Rebel Angels: The Complete Series

by Rosemary A Johns

  One hour to venture into the most dangerous court remaining in The Burning Temple: the center of Jahael’s power.

  What did Jahael see in the Gateways, or bring through? Why did my silver quiver in terror? Was it out of fear that I’d discover all along I hadn’t been the hero, villain, or damsel of this story, but rather the monster?

  18

  I’d never heard a star scream, until Drake flew me into Court Six, Infinity Keep.

  I wrapped my arms around Drake’s waist, nestling into his frankincense kissed feathers, whilst he soared above the staircases and crystal walls to the highest point, under a domed ceiling of infinitely pulsing stars.

  And every one of them screamed.

  What the hell was up with the freaky universe?

  I shuddered, as my mind fractured under the onslaught, until Drake whispered, with enough quiet pain for me to know that he suffered too, “Icarus flew too close to the sun; the stars sing to warn us.”

  He circled down to the floor, which was blood pooled by the sun that streamed jewel bright through the walls.

  Rebel panted as he dragged himself up the final staircase. Drake had pushed his influence as the Guardian’s novice to retrieve Rebel’s clothes: red bondage trousers, black ripped t-shirt, and studded leather jacket. Plus, his spiked black collar that Rebel had refastened around his own neck like a votive offering. He’d strapped on his sword, Eclipse, with a grin that even had Drake grinning back. Now Rebel had more swag than me. “What’s with all that blessed racket? If the infinite bawls at me, then I’ll bawl back.”

  When Drake scowled, I couldn’t help the snigger. “Zachriel, this is the most dangerous court in the Emperor’s temple. How do you excel at always reducing the glorious to the mundane?”

  Rebel tapped his chin. “Like this…?” He raised his middle finger.

  “Wallad,” I muttered.

  Yet Drake burst into laughter: a fresh light peel of joy, which elated me at the same time as it tugged at a buried sadness. Because I’d never heard Drake laugh like that before, or sound so free.

  Drake had hidden every smile before like they’d been a crime, only allowing himself to play a role.

  Had I ever even known him?

  I prowled to Drake, swinging him around. Drake let out a surprised oomph, before laughing again: I guarded that laugh as mine, even though Rebel snatched Drake’s other arm to spin him too.

  “Stop this childishness,” Drake giggled.

  Hell, the Ice Commander giggled…?

  Grrrrrr.

  A growl rumbled through Infinity Keep.

  I glanced over my shoulder, just before Drake shoved me to the side.

  A giant Gateway — a pulsing slab of stone with a sharp point at its center like a nose, which the angels used as books, but this one was a hundred times larger than the Gateways in Harahel’s library on Angel World — melted out of the crystal world and slammed towards us.

  I gasped, as the Gateway clipped my shoulder.

  Slam — it crashed into Drake, who gritted his teeth and slapped it.

  Harrumph.

  The Gateway backed away with a shrug, as if frustrated to have missed its prey: me.

  Why the hell were these freaky Land of the Giants sized Gateways in attack mode?

  Then with a sudden grating and grinding, Gateways roared from above us and below in a crimson throbbing stream.

  Rebel hollered, drawing Eclipse and standing back-to-back with me. We dodged between the clashing stone blocks, whilst Drake hovered above, diving down and hauling us dangling in the air, or cracking the blocks with his magic.

  For some reason, the Gateways feared Drake.

  Drake had warned that the Gateways would try to devour us; he hadn’t been bastard wrong.

  Grrrrrr.

  A Gateway forced me against the wall, slicing me with its nose.

  I winced; this one was a mean bastard. “Let’s dance, StoneFace.”

  Snarls, rumbles, bellows.

  Way to piss off the psycho blocks.

  I grimaced at the wetness down my cheek, wiping my hand through the crimson. When I glanced up, I caught Drake’s horrified gaze.

  “You dare to steal my Queen’s blood without permission?” Drake’s voice boomed, echoing through the keep; it was colder than the stars.

  Immediately, the gateways hummed, shuffling backwards.

  “Remain still when I’m talking,” Drake commanded. The Gateways froze. “Good. Now show my guests respect or the Guardian shall know of it.”

  The Gateways whined but didn’t move.

  Hell, there was my angelic Commander, towering over the bully blocks.

  I edged around the Gateway that’d pinned me to the wall — could I get away with a quick boot to its stone balls as I passed? — and Rebel pulled me by the hand into the middle of the keep. Only two Gateways had invaded this part, underneath the loudest stars.

  The two tallest.

  I eyed Drake. “So, you’re like the Gateway whisperer?”

  “I’m the Guardian’s novice.” Drake pulled on his sleeves. “In here, I have some borrowed power because he considers me gifted.”

  “You are gifted.” Rebel rubbed Drake’s shoulder. “Only your idiot of a da couldn’t see it.”

  “And being top boy in the court, from which Jahael draws his power…?” I stared around the Infinity Keep.

  Gabriel might put all his trust in his Damned uncle, but despots were taken down from within as much as from without.

  To destroy a monster, you had to understand it.

  “I have access to knowledge that most Seraphim never learn. And it is terrifying.” Drake’s wings curled around himself. “Jahael believes himself Emperor of gods because he can see through these Gateways infinite realms beyond his own…infinite evolutionary possibilities…as well as those supernatural beings that many consider gods. Yet herein lies the danger: a shifter seeing so much will never be happy but strive to shape themselves and others to greater perfection, never-ending. Yet more, the Guardian has the power to resurrect from the past, as easily as does the Emperor raise the dead. Does this make them gods?” Drake shook his head. “What is a god, after all?”

  “Screw the philosophy.” My heart beat hard in my ribcage, my shoulder blades tingled, and my gums itched like my fangs were about to shoot out. “What’s any of this got to do with a gamer from Hackney?”

  Rebel linked his pinkie with mine. “I’ve been known to say it all arseway, but that was your human skin, and that’s shed now. I never told you before about…” Drake hugged his arms around himself. “…That muppet Commander over there being a hero, even if he won’t see it himself, because I wanted you to be free to choose, not out of duty or a young one’s pact.” When Drake winced, Rebel shot him an apologetic glance. “Blessed Mary, I’ve lived what it’s like to carry the burden of knowledge, and I just…wanted your wings light, so that you could fly.”

  My eyes burned, as I rubbed my pinkie against Rebel’s.

  “Yet again I am the bad guy, am I not?” Drake ran his hand up and down the Gateway. “Because now you must share our burden. These control life and death: like you.” I startled: what in merry hell? “You’re the balance of worlds. You shall end or save us all.”

  “What in the actual…?”

  Eeeeeek, eeeeeek, eeeeeek.

  The Gateways shrieked in discordant unity. I fell to my knees, clasping my hands over my ears.

  Hide your feathery ass, Violet-cheeks. The sorcerer is home, and the apprentice has been a bad boy playing with spells again.

  I jolted at J’s desperate panic. Then violet tendrils shimmered around Rebel and me in a shield, before bleeding away and leaving us invisible, just as Drake had once protected us in Angel World.

  “Keep silent,” Drake hissed.

  Drake stumbled, gripping onto the Gateway to hold himself up; casting his Angelic Power over others always left him vulnerable, and he couldn’t cast it on himself.

  Rebel held me
close; his face was as pale as my own.

  On Angel World, I’d left Drake to face his attackers alone because then I’d only known him as my guard and Rebel’s jailer. But now I loved him — not with the aching devotion that he loved because he’d been alone for so many centuries — but with a need that insisted that he was my Wing.

  And I could show him what it was to no longer be alone.

  When the Guardian soared into the keep and slammed onto the floor in front of Drake, crimson-soaked in the bloody light, Drake cringed.

  “My talented novice,” the Guardian stroked his beard, whilst his wings twisted with energy, “why do you invade the sanctity of the infinities without me and disturb the Gateways’ slumber?”

  Drake forced his expression to blankness, unraveling the tie of his dressing gown, so that it swung open; flashes of skin were revealed like slices of sweet heaven on each step, as he sauntered to the Guardian.

  Drake knelt before the Guardian, rubbing his head on his thigh. “My apologies. I wished only to hear how bright the stars could sing. To make you proud, Guardian.”

  I stiffened, as the Guardian traced the tip of a wing down Drake’s cheek. “And you shall hear them sing until you learn your lesson.”

  Drake’s eyes widened. “Allow me to…”

  With a flick of his wrist, the Guardian hurled Drake flying in a hissing spray towards the stars. Drake howled as he was sucked into the ceiling.

  Even I could feel the stars’ maddening draw like my mind was being pulled up into Drake’s agony.

  When I glanced at Rebel, he simply nodded. Then together we stepped out of Drake’s shield: at least I got to play the ghost card.

  “Boo,” I yelled.

  The Guardian comical staggered, losing concentration. The stars’ screams died, and Drake fell from the sky onto Rebel and me.

  Oomph — I stared into Drake’s dazed gaze, as he lay across our laps.

  The second angel to fall into my lap, but this time I’d chosen him.

  I tucked a curl behind Drake’s ear and glared at the Guardian. “Enough with the Saruman routine. We sneaked in here; you caught us. And yeah, I know, curiosity killed the freaky violet-and-black eyed cat.”

  The Guardian’s wings sparked, and the two tallest Gateways scraped closer, surrounding us. “To make me proud?” He mocked Drake, who refused to look up. “Why, naïve novice, you did this for them. Your misguided attachments are holding you back from becoming something great. I’ve risked myself with our Burning One, arguing your place as my apprentice. Maybe when I show the seeded who she truly is, you’ll desist in your folly and devote yourself to the study of the never-ending.”

  “And perhaps your pompous arse will explode into sprites singing “Purple Haze”, but we don’t always get what we want,” I smirked.

  The Guardian snarled, smashing his palm on first one block — I flinched as the sharp point speared him and blood trickled — and then the second.

  I didn’t understand why Drake encircled his wings around me.

  The first Gateway bellowed and pulsed, then an angel staggered out.

  And that angel was me.

  19

  When you cover yourself in nothing but choice, you parade in the Emperor’s new clothes: naked and vulnerable.

  Nobody’s battles are unique; we’re all caught in the same turf war between our darker primal natures.

  But me? I got to bastard face-off with mine.

  “Who are you?” I gasped, at the same time as…Impostor Me.

  Impostor Me crouched in the mouth of the Gateway with Star drawn in her palm. How the hell did she have the same weapon as me? Had Rebel gifted his dad’s dagger to her as well, and why did the thought of that shank me?

  Light shone through the crystal walls of Infinity Keep, anointing Impostor Me. Rebel and Drake’s wings were soft around me, whilst the tiled floor was hard underneath. The stars’ screams had been muted to whisperings.

  Impostor Me inspected me back with the same intensity that I examined her.

  Well, I was one hot bitch.

  Impostor Me was also an Angel Me: A golden Glory with neatly coiled hair, who was dressed up like she was in my computer game, Angels vs Vampires, with top score and highest level of perfection. A gleaming ideal of satin violets and armor. When her violet-and-black wings stretched out behind her, I cringed at the tingling in my shoulder blades and the loss of my own wings. Her domineering sneer was straight out of Angel World: a true baby bird Matriarch.

  My mum would be proud; Angel Me could rule worlds.

  The Guardian slid behind the Gateway, leaning against the keep’s wall, readying himself to watch the show.

  I prodded Drake. “You cloned me?”

  Drake hunched his slight shoulders. “I wish that was all, which had been done to you, my Queen.”

  I closed my eyes, whilst I steadied my breathing. On the count of three Angel Me would’ve vanished: one, two, three…

  When I opened my eyes, Angel Me was still there.

  What did you reckon, Feathery-puff, you’d been sucking on the crazy juice and she was just a delusion?

  Here’s hoping.

  You wanted answers; you were never going to like them.

  Sometimes people wear masks not to protect themselves, but to protect everybody else.

  Angel Me stared back superciliously. “What villainy is this? To which strange realm have I been dragged out of the long dark? Who dares…?”

  Then she sniffed.

  Her expression softened, just for a moment, before it hardened, as her gaze fixed on Rebel, with such possessive desire that I shuddered.

  Is that what I looked like when the violet howled mine, mine, mine…until driven by its hunger, I’d touched, Marked, and bonded Rebel against his will? How could Rebel submit to such terrifying, unbridled dominance?

  Angel Me clicked her fingers.

  I clasped Rebel’s arm, but he wriggled away. He glanced between the two Violet versions, before wandering to Angel Me like his dreams and nightmares had collided. My pulse pounded in panic at the loss of him and the slam of his sweet scent.

  Angel Me was stealing my candy.

  I couldn’t miss the love, as Rebel’s gaze met Angel Me’s, even though I wished that I could.

  Angel Me sheathed Star, reaching out her hand to Rebel, who blinked in confusion. He still tipped up his long neck, however, in supplication.

  Crack — Angel Me backhanded Rebel, slapping his cheek crimson with such brutality that his eyes overflowed with shocked tears.

  I snarled, shoving Drake off my lap, as I scrambled up and stalked towards her.

  “Kneel, Wing. Must I instruct you in such simple submission again?” Angel Me’s harshness made me shiver: how close had I come to transforming into this Glory?

  Was there a side of her even now inside me?

  Rebel knelt, bowing his head. “Forgive me, princess.”

  How could Rebel kneel to her?

  Whatever part of me was close to this angelic bitch raised its head and roared to beat Rebel bloody, until he knelt before me, rather than this impostor wearing my face.

  How could Rebel abandon me?

  Angel Me stroked her hand through Rebel’s hair, like petting a dog. “What has become of you? These clothes? Collar? Your wing?” He flinched at her unexpectedly tender investigation of his damaged wing. Then flinched again, as she tipped forward his head, brushing aside his hair. She traced the Mark with shaking fingers; Rebel whined, arching away. His distress tore through the bond. “The pox on you all! Who has dared do such a vile thing?”

  I curled my hand over Flight’s hilt: nobody should touch Rebel’s Mark, not even this freaky angelic doppelganger. I let out a ragged breath, before raising my hand. “That’d be me. So enough with the touching.”

  Angel Me punched me in the nose.

  I blinked against the pain. “OK, I’m leading with the ow, and following with the back off, bitch: he’s mine.”

  I shoul
d’ve known to duck Angel Me’s second punch.

  Slam — I hit the floor with a crunch of ribs.

  Drake prowled closer, but I waved him back.

  Rebel hovered over me, staring up at Angel Me with his patented puppy dog eyes. “Whip my arse, princess, but don’t hurt…”

  “You’d give me orders, Zachriel?” Even my guts churned in fear at Angel Me’s icy threat.

  Rebel paled. “Never, princess. But she—”

  “Marked you.” Love — yearning, protective, and real — broke through Angel Me’s frustrated expression. Yeah, I’d have kicked my own arse for that decision too. “She desecrated your trust.”

  I blanched. Angel Me knew how to shank with words as well.

  I forced myself up shakily again. “I also saved his life, the world, and love the little Irish bundle of bondage.”

  “You talk like an Apothecary,” she sneered.

  “And you talk like a bossy bitch.” I shoved her back against the Gateway. “You’re the new kid here, not me. This is my turf.”

  “We look alike, although you lack wings.” Angel Me’s eyes narrowed. Her own wings widened in an alpha display. Rebel watched us anxiously. “But you’re shamefully dressed as a servant. You wound and Mark my Wing like that makes you strong, but indeed it only dishonors you as weak. I imagine you to be nothing more than a beastly, sluttish Glory, unable to control a Wing without breaking him. You truly aren’t me at all, are you?”

  My jaw clenched; I cupped her cheek, stroking across the soft skin. It was freaky to be staring into my own black-and-violet eyes: they weren’t ugly, like I’d always thought, but beautiful. “You have no idea,” I said, “how much I’m not you.”

  My steel nails descended, screeching into the stone just beside her cheek, at the same time as my fangs shot out.

  Angel Me didn’t scream, although her chest rose and fell more rapidly, and her eyes widened. “Fallen,” she hissed.

  “Half right,” I smirked.

  When I scraped my fangs along her throat, she stiffened. Her artery throbbed, and the vampiric powers surged higher than ever before at the thrumming of blood beneath her skin.