I felt the barrel tremble with Mr Cain’s rage; he was bloody predictable.
I spun around, knocking the shotgun up, as Mr Cain fired, blasting the 20-bore into the night sky. I wrenched it from him. My strength, now that I was unleashed, shrank my old Master to a kid in breeches.
I walloped Mr Cain across the forehead with the walnut stock. When he collapsed to the heather with a hmmpm, I fell on him — all avenging angel — cocking his own shotgun at his temple.
Mr Cain quivered like a baby rabbit.
Coldly, I scrutinized the troll of a man who’d once commanded me, kneeling at his booted feet. He was just a man — First or Blood — it didn’t matter. Just a man. “The thing that you didn’t reckon on is that no matter how you throw me, I’m the bloke who’s always left standing.” Mr Cain cowered back. “Dead big of you, shooting your own daughter. But you don’t look so big now.”
“She’s not my daughter,” Mr Cain growled.
I met the bastard’s gaze. At last, his defiance sparked. I nodded. “You’re right: she’s not.”
I hurled the shotgun as far as I could over the common, before wrenching the slave ring off my finger and pressing hard on Mr Cain’s jaw. I forced his mouth open, like he’d done to me so many times in the training room, before jamming the symbol of my slavery down his choking throat.
See how he liked being forced to gag on something.
Then came the fangs.
Mr Cain tried to scramble back, but I pinned him down. His terror was delicious. He wanted to break me of my abstention?
All right then: wish granted.
I sank my fangs deep into Mr Cain’s leathery neck. He struggled but then, limb by limb, was paralyzed. It was the same as my punishments with the tracker, when a path of fire would take me over. I drew back, staring deeply into my ex-Master’s eyes. I wanted Mr Cain to truly know what I was doing to him because he’d done it to me, Hartford, and all those others. He was a poseable doll now in his own body…defenseless…like he’d trained us slaves to be.
When my fangs pierced Mr Cain’s throat, I feasted as it was meant to be, under the face of the wreathed moon.
And it was transcendent.
I could feel my right hand knitting and mending, even as I fed, shuddering with the richness of the blood and the beauty of the kill.
That’s Blood Lifer justice.
When I tossed Mr Cain away, Hartford and Donovan crowded around you. They must’ve heard the gunshot. I stumbled to my new family, tears blurring them to ghosts.
Then we Blood Lifers held onto each other in a circle of three, whilst you died…
38
SEPTEMBER 10
You enslaved me but, in the end, you saved me. You saved us all.
There’s no need to write anymore, however, because there’s no First Lifer to read it.
Except, family’s what you make it, right?
I came back tonight from my jaunt to the butchers to discover The Stones’ “In Another Land” blasting through the door and the boarded-up windows of the squat.
I did a quick scan of the other 1930s council houses that were huddled around our squat.
All quiet.
I shifted from one foot to the other. Responsibility: I’d never had it before and I hadn’t appreciated how heavy a coat it was. But then again, I do like a blinding coat.
Sighing, I was just pushing inside, when Hartford swung into the doorway. He dragged me in after him. “Poor little bunny, why are you lurking alone outside?”
“How’d you...?”
Hartford grinned; it was blinding every time that I saw him light up like that. “For crying out loud. Don’t you reckon I can recognize your blood anywhere? We’re family.”
I couldn’t help the blush. It’d been a long time since any one had been proud to recognize me as family. In a smart wool tweed suit and with his golden hair Brylcreemed over the crown of his head, Hartford now truly was as dashing as any movie idol.
“The head of our little tribe returns.” Donovan strutted up from the sofa. “Share the blood, man.”
I passed the blood to Donovan, who dished it out into our array of tatty mugs. I noted that in my absence, they’d tidied up, lighting the stubs of candles and shoving the sunken sofa to one side to make an impromptu dance floor.
Cleaning up, dance floor, lighted candles, my favorite record...?
Bewildered, I realized that whatever this was, it’d all been for me. Overwhelmed, I ducked my head.
Suddenly, there were strong arms around my middle, dragging me close.
“I’m going to turn you,” you murmured into my ear; your lips were soft and tempting, “and kiss you.”
I shuddered, pushing back into you. “No arguments from me, darling.”
You spun me round.
Bloody hell, you were going to be one powerful Blood Lifer: tall, steely, and prodigiously intelligent. You already scared the bollocks back into me, and I was your Author. I’d hoped that you wouldn’t be too changed by the transformation from First to Blood Life. Yet I hadn’t been able to watch you bleed out on that common next to your dad.
I couldn’t lose you.
I’d never authored: no one’s soul had ever called to mine before, except for Kathy’s. And she’d said no to election.
I’d watched Kathy die a natural death, after fifty years of love. It’d nearly destroyed me, and I couldn’t go through it again. Now you could evolve alongside me: a life born of my fangs.
When you’d been lying out on the heather, I’d whispered to your still body that I’d rebirth you into a glorious second life, hoping that you’d understand. I don’t know if you ever will, but I’ll never bloody regret it.
“Hold on,” I pressed my palm gently against your chest, “I was thinking earlier about…when you were shot. You were trying to say something to me, but I couldn’t make out the words. I just couldn’t make them out.”
Your brows lifted. “You want to do this now?”
I nodded.
“I’m your Sun Girl.” Your murmured words almost made me stop breathing. “Who knows what they’ll think about when they’re about to die? But it was this mantra in my head, and I wanted you to understand. To know before…”
I flushed. Then I grinned, suffused with warmth, as if you truly were the sodding sun.
You smiled back, tracing my cheek with your finger. “And for my Blood Lifer rechristening, that’s my choice. My new name is Sun.”
This time when we kissed, for the first time it was as equals.
I was your Author — but rebel here — what did I care about outdated status? I set the rulebook alight, burning it to ash on the wind. You were mine and I was yours, bonded as close as it comes.
So, we snogged each other, and it was bloody blinding.
“Attaboy!” Hartford danced past me, spinning Donovan, who was resplendent in purple velvet.
I smirked. “Leave it out, helmethead.”
Hartford twirled Donovan, who let out a startled yelp. Never for a minute forget that he’s a Long-lived. “When do we get down to necking like these guys?” Hartford demanded.
Donovan grinned, tossing his dark mop of hair out of his eyes. “How about right now?”
This was my family?
I needed to find them a proper home, work, life… I don’t reckon any of us even had a true identity. Not anymore. We were no longer the Blood Lifers that we were before the Cain Company got hold of us: we were something new. We’d adapted yet again.
And you? You were just born, fresh to this dark world. Yet Donovan and Hartford already loved you.
Yet I didn’t have a clue how to keep myself safe in this modern world, let alone my first ever misfit following.
Yeah, a family — this was my family.
I’d become a terrorist to the human world and to the Blood Life Council but I had a family and that meant I no longer needed pain to feel alive. My Blood Lifer family were my life.
You’re one of us now: T
he Lost.
So many months of opening this burgundy journal, smelling the aroma of Italian calf leather, and scribbling in these creamy pages.
Now it’s finished.
You’re not my First Lifer Mistress, so there’s no need for a slave journal.
Light was never a slave. Shadow was the slave and he was never me. It was a messed up First Lifer fantasy that went up in flames.
I’m finally free.
Now comes the fun bit: when I spend the rest of our lives showing you that you’re free as well. I can’t wait to discover the Blood Lifer that you’ll become or watch my family become a new type of predator.
I don’t know how we’ll survive in the world of Blood Lifer politics and betrayal where we’re viewed as the terrorists, but we’re together and that’s bloody blinding.
The End…For Now
Continue Light’s adventures in BLOOD RENEGADES, Book Three in the Rebel Vampires series.
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If you enjoyed Blood Shackles: Rebel Vampires Vol. 2, let me know by leaving a review!
Author Note
Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!
I wanted to write Blood Shackles in a unique way, as a diary. I also loved the idea in this second book of twisting typical vampire stories, so that humans are the predators. Plus, I had the fun of writing a vampire slave working out how to clean…
I hope that you follow the series to the end with me: Light might’ve saved his family from the slavers but he’s about to discover that the Blood Life Council are just as dangerous… I’ve loved writing it and I hope that you love it too!
Thanks, you’re awesome — my Rebel family :)
Rebel here, yeah?
Rosemary A Johns
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Volume Three
BLOOD RENEGADES
REBEL VAMPIRES VOLUME THREE
Rosemary A Johns
FANTASY REBEL
www.rosemaryajohns.com
BLOOD RENEGADES: REBEL VAMPIRES VOLUME THREE © copyright 2017 Rosemary A Johns
First Edition 2017
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All characters, places and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without prior permission in writing of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on a subsequent purchaser.
Fantasy Rebel Limited
BLOOD RENEGADES
REBEL VAMPIRES VOLUME THREE
Betrayal. Death. Hope. Isn’t that how all truly great stories start?
Light — rebel, lover, anti-hero — will be burned at the stake in fourteen days. When he’s accused of being a terrorist Renegade in paranormal London, his bewitching Blood Life Council interrogator offers a deal: he must tell her one secret a night.
Facing both human and vampire enemies, Light struggles with whether he’s a hero, or about to fall back into his true deadly nature. Soon, Light’s in a race against time to transform into the leader vital to save his family, home, and love. But will he be able to judge predator from prey?
Light must make the ultimate choice: safety and slavery in the shadows, or freedom and death in the light…
Created with Vellum
Blood Renegades
Rebel Vampires Volume 3
Betrayal. Death. Hope. Isn’t that how all truly great stories start?
Light - rebel, lover, anti-hero - will be burnt at the stake in fourteen days. When he’s accused of being a terrorist Renegade in paranormal London, his bewitching Blood Life Council interrogator offers a deal: he must tell her one secret a night.
Facing both human and vampire enemies, Light struggles with whether he’s a hero, or about to fall back into his true deadly nature. Soon, Light’s in a race against time to transform into the leader vital to save his family, home, and love. But will he be able to judge predator from prey?
Light must make the ultimate choice: safety and slavery in the shadows, or freedom and death in the light…
1
THE LIGHT INQUIRY
NIGHT 1
Betrayal. Death. Hope. Isn’t that how all truly great stories start?
I don’t know if anyone will hear it. Governments silence their critics. They censor, detain, and execute.
Bollocks to them.
The Council’s atrocities and war crimes—
Mr Blickle, please note that everything you say during this interview with the Blood Life Council is being recorded and could be used against you, depending how cooperative you are. You’re a prisoner, but we’re not at war.
Yet. We’re not at war — yet. And my name is Light.
Very well, Light. We’re not holding this inquiry, however, to debate the nature of the Council’s actions. Rather those of your terrorist group.
We prefer to be called ‘freedom fighters’, sweetheart.
And I prefer to be called Liberty.
Having a laugh, aren’t you?
You don’t think Light has a touch of irony to it?
All right, Liberty, but I delivered my band of merry misfits out of slavery to the humans that you wankers sold us into. So, labels…? They don’t figure. They never do.
Does your band of misfits have a name?
Yeah, it’s called a family.
Captain told me that you were cute or at least that you imagine you are. As you know, we’re well aware what you call yourselves.
Renegades.
You paint it bloody for us to find.
Look, if you want me to bear witness, I’ll bleeding bear witness. I’m a prisoner here anyway with a stake at my heart and I’m all about survival. Just don’t figure on liking what you hear. No one does when it’s the flayed truth.
You want to be ready, don’t you? You know what’s coming in less than two weeks? Your trial?
Kangaroo court more like.
It’ll be a closed court. Captain says that nothing’s been decided. It all rests on your testimony during this Light Inquiry.
Then where’s my solicitor?
You’re a terrorist — you’ve forsaken your rights, as you have your own species.
And the jury?
The material’s too sensitive—
Embarrassing. The word that you’re grasping for, sweetheart, is embarrassing. For both you and the rest of the Blood Life Council. So, here’s a question—
I ask the questions, Mr Blickle.
Bit of respect here: dead man talking.
Who’s the judge?
It won’t help you to know…
It’s Captain, right?
I’ll take your awkward silence as a yes.
Bugger.
So, let’s say Captain doesn’t like what I have to say in this interview of yours — and he won’t — what then? What happens in two weeks? Slap on the wrist? Trip to the naughty step? Bare bottom spanking across his lap until I bawl? Or…?
Execution. By fire. Most likely.
Figured. So, that’s thirteen more nights until I go up Mr Bonfire because I liberated my people from both First and Blood Lifers. Does it feel good to know that you’re in the pay of slavers?
I’m in the pay of politicians. Look, let me ask the questions, whilst you just worry about telling me the truth. You don’t know…
Don’t play games. Not about this.
Your execution is outside my remit; I’m only here in the council offices with you to take your statement.
It must be nice to fit everything into neat little boxes and then go home happy each dawn with no dirt on your pretty hands because all you’ve touched is paperwork.
Hitler’s lawyers were good at that too.
If I’m going out in flames, high in their glory, then Christ in heaven will you get my witness: one that you’ll never forget.
Sod it; bring on the fire and ash.
But before all that dramatic buggery…I’d kill for an e-cig. When I was hauled in here like your favorite new toy, some bureaucratic lady snatched my e-cig; she also managed to get in a good grope. How many of you perverts does it take to do a strip search?
Perhaps you’re just popular.
I’ve been called many things over the centuries but never that.
Look, I tried going nicotine cold turkey once; I don’t recommend it. So, unless you want your new toy losing its shine, do me a favor and—
Why should I do you a favor?
Seriously? You’re pointing at a ‘No Smoking’ sign?
We’re Blood Lifers — glory of the electrifying, sublime, beat of the night and burn of the endless hunt — yet you’re following No Smoking rules? Wait, sorry… I’m in the greedy clutches of the Blood Life Council who are nothing but the pale ghosts of Westminster. I forgot who I was talking to for a moment. What do you kids, only decades old to this dark evolution, know of real Blood Life?
I know that you’re not permitted to smoke.
Sodding hell…please?
You almost sound desperate. Intriguing: for a brutal terrorist leader. We could always negotiate.
Rebel Vampires: The Complete Series Page 54