You have so much to learn of your talents. Because you’re not. The enemy are.

  The claws through my back say different.

  Truly? Then let me make it simple. If you die, your army will dance in the flames with you.

  By my wing, I’ll burn every. Last. Child.

  And that’s when it hit: the righteousness.

  A roaring burst of ancient power exploded through me, lashing me with the strength of a whirlwind. It awoke me from the blood loss, pain, and grief of Eah’s death.

  If I didn’t defeat the vampires, Eah’s wouldn’t be the only corpse. Every tin soldier would be thrown onto the flames.

  Then coherent thought was lost in the seething coils that clouded my eyes, filled my nostrils, and pounded in my ears.

  My fingers closed around Flight’s whining hilt, ignoring the heat that scolded my palm. I thrust my boot back against Leathers’ thigh. Leathers startled, as I used the pressure to push myself off his claws with a squelch, no longer feeling the pain or the sticky crimson spurt down my dress. I tipped forward off his claws, shaking with chest thuddin
g rage.

  Leathers backed up, holding his hands in front of him like you’d ward off a rabid dog.

  I swept Flight around, arcing out pure winged fire.

  Leathers screamed and then gurgled, as fizzing feathers sliced through his throat. He clutched his charred neck, before collapsing.

  I twirled to Albino, only to see the back of his long black coat; he’d already been swallowed, safe behind the gray winged wall of fighters.

  I howled, amidst that night of shrieking terrors, at the cowering moon.

  And then…?

  The world flooded to violet.

  When a shadowy silence seeped back — a blood-red tinging the London Plane trees with the dawn’s birth pangs — I blinked.

  Then I hurled.

  I stood, clasping both Flight and Star, in a blackened circle of corpses. Their bodies were beheaded. Their wings and hands chopped off. And the sky above was stained dove-gray with fleeing vampires.

  I sheathed both weapons, wiping my sleeve across my mouth, whilst my stomach was still roiling, before I noticed the armor on my sleeve was no longer gold. It’d been tarnished to bronze by blood.

  And not mine.

  I only just stopped myself hurling a second time.

  What had I bastard done?

  Rebel had taught me to kill only to save and not for sport. That if I didn’t control the monster, I’d become as bad as the monsters that we hunted.

  I guess he’d been right.

  When I turned, I tripped over a broken body…and came face-to-face with Wings.

  Hell, I’d slaughtered Rebel’s only remaining relative: his brother. It didn’t matter if I ever rescued Rebel from the dark now, he’d hate me. Because I knew that I’d kill Rebel if he ever hurt my sister.

  I reached out to touch Wings’ shattered cheekbone; a shard of bone stuck out, silver in the moonlight. His wings were curled around his shattered body, but at least his neck and head were intact.

  Please, let him still be alive…

  Although, I drew in a breath when I brushed my knuckles over what remained of Wings’ blackened wrists.

  I’d taken Rebel’s brother’s hands, just like Harahel’s had been taken. Would Wings, if he survived, also be reduced to the ranks of the Imperfect?

  Drake, as bedraggled and beaten as I probably looked (but I was certain more of the scarlet on him was his own blood), crouched next to me. Relief washed through me that he was alive and not injured like Wings.

  “Princess,” Drake touched my chin, tilting me towards him, assessing the damage with tender efficiency, “you fight most honorably.” He looked down. “Yet I fear that you shall need to learn control, or you will be the greatest danger. To all sides.”

  I pulled away from him. “Did you want me to save your arses or not?”

  Drake’s brow furrowed. “Who said that we needed you to fight alone, Queen of Egos?”

  “The Matriarch said—”

  Drake simply raised an eyebrow.

  I gaped. “The bitch just played me.”

  Drake’s smile was cool. “Who’s the clown now?”

  I groaned. “She threatened to burn the kids if I…” Drake stiffened, furling his wings around himself. “Did she use the same trick on you?”

  Drake nodded. “It’s a weakness that she discovered. In a game, you must know another’s loves, so that you can turn them against your opponent.”

  I studied Drake. “Why do you care about these little soldiers?”

  His gaze darkened, and his hands clasped hard in his lap. “Why do you?”

  I gripped his hands between mine; he flinched. But then, his knuckles did normally end up crunched. Instead, I stroked over them, until they relaxed between mine. “I’m not busting your balls. But why’d my mum bluff about the kid ganking? Just to wind me up and wait for the boom?”

  “Bluffing?” Drake blinked, whilst his thumb traced circles over the back of my hand. “Queen Miniel never bluffs.” I blanched. “Her power is to poison love: to know the words to whisper, inflame to hate or fury. She played on your love to mold you to her will. To become her killer.”

  I ripped my hand away from Drake’s, stumbling to my feet. “Keep your bitch mouth shut. I’m no one’s toy destroyer.”

  “Lie.” Drake moaned as he pushed himself up to his feet, swaying. He clutched his arm across a deep slash that seeped from his guts. “Now, allow me to execute the Fallen’s Commander.” He toed Wings’ ribs with his bare foot. “A certain Addict should direct his…ire…at only one of us.”

  He glanced away, but I didn’t miss the pain in his eyes, almost like it distressed him to be hated by Rebel, as well as to hurt him like this.

  Before Drake could snap Wings’ neck, I shoved him back. “Let’s not direct Rebel’s bastard ire at either of us. How about we don’t break his punk heart?”

  To my surprise, Drake nodded. “As you wish, princess.”

  When he touched my forehead, intently staring into my eyes, I frowned. Then I realized what he was warning me: The Matriarch was watching.

  What did I care about my own arse? But Drake…? He’d just signed himself up for a session beetle-pinned in my mum’s chambers by letting Wings live. But had he done it for me, or for Rebel?

  “That’s an order, Commander.” I dragged Drake away from the circle of corpses. And away from Wings. It might not work, but at least I could try and save Drake from the Matriarch’s punishment. “The sort of thing you have to follow because I’m a princess, you get me?”

  Drake tried to hide his smile behind his hand. “I would never dream of ignoring an order.”

  Lie: genie boy was big brother bossy.

  As soon as Drake and I marched out of the scorched circle, Battle and Anpiel swooped above our heads. A violet tornado, our surviving army flew around them.

  More than I’d ever hoped would live.

  Cheering, whooping, chanting.

  “Monster Princess, Monster Princess, Monster Princess…”

  Like I was the hero of the midnight hour.

  I was the Monster Princess but I was no hero.

  Day Two of the dare, and I’d been conned into becoming the weapon the Matriarch wanted, even if I’d saved Drake’s kid army.

  I gazed down at my rust-colored leathers. I wasn’t the warrior of my computer games, shooting up to perfection.

  I was the dark reflection.

  The drizzle had turned to rain, stinging against my cheeks and plastering my hair against my head; I shivered.

  I’m proud to have a daughter who has flown so truly today.

  Proud?

  I hugged my arms across my chest, staring blankly at the swooping angels above my head, who giggled and played, as if they were at a birthday party, rather than a battlefield.

  All my life, I’d craved that one word.

  To have — someone — proud of me.

  You can become greater than the specters haunting your dreams.

  You can have everything and everyone you wish.

  You can stand above the world and own it.

  You are mine, baby bird, and you are the new power.

  Proud? I have never experienced such pride.

  I flushed.

  And finally, I got it.

  Why Rebel had allowed his adopted witch family to hurt him. Because at least they’d loved him — had been proud of him — enough to notice what he’d done. Even if that had meant the crack of a thrashing.

  That was all sorts of wrong, but it didn’t mean that I didn’t get its false pull. Because my mum’s honeyed words were trapping me now.

  So, dare’s off? I’m all proved up?

  I never change a game, and we said seven days. If you lose, you die. Those are the stakes.

  Cheers for the heads up, Mother of the Year.

  As you’ve flown in my shadow, however, let’s make it more interesting.

  How about we don’t?

  You’ve proved yourself worthy of training for the Warrior Trials. My pe
ople bow down before a Queen of Love, not a monster. If you pass the trials, they’ll worship you as a Warrior Princess.

  You start tomorrow.

  Before you Xena me up, Trial is kicking off alarm bells.

  Will I be locked in a dungeon with Big Bads? Or naked in a maze with feral goats? Little help here?

  “The Matriarch’s talking to you?” Drake fastidiously wiped off a streak of blood, which streamed down his cheek in the rain. “I am to suffer, am I not?”

  “Not everything’s about you, Goldilocks.”

  He huffed. “But everything is about you?”

  I shrugged. “What’s a kickass bitch to do?”

  “I prefer not to answer that,” Drake muttered, “for my own wellbeing.”

  “Good call, bro, especially as you’ll soon have a Warrior Princess on your arse.”

  Drake spun, clutching my arms hard enough to make me gasp. “The Matriarch has begun your Trials?”

  I nodded, struggling back from him. “Why the freak-out?”

  “Be still,” he commanded harshly. Shocked, I relaxed in his grip. “No creature who is not pure angel has taken the Trials and survived. They are your foulest nightmare. Even amongst the angels…” He pulled me close, smoothing his hands down my back. “You’ll die.”

  I pulled Drake closer, allowing him to pet me.

  The rain smacked my sore shoulders, striking out of a scarlet-flamed sky.

  Even though I’d survived the battle, it prickled through me in terrifying violet flashes, that tomorrow the war had only just begun.

  Because Drake’s trembling, unexpected hug spoke louder than his shocked words.

  For a half vampire like me, the Warrior Trials were geared to kill.

  9

  The day after the battle was like waking up with a killer hangover after the compulsory Christmas office party and still having to go in to work.

  And how screwed sideways was this princess gig, when now I missed hangovers?

  I groaned, resting my head in my arms, as I curled up on the library’s dusty floor.