Suddenly, I wanted that more than anything.
As Mischief’s tail transformed back into legs, I wound my hand in his hair and tried to force him down.
He shook me off. “I am not one of your boys.”
He’d paled; his hands tidied his hair in quick, furious motions.
I pinked. “I wasn’t—"
“We are both aware of what you were. Your spark does not incite undying loyalty in me, unlike your doe-eyed followers. I’m not under your spell and what I think of angel princesses…” He caught himself, before crossing his arms. “I will not be forced.”
Hell, I’d never meant to make him feel like that.
“And what about me?” I couldn’t meet his eye. “Not princess or queen. Just Violet?”
Mischief startled, picking at the edging of his tunic. “I think that I stopped you perpetrating an apocalypse and that now I have a duty to keep you from becoming Mage Drake’s creature.” I took a careful step backwards, unable to hide the same devastation that I’d earlier seen flash on Mischief’s face. “I also believe you less of a beast than I’d been taught,” he added more softly. Then his gaze became steely. “But here? You’re not my ruler. Does it hurt to be returned to the ranks of the ordinary?”
My fists clenched. “I was never ordinary, and neither were you.”
He flinched. “That’s why you must allow me to return to my punishment. Everything here is in balance; my freedom will have a price — for you. I’m not the damsel: you are. Lucifer’s games are like a kid’s compared to the adult tortures on this island of the dead. Excuse me if I don’t intentionally call down Mage Drake…” Mischief caught my eye, before he shuddered, pressing his fingertips together as if to stop himself shooting magic out at me. “You mean to call his attention by this stunt?”
I smirked. “What can I say? The Bitch of Utopia doesn’t do ignored.”
The scent of creamy sandalwood suddenly filled the vault. For a bloke who wouldn’t kneel for me, Mischief knelt like his strings had been cut.
“I apologize for neglecting you then, little apprentice,” Mage Rahab Drake’s cool call from the shadows made me jump. “You shall have my personal attention from now on, just as Lucifer is receiving from your mother. Intriguing, it seems like father, like daughter.”
Rahab swooped from above, glorious and terrifying. His violet wings flamed through the slashes in the back of his emerald silk shirt.
I growled, but Rahab shot a sizzling blast at me, hurling me onto my back in a stink of scorched feathers. Then the angel who acted as daddy for the Brotherhood landed on top of me, and every bone in my wings broke.
2
Wingtips, feathers, and every fused bone in my wings howled with agony. It spasmed me back to awareness after my nightmare flight out of the Lower Vault caught in Rahab’s eagle embrace.
When I rubbed my cheek along the surface that I was sprawled on, it was no longer cold and wet but bouncy, warm, and buzzing. It wrapped me in the scent of candyfloss, like I’d fallen into the machine at the fair.
I’d better hope that Rahab didn’t have a sweet tooth.
I tried to flap my wings, but they only flopped in a boneless comedy routine. Slowly, I cracked open my eyes, then yelped, wishing that I hadn’t.
A low chuckle behind me.
I bottom shuffled away, then stopped as the…nothing…underneath me swayed.
I hung in mid-air, as if held up by fairy magic, in a rugged cavern high above a pool of seawater: fish darted like jewels, sea snakes eel-slithered across the surface, and star-fish spiked the rocks. The seaweed, seagrass, and algae that was thick across the pool pulsed with an eerie emerald glow. I held out my hand because I should be able to touch — or should be falling into that unnatural pool — but instead my fingers crunched against the same foamy, buzzy something that was holding me up.
“My Invisible Bridge,” Rahab’s amused voice explained from behind me. “One of the first things that I ever created in my castle. Aren’t you intrigued to discover what you could imagine?”
I tapped my chin. “Chocolate sausages, dinosaur ballet, and a world where sarcasm doesn’t exist, except I still wield it, so I rule. Already got it covered, bro.”
I spun around on my arse, dragging my broken wings after me with a wince. Then I stiffened.
Rahab leaned, mid-air, as if on the hidden rail of his Invisible Bridge. His golden curls, which matched his silk harem trousers, were threaded with silver. They hung over his eyes, as he scrutinized me. And his strong hands rested around Mischief’s slender neck.
Mischief squirmed in Rahab’s hold but he didn’t try to break free. He wrapped his silvery-violet wings around himself protectively like a kid wrapping his arms around his knees and huddling behind his bed, as if that made the monsters go away.
It didn’t; I bastard knew that.
Rahab rubbed his thumb in a lover’s caress along Mischief’s fluttering pulse. The way Mischief shuddered, however, and Rahab’s grip was loose like he didn’t want to taint himself, was anything but loving.
I craved to tear Mischief away from Rahab, so he’d never have to wrap his wings around himself like that again…
Hide me, Feathery-doll. Build a wall around me and don’t let it come tumbling down.
Busy right now, J.
You’ll be dead right now if the Mage breaks your mind as he broke your wings.
I’m your secret. Your true family who raised you. You can trust me, can’t you?
I hesitated.
J was part of me: I’d learned my life lessons in London at his knee. No one else had ever looked out for me. But…trust?
Since the supernatural had broken into my world, J had tempted me into danger, almost as much as he’d forced me into the hard choices that’d saved my arse. Devil or angel…? I didn’t bastard know. But he was my secret and my love to protect: what would anyone think about a voice inside my head, which I’d hidden even from the rest of my family?
I threw up the walls that I’d spent months practising, whilst held captive on Angel World.
When Rahab’s thumb caressed across the back of Mischief’s neck, however, and Mischief cringed, I growled before I could stop myself.
Rahab let out a laugh in surprise. “Be silent. I wonder what services Zophia has rendered to garner such loyalty from a Glory?” I flushed at the same time as Mischief. And how had I missed the chance to take the piss out of Mischief’s girlie angel name? “Kunel has taken four weeks to coax nothing out of you but an entire lack of dedication to the Legion, but with Zophia as motivation you’ve blazed to new heights.”
My blush spread down to my chest: was it that Rahab had praised me? No bastard way was he playing the surrogate dad role.
I bristled. “I wasn’t looking for a gold star.”
Rahab raised his pale eyebrow. “Are you certain? You’ve earned one. Such a shame, however, that you waste your devotion on an Underserving.”
I ran my hand through my damp hair. “You’ve lost me.”
“It’s no matter,” Mischief’s smile was too thin. “I imagine that’s a condition with which you’re shockingly intimate.”
Rahab tightened his hands around Mischief’s throat, and he gasped. I gritted my teeth, struggling to my knees.
“The Underserving,” Rahab continued calmly, as if Mischief wasn’t dangling now from his grasp and choking, as he scrabbled at his hands, “are members of the Brotherhood who haven’t fitting mental powers to become even apprentices or who’ve tried to become mages and failed. They’re servants to the Legion. Do you imagine that I don’t understand the boys who I choose?” His gaze was considering, as I dragged myself across the bridge. I sucked in breaths to steady myself against the dizzying drop beneath me: the fishes swarmed in metallic chaos under my shadow. “The only question was when you’d pull Zophia from the water. Imagine my horror when it took twenty-eight rotations of the sun.”
Thwack — I struck at Rahab’s bare feet with my fists, sizzl
ing flames and searing his ankles.
Rahab hissed, dodging backwards and hurling Mischief at me like an unwanted kid in a custody battle.
For a moment, I held my breath, expecting him to plummet into the pool below.
Thud — Mischief bounced on the hidden bridge with a startled yelp.
“Maybe,” Rahab examined the nails on his elegant fingers, “the Underserving simply wasn’t as charming as I’ve taught him…?”
Mischief and I both winced.
“And maybe you’re more freakshow than fanboy material on a stick?” I shoved myself up with a shaky hand. “I’ve been doing the apprentice thing for a month, whilst you’ve been doing the vanishing act.”
Rahab’s expression softened. When he crouched down in front of me, Mischief hunched away from him. “Hush, little apprentice, I’ve been a bad father not giving you my love and time.”
My breath caught in my throat; I couldn’t meet his intent gaze. “You’re not my dad.”
Why the hell did I have to sound like a kid bitching to her step-dad?
“I’m the true father to every Brother in the Legion. You’ve acted out and now you’ve ensured my guidance and discipline. It would’ve come earlier, but your mother demanded my attendance in Angel World for some sessions with Lucifer. Your father has but one use, just like my own son.”
I looked away.
Rahab had given up his son, Drake, to the Matriarch to be used as a Marked Wing, just like my own dad: a sex slave in the bedroom and a Commander on the battlefield.
Yeah, not sure there was a Father’s Day mug for that.
“It’d appear,” Rahab waved his hand lazily in the air, “that Lucifer is still defiant, despite the loss of his fire.”
I glanced at Mischief. His gaze was carefully blank, but I didn’t miss his stifled smile at Lucifer’s defiance.
Why did it fill me with such righteous joy that the birth dad I’d deposed and handed to his enemy as Marked Wing hadn’t been broken? At least, not yet.
Because for the first time, I didn’t want to break anyone.
Mischief’s eyes widened, as if catching my thought. Understanding it.
The shadows shifted inside me. I entwined Mischief’s hand between mine, pulling him closer. I wouldn’t allowed Rahab to hurt Mischief, as he did his son and my dad.
Rahab’s eyebrows raised, as if he’d understood me as well. “Naïve children, I taught Lucifer his place, as I shall teach you yours.”
Then he clicked his fingers, and I screamed.
My stomach lurched as the Invisible Bridge disintegrated. I tumbled through the air, unable to beat my broken wings.
A green glow…flitting shadows in the mirrored water below…blurring closer…
Silvery-violet wings folded around me, whilst slim arms hooked around my waist. I buried my face in Mischief’s hair, as he spun me away from the water; our feet skidded across the surface. Then we soared towards the cavern’s entrance.
Rahab stood with his hands laced behind his back, as Mischief and I landed.
When Mischief carefully let go, I swayed; my boots slipped on the slimy rock. “What the assassin pixies in hell was that?” My skin prickled with static; my new magic tingled, heavy and dangerous in my throat. “You’re not my dad: you’re more like one of those creepy online groomers. And I’m not ending up killed or pimped.”
“Sailor…” Mischief hissed in warning.
“Do let her go on,” Rahab’s shark-smile froze me in place. “Creepy and…?”
I swallowed. “Just keeping it real, yeah?”
“Indeed.” Rahab’s lips curled. “Lucifer may have — unwillingly — donated to your conception but he wasn’t your true father. I can be. Because all my children forget their old families here, becoming a new united one. You’re the first Glory who I’ve allowed into this refuge for gifted Wings.”
“Have you been watching too much X-men?” I smirked.
Mischief nudged me; I nudged him back.
Rahab strolled to the cavern wall, running his hand lovingly along its filth. Then he closed his eyes. “This is where my mother tried to drown me as a baby.” I started, twisting around to stare at the pool. I shook my boot, as if the water had been contaminated by the action. “My Angelic Powers terrified her. She hated that I was stronger than her: A Glory. My father managed to stop her, and together they abandoned me here. I imagine they thought that I’d die. I didn’t.” When he opened his eyes and his piercing stare swung to me, I squirmed. “As I grew, I created this castle, which became both my home and a refuge for other Wings, like me: the magical unwanted. I’m a savior to the abused, rejected, and the lost. I allowed you here because I thought that out of every Glory, you’d be the one to understand what I’ve spent centuries building…and hiding. My mages in the human world appreciate X-men, but I think I’ve been Xavier too long. Magneto holds quite a draw for me.”
Was Rahab the savior not the Big Bad? The Glories were savage and cruel. I’d rescued their slaves myself. I was working on freeing their Wings.
My eyes were burning, but I blinked away the tears. Yeah, I understood. My blokes and me were the outcast misfits. But wasn’t Rahab as brutal as the Glories?
“Lucifer was a prick but he loved me.” I stumbled towards Rahab.
Whack — I slammed my hand against the rock.
Rahab gripped my chin. “Is that what you choose to believe?”
Don’t cry…don’t bastard cry…
“You’re not my dad,” I repeated like a mantra, before whispering, “you’ll never be…”
“Zophia,” Rahab snapped.
When Mischief slunk to his side, Rahab snatched Mischief by the scruff of the neck, pressing hard into the base. Mischief yowled.
“Stop it,” I snarled, tugging at Rahab’s wrist.
When my violet vampiric claws shot out of my nails, Rahab shook his head.
“Desist,” Rahab commanded. “You shall control yourself. If you do not stand still, behaving as both a queen and a Brother, then I shall weight Zophia and abandon him to the snakes in this pool for the next month.” At Mischief’s terrified gasp, I froze breathing hard through my nose. I couldn’t let Mischief be put with the snakes again. Not because of me. Rahab smiled. “Good girl. You see how wisely I choose my Phoenix Apprentices…? Duma, on the other hand…?”
When Rahab shoved his thumb deeper into the base of Mischief’s neck. Mischief’s face became pale and pinched with pain, as he struggled for breath, and was compelled into shifting into Commander Duma Drake.
No longer long silver hair but golden curls. Gold harem trousers, instead of silver.
I shivered at the violation of the forced shift.
The false Drake hung like a puppet from his dad’s hand, which held him onto tiptoe. Only then did I realize that it was white-hot fury, which was making him tremor.
“I don’t know that I have a sufficiently inflated superiority complex to play your son,” the false Drake hissed. “Should I toss my pretty curls, stomp around like a god, and lock myself alone in my room?”
I stared at the false Drake in shock. Why the hell did I want to light up his cloned arse in defense of my true beautiful Commander, even if he did have pretty curls?
I hadn’t expected Rahab to answer dryly, “You seem to be managing so far.” Then he shook the false Drake, knocking his harem pants down his slim hips. “You see how something can appear one thing and yet be another? Duma is no son of mine, even though he’s in the Brotherhood. You can’t choose what slithers bloody from your lover’s womb, ripping her apart.”
Rahab’s smile was frozen. His eyes glittered like another realm lay beneath the surface: and it wasn’t the one of fluffy bunnies and snuggles.
I recoiled; my heart raced. “When Drake asked you why you’d reduced him to a Marked Wing, you said that it wasn’t because—"
“He murdered his mother through his birth?’ Rahab stroked his fingers down False Drake’s cheek, and False Drake flinched. “
No, I told him that it was because he’s a disappointment. And that’s also the truth.”
“I take it back.” Mischief’s voice was quiet and thoughtful out of False Drake’s mouth. “However Commander Drake behaves, it appears that he has every reason to lock himself in his room.”
“Yet your beloved Queen of Chaos has taken a Marked Wing in the same way as the Matriarch took Drake.” Rahab dug his fingers into the False Drake’s neck again, and I stiffened. Bastard, no… Rebel’s soft violet eyes smudged with kohl eyeliner gazed back at me.
Nope, not Rebel: False Rebel, even if he had a perfect flame of hair and studded leather jacket with red bondage trousers, as well as a spiked black collar around his neck.
Hell, after a month of not seeing Rebel, it hurt to see him now as an illusion.
Yet it also hurt Mischief to see how much I hungered for him to be my Blood Bonded and Marked lover, rather than himself. He couldn’t hide that pain, just as I couldn’t hide how much I desired Rebel.
How much I loved him.
I ached for Rebel.
False Rebel closed his eyes, turning away his head.
“What do you want?” I asked Rahab; my voice was tight.
“I believe that you were the one who wanted something.” Rahab splayed his hand along False Rebel’s chest, tweaking his nipple.
“I’ve got the message.” I clenched my jaw. “I disrespected and now I’ve got your autopsy-level attention. So, what do you want from me, so you’ll stop hurting Mischief?”
Rahab’s surprised gaze met mine, as his groping hand stilled. “You truly care about this Undeserving?”
“Ding, ding, give that wizard a wand.”
Rahab spun the False Rebel towards me, and we tumbled to the floor in a tangle of limbs. I shoved Mischief away, gritting my teeth against the shifting of my broken bones, and he turned back to himself again with visible relief.
Mischief studied me with an unreadable expression that unnerved me.
Rebel Angels: The Complete Series Page 79