Rebel Angels: The Complete Series

by Rosemary A Johns

When instead, Jahael stretched like life was too much of a bore, I snapped. “Or were you too busy hiding in here behind your slaves and bodyguards from assassins to protect me?”

  One moment Jahael had been lounging on the divan, the next he’d clutched me by the neck, dragging me to my feet: hell, he was fast. I held back the whimper, as he wiped his finger through a trickle of blood between my tits from the Butterfly Vampire bites. Then he licked it across his long tongue: his lips were cherry red, like they were painted with rouge. “You can’t blame my fae for wanting a taste. Your blood has always been special.”

  When he dropped me, I staggered.

  “So, they’re not Vampire Butterflies…?” I glanced upwards at the fluttering cloud above my head.

  Jahael made a very Un-Emperor like snort. “BAM! I’m gagging on that deliciousness. They’re my bloodthirsty Knights of the Seraphim. Here, Anael, stop lurking in the shadows. Come watch your sister’s hysterics, my cutie pie prince.”

  Anael — my brother.

  I forced myself not to rush forward but to blank my face, as Gabriel had mastered: to hurt me, you had to hurt my family. The less Jahael knew that I cared for my half-brother, the less hold he had on either of us; I hoped that Anael realized that.

  Gabriel had lost his brother: I couldn’t lose mine.

  Anael had never been allowed outside Castle Drake until now, however, trapped in a single room. He’d molded friends and lovers out of iron because he’d only had Drake, who was as close to a sibling as I was.

  How would Anael cope in this devious Seraphim world?

  When Anael prowled from the shadows, imposing and savage, even wrapped in rich satins and diamonds that matched Jahael’s like he was the Emperor’s consort, he still looked as haughty as when I’d first seen him in the Legion: royal, in a way that I could never pull off.

  Why had I been anxious that Anael couldn’t play this game? It looked like he’d been playing it better than me…but then, he’d had a lot of practice with psycho dictators under his adoptive dad: Rahab.

  Anael cast one glance at Mischief’s still body, before tossing his brunet tresses and winding his arms around Jahael’s neck. “Bored.” He sighed, pouting. “Why do I have to listen to a Glory?” Anael was only hiding our closeness, wasn’t he? Hell, don’t let him have transferred from one despot of a dad to another. I’d only just started to break Anael’s conditioning, when Mischief had brought us here. What if Jahael had started his own fresh brainwashing of veneration? “You promised to let me play with Purah if I was good.”

  Mr Twinkly’s head shot up, and his hand trembled. Or Purah, I assumed.

  “Father, by all that burns,” Gabriel growled, even as his gaze ached with anguish, “this angel…Non-Divine…has no right to use an Acolyte—”

  “Surely you’re not speaking about me?” Anael rested his chin on Jahael’s shoulder, playing with a diamond on his robe. “Was it an angel who failed to protect his own sister’s first party, save his brother, or demanded to see the Emperor, almost like he considered this his Holy Audience Chamber? Or that we didn’t already know…?”

  My breath hitched.

  I’d forgotten what a cruelly strategic bastard my brother had learned to be in the Legion.

  Gabriel opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again, as he looked between Anael and his dad.

  Jahael gave his son a considering look. “Naughty boys don’t get treats. But good ones…” He swung to Anael, patting his cheek. “Purah’s all yours, cutie.”

  Gabriel’s shoulders hunched

  “You lost one dad and now all you crave is a daddy,” I spat. Anael finally glanced at me, even if it was with a flat indifference that clawed. “Or is it a mummy, since yours would’ve rather murdered you, than birthed a son?”

  Anael’s eyes widened, before at last flaring with hurt.

  Jahael shoved me, and I tumbled onto my arse. His eyes burned like twin suns; silver crackled along his vast six wings, which spread the span of two columns in his rage, whilst he shielded my own brother from me.

  Because I was the bitch who’d hurt him.

  My ears roared with bellowed chants of holy, holy, holy, and the words bled from the walls. My magic thrashed in desperation to submit.

  “I taught you to shank with words, girl, but here’s where I break it down to you: they’ll be no slaying Anael because he’s my Adviser. I protect my Advisers, and I’m one fierce bitch.” At last, Jahael’s wings folded back. “I’ve loved you longer than you know, but your hoochie mama ass has to know how to love back.”

  I blushed, peeping around Jahael at Anael. When the chants quietened, my magic calmed. “I know how to love,” I whispered…don’t think of Mischief… “But I don’t even know you.”

  “You’ve got that right.” Jahael tutted. “Mummy? Freedom, Violet-darling, is choice. As a shifter, I can be male, female, both…or neither. Pure Seraphim can choose.”

  Jahael batted Anael away as he slunk closer to me with a swing of his hips. His robe tightened into diamond studded trousers, and his jaw-line hardened, but I could still tell that it was Jahael; he was equally as beautiful. He flashed me a grin, before his face softened, and his body blossomed into curves. A Glory fluttered her long eye-lashes at me, before with a flap of her wings, Jahael was back as his androgynous self again in his robe. “Most Seraphim choose their primary form at birth, but I choose to be neither…and that, sweet of my life, is freedom.” For the first time, his scrutiny fully fell on Mischief. “Pretty little thing… One of the flaws in my bastard kids is that they never can hold their shifts for long enough to choose their form.” Something darker swept across Jahael’s mild curiosity as he studied Mischief’s — dead — body. “Pity. Or this one wouldn’t have been stuck as a Wing.”

  “His name was Mischief.” I pushed myself up into a crouch. “And he was your son. He suffered because you couldn’t keep it in your pants.”

  “His name was…that’s right, it doesn’t matter because he’s dead.” Jahael’s eyes sparked. “Now put…that…down, Gabriel, you’re already in daddy’s bad books.”

  That…?

  Tears burned, as I leapt up, but Gabriel caught my eye and shook his head warningly.

  Gabriel laid Mischief down on the cold floor, brushing back Mischief’s hair from his forehead, as if helping his little brother to prepare to meet his dad for the first time, not for his funeral.

  A sob caught in my throat. “Don’t dare to lecture me about love again, when your son’s corpse is lying in front of you and you’re dry-eyed, you heartless bastard.”

  “Will weeping bring him back?” Jahael fainted backwards in full Drama Queen mode, and Anael caught him. Black rose up in me to slap off the fake grief from his smug face. “Or do you crave punishment for those responsible?”

  I nodded, not understanding Gabriel’s groan.

  Jahael straightened, and his lips curled into a vicious grin. “Then there shall be atonement. Purah, hold the taper and don’t let it go until it burns out.”

  Purah froze, trembling, but he grasped the taper between his pinched fingers.

  What the hell…? When it burned down, it’d sear Purah.

  “Look, all cured. No more craving for punishment.” I spun around, patting myself down. “No need for him to burn himself, yeah?”

  Gabriel paced closer to Purah in agitation, leaning forward as if about to tear away the taper; Purah whimpered at the heat. “Please don’t punish Purah for my mistake—”

  “This isn’t punishment: it’s atonement, submission, and worship. How many ass whippings does it take to make you understand your role as my Firstborn?” Jahael howled. “Are you feeling guilt, Gabriel? Because you didn’t keep your sister safe? Because your brother lies dead like a sparkly sacrifice?”

  And now I saw it: Jahael’s sorrow unleashed as fury. A shifter, he wore as many faces as Gabriel.

  Desperate with agony, Purah doubled up, letting go of the taper before it burned out. Te
rrified, he bowed lower in apology.

  Jahael simply nudged a second taper towards him.

  “By my wing, it’s enough,” Gabriel snarled.

  “Must I insist every Acolyte joins Purah in atonement?” Jahael raised his eyebrow.

  Gabriel shook his head.

  Purah picked up a second taper with trembling fingers, lighting it from a candle. This time he held onto it, sweating, even whilst it burned itself out on his blistering skin. With a whine, he collapsed.

  “I owe my brother a debt,” Gabriel said, unable to look away from Purah, yet I couldn’t help noticing that Anael had stiffened as well, hugging his arms across his chest. “He saved my life.”

  Jahael swept around to Gabriel; his gaze sharpened like he’d realized a sudden advantage over his son. My guts clenched. “All debts are cleared with death, jackass.”

  “That’s not true.” Gabriel’s gaze was steely, as he raised it to his dad’s. “By all that burns with the holiest love, I swear—”

  “Don’t,” Purah gasped, forcing himself back onto his knees. “Don’t, don’t…”

  What the hell was this oath?

  “I swear that I shall serve you as you see fit, if you resurrect Mischief,” Gabriel begged.

  Resurrect?

  A surge of glorious hope swept through me. My pulse pounded so rapidly that I swayed with dizziness. My silver magic crashed in tidal waves, frothing with joy that it might be re-joined with Mischief’s.

  And yet…

  I hated that the hope could be false. I’d never come back from it: losing Mischief twice.

  I’d promised Rahab anything to save Rebel’s life. Gabriel’s sacrifice was a dangerous one: he’d just bound himself to serve his dad — to do anything Jahael wanted — to save his brother.

  I loved Gabriel for that, and yet I couldn’t allow it. And that broke my heart.

  “Not bastard happening.” I fought hard not to let my voice waver. “I brought Mischief’s brother back from the dead as my Phoenix slave — Firebird — and I don’t think Mischief ever truly forgave me. He called me a monster, and he was right. No way am I doing the same to him. He’d have chosen death, and as you’re all about choice, you’d better let him have that at least, or I don’t care how Big Bad despot you are, I’ll kick your arse.”

  Jahael clicked his fingers, and Gabriel lifted Mischief back into his arms, following his dad across the audience chamber. I darted after them.

  “Do you imagine that I’m some shady floozy?” Jahael gasped in mock horror. “I’m the original resurrection: life and death. Phoenix is the pale imitation. Sorry, cutie pie!” He shot a kiss over his shoulder at Anael, who lounged on the divan, stretching out feline-like.

  “If it’s so easy,” I tugged at Jahael’s robe, “why didn’t you simply conjure Mischief alive and—”

  “Did I say that it was easy?” Jahael paused in front of a mural of a snarling sabre-toothed tiger under a boiling sun, in a valley of bones. Just for a moment, I thought that the tiger winked at me. I took a step back, but Jahael clasped my hand. “Rebirth demands a sacrifice.” Then he clutched Gabriel by the scruff of the neck, digging in his thumb until Gabriel winced. “You take vampires as spoils, my naughty son. Get my kids killed. And now make demands of resurrection by oath. What you need is another special learning experience. So, let’s take a trip to Monster Hall.”

  The mural shimmered to life.

  Jahael shoved Gabriel through, before dragging me after him, whilst Gabriel wailed in terror.

  10

  As a kid, monster had been sneered at me as an insult, and I’d hidden my mismatched eyes behind sunglasses. On Angel World, I’d thrown off my sunglasses — and my shame — owning both the angelic and vampiric natures battling within me.

  I’d thought that I was the most dangerous monster out there.

  I’d been bastard wrong.

  I stumbled in the dark, catching my foot against something oozing like rotting leaves. My nose wrinkled, and I shied back. The heat beat down in oppressive waves, blasting the decaying stench of Monster Hall against my face. I gagged, holding my hand across my mouth.

  Gabriel’s wings beat in frantic, crackling arcs through the gloom; his breath came in panicked gasps. The flap — flap — flap of Jahael’s giant wings overhead lit the low ceiling in silver sparks.

  “Is this a lame arsed learning through stink lesson?” I growled. “Because if it is, I swear, lesson learned. Let’s get with the resurrecting, or does hurting your living son matter more to you, than saving your dead one?”

  Gabriel gasped. I turned towards the sound and sweep of his flaming wings in the black. But I couldn’t see Mischief’s wings because his spark had been put out.

  Please let us be able to light it again.

  My magic wound around me in desperate coils, soothing me, even whilst it squirmed in its own anxious grief at the loss of Mischief’s magic.

  “A good father and a strong leader knows that to save, you must hurt, Violet-darling.” Jahael’s voice was even colder and more dangerous than it’d been in the Holy Audience Chamber: Jahael truly was nothing like J. “Does this look like Snuggly Bunny Land? To survive in a realm of monsters, even a god must become monstrous. And hooker, nobody talks to me like that.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe I’m nobody.”

  Sizzle — light sparked from Jahael’s wings and along the roof, illuminating the hall.

  Jahael swooped down, landing in front of me. “Girl, you’re everything. Your cunning as a button brother understood his place here straight away, but you just need the guiding hand of your creator. Luckily for your sweet ass, you have my son to watch as an example.”

  Gabriel cringed, backing into the center of the room away from the glimmering murals that were on every wall: monsters, real or magical, hybrids or evolutionary possibilities torn from the Gateways. Bristling werewolves, giant apes, and millipedes the size of cars prowled and writhed as if brought to life by the light.

  Howls, grunts, and shrieks.

  Gabriel trudged to an altar in the center of the hall, which was soft with black mold; when Gabriel placed Mischief onto it, I shuddered at the obscene suck, as Mischief sank into its hold.

  Jahael’s gaze met mine. “The Guardian built Monster Hall, when Gabriel was still the tiniest kid because no amount of wing whippings could kick the rebel from Gabriel’s adorable ass….until this.”

  “Was my oath not enough?” Gabriel pressed the back of his hand to Mischief’s cheek. “Must I also atone with humiliation and…?”

  “Terror?” Jahael wound a strand of hair around his finger, before squelching through the floor towards me. Only then did I realize that his feet were encased in graceful shoes like mine. “That’s why you were always locked in for the night, my naughty son. So that you could suffer the spinetingling anticipation…the waiting…never knowing which horrific creature would escape from these walls and—”

  “Enough with the Hammer Horror dramatics,” I snarled.

  Tremors ran through Gabriel, as he leaned against the altar; his breaths became ragged. His gaze was glazed like he was lost back in Childhood Nightmare Land.

  Had he truly been locked here — in the dark — waiting for the monsters to crawl from the walls?

  We’d both been attacked as kids by monsters at night, but Gabriel’s had been real.

  Jahael rolled his eyes. “What do you think lies outside my Temple, Violet-darling? A god either extinguishes their fear or they’re burnt to ash by it.” He swept all six of his wings around me, shrouding me in their intoxicating scent of agarwood. “There are just as many monsters in my court.” His whisper was too hot against my ear. Too close, too close, too… I couldn’t escape his hold, yet the preciousness of his touch and attention sank into my bones, illuminating me with fervor: my creator saw and loved me…

  Holy, holy, holy…

  Why were my eyes suddenly so heavy?

  Jahael’s lips curved against my cheek. “Yet the mo
nsters in this temple wear smiling faces. Even you, girl. What makes an Emperor god any different…? Only this: I admit what I am.” His wings tightened to the point of pain. “Choose, Gabriel.”

  Gabriel started, before inching towards one wall, then changing his mind and backing towards another. He screwed closed his eyes, reaching out his trembling fingers.

  “Bastard stop,” I struggled in Jahael’s hold. “What do you want? A sacrifice tossed into the volcano to appease you?”

  Jahael snorted. “That’d be a start.”

  Gabriel’s fingers traced the warping wall.

  Lava burst out, knocking Gabriel onto his back and covering him head-to-toe. Except, it wasn’t lava, rather thousands of tiny fire scorpions. Gabriel screamed, thrashing wildly, whilst the scorpions’ stingers flared in the gloom, searing him. Yet he didn’t try and fight back.

  Horrified, I hollered, squirming against Jahael’s feathered bondage, but he hushed me.

  “Shhh now, don’t be a scaredy-cat. There are more creatures in the supernatural worlds than you’ve ever dreamed of. No, don’t look away…” Jahael gripped my chin, forcing me to watch, whilst his son writhed in agony. “Vampires and angels? They’re the sweet cream on the top of the cake. Every bite from now on and for every day of the rest of your life, you’ll discover something richer and so much darker now that you’re a god.”

  “Then this is me officially handing back my god card.” I hated the way that tears traced my cheeks, and even more, the way that Jahael licked at them.

  “Why would you reject your fabulous divinity?”

  “I’m a rebel, yeah?”

  “You’re a monster.” I couldn’t help the wince. “Both your brother and you are the monsters that shouldn’t be: Fallen and angel, shadow and light. Plus, you have a special seeded extra that makes you divine, which means that you need the same lessons. So, choose.”

  I blinked at Jahael, even as my ancient powers surged in fury at Gabriel’s screams.

  “Do you wish one son resurrected or the other burned?” Jahael whispered.

  I jolted; my breath caught.