Rebel Angels: The Complete Series

by Rosemary A Johns

  You found a bloke’s weakness and you shanked him sharp.

  And he’d found mine.

  I wasn’t my dad’s enforcer, here to mete out his punishments. I was his daughter, yet he wouldn’t even see me. That was my weakness, not Mischief’s magic.

  Me against a toy unicorn? Hell, I’d pay to see that fight.

  Misrule reluctantly nodded, amidst catcalls.

  I dropped Mischief, and by the time that he’d hit the floor he was back to his angelic self.

  He ran his hand through his hair, smoothing it back, before holding out his wings. “Go on then, exact your blood revenge on the loser.”

  Instinctively, my hand dropped to the leather necklace of fangs around my neck: one pulled from every vampire that I’d beaten. I rolled my eyes. “Color you dramatic.”

  Mischief winced, as I plucked a gray feather from his wing, before hissing, “Despite all, you’re tamed.”

  I shrugged, slipping his feather behind my ear jauntily. “And you’re a prick.”

  Yet somehow the silky feel of his feather felt right…like it belonged. Or Mischief did.

  When Misrule gripped Mischief by the hair, hauling him to the corner of the Cage, I instantly missed Mischief’s snarky arse almost as much as I was relieved that the battle was over. I sagged. At last, I could return to my bedroom — cell — and…

  Misrule held up his arms again. “A double feature!” I shook, whilst my legs buckled: the bastards. “Let us welcome the Seducer. Once the fiercest warrior amongst us, the Seducer is now owned by the fiercest warriors amongst us.” A burst of laughter from the vampires, who’d thronged around the Cage; their grins were feral, and their black eyes sparked. I trembled both with rage and fear because I hadn’t seen the Seducer — Ash — since he’d betrayed me into the hands of the vampires. Yet he was also family; he’d fought by my side and knelt for me. How the hell could I battle him, when I didn’t know if I wanted to kill or save him? “Bet on the bones. Then let the battle cleanse with pain!”

  Skulls dropped from the roof at each corner, swinging with human blood: a fortune.

  They wanted us to bastard kill each other.

  Clank — the side pulled up, and Ash limped into the cage.

  Naked.

  His olive skin was paler than normal and purpled with bruises. His ribs showed clearly enough to be counted like he’d been starved. Had he even been fed since we’d been brought here?

  Ash didn’t raise his head to meet my gaze. I stared at him.

  Bastard look at me.

  Instead, he scrutinized the grime on his bare feet. Until fires, as bright as the spotlight, blazed in the corners of the Cage. Then he swooped at me, holding me close.

  Despite my confusion, a sense of safety and home cocooned me, as his clove-fragranced wings did. He was quivering; little tremors ran through his body. I stroked my hands down his spine: each bone jutted out.

  “Bet,” Ash whispered. At last, his gaze found out mine, and I caught my breath at the desperation, which made his eyes gleam. “I bet that I can beat you, Violet. And if I do, you give me all your winnings from tonight and now on.”

  I frowned. “Cool it, gambling-900. This is what you want to say to me?”

  He swallowed. “I’m sorry—”

  “Now you’re on the approved apology tracks.”

  “…But I can’t do the whole getting us dragged into the Under World drama thing, gorgeous. We bet, we fight. You probably kick my arse.”

  I pouted. “You’ve derailed. Apology crash alert.” I stroked the back of his neck with my fingers. Why did we have to be here, under the spotlight and forced to fight? “So, what do I get if I win?”

  Ash stiffened, drawing back from me; I instantly missed the warmth of his wings. “Me — to punish for the night.” It was my turn to stiffen. “And there it is, the apology. Burn me, cleanse me, kill me. Your chance to…punish the traitor.” Then he murmured, dropping his gaze, “How else will you forgive me?”

  I shoved him away. “Who says that you get to be forgiven?”

  Clatter.

  I jumped back, as weapons dropped from the roof like screwed up confetti: swords, axes, and shanks.

  They were serious about us getting down to business.

  “Then I guess I am sorry because this is our Fight Club moment.” Ash raised a leather crossbow, which had fallen at his feet. It flamed with a hissing arrow.

  My eyes widened; the pulse in my throat pounded.

  Ash aimed, before firing the blazing bolt at my head.

  2

  I might have once been the angels’ princess, but now I was Mistress of the Cage. And the Geek Fang should’ve been kissing my violet leather boots…not firing flaming bolts at me.

  I twisted to the side, grimacing as I knocked my wrist clanging against the bars. When the bolt grazed my wing, searing the feathers, I howled.

  A roar, gasps, cheers.

  My vampire audience outside in the chamber drove themselves into a fanboy frenzy over the challenger to their Champion.

  I panted: hell, Game On.

  Violet and black blasted in twin volcanoes: angelic and vampiric side united in their fury to punish the bastard who’d dared damage my new wings, which had only been birthed on the night that I’d flown from Angel World.

  I growled, glaring at Ash across the heat of the Cage. He’d frozen, staring at the crossbow as if he’d never seen it before. And just as I wanted to boot him in the balls, so I wanted to push back his sable mane and snog him until I’d calmed the clamoring inside to claim him as mine. Eighty-eight fights was too long to be without him.

  Too long alone.

  My family and I had all been pawns in Angel World’s twisted sports. Yet I’d rejected my mum, power, and the Crown for Ash…and he’d been playing me, before betraying me and my angel blokes to the vampires.

  He’d bet a night of punishment, hungering to get down with the whip and hairshirt look?

  Ash had better prepare himself for penance Hackney-style.

  Except, as Ash chucked the crossbow to the side, and his charcoal eyes sparked, he was the panther ready to strike.

  I sprang at him with a high kick, but he caught it, twisting me around. I scratched at his chest, gouging crimson lines, but he clung on, forcing me down. His mouth was set in a grim line; I’d never seen him fight like this. Panic shot through me in icy tendrils.

  “I thought that you only fought for me,” I gritted out.

  Ash ground his elbow into my throat. “Funny thing, Violet, I begged you to kill me. You? Told me to go back and kneel for the Fangs. Went back, knelt, fangs.” His teeth lengthened, as his lips ghosted across mine. “Why didn’t you kill me?”

  Bones and blood. Bones and blood. Bones and blood.

  I shivered. I hadn’t realized how freaky that tribal chant was until I was the poor bitch about to be turned into chunky salsa.

  Tingles raced through my fingers, but my violet fire wouldn’t ignite. Why wouldn’t my powers work?

  Ash tore back my armor; his hands shook. “I can make you fly. I’m…different. I won’t drink because your blood is precious, but we’re the performing lions: I’ll have to savage. Look, I wish that I could be the hero but I’ve been stripped and spoiled, until there’s nothing left.” He licked down my neck. “This won’t hurt.”

  He kissed my throat; his fangs grazed my skin.

  “I bet you say that to all the girls, Seducer,” I hissed.

  Ash flinched. Why the hell did I still hate it that he flinched?

  Let’s go: it’s violet time, J. Or I’ll be the carcass safari-style.

  And the Mistress of the Cage becomes Mistress of Scaredy-cat City! All it took was rebellion in the ranks.

  Let me read you some realness: your powers only work with righteousness. And what’s righteous about curb stamping your dad’s enemies?

  It’s a fair fight. I’m like a prize boxer, yeah?

  And I’m Mary Poppins, and you’re battling Dick
van Dyke.

  Then Dick Van Dyke has bitching long teeth.

  The king is training you. But it’s not your fighting that he’s soldier drilling, it’s your loyalty.

  How many vampire fangs will you claim for pots of blood?

  Ash hesitated with his lips pressed against my throat; my pulse fluttered against his mouth.

  Bones and blood. Bones and blood. Bones and blood.

  Squirming, I reached for an ivory shank that’d been dropped into the Cage; my fingertips grazed the hilt. Here little shanky, just another inch, you know you want to come to Feathers…

  Suddenly, a skull of blood swayed down from the roof and directly in front of Ash. The coppery scent coated my nostrils, just as Ash stiffened. His gaze darted to the skull; he licked his dry lips.

  How long had he been starved?

  I grasped the edge of the hilt… Good little shank…. It thrummed, warm and alive in my palm.

  At the same moment, the floor of the Cage heated. Even through my armor, I arched away from the burn. Distracted by the blood, Ash didn’t notice the move, until I bucked up my hips, twisting our positions: him beneath and me on top. His naked back and arse pressed against the scorching floor.

  Ash screamed.

  I winced but pressed my blade to his throat. Still keening, Ash stilled.

  Bones and blood. Bones and blood. Bones and blood.

  There’d been no thrill or dance to the fight. Instead, there’d been nothing but a deadly intent, which chilled me. Because for the first time my head was clear of the noise, light, and rage… Finally, I’d known what I was doing.

  What I’d become.

  My eyes burned; I blinked away the tears. No way was I doing…this…again.

  My dad could find himself another punisher.

  You shake your thing, girl! You’re the Mistress of the Carnival.

  What about the unrighteous speech that you rained down on me?

  Where does righteous come into it?

  You’re not in Angel World anymore, Feathery-kitty, and you need to grab your bony pussy and work that thing until you’re flooded in black as much as violet.

  Cheers for making me chuck up.

  If you’re a Vampire Princess? This is the price. Choose.

  I’d forgotten, J, that I even had a choice. But I’m awake now, and I won’t be caged…or cage others.

  I won’t make anyone else pay the price.

  Ash writhed, whimpering against the heat that was blistering him.

  Sniggers.

  I glanced up at the bars of the cage.

  Misrule slumped to the side with his arms crossed. He managed a small smile. His gaze was concerned, however, threaded by a twitching fear.

  I blazed to get medieval on the alpha prick who’d reduced Misrule’s glorious joy: Supreme Commander Wild.

  Wild was top boy of the FF: The First Fallen. The elite bastards were also known as the Feathered, the devoted army unit who’d rebelled first in Angel World with the king and Fallen by his side.

  Yeah, I had another ‘f’ word to describe them and it wasn’t only fanatical.

  Wild, the leader of the Under World’s enforcers, sprawled next to Misrule, with one meaty arm against the bars and the other wrapped around Misrule’s shoulders, so tightly that I could see the imprint of his fingers. Wild’s shaved head, which was tattooed with wings, gleamed in the light; he wore nothing but a chocolate blazer open over his golden chest, bondage trousers, and a hooped nose ring. When he caught my scrutiny, he winked like a malevolent jinn.

  I flushed. Then I jolted.

  Fair fight?

  Weapons that Ash had never fought with before…blood to distract him…heated floor when I was dressed and he was naked…

  Wild had rigged it for me to win.

  When I glanced around the Cage, I noticed other enforcers dressed in their standard chocolate blazers with leather belts, soaring around like bouncers at a gig.

  Was any of this anarchy real? Or were the Feathered containing it like a police state?

  Ash stared up at me; his eyes were large in the spotlight. “Claim your prize.”

  “Bones and blood,” Misrule called.

  I dipped my finger in the blood, tracing it over Ash’s lips. He licked it off desperately, sighing. Then I wrenched back his head. “This won’t hurt.”

  Ash laughed, but it could’ve been a sob. “I bet you say that to all the boys.”

  “Only the ones who I defang.” I yanked out his canine with a twist.

  He yowled.

  Yeah, I lied about the not hurting. It’d hurt me like a bitch to do that to him as well.

  Tugging out the necklace with the other eighty-seven teeth, I knotted on my trophy. Yet now the manic energy had cleared from my mind, I shook at the weight of so many…manhoods…strung around my neck.

  Why the hell had I worn it with such pride before?

  I wiped a tear off Ash’s cheek, wishing that I could’ve kissed it off, instead. Ash and I were being watched by Wild and the other vampires, however, and I had to keep up the act of the savage Champion. “Stop with the kicked puppy routine; it’ll grow back. It’s not like I chopped off your hands.”

  “Florence Nightingale rating? One out of ten. Although, you’d look hot in a nurse’s outfit.” Ash struggled to edge off the floor, even though it was cooling.

  I didn’t miss the wince as he spoke, or the way that he poked his tongue into the new gap where his fang had been.

  “Not really into the dress up stage of our relationship. You lost the bet.” Something ancient and black inside fluttered at the way Ash’s eyes widened, and his breath became ragged. I dragged him closer. “You’re mine to punish for the night.”

  Yet why did I wish that Ash was mine, rather than owned by the FF, for more than the night? That I simply owned him?

  The dominant bitch roared inside, as Ash cowered back, and in the close heat of the Cage to the beating wings, stamping feet, and howls of our vampire audience, I snogged him and he let me because I’d won him.

  My prize.

  Even as inside I was the one cringing, terrified at what I’d unleashed.

  3

  A Blood Princess, my blood was freedom. Yet in the Under World…?

  That freedom cost.

  I staggered into the ‘bedroom’ that I’d been assigned as Cage Champion, steadying myself against the central pole from the hard shove to my back. The dust and cast-iron stink caught in my throat.

  I rubbed my hand suggestively against my fang necklace as I glared at Mr Pushy. “There’s always room for one more, bastard.”

  The FF, who had feathers down his cheeks like tears (maybe there was one for each angel that he’d killed), snorted. “By the light, bloodthirsty little thing, aren’t you? You already have your prize. He’ll be delivered to you once he’s been…made pretty.” He leered, before sliding shut the door with a clank.

  I sank onto a torn blue seat, running a hand through my hair. In a disused station of the London Underground, I slept in an old train carriage, which had derailed at Camden Town. The windows spiderwebbed with cracks, and bold primary colors splashed the walls with the routes beneath London. If the king hadn’t shut off the tunnels with guards and darkness, I’d have escaped into the human world that the routes plotted out for me: way to mock a bitch.

  The punk band, Shame’s, aggressive drum and bass throbbed from Misrule’s party on the other side of the tunnel: dangerous punk for the fearless outcasts.

  When I yawned, stretching, two flashes of red uncurled from the back of the carriage and leapt onto my knee. I giggled, tumbling back beneath handfuls of silky fur, as two noses snuffled up and down me, whilst I writhed.

  I waved an imaginary white flag. “You got me. The Tickle Champion’s crown goes to the fox brothers.”

  My Blood Familiars, Blaze and Spark, pinned me underneath their paws.

  One rust red and heavy, the other sleek and bright red, both were larger than a regular fox. Th
ey’d abandoned me to stand by Ash at the battle of London Fields, and had been returned to me like pets once I’d become Champion. Yet now that I’d glimpsed even a part of this shadow world, I understood their choice, and I soared with joy that Ash hadn’t been left alone in his captivity. Sometimes with the Blood Familiars waiting for me, I could pretend that I was truly a guest, rather than a prisoner.

  Blaze’s narrow head shot up and his intelligent amber eyes scrutinized me, before glancing at his brother. “Away with you, I told you to stop worrying and that she’d be returning in one piece with an extra fang around her neck.” His Scottish lilt weaved into my mind, mildly accusing: a telepathic slap.

  I grimaced. Yeah, I so wasn’t telling him whose fang it was, hanging next to the others.

  Spark nuzzled at my singed wing. “She’s hurt, hurt, hurt,” he whimpered.

  I stroked his brilliant white throat. “Don’t worry, bro. At least I didn’t turn into a unicorn.”

  “If you weren’t our Keeper, numptie, I’d say that you were off your head.” Blaze’s eyes narrowed.

  Spark whined, licking my hand. “Sorry, sorry, sorry…”

  “Hey, it’s OK.” I caught his chin, tipping up his head. “This numptie has a strict non arse kicking policy on foxes…and unicorns.”

  Blaze huffed, hopping to the floor. “Learned that from Rebel, did you now? You were all for arse kicking when—”

  “She wasn’t our Keeper then.” Spark peeked over my knee at Blaze. I was tinged with the pride a mum must feel when the shy younger brother finally speaks up to his older one. “She makes sure that we’re safe.”

  Or maybe the tear-prickling impotency of a mum who knows that she can’t truly keep her kids safe from the bloke with a bottle of beer and a belt because even though I fought for my survival and my Blood Familiars’, we weren’t safe.

  “If you’re sulking, Blaze, I guess that you don’t want a share of the swag…” I reached underneath the seat. Misrule always changed part of my blood into different supplies, which was like the lucky dip at the fair each evening. Anything but cold baked beans again… I dragged out the first item, rubbing the sweet balls between the tips of my fingers. “And the emperors shall eat grapes.”