Vampire Princess (Rebel Angels Book 2)

by Rosemary A Johns

  ‘Princess, wait…’

  Harahel calling me princess should’ve been warning enough. But the bastard powers, goaded by J, had me in their grip.

  And I was just along for the ride.

  Except, it wasn’t like last time, with the electric currents ripping my brain into itty pieces.

  This time, I was tearing through the mouth of the Gateway, before punching a hole in its cheek, and then surfing down on the gushing scarlet.

  My dress stuck to me Carrie-style, as the blood world shifted and shuddered, trembling with roars: I wasn’t alone.

  My blood had called for a fight. It’d sung to the Warrior Trials.

  Yet, as I dived lower, and finally my head cleared, I drew back.

  Below seethed a coiling mass of beasts. Every creature. From every nightmare. Fangs, claws, and spines. Tigers winding around T-rex; vampires prowling past pythons.

  They yowled, thundered, and hissed in the pit below my feet.

  I wasn’t ready for this.

  Heart thundering, I shuddered because I’d thrown myself willingly into this hell.

  I flapped my arms to fly higher, but I was trapped.

  Snap — I whimpered, pulling my legs up, away from the slobbering jaws of a wolf.

  Then froze at the growl behind my shoulder.

  A shadow, impossibly big, dyed me in cold black.

  I took panicked breaths.

  This was death, karma, and redemption come at last to swallow me whole.

  I screwed shut my eyes, as hot gusts snorted against the back of my neck.

  ‘Sleep!’ I stared up in shock at Harahel’s bellow; his giant face peered down. ‘Sleep now!’

  The beasts whined and shrank back.

  The nightmare at my shoulder slipped away into the blood-stained shadows.

  In moments, the creatures were sleeping like babies. And no, they still didn’t look cute, cuddled up in freakish piles.

  Now I was alone with one pissed off ruler. In this realm? The Imperfect was king.

  Harahel’s hand reached for me like I was a doll, and I was ripped, this time in reverse, through the Gateway. Without the surging adrenaline, the fried barbecue effect blasted back full force.

  As I tumbled out of the Gateway into the library, the horror of being trapped in that pit with so many — things — hit me, and I landed on Harahel, dragging him onto me in a pile of flailing limbs.

  ‘What. The. Hell?’ I sobbed, whilst we rolled together.

  ‘Trials can use creatures from any time period, called through the Gateways. That’s why we train.’ Harahel brushed a tear from my cheek. ‘And you read one of my books again without permission, princess or not, I’ll spank you.’

  I smirked through my tears. ‘You’ll try.’

  A polite cough.

  Startled, I looked up.

  The Matriarch gazed down at Harahel and me, entangled on the floor. She twirled a feather that was tied into the strand of her hair between her fingers. ‘If you’re horny, you need only ask for use of my Wing. Or you have your own toy.’

  I pushed myself up, slapping the dust off my dress. ‘Cheers, I’m all blissed out.’

  Harahel scrambled to his knees.

  The Matriarch fixed him with a stern stare. ‘No Wing will spank a Glory, are you clear, Imperfect?’ Harahel nodded so hard, I reckoned his head would fall off. The Matriarch stroked her long fingers over his wings, and he shuddered. The bitch was reading his memories. ‘I shall not report you to your Glory. This time.’

  ‘Thank you, Queen Miniel,’ he whispered.

  I hated hearing him whisper.

  ‘My daughter, it seems you’re ready to play, and I have just the right toy. Certain Fallen, who you didn’t kill,’ her thin mouth twitched, ‘were captured during the battle. The light honours us to offer an exchange of hostages: The Higher Order for the Lower. We’ve received one Fallen in particular who will amuse you.’

  My eyes narrowed; my jaw ached to stop myself saying anything.

  Because is that what the battle had been about?

  Not saving me but capturing and exchanging for the vampires the Matriarch wished to use as pawns?

  Was everything a game?

  My mum watched me coolly. ‘You’ll find this new amusement in Drake’s chambers.’ Then she murmured, her lips soft against my cheek, ‘You’d better fly, baby bird, before I change my mind. You may also see your Addict.’

  I dashed out of the library in case she took back her promise to see Rebel.

  The way the Matriarch’s frosty eyes gleamed, and her lips curled, warned me this wasn’t going to be chocolates and movie night. Not forgetting the poor bastard vampire who wouldn’t be doing a happy dance that I’d slaughtered his mates, whilst he’d been given up as hostage. Plus, I’d have to hide the biggest secret of all: that I’d mutilated Rebel’s brother.

  Yet maybe, if I played my mum’s games right, I could finally save Rebel.

  The moment I saw Rebel again was like waking up with a migraine but still having a bastard exam to sit.

  I’d stormed into Drake’s chambers, which were lower in the mountain than our hunting games.

  Tiny and monastery cell-like, even down to the rich incense smell, with a neat nest of feathers in the far corner, his chambers were too far down for sunlight, lit instead by violet flames that burned in a brazier.

  The room was bare, except for a tattered indigo sheepskin rug, a raven-feathered blind that ran the length of the far wall, and a beech bench underneath it.

  Drake might be a Commander but he lived like a slave.

  The Matriarch had slunk in after me, Drake glancing between us from his perch on the end of the bench. His legs had been drawn up underneath him: less head of the pride and more lion cub.

  ‘So, is this the amazing Invisible Vampire? Produce the goods.’ I’d clenched my fists to hide the tremor.

  The Matriarch had winced, but her mask hadn’t slipped. Instead, she’d touched a feather on the raven blind, and it’d pulled up slowly. ‘We shall have a grand unveiling.’

  Inch by inch, the black behind the blind had been revealed.

  I’d known this place; I’d seen it from the other side of the stone bars. A birdcage prison: the cell in which I’d abandoned Rebel.

  And the prisoners curled on the other side of the viewing panel in the dark?

  Rebel…and Ash.

  For a moment, nothing was real.

  The world ballooned and then shrank. Shards shanked behind my eyes, as the world dimmed to nothing but the hammering of my heart and the pounding of my pulse.

  Rebel, Ash, Rebel, Ash…

  Both prisoners were naked, and my growling, possessive mind catalogued each bruise, lash, and gash.

  Ash’s taller body was wrapped around Rebel’s shaking one, as if he was the only thing anchoring him, his olive skin against Rebel’s pale.

  Ash stroked his fingers through Rebel’s mess of flame red hair, before massaging around his left wing that was still trapped under leather straps as punishment to stop him flying.

  The Matriarch was talking, with that curl to her lips I hated. The words coiled into my mind. ‘…that’s why I adore to sit here,’ she patted the bench, ‘watching, whilst my boys play. We’ll have such dark delights together. No need to worry, they can neither hear nor see us because where would the fun be if they knew?’

  And suddenly?

  I was fully awake and back in the world again. Because this was Rebel and Ash: my fam. From the time I realised I was more than human, they had my back, even if they also screwed up.

  I rammed the Matriarch against the viewing panel, choking her. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t shove me back.

  I guess we didn’t share the same taste for dark delights as she’d hoped.

  ‘Why did you bring me here?’ I demanded. ‘What the hell did you expect me to do?’

  ‘You wished to see the Addict, did you not?’ She twisted me, still at her throat, towards the viewing p
anel.

  Rebel coughed; Ash held him closer.

  I let go of the Matriarch, sinking onto the bench. I touched my hand to the glass, as if I could reach through to the prisoners beyond. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I don’t…’ Her gaze glinted with disappointment. ‘This was a reward for your ferociousness in battle.’

  She looked at Drake with a shrug of her shoulders.

  Drake explained with a dignified aloofness, ‘Queen Miniel has always drawn great amusement from our sessions. Whether with the Addict or vampire whore. She watches, and I perform with a prisoner. If there’s no prisoner…as when you both hid from me on earth, then…’ Drake’s wings wrapped around his knees. ‘It amuses her if I take the role of prisoner and have someone perform on me.’

  ‘Know how to treat a bloke, don’t you?’ I snarled.

  So close, the bonds to both Ash and Rebel tore at me, raging inferno to rescue them.

  Rebel’s emotions — pain, confusion, grief — consumed me.

  ‘Has Feathers forgotten me?’ Hardly more than a whisper, but I still caught Rebel’s question. ‘She said I was a bad angel. And bad angels are punished.’

  Ash shifted Rebel, massaging deeper into his shoulder blades. ‘Don’t make me kick your arse, mate. I deal with Big Bads every day, and you’re not even the Diet version.’

  ‘But the princess—’

  ‘Was hurt. Pissed off. And hot. You always have to add the hot.’

  ‘Sweet Jesus, do you,’ Rebel nodded.

  I couldn’t help smirking.

  But then Rebel quivered, twisting in Ash’s hold. His breaths quickened: panic attack.

  I’d helped Rebel through one before, just like I’d helped my sister.

  ‘I’m in tatters, Brigadier. Please stay with me. Don’t be after letting the Commander hurt me again.’

  ‘With my superpowers? I’ll keep you safe.’ Ash knew he couldn’t keep that promise, however, his voice wavered.

  Bang — in frustration, I hammered on the glass, but of course they couldn’t hear me.

  Gently, Drake’s arms encircled my waist, pulling me back; I was breathing almost as heavily as Rebel.

  ‘In, out,’ to my surprise, it was Ash supporting Rebel through the attack. These two were old enemies and reluctant allies but now they were united in their captivity to…what? ‘Deep puffs, like Kalisy’s dragon.’

  ‘Who in the sweet Jesus…?’

  Ash scowled. ‘You’re a poor excuse for a Human Addict, angel.’

  ‘And you’re a fierce geek of a Seducer, Fallen.’

  ‘One all. Round Two?’ Ash sprawled against the stone floor of the cell, cradling his head on his arms, like it was a soft nest of feathers.

  Rebel nestled next to him, stained with grime and welts. ‘Mind yourself, I can still boot your muppet arse.’

  ‘No fun without my bang, bang,’ Ash mimicked his shooter.

  ‘Or Violet,’ Rebel murmured. ‘Hurt me, kiss me, burn me.’

  A tear slipped down my cheek. I remembered the savage flames licking from my mouth onto Rebel’s.

  Claiming him.

  ‘Are you…?’ Ash peered at him. ‘You have to stay with me as well, mate.’

  Rebel reached towards the back of the cell, dragging the iPod — the only thing I’d left him in the cell when I’d abandoned him — onto his chest. Then he wormed one earbud in his ear and the other into Ash’s.

  They lay in silence listening to the album that united us, along with my missing sister: Eels’ Beautiful Freak.

  Rebel ducked his head, exposing the long line of his white neck. ‘I’m mortified for how I was carrying on before, wailing and banging my head on the bars. Being back in the dark after forty years trapped here…? I’ve ballsed things up and now I’ll never escape. I think…I’m mad as a box of frogs.’ He peeked from underneath his eyelashes at Ash, willing him to deny it. I held my breath, studying Ash’s suddenly frozen expression. ‘Do you think I’m mad as a—’

  Ash ripped out the earbud, before pushing himself to his feet. He lounged against the bars, his back to Rebel. ‘No scribblings about work, play and dull boys scrawled around the cell, so you’re good.’

  Rebel tentatively reached up to touch Ash’s thigh. ‘I’m not a dope. What aren’t you telling me?’

  Ash’s shoulders slumped; his hands tightened around the bars. His voice was weary in a way I’d never heard before. ‘You’re not always here with me, lucid. You go in and out.’ He barked with bitter laughter. ‘Like your dragon breathing. Sometimes….’

  Rebel pawed at his thigh again. ‘Please. Tell me.’

  ‘We’ve already had this conversation, Rebel, three times already.’

  It was the Rebel that did it.

  The first time I’d heard Ash use my punk angel’s real name, and with tenderness too, just before Rebel hitched with desperate sobs and covered his face with his wing in shame.

  I couldn’t watch anymore.

  I flung away from Drake’s grasp, tripping over his sheepskin rug and slamming into the wall.

  I bawled, wishing I could cover my face with a wing, like Rebel had. ‘This is how you get your jollies? Rebel’s…the bloke’s not well. You can’t punish someone who’s broken.’

  ‘My daughter,’ the Matriarch’s voice cut across my grief like a shank to the kidneys, ‘we punish in order to break. My, where would be the fun, if our Wings were whole? Zachriel was, in truth, always different to begin with. Only the strength of his Angelic Power saved him from being one of the Broken. Maybe that was a mistake?’

  For months, I’d swanned around the upper chambers, flooded in light, clothed in silk, and playing games with Drake.

  I’d gorged on chocolates, whilst worrying about becoming a princess.

  I’d trained, fought, and shagged.

  And all that time, down here in the dark, Rebel had been naked, starved, and tortured.

  And now Ash would suffer that too?

  I twirled round, fire ignited on my fingertips.

  Yet before I could strike, Drake dived in front of the Matriarch.

  ‘Most wise, Matriarch,’ he raised an eyebrow at me in warning, and I forced down the flames with a shuddering difficulty. ‘I shall rectify the mistake. Both Zachriel and the Seducer are Lower Orders. Toys. I shall suffer if I free both but I offer one of them to your service, princess, as Imperfect. Your servant.’

  ‘Boy,’ the Matriarch hissed. I flinched, but Drake met her glare steadily. ‘You fly too high. Do you wish your wings to be clipped?’

  ‘This is my gaol,’ Drake’s gaze was as cold as I’d first seen it in Hackney, and just as frightening. ‘You gave me control here. Do you take it back?’

  Smack — the Matriarch’s backhand knocked Drake into his nest of feathers; they rose up like a furious swarm.

  ‘You grow bold.’

  Drake rubbed at his cheek; it’d bruise. ‘When I owe a debt.’

  The kid soldiers.

  I’d made the tactical error in this game of showing my hand: my care for Ash and Rebel. But I’d helped Drake in the battle, and now he was sticking his wings out far enough to get them chopped off for me.

  The Matriarch stalked to the viewing panel, tapping on it. ‘My Wing, you need a thorough teaching of your place.’ Drake clasped his hands behind his back, ducking his head. ‘Yet it may indeed teach my precious girl important lessons also to have a Wing of her own as toy. Even one as Imperfect as the Addict. A vampire could also be great sport in the hunts.’ She pushed back her hair. ‘So, choose.’

  I blinked. ‘Try again. I’m taking them both on special deal.’

  ‘Try again.’ The Matriarch raised her hand, caressing a raven feather, and the blind started its descent. ‘Choose: either vampire or angel.’

  I shook my head.

  How could I choose between the two blokes who the powers inside warred over, desired, and were drawn to, in a way that sometimes made me wonder if it was me or they who craved them? How could I
condemn one to the dark?

  ‘No dice…’ I growled.

  Sometimes, your only choice is not to choose.

  The Matriarch shrugged, as the raven-feathered blind inched down. ‘If you do not make your choice before the bad boys are lost from view, then you will join them. You’ll be given a taste of what happens to the disobedient. My Wing can tell you what a sour flavour it has.’

  Drake winced. ‘Choose, princess.’

  I shook my head again, prowling towards the blind.

  The blind, like descending night, snaked down. Only a sliver of the viewing panel remained: our eye into the cell.

  I bounced on my toes, wringing the hem of my dress.

  ‘Choose,’ Drake rose out of the nest, flapping his wings in urgent gusts.

  The midnight blind slipped down.

  And when it shut, I’d lose angel, vampire, and my freedom.

  10

  In what screwed up world, did I have the right to Wings, servants, and toys as slaves, just because I didn’t have a dick?

  The fact that on earth I’d lived in a world of Hackney gangs where a dick meant respect, kid soldiers in turf war, and women as slaves, didn’t balance it in some ironic act of karma.

  These were angels. They should know better than humans.

  Except, I was coming to see that Glories weren’t better.

  They were bastards.

  I shivered, trembling in Drake’s cell-like room, choking on the warring scents of frankincense and myrrh. I raised my knee onto the bench, stretching to touch the shiny blind; my fingers skimmed the raven feathers.

  Rebel or Ash…?

  One slash remained at the bottom of the blind, before I’d have condemned us all to the dark.

  The Matriarch lounged against the wall.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  She tapped the heel of her stiletto against the stone floor, as if she was gouging out someone’s eyes.

  Yeah, mine.

  When my breath stuttered, I was caught in Drake’s arms, pulled back against his naked chest; his wings enfolded me. I wasn’t safe, as I was when Ash held me, but I also wasn’t alone anymore.

  ‘You wish to win our dare? What important decision will not cause pain?’ Drake whispered urgently. Flight whined; her heat seared through my dress. ‘Will you allow my sacrifice to be wasted through cowardice?’