The bitch was back.
I glanced around for Harahel, even if the sight of him at Battle’s feet would choke me, but I couldn’t see him. Battle had boycotted my Warrior Trials Prom; the bitch had balls.
Glories swooped closer to watch in the black velvet sky, their fire-fly wings trailing ghost-light across the stars. Girl Glories giggled, chasing each other in hunting games.
Where were the boys?
The only blokes were the Marked Wings kneeling at their Glories’ sides, or the Broken who knelt too, but with their heads bowed, no more important than the fire decorations or the lanterns.
The Glories shone in glowing perfection, just like the angels I’d designed in my computer game Angels vs Vampires. Now here, celebrating my own impending death in the Warrior Trials, I noticed the way they stroked each other’s arms, or dove after each other in adult versions of the girls’ hunt.
Had the angelic side always provoked me to shag men and boot them out the next morning?
Or was that the lie to excuse the monster?
Your punk rocker angel can slide down my guitar any day, girl. Isn’t he just the bondage lollipop that needs sucking in those chains?
Gross and gross, J.
Not from where I’m standing, and that’s inside you.
The frock you’re wearing…? The violet feathers belonged to Glories who took the Trials. And failed.
Cheers, you’ve just made me hurl in my mouth.
Feathery princess, you may go to the ball. But remember at midnight you turn into a pumpkin.
What’s set fire to your scaredy-pants?
Eleganza as your dead angel frock is, I don’t want a dead princess inside it.
What makes the Mage a Bigger Bad than the rest?
Trust me, if you have the power to resurrect angels, control the Bitch Queen, and command the Legion…? You’ve earnt the right to make everyone pull on their scaredy-pants.
I stumbled in my dance, catching myself on the mountainside; rock crumbled underneath my hand.
‘Princess?’ Gwyn jumped up from his spot kneeling on the hard ground to steady me.
I ran my hand through Gwyn’s hair; it’d been gelled in honour of the ceremony with sparkles, and when I pulled back, my palm glittered.
I grinned. ‘You dancing?’
Gwyn’s eyes widened, and he glanced around at the Glories who were flocking lower to gawk. He wrung his hands in his loose trousers. ‘B-broken aren’t allowed to dance.’
‘Not tonight.’ I gripped his elbow. ‘It’s my party, and everyone who wants to dance, can bastard dance.’
I looped my arm around his waist, but Gwyn shuffled his feet.
‘How?’ He looked up at me pleadingly.
‘It’s nothing, so it is. Pass the wally here.’ Rebel held out his arms, and I spun Gwyn to him.
Gwyn let out a delighted squeal, and Rebel caught him, before swaying him more gracefully than I had been.
‘Taught myself ages ago with the humans,’ Rebel murmured to him. ‘I loved their music. You just feel it: the freedom. Let yourself be free for once.’
When Rebel twirled him, Gwyn laughed, and it washed over me: his freedom in the dance for the first time in his life.
Small fingers clutched my wrist, yanking me round.
Drake glared at me, his shoulders shaking with suppressed fury.
Like Rebel, Drake had been dressed for the ceremony: indigo swept under his eyes like an Egyptian, and gold chains, instead of silver, even webbed between his curls.
Unlike Rebel, the nipple clamps were so tight that Drake’s nubs were bruised.
‘Brats,’ Drake hissed, scanning across at Rebel who was bopping with Gwyn in a wild rock out. ‘You’re making quite the public statement.’
‘I reckoned so.’
‘Of course. You send out a message. Yet how astounding you’d include my father in your insolence.’
Drake peeked over his shoulder at the sheltered circle of rocks and hazel trees: my training ground.
And at the centre?
The Mage stood at the shoulder of the Matriarch.
The Matriarch was not the same bitch as the skank in bare feet, with shadows under her eyes, whose world had been infiltrated by the enemy.
Instead, this was the immaculate tyrant in a dazzling dress that pooled behind her over the entire circle; she looked like a goddess rising out of a pearly sea. Her hair towered on her head, pinned with feathers. She dwarfed the Mage.
It was the Mage who made my blood thunder in my ears, however, and my mouth dry, even though he was dressed as simply as before. Unlike the Marked Wings, he’d been allowed the dignity of remaining unpainted.
His burning gaze met mine across the party.
So, that’s what it was like to be turned into a pumpkin.
I shrugged. ‘Insolence in black and violet, bro, that’s me.’
‘Was my father’s demonstration not sufficient?’ Drake stroked the fingers of one hand over the other, as if checking they weren’t broken. ‘He shall kill you. He punishes disobedience and failure.’
‘Screw his whole daddy kink vibe, he’s not my father.’
‘For which you should be eternally grateful,’ Drake snarled, before catching himself and taking a slow breath. ‘Truth: what are you going to say tonight?’
I blinked. ‘You’re scared.’
‘Play the game.’
‘The truth, that’s the answer. You wanted me to show the leader I’ll be? That’s what I’ll bastard do.’
I turned away, but he wrenched at my wrist, pulling me back.
‘He’ll kill you.’ His grip tightened. ‘I shan’t be able to—’
‘You know what?’ I tugged away my wrist, rubbing at the red imprints of his fingers. ‘Dare.’
Forty years Drake had been Rebel’s gaoler, and finally I could boot Drake in the balls for him.
Drake frowned. ‘Now is not the time—’
‘Wrong, bro, now’s the perfect time for your whipped genie arse to speak up in front of everyone — just like you forced me to do with my mum. Payback’s a bitch, and it’s coming for you tonight. I dare you to ask your dad—’
‘Don’t,’ he backed away a step; his bells jingled humiliatingly, as he shook. ‘I’m no coward, but what you ask…’
I prowled after Drake, pinning him against the mountain. ‘Dare: ask your father the one question you’ve always wished you could.’ He twisted his head to the side. ‘We may as well ride the screwed train together.’
‘As you wish.’ He still wouldn’t look at me. ‘I accept your challenge. We play for high stakes. And afterwards, it’ll be time for your big announcement, princess.’
His gaze flicked to mine, cold and hard; I hated I’d made it that way.
When I turned, I shot Rebel and Gywn a smile. ‘Stay here. They’re just about to cut the cake. Time for the speeches.’
Rebel levelled a steady stare at Drake. Maybe I’d been smoking unicorn weed, but it was Drake who drew back. ‘Commander.’
‘Zachriel.’
That was it?
Prisoner and gaoler for decades and now they were playing stiff upper lip bluff?
Rebel sniffed. ‘Brutal brave choice in costumes.’
‘Likewise.’ Drake nodded up the path. ‘Shall we?’
I trailed Drake up the mountain side to the circle of stones: the training ground.
The Mage’s eyes flashed, before he grinned; the bastard reckoned he’d won. He even condescended Drake with a smile.
How hadn’t I realised the two were fam? They could’ve been brothers, except for the silver in the Mage’s curls, and Drake was slighter.
And just like that I wished I could claw back my petty revenge.
Drake was owned by my mum and gifted by his dad. He didn’t need me wading in on the punishment game.
Not when Rebel had done no more than banter at him.
I shook my head at Drake — not superhero level code but the best I could think
up to stop the dare.
Drake’s head was turned away, however, as he hunched to the side of the Mage.
Myrrh scented wings banded around me, pulling me against my mum’s chest; her hands held my wrists. Even though I was half way between puking and panic attack, there was also something dark, painful, and right about the way it felt: this screwed up step-family.
Our royal family and the Drakes.
The Glories swarmed around the circle; night spirits, they hovered, silent and judging.
‘Well met in flight,’ the Matriarch’s call echoed across the valley. I guess the tequila shots weren’t up next. ‘Soon, like the best before her, my daughter will prove her worth through the Trials. She swore she’d never take her place, except as a Warrior Princess.’ And how’s that for working a lie? ‘I take pride today in my daughter and will cut down tomorrow all those who do not.’
‘Father,’ Drake pulled on the Mage’s sleeve.
Hell, no…
I shook my head again, but still Drake wasn’t looking at me.
He was sweating; his curls damp. ‘Why did you abandon me? Did you give me away to the Matriarch because…’ he hesitated, ‘my birthing killed mother?’
What the hell had I done?
I stared out over the hungry, amused expressions of the Glories. The Matriarch’s arms tightened around me.
The Mage studied Drake. ‘Duma, all these years have you been terrified I rejected you — reducing you to Marked Wing — because of that?’
Drake gave a tight nod. When the Mage stepped towards him, he flinched. Yet the Mage only traced the back of his knuckles down his son’s cheek.
Please, don’t, bastard don’t…
I knew, however, before the Mage opened his mouth again that even if it was payback for both Rebel and me, it’d be too high a price.
‘You’re wrong. It was because you were unworthy to be used as anything else.’ Drake gasped, as the Mage lifted his chin. ‘A disappointment.’
Crack — the Mage slapped Drake, hard enough to drive him to his knees.
The Matriarch slipped her hand into Drake’s hair, petting his curls; I shuddered at the blank look in his eyes.
I hadn’t known, up until that moment, what I’d say before the whole of Angel World.
Now, no matter what the Mage’s punishment, I was spitting the truth. Because Drake was paid up. I’d traded him in pain. If he had the balls to face his dad, then I owed it to all of them.
‘Cheers for the warm up act.’ I slipped free of the Matriarch’s wings, sauntering to the front of the circle. ‘Your spell caster here reckoned I should give you a little pep talk.’ The Mage’s smile froze, brittle. ‘Whoops, sorry, was that all top secret and crap? It kind of went blah, blah power blah, blah Legion, blah, blah punishment.’
Chortles, whispers, and the beat of wings.
The Mage had blanched, his lips pinched.
I swaggered around the circle, working the Glories. ‘Since I’ve been trapped with your angelic arses, all you do is fight for dominance and who can abuse it. What freaks me out? I’m as bad a bitch as any of you.’ I glanced back at Drake. His gaze was brighter. ‘For twenty-one years with the humans, I had no power, except that which I stole with a shank. An orphaned freak with one black and one violet eye.’ With a shudder, I lifted up my sunglasses, before staring defiantly at the Glories.
A burst of excited chatter.
‘Take a good look, bitches. Because I’m the monster. I won’t follow your rules, and this is the start of a new era because I’m your rebel princess.’
I panted, grinning into the dark.
I hadn’t expected ecstatic applause but the deadly silence was a downer.
I slowly turned back to the Mage, sinking from the high in a sickening rush.
The Mage scrutinized me like a snake does its prey.
I was bastard dead.
The Matriarch tilted her head, as if she’d not fully examined me before. ‘Precious, baby bird. Whatever would we do if anything happened to our perfect weapon?’
Mafia-style threat. But was it directed at me? Or the Mage?
Drake dragged his curls away from the Matriarch’s hand, yelping as she pulled on the chains, and dived towards me. He hauled me by the hand out of the training circle. ‘Run, rebel princess!’
I stumbled after Drake, glancing over my shoulder at the Mage.
The Matriarch’s hand rested on his shoulder, holding him back, even as his wings flamed in terrifying vengeance.
Yet the Mage was the true Emperor. He had enough juice to control even the Matriarch. And I’d just declared war.
19
The power of invisibility was an epic superpower I’d always desired.
It turned out it was Commander Drake — disappointment to his father, bed slave to my mother, and prick to me — who had the skills.
Drake and I stumbled into my chambers to the whining fury of the mauve crystals. Then Drake shoved me down onto the nest.
The haunting music of the Imperfect started up again, like violins played over a thumping beat; my party was back in full swing.
Had the Mage followed us?
I fell into the soft pile with a flutter of feathers, breathing hard. My skin had been rubbed raw under my bird dress. All I needed were bastard eggs, and I’d be broody.
Drake paced in a tight circle, wringing his hands. ‘You are a fool… And even if my hair is girlie like this…’ He wrenched at the chains in his curls, tinkling the bells on his purpling chest. ‘…it makes you…’ He pointed a quivering finger at me, and I noticed his gold nail varnish, ‘…no less foolish.’
‘I just spat in the top boy’s face in front of a world that kisses his Voldemort arse. So, what are we running from? Death by psycho spell lobber? Or are we talking something more Old Guard?’
‘You,’ Drake lifted his pale eyebrow, ‘are facing death. I’ll merely be punished.’
‘Wouldn’t want to risk your pretty little nips, harem boy.’
He crossed his arms over his chest. ‘You have no idea. My father is an excellent tactician. You won’t know of his attack until it happens. Or maybe he’ll simply leave the Warrior Trials to claim your life. Why defy Queen Miniel, when she sends her own daughter to her death?’
I spluttered.
Then Rebel and Gwyn darted into the chambers in a whirl of frantic questions, apple fragrance, and sparkles.
Until Drake grabbed Rebel by the throat, dangling him on his toes. ‘Why do you keep invading my dreams, Zachriel?’
Rebel lay limp in his grasp but he rasped, ‘Why do you invade my nightmares, Commander?’
Suddenly, Drake hurled Rebel onto me; I fell back with a startled oomph. Drake toppled Gwyn more gently over us both like bowling pins. I peered through the gaps in their wings.
Violet tendrils wound around us, shimmering in a shield, before they bled into the air.
Invisible.
‘Be silent,’ Drake hissed, backing against the cupboard. ‘Lest you be discovered.’
He forced himself to an unnatural stillness; he’d weakened himself to concentrate on shielding us.
Could he only hide others?
Then I heard the footsteps thundering towards my chambers.
A gang of Legions, led by Nathanael, stormed in like they were out for a drunken lynching.
Yeah, mine.
They fanned out, booting my cushions across the ground, knocking my platter clattering, and barging Drake into the corner, trapping him.
Drake’s knees buckled, and he held himself up against the wall.
Maybe invisibility wasn’t such a bitching power.
‘Not so brave, Brother in the Phoenix, now daddy’s home,’ Nathanael sneered, like a lord chastising his servant, ‘and we all learn your true worth.’
Nathanael wasn’t snivelling anymore; I’d shanked Drake’s position in the Legion.
‘What do you wish, Nathanael?’ Drake asked resignedly. ‘You try my patience.’
‘The Mage has given no orders to kill her yet. Do you think I don’t know his thoughts well enough? Or do you intend to impress him with her head?’
Nathanael clutched Drake’s nipple chains and yanked. Drake howled, scrabbling at the wall behind him. The kids, drunk on their new power over the Commander, closed around him.
Rebel stiffened, his gaze searching out mine, as he shifted to rise. I shook my head carefully. The Legion were Drake’s gang, after all.
‘Did I not tell you I would enjoy listening to your howls?’ Nathanael tugged harder. Beside me, Rebel winced in sympathy. ‘You cannot even follow orders to keep close to the Bastard of the Fallen. Maybe I shall recommend to the Mage that your tiny penis be removed, along with your tiny wings?’
Giggles.
Dick insults: angelic teenagers can’t resist the same as human kids.
Except, had that been the threat? That if Drake didn’t get close to me, he’d lose his wings?
So, why did it shank that he’d been keeping a secret? That he’d been betraying me?
When I shuddered, both Rebel and Gwyn wound their arms around me.
Nathanael clouted Drake in the guts, and he collapsed on his side.
‘Report to Legion chambers tomorrow.’ Nathanael tutted. ‘We would break you, if we fully chastised you tonight.’
I held still, as the gang trooped out of the chambers.
At last, the tendrils shivered to life again around us before fading and dropping away; my geekery flipped into overdrive.
Then Rebel was bouncing up and darting to Drake.
I flailed about in the feathery dress before I could stagger after him. ‘You’re a spy, harem britches?’
Drake didn’t even attempt to push himself up. He didn’t look like he could’ve if Nathanael had come back to drag him to chastisement. ‘Surprise!’ He gave a ghost of a smile.
Rebel ducked down to Drake, who shied away, banging his head against the crystal corner. ‘You’ve been watching over the princess?’
Drake looked down and swallowed, his hands clenched in his lap. ‘I’m her guard, Zachriel,’ he said softly, ‘just as I was your gaoler. I regret I was under orders to spy for the Legion.’
Vampire Princess (Rebel Angels Book 2) Page 16