Rebel Angels: The Complete Series

by Rosemary A Johns

  Could I beat Jade? If Rahab made me deliver her in handcuffs?

  No bastard way.

  Och raised the whip again, and Mischief stiffened….as did I.

  Three wishes — rewards — and they’d each bitten me in the arse.

  Suddenly, hands gripped me from behind, pinning my arms. I screeched at the pressure on my fragile wings. A sackcloth bag was jammed over my head: dark, stinking, and rough. I struggled to breathe through the fabric that sucked in and out of my mouth on each inhale and exhale.

  I booted out, reaching for my violet fire, magic, shadows…anything. But it was dampened, like it’d been smothered, as I was in the sack cloth.

  I screamed, trapped animal style, lost in the flailing panic.

  Trapped, trapped, trapped…

  Then Kunel’s voice hissed close to my ear, “Welcome to Purge Week.”

  5

  In the dark, I tilted up my chin, despite the stinking sackcloth over my head: I’d been humiliated by being transformed into a scarecrow, but I could still have swag. If this was the start of Initiation Purge Week, then I’d at least start it like a queen.

  If I didn’t win the contest with Drake to train as a mage, then I’d be reduced to Underserving. Falling from ruler to servant wasn’t high on my to-do list, so although I couldn’t force Drake to martyr himself again (and I didn’t think Rahab would let it slip twice), I’d battle him for real to win the Initiation.

  Whatever the hell they were going to do to us, it was game on.

  I took a ragged breath, swinging my arms through the hot air.

  Kunel had hauled me down corridors, across courtyards, and up stairs. Unable to see, I’d staggered, dizzy and disorientated.

  Now, I didn’t have a clue where I was. Point One on the freak-out-meter to Purge Week.

  I sniffed: there was something beneath the stench of old sackcloth. A warm autumnal scent like bonfires. It smelled like…Lucifer.

  Dad.

  To hell with the Initiation. I didn’t know if it was fear, relief, or concern for Lucifer that made me rip off the bag from my head, spluttering as the coarse material caught on my lips.

  I took hurried steps forward only to stop in shock.

  Instead of my dad, it was Drake staring back at me; his eyes were dazed and red-rimmed. His wings were gray like he was one of the Fallen. I sniffed again: Drake’s wings had been smeared in ash to shame him. Just as he’d been dressed in a matching all black leather Lucifer outfit.

  This was hazing Legion style.

  Point Two to Purge Week.

  My heart ached that it wasn’t Lucifer, just as I was flooded with confusing relief that I wouldn’t have to see the dad who I’d betrayed…or hurt him.

  Yet both sides of my nature howled even louder that I’d have to hurt Drake. My new magic coiled around the ancient powers, shooting freezing spikes to cool the outrage, each one a pricking reminder of the Phoenix Code.

  I’d been dragged to the Iron Barracks. Neat rows of gray beds were ranked in the arched iron room. The porthole windows looked out over the Bailey and the whipping post.

  I glared around at the apprentices; even the kids had been included in the dystopian themed party. The apprentices stood in a silent circle around the pretend Lucifer, as if they’d trapped him. When Kunel marched to join them, his Mr Perfect smile slid into place. He beckoned to me like this was all just a fun game of Piggy in the Middle.

  I ignored Kunel, meeting Drake’s gaze instead. “Leather suits you. I thought that Rebel was my only bondage angel.”

  Kunel’s smile slipped. “Do not talk to Duma. He’s working on his worthiness.”

  “And I’m working on not freaking out and kicking all your arses…sir,” I managed to force out the sir, before the hot shank of magic punished me for my insolence. “Wait, I know this bit: where’s the Sorting Hat?”

  “Fool,” Drake hissed, “this is part of the Initiation. Join the circle and hush. Please.”

  It was the please that did it.

  Clank, clank, clank.

  I stomped across the metal floor, crossing my arms as I joined the circle. Sometimes I forgot how honorable Drake was, as long as the Matriarch wasn’t pulling his strings.

  Kunel flexed his muscled arms, before pointing at Drake in the center of the circle. Like freaky mirror images, the other mages pointed at Drake too.

  Drake flushed.

  Stubbornly, I kept my arms crossed, even as my pulse raced.

  Kunel lifted his eyebrow at me.

  Drake mouthed, “I win already…?”

  Growling, I lifted my arm and pointed. Drake stood ramrod straight, as if before a firing squad.

  Had he just played me?

  “Tell us your failures this week, Duma,” Kunel crooned. My guts twisted because that was the tone that I craved. My magic unwound from my neck, reaching out hungrily towards it: the praise. I lived for those moments of golden attention, and from the adoring but envious expressions on the other apprentices’ faces, I knew that they were torn with the same feeling. What was pain if you could have love too? “Reform yourself through confession.”

  Drake stared helplessly around at the accusing apprentices — and me — before casting his gaze to the ground. “I failed the Brotherhood in the Battle of the Bailey,” his voice was flat and lifeless.

  Unworthy, unworthy, unworthy.

  I jumped at the apprentices’ chant. Drake flinched but didn’t look up.

  “I…doubted the Phoenix code and—”

  Drake’s confession was drowned out by cries of disgust. He hunched, hugging his ash shamed wings around himself in self-comfort.

  I shuddered at the Legion’s attempt to weaken Drake.

  Way to emasculate a bloke.

  They’d taken the proud Commander’s fears — that he’d Fall, become Lucifer, was unworthy — and made him confess it himself.

  Point Three to the Initiation.

  What the hell did they have planned for me?

  Kunel pursed his lips, but his eyes gleamed with zeal. “Enough, brothers. Duma is to be praised for his bravery in his confession. His sins are great, but now we can help him reform. Only we love him enough to hurt him when he needs it. And I think that you have one last failure to admit?”

  Drake shook his head.

  Kunel pointed at Drake with more vigor. “On my feathers, if I must dig out your secrets myself, you shall feel the lash.”

  Drake’s gaze lifted to mine. My hand shook, where I pointed at him; a tear slipped down Drake’s cheek.

  At last, Drake admitted, “I’ve had sexual thoughts towards another who is not my Glory.”

  Unworthy, unworthy, unworthy.

  Still Drake didn’t drop his gaze.

  This cult was going down medieval style.

  You’d better not become a programmed robot, teaching the Brotherhood’s cult yourself like the First Reformer. Does the brainwashing dick have an off button on his shiny ass?

  No one’s messing with my head.

  Think again, Violet-sweets. They’ve already messed with your gorgeous head.

  If they hadn’t, would you be pointing at Commander Goldilocks and making him cry?

  I shook at the outrage that vibrated through J and his distress at Drake’s tears.

  Shocked, I slammed down my hand, stumbling backwards.

  What the hell was I doing?

  Kunel seized Drake by the neck, shoving him to the floor and forcing out his wings: punishment position. I watched in horror as the other apprentices knelt in rows on either side of him.

  Kunel stood back. “In the name of the Code: no brother will show weakness. Let us scourge your confessed failings and raise you up on our wings together. Crawl through the gauntlet and be purged.”

  Drake wriggled along on his elbows like a feathered worm. I wet my lips, backing away, until the blast hit Drake from the first apprentice, singing his right wing. He howled, just as flames blackened his left wing from the apprentice on the other
side. Still Drake dragged himself forward.

  Blood pounded in my ears; I was going to hurl.

  As the third apprentice raised his hand to strike, I leapt forward. “Stop,” I snarled, knocking his electric strike ringing against the iron roof, before tumbling backwards over Drake. “You want to make this a Code battle? Then how about our duty to protect and defend the Brotherhood? Not barbecue each other with marshmallows.”

  Drake had turned his head. His breathing was shallow through the pain. “They tend not to use marshmallows.” He gave me a searching look. “Allow me to congratulate you on your idiocy. All you had to do was permit my suffering and you’d win. I would’ve imagined that was easy.”

  I brushed my hand gently through his blackened feathers, and he leaned into the touch. “I’m not the same bitch of a Glory that I was on Angel World. I promise, Glories can love.”

  Drake jerked back, his mouth working as if desperate to say something but battling hard not to let it out.

  Then a brawny hand was hauling me backwards, and it was me in the circle of glowering apprentices.

  “In the Legion we must rise together or we’ll Fall. Mage Drake will cast out the unworthy to be Marked…” Kunel paused for the whimpers and whines. “My mission is to save, and I can do that through love but if I’m forced through willful rebellion, I’ll use fear.”

  Silence.

  Now I even missed the terrified whimpers because Kunel’s Angelic Power was nightmares. When he snatched the base of my neck, digging in his thumbs, I gasped.

  I tumbled onto the mountain of feathers, above the valley of bones. Here, I was Beginning and End. Death and Rebirth. Destroyer and Savior. It was the vision that I’d suffered ever since my powers had come in on my twenty-first birthday.

  Except, now violet flames — mine — licked crackling across the valley. Bones glowed and feathers sizzled to black. The air stank with clouds of smoke. I choked, stumbling through the haze across the charred skeletons of…

  No, no, no…

  My foot sank through a wing, which snapped beneath my boot. A trench of angelic skeletons: my fam, nestled next to their vampire enemies.

  And there I was — a dark beast atop the mountain — shooting fire into the sky: an apocalyptic nightmare.

  I howled in terror, scrabbling backwards.

  It wasn’t me…I couldn’t do that…I’d leashed the beast…I wouldn’t kill…

  Nightmare, Violet-cupcake. Sir Brainwasher is playing with your fears like his dick. Don’t let him get a happy all over you.

  Not…real? I haven’t killed…?

  Snap your dark self out of it. He twists love to fear.

  I’m dreaming?

  You’re trapped in his spell. It’s real, girl, unless you break out.

  How about this?

  I shook myself, refusing to look down at the bodies at my feet. Instead, I swaggered up the mountain towards myself.

  Hell, I looked legendary, even if I was an evil bitch.

  Evil Bitch Me appeared confused, as I snatched her by the hands and drew her into an exaggerated twerk routine. Then I closed my eyes, stroking Evil Bitch Me’s hair behind her ear and pulling her closer, before licking my tongue across her lips.

  I snogged my evil twin because how many chances was I going to have to try that out?

  Yeah, I’m an awesome kisser.

  When I opened my eyes, I was sprawled on the floor of the Iron Barracks and Kunel’s face was red, as he awkwardly clasped his hands behind his back.

  He’d caught the show then.

  Kunel bent over me. “It appears that before you can bring honor to the Legion, you need a taste of how we treat creatures, since you insist on acting like one.”

  I smirked. “Don’t you like a little beast in your bitch?”

  Kunel’s lip curled. “What I think is that chains and collars will suit you.” Behind me, I heard Drake’s holler, as I surged up. Kunel shot his nightmare blackness at me, however, and although my own shadows rose against them, Kunel’s surge of fear coursed up and down my spine, tumbling me to my knees. I panted, dry retching. Kunel patted my head. “They shall suit the beast very well until it learns obedience. You’ve barely tasted true punishment. At least you won’t be lonely when you join our other creature.”

  I choked; my mind howled.

  What monster was I being caged with?

  I huddled at Kunel’s feet, reduced to nothing but the creature that he claimed, in my animalistic terror of chains, collars, and monsters.

  6

  Freak, monster, beast…the labels had been spat at me since I was a kid: a supernatural hidden amongst the human, simply trying to belong. Now I’d been disgraced from royal apprentice to chained creature because there was always a balance: freedom for my family.

  But I wasn’t alone in my punishment; I’d been leashed with Monster Number Two.

  I shivered because of course creatures didn’t wear clothes. Naked on the slate flagstones of the kitchen floor, I pulled at the iron collar around my neck, which dug into my skin. I tugged, but it was looped by a chain at the front to a metal ring beside the hearth. A fire died a slow death, hissing to itself, as a blackened chimney rose above.

  In the gloom that reached to the vaulted ceiling, the dancing flames cast the only light. If this had been the Under World, there’d have been punk music blaring, cage fights, and mayhem. But this was the formal, orderly, and dignified Legion of the Phoenix. All the good little soldiers were tucked up in bed. At this midnight hour, only the creatures still haunted the castle.

  I panted, edging closer to the second chain that led behind the trestle table.

  Here little Monsty-monster… Nice creatures of the night don’t lurk, unless they want spankings…

  I licked my lips; my gums tingled.

  Charcoal gray eyes sparked in the dark: twin stars. Then Ash — the vampire Brigadier — prowled on all fours around the gilt-edged trestle table towards me; he was naked too.

  I jumped; my heart pounded. I was dizzy with desire, ecstasy, and relief.

  I grinned so hard that the sides of my mouth throbbed. “If I had to be tied to another creature, you’d be my first choice.” I didn’t miss his flinch on creature. “Who’d have guessed a fanatical cult weaves freedom into chains?”

  I shuddered at the sight of the collar around Ash’s throat, which was linked like mine to a ring by the hearth: it shone brilliant gold. The olive skin of his neck around the collar was blistered, as if the collar had burned.

  In the dark, Ash was a deadly panther, even if he’d been leashed. I ached to run my hand through his tumble of sable hair. I scanned him for injuries, as I had Rebel, but except for the sores around the collar, he was unmarked.

  Maybe the mages only needed the collar?

  Hell, these past twenty-eight days, I’d yearned for Ash, whose aromatic scent was now calming my fear, almost as much as I’d thirsted for Rebel’s sugar blood and the stroke of our Bond.

  My ancient powers wanted…needed…both my blokes: vampire and angel.

  Wasn’t that love?

  The walls hummed, thrumming in time with the magic that beat through me.

  Ash pounced, pinning me under him, and I squeaked. He smirked. “Hey, gorgeous.” When he wrapped his gray wings around us both blanket-like, I shuddered, remembering Drake’s ash smudged feathers…and tears. “Hot as you are naked and styling the bondage look like me — what did I warn you about kinky angels? — this wasn’t what I wished for every night. I’m lodging a formal complaint.”

  I couldn’t help the sharp stab of hurt that he hadn’t wished for me, as I had him. But what could I’ve expected? I’d been the reason that his sisters had died in Lucifer’s light. He’d had an entire month — alone — to grieve, think, and kick my arse to the curb.

  Why would he still love me? Blokes always abandoned me.

  Even as the thought pulsated through me, however, somewhere far back I knew that it was wrong. Yet I couldn’t calm my
panicked pulse or thundering heart.

  I struggled to escape the band of Ash’s arms, even as I wished that I could sink into his embrace. Kunel’s terrors still shanked my mind in flashing points: I stiffened at each shadowed fear.

  “I wished for you to be safe, Violet,” Ash said, softly. “Not here with me in chains. Safe, happy, and free.”

  At last, his words broke through my thrashing and the tar-black buzzing in my mind.

  Ash hadn’t abandoned me: he’d sacrificed himself.

  Again.

  I kissed him, pulling him closer, until the confusion was chased away. “How could I be any of those things without your sexy arse?”

  Ash pulled back. “Although it is sexy, you don’t mean that. I’m not like your angels: a toy to make the fear, worries, or hate in your head go away. I’ve been nothing but a whore: there for other’s pleasure. And I won’t be that again. What are they doing to you? What are those…shadows?”

  Flushing, I scrabbled away, as my chain clinked, slithering after me like a metallic umbilical cord.

  Clink — my back hit an unwashed cooking pot; my stomach growled at the scent of rich meats and herbs, which still clung to it.

  I’d only been fed on porridge, which was the slop served up to apprentices, and my insides felt hollowed out. I couldn’t stop the moan, as my tongue darted across my lips.

  Ash sprawled on the slate floor with a twist of his hips like he was on a silk four-poster. “If I’m a really good boy, sometimes the cooks let me lick clean the pots.” And why did even that sound appealing? “Note to self: Oliver Twist impression isn’t popular with angels.”

  Hell, I wished I’d seen that. “You’re popular with me, and I’m the bitching queen.”

  “Popular enough to forget that I’m the mages’ pet now? Or are you back singing the vampires are the Big Bads marching tune? Do you think I…deserve this?” Why did Ash have to sound so uncertain as he fidgeted, linking his hands behind his head?

  Twenty-eight days separated from me and his family… I’d thought that I’d been alone, but at least I’d had Drake, Ceri, and the Blood Familiars.