Rebel Angels: The Complete Series

by Rosemary A Johns

  My skin.

  Powerful, special, and important blood. I craved it… I licked across her throat.

  Then I felt the sharp point of her blade pressed to my gut.

  “Villain,” she murmured into my ear, “we appear to be in a quandry.”

  I couldn’t help smiling against her neck. The brush of her hand against the back of my head, almost as she’d petted Rebel, was a surprise. I couldn’t suppress the shiver, or the second smile.

  “I’ll lose the fangs and claws, if you lose the shank,” I bargained.

  “How shall I trust the word of a Fallen?”

  “Do you trust yourself?”

  When Angel Me nodded, I pulled in both my long canines and nails, and stepped back, as she sheathed Star.

  Rebel and Drake dragged me into their arms in a fuss of feathers, kisses, and whispered reassurances. Until Angel Me clicked her fingers, and Rebel reluctantly drew back to kneel before her again.

  I forced myself not to haul him away from her.

  “I do so hate to dwell in ignorance, Zachriel.” Angel Me’s expression was hard and inscrutable. “Explain what is occurring, and be on your guard because I have little patience.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, Cliffnotes now, punk boy.”

  I warn you, Violet-mirror, the Guardian has resurrected this past self to force you to look at your reflection.

  Resurrected? What the hell…?

  I told you that there’d be answers you wouldn’t like. Don’t let them fracture you.

  Whatever happens, you’re still my Violet Feathers: The Bitch of Utopia.

  Remember that.

  I promise I will, J. How could I ever forget that I’m yours like you’re mine?

  I shook at the love thrumming through J’s voice, as well as a possessive desperation. He was frightened that once I discovered the truth, I’d no longer be his.

  Rebel shifted on his knees, before peeking up at Angel Me and then glancing at me as well. “Here’s the thing of it: I’m yours…both of yours.” He dug his thumbs into his thighs. “By all the saints, I loved you…” When he stared up longingly at Angel Me, my knees buckled and only Drake’s arms held me up. “But I love you.”

  Rebel stared up at me now: his despairing confusion swirled through the bond. I ached to wipe the tears from his eyes, but was he even mine anymore?

  “How can you love this Glory?” I growled. “She looks like me, but I’m the one who loves you.”

  Why had it sounded like such a plea?

  Angel Me cocked her head. “You love like a Wing, rather than a Glory. You claim that he belongs to you, yet you act as if you belong to him.”

  The Guardian slow clapped from the shadows behind the first Gateway. Then he pushed away from the wall, sauntering between us. “Your father considers you worthy of his attention….as does my novice…but you haven’t even guessed it yet, daughter of Lazarus.” He raised his hands above him to the wail of the stars. “I wield the power of the infinite: life, death, and the world in-between. Special ones, like you, I can even resurrect.”

  Had I truly wanted to know the truth behind the secrets and whispers?

  I forced the words out past dry lips, “You can’t resurrect what hasn’t died, necromancer. I never went down the whole dominatrix Glory route. I rebelled.”

  The Guardian grinned with vicious delight. “You didn’t die. You didn’t choose the angelic path. You rebelled, which is an interesting twist that we’re all just thrilled to watch play out, since you’ve never reached the Realm of the Seraphim before. But you’re the spark who kindles the rebellion between the angels and vampires, so that the war doesn’t go out; Rahab didn’t even need Phoenix blood with you. Reincarnation of your sort is a much rarer gem.” The Guardian’s voice rose in excitement. “How could the original you have been allowed to die and not be raised again?”

  My startled gaze met Angel Me’s, then Drake caught me, as I fell.

  “You’re lying…” I muttered over the roaring in my ears.

  Except, I knew that he wasn’t.

  How many lives had I lived, acting out a part? Being jerked around as a puppet of the Seraphim?

  Birth and death… I was as much a Phoenix, as Firebird was. Rebel didn’t belong to me.

  Did any of my family?

  Gabriel had been terrorized and injured in Monster Hall only to be put back together like nothing had happened by the sapphire pendant. I’d died and been restored as a baby like these bastards could point the glowing eye of their sapphire at me and I’d be Violet Feathers anew. Yet Gabriel had been damaged by those psycho trips to Monster Hall, even if he looked perfect on the outside. And the Seraphim had stolen my past lives and memories, leashing the different dominant natures inside me, so that I’d grown up at war with myself, never knowing who the hell I was: alone and abandoned.

  No one could simply wipe clean the past.

  Frankincense and copper candy: how many times had I forgotten the taste and smell?

  “You’ve lived two lives before this one.” The Guardian’s dark gaze met mine. “Once you chose the angelic path, once the Fallen. It makes me wonder…who will you choose now? Because both times you died during or just after your twenty-first year, so the clock is ticking...”

  In this rebirth, what had changed? Rebel’s training me as a hunter, Drake’s battle to teach me not to fly in the shadow of my mother, Ash’s warnings of Lucifer’s spark, and Mischief’s help to lead rebellions in the Under World and the Legion of the Phoenix…

  All of that together? Or had only one tiny moment led me to become a perfect balance of vampire and angel. A monster, but not monstrous.

  A rebel.

  “Enough.” Drake rubbed his forehead against mine, whilst I shook. “It’s not honorable to mock someone with their past or deaths. She shouldn’t…” He wet his lips. “She should never have discovered this in such a fashion.”

  “Discovered what, my disrespectful novice?” The Guardian’s wings hissed in furious arcs. “That she’s the ultimate weapon both sides have fought to seduce for centuries? The balance that the Emperor has used to keep both Fallen and angel in their place? Or that the lovers she’s risked so much for, never loved her, but rather her past selves?”

  I stiffened, caught in a frantic maelstrom of black and violet. I’d been found as a baby, clutching nothing but a feather, on a grave in a Hackney Cemetery. I’d been named after the woman buried there: Violet Lazarus.

  Hell, that’d been me.

  The epitaph on the grave read:

  Violet Lazarus

  1896 — 1918

  I don’t die; I sleep.

  Why would a Glory be buried in London….? Unless, she hadn’t. Another version of me had, one who’d chosen the Fallen side and the Brigadier, who’d still haunted her graveside in mourning a hundred years later, only to discover me instead and…

  The world grayed; my lungs ached. My chest tightened, and I couldn’t pull in air fast enough. Sweat dripped from my forehead, whilst my heart thundered.

  Rebel belonged to Angel Me, just as Ash was truly some vampire bitch’s.

  I needed — loved — both Ash and Rebel. But what did they see when they looked at me? A ghost? A second chance with their loved one, who they’d already lost once?

  No wonder they’d been prepared to sacrifice so much for me. Except, not me: they’d never seen me.

  I’d only been wearing their lovers’ skin.

  I whined, hiding my face in Drake’s wing.

  A rumbling grumble.

  I glanced up at the second Gateway, which was throbbing now.

  Then a Vampire Me stalked out of the Gateway: a vision in lace, which was patterned with bat-wings, along with a plum sash. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders like she’d just rolled out of bed, and her eyes were smoky, although narrowed against the light.

  Vampire Me had sexy swag and no wings.

  I paled at the viciousness of her smile; her fangs descended in a signal of intent.<
br />
  Vampire Me licked her lips as she looked around at the angels in the keep like they were a platter of treats; her scrutiny lingered on Drake in a way that made me shudder. Her grin widened, whispering of a chaotic wildness, as her gaze flicked between Angel Me…and me. “What high jinks! I’ve dreamed about tipping the velvet with myself but never with an angel tart and a tomboy.” Angel Me bristled in identical outrage to my own. “I shall simply have to rip out your throats.”

  Then she dived at me, shooting out her claws.

  20

  Just because the resurrected angelic and vampiric versions had worn my body in previous lives didn’t make them me.

  But it did make them bastard dangerous.

  I gripped the edge of the Acolyte’s arched Training Pavilion; the spires cast me in a golden shadow beneath the domed roof.

  Holy, holy — whack.

  A scream echoed out of the pavilion; I shuddered. The Acolytes’ atonement, worship, submission, or whatever word Jahael had chosen today to justify his ritualized sadism had been going on since I’d strode towards the pavilion.

  Even shrieks became nothing but familiar background noise, if you heard them enough.

  Holy, holy — whack.

  I glanced over my shoulder at Vampire Me, who hovered just that little bit too close: the Edwardian lady does anarchy instead of high society balls did not respect the personal bubble.

  I smirked at her split lip and swollen eye, even though it was matched by my own slashed cheek. She’d dived on me in the Infinity Keep with more ferocity than I’d ever fought with, but had stopped as soon as Drake had leapt on her back and hollered Ash’s name.

  Holy, holy — whack.

  A whiff of smoke like a bonfire caught in my nostrils. My eyes widened, before I sniffed at Vampire Me’s throat; her eyes danced with amusement, but she stretched her neck to the side in offering.

  Lucifer: she smelled of her dad — our dad.

  Why did that boot me in the gut?

  “By God, you’re such a chit of a girl.” Vampire Me stroked her lace gloved hand through my hair; I arched closer to her. Then she patted my back. “Neither angel, nor Fallen…not fully one, nor the other. I can sense it. Did you ever grow wings?”

  I flinched, drawing away from her. She’d died…at almost the same age as I was now. Yet she seemed so much older.

  What had she…I…done as a Fallen? As Lucifer’s daughter and weapon? How many had I killed?

  “I had epic blood wings,” I couldn’t help the boast: I was owed it. “A bastard mage stole them.”

  Her gaze darkened: hell, did I ever look that scary? “Rahab, damn his eyes…?”

  I nodded.

  “Did you feast on his blood?”

  I grinned. “Something like that.”

  Vampire Me gave a satisfied nod. “Maybe you’re neither tomboy nor a chit, but a worthy reincarnation who foolishly believes that she’s a pippin.”

  I frowned. “An apple?”

  Vampire Me laughed. “Someone who wraps themselves in morals like a coat against the cold night. But you can’t protect yourself against the creatures in the dark.” She leaned closer, boxing me against the side of the pavilion. “Because you’re that creature.”

  I stared back into a face that was my own and yet now that I studied it, was so different: hungry, twisted, and flooded with the black that coiled in my own belly to meet hers. “I was Champion in Lucifer’s Cage, but Lucifer never controlled me with his spark. It seems that you’re the one who can’t protect themselves.”

  Vampire Me growled. “Look where your morals get you: you should’ve killed me. Instead, you lead me to our father and Fallen bonded…”

  She gripped my chin, turning me to look at the Fire God’s Holy Pool beyond the pavilion.

  Gabriel marched up and down in an agitated arc, peering above him as if expecting a divebomb attack by his dad, or perhaps another impromptu appearance of the Damned.

  My stomach flipped at the care with which Gabriel was guarding both Ash and Lucifer. I couldn’t help the soft smile at Ash’s military-style laps of the pool — naked — whilst the rainbow water glistened on his olive skin. He’d have rolled his eyes at Firebird and my playing as much as Mischief had, and I’d have dragged him into the splash fest just the same. Lucifer lounged on the pool side in the same tatty leather shorts as he’d worn in the Angel Games, skimming his toes across the surface like he was scared of the water.

  Vampire Me gasped, before sliding her hand to grip me by the throat and smash me — crack — against the pavilion. “My father is a king.” Her fangs scraped my neck. Out of ten, what did I rate the likelihood of telling her that in fact her dad had been deposed by me and now was King of Nowhereville…? Yeah, that’d be… Never out of Ten. “What bloody swines have dressed him as a peasant?”

  “Dial down the Fang freak out,” I rasped. “This isn’t your time: it’s mine. And that’s my dad and bonded.”

  Why hadn’t that felt real, until I’d defended the claim?

  Vampire Me let out a shuddering breath against my neck; she’d deny that she’d sniffled if I’d called her on it. Then she drew in her fangs as she pulled back. “I should kill you for stealing them…”

  Nope, Vampire Me not down with the reasonable.

  I stiffened, as she dove for my neck again, but this time she licked it. Then she was kissing me: hard and angry.

  If Vampire Me was into kissing girls, then it appeared that I wasn’t hating it either. Although, if I was into kissing myself, did that just make me a narcissistic bitch?

  “Whether this is my time or not, I’ll carve my place here. You pretend that butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth.” Vampire Me licked over her lips. “But I’ve tasted you now, and my pippin, you’re not fresh, but sour as a lemon. You’re me, underneath.” I flinched back from her lace fingers, which traced down the gash on my cheek. “Still, what a cad my Brigadier is; I’ll be certain to punish him for touching another.”

  “It’s not cheating if you’re dead.”

  “Pffft, balderdash, and he knew it. Perhaps, it’s a little unfair of me.” Vampire Me’s smile was wide and hungry. “But he knows that I’m a demanding lover. I have a large appetite and could easily add a pippin to my orange. They’d taste delicious together…”

  Had Vampire Me just propositioned me…herself…to be her third with Ash…?

  Dazed, I watched, whilst she spun and sauntered towards the pool and my family: to take them away.

  Yet how could I keep her from her own dad and Wing? She’d died and been resurrected with her memories intact. If that’d happened to me, nothing would’ve kept me from the blokes that I loved.

  And she did love them, didn’t she?

  I never reckoned that you’d be a scaredy-cat, handing over your family like toys just because your new step-sisters demand a turn.

  They’re not the wicked step-sisters: I am.

  Rebel and Ash loved these other versions, before I was born. I’m just the substitute who they love out of duty and—

  Hold it, I’m gagging on the pity flood.

  Every time you rise, you’re different. Do you think that simply because I’m seeded from Jahael, I’m the same as him?

  You’re not that despotic bastard: J, I know that.

  Then why can’t you understand this realness: you’re not the Violet who chose the Matriarch. Or the one who was seduced by Lucifer’s spark.

  You’re only you: right now, the god who’s loved by…me.

  J wasn’t able to mask his insecurity; I wished that I could kiss it away, but I couldn’t even hold him. Instead, I hugged my arms around myself, scowling.

  When Vampire Me reached the pool, Lucifer leapt up and spun her around with a whoop of joy.

  This was the scene of dad and daughter reunited, and she was the daughter who Lucifer had loved and lost. The vampire that he’d tried to find again in me: had ever truly loved me?

  Gabriel moved in confusion towards them,
but Lucifer held him back with a gentle hand, and to my surprise, Gabriel simply nodded.

  Ash faltered in his precise laps.

  I hadn’t thought that I had a Masochistic Bitch lurking inside, but I couldn’t stop myself studying the way that Ash’s face froze with shock, before it flooded with wonder…and love. When his wings beat, and he dove out of the pool towards Vampire Me, spraying droplets into rainbow arcs of hope, I let out a sob, before twisting away.

  It turns out, I’m not enough of a Masochistic Bitch to watch their heavenly snogging.

  Rebel and Drake prowled closer from the other side of the pavilion. Through the veil of my tears, they blurred to a kaleidoscope of red, blues, and violet.

  “Why aren’t you with Miss Angelic Stick Up Her Arse? You don’t need to pretend anymore: your epic love’s back from the dead.” Abandonment clawed at my throat: familiar and bleak. J had spent my childhood teaching me this lesson, yet I’d still allowed myself to be weakness shanked. “None of you need to make do with me: the freak.” I spun to Rebel, whose expression shattered like I’d slapped him.

  I didn’t bastard care: I didn’t.

  Drake’s hand curled into Rebel’s.

  “You’re a muppet,” Rebel’s voice shook, but his anguished gaze met mine. “I tried to give you the chance to make things different this time. You’re different, and I love—”

  “Which of me did you have?” I shoved Drake in the chest. His back thudded against the pavilion, whilst his fingers fell from Rebel’s grasp. “Because it turns out that my fam all loved past me, but I can’t remember it. So, which version of me was yours? Did she like your kissing?”

  Drake turned his head, refusing to meet my eye, as he flushed. “All those centuries, and you never wanted me.”

  “But you wanted me…?”

  Suddenly furious, Drake thrust away from the wall; his eyes blazed, whilst they gleamed with tears. “It wasn’t I invading your dreams… Zachriel and you stole away my nights… I betrayed my family — world — for your brother and you. I still do. And you’ve still never wanted me. Not as I do you.”