Rebel Angels: The Complete Series

by Rosemary A Johns

  What the hell had I done?

  I stared out over the hungry, amused expressions of the Glories. The Matriarch’s arms tightened around me.

  The Mage studied Drake. “Duma, all these years have you been terrified that I rejected you — reducing you to Marked Wing — because of that?”

  Drake gave a tight nod. When the Mage stepped towards him, he flinched. Yet the Mage only traced the back of his knuckles down his son’s cheek.

  Please, don’t, bastard don’t…

  I knew, however, before the Mage opened his mouth again that even if it was payback for both Rebel and me, it’d be too high a price.

  “You’re wrong. It was because you were unworthy to be used as anything else.” Drake gasped, as the Mage lifted his chin. “A disappointment.”

  Crack — the Mage slapped Drake, hard enough to drive him to his knees.

  The Matriarch slipped her hand into Drake’s hair, petting his curls; I shuddered at the blank look in his eyes.

  I hadn’t known, up until that moment, what I’d say before the whole of Angel World. Now, no matter what the Mage’s punishment, I was spitting the truth. Because Drake was paid up. If he had the balls to face his dad, then I owed it to all of them.

  “Cheers for the warm up act.” I slipped free of the Matriarch’s wings, sauntering to the front of the circle. “Your spell caster here reckoned that I should give you a little pep talk.” The Mage’s smile froze, brittle. “Whoops, sorry, was that all top secret and crap? It kind of went blah, blah power blah, blah Legion, blah, blah punishment.”

  Chortles, whispers, and the beat of wings.

  The Mage had blanched; his lips were pinched.

  I swaggered around the circle, working the Glories. “Since I’ve been trapped with your angelic arses, all you do is fight for dominance and who can abuse it. What freaks me out? I’m as bad a bitch as any of you.” I glanced back at Drake. His gaze was brighter. “For twenty-one years with the humans, I had no power, except that which I stole with a shank. An orphaned freak with one black and one violet eye.” With a shudder, I lifted up my sunglasses, before staring defiantly at the Glories.

  There was a burst of excited chatter.

  “Take a good look, bitches. Because I’m the monster. I won’t follow your rules, and this is the start of a new era because I’m your rebel princess.”

  I panted, grinning into the dark.

  I hadn’t expected ecstatic applause but the deadly silence was a downer.

  I slowly turned back to the Mage, sinking from the high in a sickening rush. The Mage scrutinized me like a snake does its prey.

  I was bastard dead.

  The Matriarch tilted her head, as if she’d not fully examined me before. “Precious, baby bird. Whatever would we do if anything happened to our perfect weapon?”

  Mafia-style threat. But was it directed at me? Or the Mage?

  Drake dragged his curls away from the Matriarch’s hand, yelping as she pulled on the chains, and dived towards me. He hauled me by the hand out of the training circle. “Run, rebel princess!”

  I stumbled after Drake, glancing over my shoulder at the Mage.

  The Matriarch’s hand rested on his shoulder, holding him back, even as his wings flamed in terrifying vengeance.

  Yet the Mage was the true Emperor. He had enough juice to control even the Matriarch. And I’d just declared war.

  19

  The power of invisibility was an epic superpower that I’d always desired.

  It turned out it was Commander Drake — disappointment to his father, bed slave to my mother, and prick to me — who had the skills.

  Drake and I stumbled into my chambers to the whining fury of the mauve crystals. Then Drake shoved me down onto the nest.

  The haunting music of the Imperfect started up again like violins played over a thumping beat; my party was back in full swing.

  Had the Mage followed us?

  I fell into the soft pile with a flutter of feathers, breathing hard. My skin had been rubbed raw under my bird dress. All I needed were bastard eggs, and I’d be broody.

  Drake paced in a tight circle, wringing his hands. “You are a fool… And even if my hair is girlie like this…” He wrenched at the chains in his curls, tinkling the bells on his purpling chest. “…it makes you…” He pointed a quivering finger at me, and I noticed his gold nail varnish, “…no less foolish.”

  “I just spat in the top boy’s face in front of a world that kisses his Voldemort arse. So, what are we running from? Death by psycho spell lobber? Or are we talking something more traditional?”

  “You,” Drake lifted his pale eyebrow, “are facing death. I’ll merely be punished.”

  “Wouldn’t want to risk your pretty little nips, harem boy.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “You have no idea. My father is an excellent tactician. You won’t know of his attack until it happens. Or maybe he’ll simply leave the Warrior Trials to claim your life. Why defy Queen Miniel, when she sends her own daughter to her death?”

  I spluttered.

  Then Rebel and Gwyn darted into the chambers in a whirl of frantic questions, apple fragrance, and sparkles.

  Drake grabbed Rebel by the throat, dangling him on his toes. “Why do you keep invading my dreams, Zachriel?”

  Rebel lay limp in his grasp but he rasped, “Why do you invade my nightmares, Commander?”

  Suddenly, Drake hurled Rebel onto me; I fell back with a startled oomph. Drake toppled Gwyn more gently over us both like bowling pins. I peered through the gaps in their wings.

  Violet tendrils wound around us, shimmering in a shield, before they bled into the air.

  Invisible.

  “Be silent,” Drake hissed, backing against the cupboard. “Lest you be discovered.”

  He forced himself to an unnatural stillness; he’d weakened himself to concentrate on shielding us.

  Could he only hide others?

  Then I heard the footsteps thundering towards my chambers.

  A gang of Legions, led by Nathanael, stormed in like they were out for a drunken lynching.

  Yeah, mine.

  They fanned out, booting my cushions across the ground, knocking my platter clattering, and barging Drake into the corner, trapping him.

  Drake’s knees buckled, and he held himself up against the wall.

  Maybe invisibility wasn’t such a bitching power.

  “Not so brave, Brother in the Phoenix, now that daddy’s home,” Nathanael sneered like a lord chastising his servant, “and we all learn your true worth.”

  Nathanael wasn’t sniveling anymore; I’d shanked Drake’s position in the Legion.

  “What do you wish, Nathanael?” Drake asked resignedly. “You try my patience.”

  “Where’s the princess?”

  “The Mage has given no orders to kill her yet. Do you think I don’t know his thoughts well enough? Or do you intend to impress him with her head?”

  Nathanael clutched Drake’s nipple chain and yanked. Drake howled, scrabbling at the wall behind him. The kids, drunk on their new power over the Commander, closed around him.

  Rebel stiffened. His gaze searched out mine, as he shifted to rise. Despite quivering with distress myself at Drake’s pain, I shook my head carefully. The Legion were Drake’s gang, after all.

  Yet it surprised me that Rebel would be prepared to help Drake, even though Drake was helping us.

  “Did I not tell you that I’d enjoy listening to your howls?” Nathanael tugged harder. Beside me, Rebel winced in sympathy. “You cannot even follow orders to keep close to the Bastard of the Fallen. Maybe I shall recommend to the Mage that your tiny penis be removed, along with your tiny wings?”

  Giggles.

  Dick insults: angelic teenagers couldn’t resist the same as human kids.

  Except, had that been the threat? That if Drake didn’t get close to me, he’d lose his wings? So, why did it shank that he’d been keeping a secret? That he’d been betra
ying me?

  When I shuddered, both Rebel and Gwyn wound their arms around me.

  Nathanael clouted Drake in the guts, and he collapsed on his side.

  “Report to Legion chambers tomorrow.” Nathanael tutted. “We would break you, if we fully chastised you tonight.”

  I held still, as the gang trooped out of the chambers.

  At last, the tendrils shivered to life again around us before fading and dropping away; my geekery flipped into overdrive.

  Then Rebel was bouncing up and darting to Drake.

  I flailed about in the feathery dress before I could stagger after him. “You’re a spy, harem britches?”

  Drake didn’t even attempt to push himself up. He didn’t look like he could’ve if Nathanael had come back to drag him to chastisement. “Surprise!” He gave a ghost of a smile.

  Rebel ducked down to Drake, who shied away, banging his head against the crystal corner. “You’ve been watching over the princess?”

  Drake looked down and swallowed; his hands clenched in his lap. “I’m her guard, Zachriel,” he said softly, “just as I was your jailer. I regret that I was under orders to spy for the Legion.”

  He flinched back again, but Rebel only nodded.

  “Thanks for protecting her, whilst I was in tatters.”

  Drake cocked his head, and I knew that I was missing something in the way their gazes met. “I never professed to be any good at it. Now, help me up. I shall need to return to my room and rest: brutal torture in the morning. Excuse me.”

  When Drake slipped past me, I called out, “There’s no way you have a tiny dick because what you did today took massive balls. And kinky as it’ll now sound, you haven’t disappointed me.”

  Drake gave a curt nod. “Sleep, princess, tomorrow shall not be easy for any of us, I fear.”

  Buzz kill.

  In the morning, I blinked awake to the sharp light. My head pounded, and I hadn’t even drunk those tequila shots. Slumping back in the feathers, I swept my tongue around my dry mouth.

  Yet something felt…wrong. Like it was missing.

  At least Gwyn had stripped me out of the bird dress last night; nudist was becoming my thing.

  Gwyn…who was pacing in a tight circle the same as Drake had been last night. Except, without the curls, wings, and nipple clamps. His small face scrunched up like he was about to burst into tears.

  “What’s with the dawn dramatics?” Hell, I needed that shot already.

  Gwyn paused mid-step.

  The white-haired Broken hadn’t known that I’d been awake yet. And he didn’t wear guilty well.

  He shifted from foot to foot. “Carry on, you, everything’s fine.”

  “Don’t ever play strip poker. Now try again without the fat fib.”

  Gwyn fell to his knees. “I’m sorry, princess, please, I only—”

  Violet curled at his cringing fear. I pushed down hard on the frustration.

  “Don’t you know me better yet?” I brushed my fingers through his silky hair. He leaned into me. “What’s the word on the street?”

  “Zachriel,” Gwyn murmured. I startled. Why hadn’t I noticed his punk arse wasn’t still nestled next to mine? And why wasn’t I bastard surprised? “He said that I didn’t need to do all the work no more. That he was no different to me and should take on more of my duties. I told him he was wrong because I was only a Broken,” he finished in a frantic rush. I kissed him gently, and he calmed. Then he dipped his head, adding, “So, I told him about your morning chocolate—”

  “It’s called breakfast, nutritionally challenged elf.”

  “B-breakfast. And he went to collect it, isn’t it?”

  “Not seeing the problem.”

  Gwyn cast me an anxious glance. “He never came back.”

  I shoved myself upright in a cloud of feathers. “He’ll have been distracted by something shiny; he’s an Irish magpie.”

  Gwyn nodded, but I caught it: the deception.

  When I tilted his chin, I let the stern bitch out to play. “Princess or your new best mate: choose.”

  He met my hard gaze. “We toys hear things seeing as Glories talk as if we’re invisible. I searched for Zachriel and I couldn’t find him. But I heard… They’re blaming him, see, for what you said last night. That a Son of the Fallen has corrupted the princess.”

  Had Rebel been snatched as reprisal for my speech? Or by the Mage?

  I clasped Gwyn’s chin so tightly that he eeped. Then I soothed the bruise in apology. “What aren’t you still telling me?”

  “I don’t know nothing I don’t, not for certain. But toys don’t lie to each other. We don’t keep secrets. It’s a code between us seeing as we have no one else to trust. And I don’t trust Zachriel.”

  Rage rushed through me wildfire, shocking me awake.

  I tumbled Gwyn back in a wide-eyed heap, leaping for my silk dress. Slipping it over my head, I growled.

  Suits you better than your party frock. Costume department at Mad Max have called and they need it back.

  Stick it, J. Punk boy’s missing, and I have to go find his arse.

  Missing? How many times has the punk run from you again? Or run…period?

  That’s messed up. He wouldn’t abandon me.

  Like you wouldn’t force him to kneel? Or Mark him?

  You’ve been showboating your power over his Irish arse from the moment that you pulled him out of the dark.

  Last night he said that he was wrong to ask me to escape.

  Oh, girl, and that didn’t ring the suspicious bells?

  He’ll have bastard gone to rescue Ash. They’re escaping without me. Leaving me here alone.

  I dragged on my knee-high boots in violent jerks, blinded by tears.

  When I felt Gwyn’s tentative hand on my shoulder, I shrugged it off. “Stay here.”

  I stormed out of my chambers to catch an angel.

  I crouched against the wall in the cave that glowed sea green with gem stones.

  I shuddered in the dank freeze, wrapping my arms around myself, before edging across the slippery ground.

  I soared on my righteous rage. It narrowed the world to flames. And the cold intent of a predator.

  The crashing waterfalls fizzed: ten spitting mouths foaming over the sparkling walls and thundering onto the rocks below. And Rebel, soaked under the water of the closest fall, hidden behind a rock.

  The wallad had no idea that he was being hunted.

  Rebel peered in the opposite direction, down a thin stone bridge that led over a chasm to an archway high above. His trousers were transparent in the wet, no longer in his pretty whore outfit from my ceremony; his hair was plastered down by the water.

  Pale, shivering, and beautiful.

  I’d marched down to the cells, flying on a toxic mix of fear and betrayal, to stop an escape attempt and save Rebel.

  The cells, however, had been guarded and quiet. Yet the stench of copper candy with something off that made me gag had drawn me into a corridor I hadn’t seen before.

  The corridor had wound deeper, until like in the hunts with Drake, I’d been crawling through gaps in the crystal walls and clambering down rock faces.

  Then I’d discovered it: this waterfall cavern. And Rebel, hiding behind a boulder in the spray.

  Was he waiting for someone? To plot or meet…a lover?

  My breath caught.

  Hell, why hadn’t I even thought of it before? Rebel had visited Angel World for centuries. Of course he wanted to see those he’d lost.

  I bent over, clutching my guts. Lights zigzagged through my temples. My heart pounded in my chest.

  Silently, I drew Flight.

  Then I stalked through the water, which pounded on my head and shoulders, weeping down my face until I could barely see.

  I wasn’t bastard crying.

  I pressed the blade’s tip against the back of Rebel’s neck. He stiffened, before slowly standing at the urging of my sword. His skin nicked; the blood snaked away
under the spray.

  “I know that it’s you, Feathers,” Rebel’s voice wavered; his poker face was no better than Gwyn’s. “Will you put away your sword. Then you can eat my head off for being a muppet.”

  “Turn around.”

  He shuffled around with Flight still at his throat. His mascara had run in black tears, and he shook in uncontrollable tremors. When I whacked him across the cheek with the flat of my blade, he cried out, sprawling across the boulder.

  “Secrets.” I sheathed Flight, before pressing Rebel against the boulder with my boot. “I reckoned that we’d had our little chat about why angels didn’t disrespect with lies and secrets.”

  “I wasn’t doing a flit.” Rebel raised his hands to grasp my boot that pressed against his ribs but didn’t push it away.

  “I’d be on the believe bus with you if you weren’t hiding here all dodgy.”

  “I’m a bad angel but I’m no snake.” He shifted. “I was searching for someone.”

  Fire sizzled around my boot, before I could stop it, and Rebel yelped.

  “The type of someone you snog?” I ground my burning heel into his chest. “Shag?” The flames licked brighter. “Kneel for?”

  With an effort, I pulled back my boot.

  Rebel slumped to the ground; water beat against his bowed back. I stared down at him. I hardly noticed the candy copper wrongness. Now that the violet and black had died down, I was hollow.

  Empty.

  “Wise up! This is what the Mage wants: to divide us,” Rebel panted.

  “Why do we need the Mage? You’re doing it all yourself. Is that why you’re playing at mates with Gwyn? Because you’re in love with a toy?” I demanded.

  Rebel raised his head, and for the first time, his eyes sparked. “Don’t use that word.”

  “Toy?” My lip curled. “This isn’t my bastard world. Or are you blaming me…?”

  “Dry up. I’m not blaming you, princess, but you are blind.”

  I blinked the water out of my eyes; Rebel had straightened, no longer curled around his scorched chest. “I can see that you’re still hiding something. When’s your next betrayal?”

  Rebel recoiled. His whole body shook with devastated shock. I wished that I could take back the words. But I couldn’t.