Rebel Angels: The Complete Series

by Rosemary A Johns

  Two vampires emerged from the iron forest dressed in olive leather: one athletic and the other graceful. Both had untamed waves of red hair down to their waists (although the graceful vampire’s tousled locks were brighter), which matched their pointed ears and lustrous fox tails, which swung side-to-side through their slashed trousers.

  My fox brothers — Blaze and Spark— had been freed from the witches’ magic because I’d killed the Wynter sisters: Halflings.

  Black arose in me, thrilling with joy, until I dashed towards the brothers, splashing across the river.

  Behind me, Anael hollered, “My sister, the drama queen...”

  Then the waters parted with a thrum of magic, which I knew had been Anael’s, and I grinned as I jumped to the other side, shaking the crimson droplets from me like a dog.

  Blaze caught me around the waist, as Spark settled his head under my chin, peeking up at me. I buried my hand in Spark’s hair, which was as silky as his fur had been. When I brushed over his fox ears, he purred.

  “Are you trying to drown yourself, Keeper?” Blaze chided. “I know that we look like numpties with these tails and such but at least we can fight for you now. We’re warriors: we protect what’s ours.”

  Yeah, there was no doubting this was my fierce Blaze.

  “It’s a hot look on you.” I tweaked the tip of Blaze’s tail.

  Blaze smirked. “Aye, but it’s this idiot who’s been pining after you…”

  Spark’s betrayed gaze shot to his brother. When Blaze pinched Spark’s arse, Spark yelped, before settling closer to me. “I’m yours, yours, yours,” he whispered against my neck.

  I shuddered, stroking Spark’s hair. Mine, both sides of my nature called, mine… “I swear that I had no idea you were vampires trapped as familiars. I’d have done anything to free you.”

  Blaze huffed. “Will you take me for daft? Rebel taught you to hunt — kill — Fallen like us. And how many fangs hung around your neck in the Under World?”

  I flinched, but Spark nipped soft kisses along my jawline. “I believe her.” He peeped up at me through long lashes. “She looks out for us, whilst Ash—”

  “You wouldn’t be about to finish that sentence…? Because otherwise my fangs…” Blaze’s canines shot out, as he wrenched Spark’s long neck back by his hair. “…will be taking a trip to your backside.”

  “…Abandoned us to the witches,” Spark hissed, flaring his wings to flames.

  Sizzle — Blaze’s eyes widened, before he stumbled away, wildly patting at his skin.

  I grinned with the pride of a mum whose geek kid had stood up to his jock older brother. Yet the way Blaze had blushed on Ash made me realize that Spark wasn’t the only one pining: two brothers fighting over their love’s honor would be romantic, if we weren’t standing in a dark fairy tale about to save the world or get our arses kicked.

  I snorted. “Shake hands.” Two pairs of eyes blinked at me. “Or hug, manly pat on the back, rousing chorus of “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother”…”

  Spark glanced from underneath his eyelashes at Blaze, as if regretting his pyro rebellion.

  Then Blaze grinned, sweeping his brother up in his arms and crushing him. “Come here, you idiot.”

  “Sister,” at Anael’s call, I glanced across the river. Anael stared up at the dimming sky, shaking. “Perhaps I was arrogant to assume hidden…”

  A freezing wind blasted from skies that rumbled once again with thunder. I drew closer to the lip of the river.

  One — two — three bubbles broke the surface of the water. Then it erupted in boiling geysers, which blew high into the air. Spark dragged me backwards, away from the edge, as motionless mechanical fish rained down on us like we were living through End of Days. The earth shuddered and shook, whilst the iron trees started to melt and as they did, they changed back into angels, twisting in their agony and screaming…

  My brother screamed too, falling onto the quaking ground; his arms outstretched to his dissolving angels in comfort or as if he could save them. His world — fantasy — was being taken apart piece by piece: the only safety that he’d known. Because you couldn’t hide from the true monsters of the world.

  “Father, I’m sorry,” Anael wailed, clutching his fingers through rope grass that was liquefying.

  A shadow soared above us in the cracking sky: Rahab in blazing fury. His violet wings lit the black, as he smote Anael’s creation as surely as any god.

  When Rahab swooped towards me, I shrank back. The true bad bastard had found me. What would he do to me for shattering his perfect prince?

  25

  Paralyzed and pinned to the wall of the infamous Reformation Room: it wasn’t my Number One favorite way to face the wrath of Rahab. At least Drake hung next to me, equally captive.

  I stared around at the room, which freaked out hardened members of the Brotherhood, assessing the shining black floors, ceiling, and walls: a trendy dance club.

  Nope, the Reformation Room wasn’t so tough.

  I smiled at Rahab, who lounged against the far wall, scrutinizing me, as if I was a beetle who’d somehow transformed into a giant and stomped on his toys. Anael paced across the blackness; his wings flared trails in the dark. “Problem, bro?”

  Drake sighed next to me, and Anael paused to cast me a scornful look.

  But Rahab only returned my smile. “My Queen, what could the problem be…? Shall I count the ways…?” He tapped his palm, before counting out on his fingers, “One: you broke the Mirror Lodge. It intrigues me how you achieved that. Two: both you and your brother went missing.”

  I hadn’t expected the tremor in Rahab’s voice, or the way that he clutched his arms around himself.

  He’d been worried? No one had ever parental panicked over me before, and how could I twinge with guilt over that, even whilst my shoulders ached from being twisted above me?

  Anael let out a dismayed gasp, diving to Rahab. He wound his arms around Rahab’s neck, petting his wings. “Forgive me…”

  “Shhh, my darling monster, calm yourself.” Rahab kissed the top of Anael’s head, before pushing him back. “I’ve spoiled you. You’ve forgotten who holds your leash.”

  Anael froze, before his eyes sparked. “How could I ever forget that, father?”

  Rahab’s look was dangerously knowing. “Be silent. Now is the time to choose.”

  He turned Anael by the shoulders towards us.

  Anael shrugged, even though I didn’t miss the anxious glance that he exchanged with Drake. “If I’ve erred, I should suffer myself.”

  “You shall; it’s why you’re making the choice,” Rahab replied.

  Anael glanced helplessly between us.

  “I’m an Undeserving now, am I not?” Drake said, meeting Anael’s eye. I was desperate for Drake to look at me, but paralyzed, he couldn’t turn his head. “The queen, however, is important. I propose that you choose me, prince, and don’t grieve over such a simple judgment.”

  “You are important, cherub,” Anael hissed, marching to Drake and caressing his curls. “You’re my brother.”

  “I’m not—”

  “You are and ever shall be my brother.” Anael tightened his hold in Drake’s hair. “Plus, you’re still recovering from your last trip to this…nightmare.”

  I glanced around the dark box of the Reformation Room: no whips, chains, brands, thumbscrews, or even fiendishly ticklish feathers…

  Nope, still not getting the horror vibe.

  “Allow me to do this. I can take it for both of you,” Drake pleaded.

  Anael shook his head. “When will it be enough?” Then he stepped away, before muttering, “My sister.”

  Rahab arched a pale brow. “Your sister is the most infuriating Glory ever born...? Your sister is more disobedient than my human apprentices, even though they spend more time fantasizing about witches than learning how to kill them...? Or your sister….?”

  “My sister is the one I choose to suffer the Reformation Room,” Anae
l blurted.

  Rahab’s lips curled into a smile, as he steered Anael closer to me. I shuddered, despite the fact that I couldn’t force my muscles to bastard move. I’d guessed that Anael would point the finger at me — he’d been raised with Drake, whereas he and I were hardly more than strangers still — yet that didn’t mean it didn’t feel like the torture hadn’t already started.

  Rahab fixed me with an intent stare, from which I couldn’t squirm away. “You, Phoenix Queen, might have become Champion of Light but you haven’t yet earned the right to rise. I’d be a bad father if I didn’t teach by example what happens to those who hide from me, allowing me to think…” He shook his head. “Anything could’ve happened to you. Vampires, witches, and supernatural creatures, which you haven’t even dreamed are real, await in the dark. You need some time to think about your actions, about who you truly are, and how your brother isn’t the only one who’s leashed now. Because his blood can take, as well as give life.”

  Rahab snatched Anael’s wing, hauling him until he hung close to me. Anael winced but didn’t struggle. He glanced questioningly at Rahab, but Rahab’s expression had shuttered. Then a flash of molten gold shot from Rahab’s finger, slicing through Anael’s wing.

  Anael howled. His blood dripped from the gash onto my wing.

  My world imploded, and I screamed.

  Pain. Excruciating. Black and violet.

  My wings, like raw nerve endings, sizzled in an agony that shot down my shoulder blades and spinal column, before blasting back up into my neck. Held motionless, I couldn’t even arch, only shriek out the bubbling pain, which crackled along each feather. Dazed, I felt Anael’s blood smeared onto my other wing.

  Then the world exploded for a second time.

  I drifted then, lost in the burning fog. Raised voices broke in waves, lost somewhere in the haze.

  Crack — the paralysis broke, and my body hunched, dropping to the floor.

  White…everything swirled in white-hot mists.

  My wings wilted, withering.

  Dying.

  My eyes drooped closed against the brightness and the throbbing in my back. When they slowly opened again, I hissed.

  White: a migraine-inducing white. Groaning, I raised my hand to shield my eyes as I shifted to sit up.

  It was the same shaped room, but it’d transformed to blinding white floors, ceiling, and floor. It seared my retinas and drilled a headache deep within my temples.

  And I was alone.

  I stumbled to my feet, shaking my head to clear it.

  Silence.

  I was surrounded by a quiet so deep that you could drown in it. I swallowed down the childish desire to scream. Then I shrugged my shoulder: something was off. My balance or…

  Where the hell were my wings?

  My panicked gasps sounded deafening in the hush. I twisted around, grasping at my own back like maybe my wings had only shrunk, and I’d be able to find them under my clothes.

  Rahab had taken my wings.

  The loss cut across me as keenly as a death. I sobbed, slamming against the wall.

  Thud — I thrilled at both the solid sound and pain as my forehead hit the hardness.

  I needed a focus that wasn’t my wings. Something real in all the white. A way to hurt.

  Thud — thud — thud.

  I collapsed to my knees, but my wings couldn’t cradle me because they’d been stolen using my own brother’s blood. I rolled onto my side, staring numbly at the blank wall: I’d tried to understand the Broken and now I did…because it’d happened to me.

  Tremors broke out across my skin, and I couldn’t stop them, gasping for breath.

  Alone in all this white…

  I closed my eyes to escape it. Suddenly, the scent of cranberries overwhelmed me, as ghost kisses explored my neck. I kicked out, thrashing: I’d been blinded again…

  Yet when my eyes snapped open, I was back in the white room.

  J, I need your sassy arse right now because I’m going crazy in this room.

  My own voice in my head thundered loud enough to make me wince.

  Silence.

  It’s not the time to play Hide from the Silver Queen. This white hell is driving me A Clockwork Orange psycho.

  Silence.

  I pushed myself onto my elbows, trembling.

  He took my wings. J? He stole…

  Silence. Total. Absolute.

  I need you. Please!

  When J didn’t answer, I howled in a savage explosion of frustration and fear, before falling back in shock, as it echoed off each wall, resounding back so loudly that I shoved my hands over my ears and cowered.

  Yeah, I take it back, the Reformation Room was badass.

  Rahab had wanted to give me time alone to face myself.

  And that was the thing I feared the most.

  I backed against the wall, hugging my knees. I counted, recited, planned 99 Ways to Skin a Cult Leader. But my mind drifted on the white, lost in the silence. Terrified to close my eyes, I couldn’t sleep. Sometimes I paced, just to remind myself that the floor was real and so was I.

  When the black and violet spun in tangled frenzies, I bam — bam — bam punched the wall; my knuckles split and spurted scarlet onto the white. Just for a moment, I buzzed on the adrenalin rush and the thrill of the red: it settled my mind back to reality. Then the wall shimmered, smoothing away the scarlet back to white.

  I growled, before shuddering at the way the sound broke the silence; I sank to my knees.

  If I was on a leash, then I’d never have freedom, nor would Anael or any of the Brotherhood. A puppet couldn’t be a true champion, even if I had influence, status, and a home. Rahab’s power could break my family and me apart, just like he had my brother’s hidden world, but if we didn’t risk the fight against him, we’d all be the slaves of his cult. Maybe Anael would still choose his father over me, as he had Drake, but he was still worth saving.

  Or I’d bastard die trying.

  I blinked.

  A white paper cup of water and bowl of white rice had appeared next to me. I peered at it, before holding my breath and listening for something: the footfalls of my jailers, sniggers, shrieks…

  Yet there was nothing but the same unnatural quiet that was deeper than anything I’d ever experienced.

  I peered at the rice. Rahab was going for Pennywise chuckles. I batted the rice over in a hot spray.

  Later, I rocked backwards and forwards in front of the mess, biting on my nails. The whorls of rice floated in front of my eyes. Were they forming patterns or was I losing it?

  A low whining.

  Was I making that sound or was the rice?

  I shook my head, as the rice paraded like tiny soldiers, before feathering out into six wings.

  It wasn’t real.

  The whining broke into a desperate keen.

  Can’t think… Can’t think… Can’t…

  I stared down at my fingers that were sticky with starch, then in shock at the word, which I’d spelled out across the floor in rice:

  SERAPHIM.

  The silver inside me coiled in rapturous delight at the word, whilst my vampiric and angelic sides recoiled in terror. I scrabbled back until I hit the wall; my heartbeat thrashed in my ears.

  Facing myself hadn’t unleashed me, it’d freed something dangerous.

  This time, I risked closing my eyes because continuing to look at that word was worse. When soft hands caressed my cheek, however, I screamed, lashing out with my steel nails.

  “I had imagined that a thank you, Mischief would be beyond my beastly queen, but I’d hoped you wouldn’t pull the Wolverine claws,” Mischief’s murmured snark broke into the silence, making me wince.

  I opened my eyes.

  Mischief’s sparkling hair hung over his cheeks, as he crouched close to me; his tunic had been slashed.

  Hell, I’d done that.

  I retracted my claws, staring at him: silver was my new favorite color.

  Please
, let him be real.

  I tentatively reached out, tracing down his nose, then his chin, throat, and chest…

  He was real.

  I threw myself forward, clutching onto Mischief. Unexpectedly, another set of wings wrapped around me, followed by a fluffy tail…

  Tiger purred, rubbing his head against mine.

  Mischief sniggered. “The adamantly not adorable one was most insistent that he helped in your rescue, since you’re his savior.”

  I flinched at the title, but Tiger only hugged me harder: I wasn’t complaining.

  I fought to keep my voice from wavering but lost the battle, “You have to leave me here. If Rahab—”

  “We spoke together in the Ghost Caves, do you remember?” Mischief asked, picking his words with deliberate emphasis.

  I nodded.

  “You’re now in the position that we sought. But we cannot wait any longer. You should know Fychan’s Ritual of the Wings occurs tomorrow.”

  I drew back, grimacing at the memory of the child sized guillotine and thud of wings as they fell into the basket.

  I couldn’t stop the tears spilling down my cheeks. “My wings…”

  “I know.” Mischief wiped my tears with his thumbs. “I once questioned your dedication to our cause. I should rather have questioned my own fear of Glories, amplified by my time spent in this hateful room.” He waved his hand at the walls. “It projects your personal nightmare, just like the Lower Vault traps you with…” He shuddered. “Each angels’ time spent here is uniquely horrifying. We can only be plucked apart by our own fears, doubts, and truths.” He glanced around, before startling at the word marked out in rice: SERAPHIM.

  “You know,” I whispered, as the silver inside me surged to meet his own, “what it means.”

  Mischief glanced down, whilst sparks skittered along his skin. “Something more dangerous, deadly, and ancient than even Rahab.”

  Mischief clasped my hands. I shook at the shock, as our magic met in crashing waves. Tiger clasped around my neck; his ears tickled my throat.

  Then everything broke from white to silver, and the Reformation Room vanished.