Vampire Princess (Rebel Angels Book 2)

by Rosemary A Johns

  And predatory rage.

  I shook off the pebbles, reaching for Flight, but my arm was pinned by the stones.

  Hell, hell, hell…

  The velociraptors had broken free of each other, ruffling out their feathers, before stalking towards me.

  I stared up at Drake, who knelt beside the Matriarch. His back was stiff and his expression tight, but he didn’t swoop down and kick the feathery bitches’ arses. He simply watched, like he’d promised and like the Glories around the arena. Even though any moment, I’d be just another ghost angel pinned to the walls of The Pit.

  I understood then what Harahel and Battle had been teaching me: this was my Warrior Trial. I either showed the warrior I’d become or I laid down and died.

  And this wouldn’t be the day I died.

  I strained against the rock that was crushing my right arm. When Velociraptor Two snapped at me, I booted it in the head.

  Blinking against the fractured orange sunbeams that lanced across the wall, I inched my left hand over the pyramid of pebbles to the fallen Flight.

  And I bastard took my eye off the monsters.

  I screamed.

  Feathers, claws, beaks…

  When both velociraptors leapt on me, the air was driven out of my lungs.

  I fell back, away from Flight, as the velociraptors pinned me under their swaying bodies, balancing themselves with their wings and stiff tails. Then they pierced their extended sickle-shaped toe claws deep into my ribs and guts, hooking me and stopping my escape.

  And I screamed again. Except, this time nothing came out but a gurgle.

  Screech — the velociraptor sisters’ triumphant predator call seared across my cheeks.

  If I didn’t piss myself now, then I’d earned myself the Big Girl label for life.

  I struggled to lift my right arm. Although it tingled with pins and needles, however, rushing with the beginnings of remembered pain, it was screwed.

  A broken arm, however, was bottom of my Freak Out list when I was about to be eaten alive.

  I’m in Jurassic Park here, J, and I’ve long since reached the screaming. Bring out the Violet, before I’m chomped.

  These feathery turkeys are only shaking their thing, girl. They hunt and kill: it’s their nature. Did they ask to be brought through the Gateway to battle your ass? What would be righteous about unleashing the fire?

  What’s righteous about me being eaten?

  Then save yourself.

  I’d been on Angel World too long: I’d forgotten Rebel’s lessons.

  Yet it was Battle’s training on discipline, which forced me to stillness, even as the velociraptors’ jaws tore into my armour to feast on my guts.

  I slid my left hand down to my waist, edging out my dagger, Star. I vibrated with the need to touch.

  Velociraptor One tilted her head, her eyes cold and hard. My breath stuttered. Then she ripped into my side.

  I hollered, as crimson stained serrated teeth, swinging Star; the shank burst alive in piercing violet, shooting out shards of light.

  The Velociraptors squealed, trying to scramble backwards against the heat, but they’d hooked themselves into my flesh, denying their own escape.

  ‘How do you like being the prey?’ I shoved the shank between their heads.

  An imploding sun, Star burst into points, frying the dinosaurs’ heads.

  Their heavy charred corpses fell onto me. I squirmed, rolling them off, before I stared up at the leaden sky above, my arm and side throbbing.

  And to my victory?

  Silence.

  I wiped my fingers through my bleeding side, daubing my forehead and cheeks. ‘Now do I look the part of warrior?’ I hollered. The Glories shifted in rustling disapproval. ‘Next time? Book a bastard clown for your party.’

  ‘You’ve passed the second part of the Trials,’ Battle spat out, hovering above The Pit.

  I smirked despite the pain. ‘That must be a bitch of a disappointment.’

  Battle swooped lower. ‘Nay, wee princess, I’m your Trainer: I’m right proud.’ She looked to be swallowing glass. ‘But tonight, you face the final and hardest part of the Trial. Your enemy. And if you die…?’ She pointed at the feathers on the wall of The Pit. ‘Will you take a look, lass? We pluck them out of the losers’ wings. This here is the memorial of the dead. Maybe we’ll flay you and pin up your skin?’

  I collapsed against the wall, allowing agony and blood loss to carry me into oblivion.

  The enemy could wait until tonight. And so could the angels to claim my skin for their wall of the dead.

  The Matriarch stared down at me, shivering in the rank valley below, from the ridge above The Pit.

  Tonight, on the final part of my Warrior Trials with the breeze billowing the snakes of her veil, which hooked her hair with pearls to the corners of the ledge, and flaming wings lighting the wall behind her in the black, the Matriarch stood alone.

  I hugged my aching right arm across my chest: even with angelic juiced healing it hurt like a bitch.

  Earlier, my new harem of Poly-Wings had tended to me. Gwyn had cleaned the wounds, Rebel had kissed the bruises, Haman had stroked my hair, and Harahel had fed me a lamb stew that was better than anything I’d eaten since I’d been held captive.

  Yet they hadn’t said a word. And that was the reason I’d die for the clever bastards.

  Because I was theirs, the same as they were mine.

  Funny, the revelations you have over food.

  Above me, the Glories hung in a cloud behind the Matriarch, blocking out the night-time sky: a perfect army. Their wings glowed in aching splendour.

  I hunched in my tattered amour: unarmed.

  Battle had stripped Star from me. But my gaze slid to the tumbled rock pile that buried Flight.

  What was that trick Drake and the Legion played, controlling their weapons with their minds?

  ‘My daughter,’ I snapped my attention back to the Matriarch, whose voice echoed around The Pit, ‘tonight you either fly to the heavens, or condemn yourself forever to wallow in the filth of the Lowest Order, given to the Legion with your Poly-Wings for their base desires.’ I shuddered. ‘Remember who I am? I control with love, yet it is your weakness.’

  I snorted. ‘You’ve been watching the wrong channel, bro. I don’t do love.’

  ‘Then prove it. The final Trial is to face your enemy. Kill them!’

  Scrape.

  I spun round; the bars of the cave pulled up.

  If more velociraptors nosed out, I was dinosaur steak.

  Prime.

  Instead, a naked vampire staggered out. His olive skin was darkened with grime and bruises; his chest was welted with lashes.

  When the vampire peered up at the arena and the watching angels, his eyes widened. Yet he straightened his shoulders, as if to hide his injuries.

  Ash.

  I stumbled towards him, but he held out a shaking hand to wave me back. His wary gaze shanked, before the thought jolted me: he’d been dragged from the dark — bare arsed — to this gladiator’s pit to face me, in front of an army of his enemies.

  Screw it, I’d be wary as hell too, and the Brigadier had his pride.

  ‘Take it you’re playing Maximus in this wargame?’ Ash asked.

  ‘Except, you’re more like a panther than a lion, Geek Fang.’

  His look was pleading, as he stalked towards me. ‘Then let’s give them a good show.’

  Had my mum known my weakness from the start, setting up the pieces of the game to take Ash hostage, just to produce him now for me to kill? To force me to prove my alliance with the angels over the vampires? And slaughter my love for the enemy?

  Ash’s spinning kick slammed into my bad side, and I doubled over. His hook to my chin knocked the breath from me. I swallowed blood, grinning.

  Shooting out my left arm, I caught Ash around the throat, choking him. He scrabbled at my arm, before I hurled him across The Pit.

  Crack.

  Ash spr
awled against the wall, before hauling himself up and wiping away the scarlet from his split lip.

  I bounced on the balls of my feet, flying on the thrill of the fight.

  Joy rose at having Ash at my side because we were in this battle together, against the bastards sucking their sick pleasure from our pain.

  He spun, his dove grey wings cutting steel; their tips pulsed fiery violet.

  I caught sight of the rocks behind him…and the glinting hilt of the buried Flight.

  I’d suffered seven days of sassiness to win that sword: she’d obey my command.

  Drake had promised.

  I held out my hand, kicking it Jedi-style, as I threaded white strands through my bond with Drake and then flowing into his weapon: my sword.

  Intimate, I gasped at the connection to both Drake and Flight. A maternal love for a son, tiger fierce. Flight flew in a shower of pebbles across The Pit and into my hand.

  Ash ducked from the stones; grit greyed his black mane. He lowered his arms, before slouching closer.

  Flight flared to life, trembling with flames.

  When I swung, Ash lunged, tackling my legs out from under me, and tangling us together on the floor.

  He twisted us, until he lay beneath me. His charcoal eyes were soft. ‘Kill me.’

  I froze.

  He nudged Flight’s blade towards his throat as he lay motionless as a sacrifice.

  And this was the bastard line: to kill an unarmed vampire for twisted sport, or initiation into a Warrior class, or acceptance. I wasn’t a weapon to be manipulated to prove the epicness of vampire genocide.

  After wanting a mum all my life, I knew now I’d never be what she wanted.

  Because I’d never be her.

  Yet if I didn’t kill Ash, I’d lose the Trials, my Wings, my chance to escape and bring down the whole system.

  Why couldn’t I sacrifice one man to save the many? Was that love?

  When I forced Ash’s hands onto Flight’s hilt, his eyes widened.

  ‘What are you…? Stop…’ He struggled, but he was weak from lack of blood.

  I shoved my elbow into his throat, acting a struggle over the sword. I slowly tipped it between our hands, until the blade nicked my own throat.

  Flight whined but didn’t resist: the bitch knew the play.

  ‘I surrender,’ I hollered.

  Gasps, howls, hoots.

  I pulled myself off Ash, hauling him up, whilst I sheathed Flight. I recoiled against the shrieked outrage and the wild beating of the Glories’ wings.

  They’d taken it well then.

  ‘To the death,’ Ash muttered in my ear, clasping his hands around my waist. ‘These fights are to the death, not to the surrender.’

  ‘Then maybe someone should kick their arses into the twenty-first century.’

  The Matriarch’s eyes flashed lightning; her body vibrated with a rage that twisted her thin face into a demented darkness.

  I’d reckoned I’d seen the bitch angry before.

  I’d been wrong.

  The Matriarch tipped her head back and she howled.

  ‘And maybe I was trying to save you from the crazy angels.’ Ash’s arms tightened around me.

  It was legendary to have him at my back again, even if I shook at the ear-splitting shrieks.

  Rip — the Matriarch tore herself free of her veils, spreading her wings.

  Then she dived with a screech into The Pit.

  My right arm swung useless, my side throbbed, and I lifted Flight in my weak left arm.

  I waited, quivering, as the Matriarch swooped down in all her glory to add to her collection of ghosts.

  24

  When London Fields had been tinged blood-red with dawn, the skies had been stained dove-grey with fleeing vampires, and the ground had been charred black with the dead, I’d been nothing but a weapon.

  Now I had a vampire at my back and an angelic army facing me. And I was finally free to make my own choices.

  Even if they bastard killed me.

  Time to fight dirty.

  Fireballs burst from my left palm, sizzling down my arms. I hurled them at the ground of The Pit, blazing a fire that arched in a bubble around Ash and me, electric in the black night.

  All the training had paid off then.

  Like the bonfire tang of fizzing sparklers, my flames burnt away the piss, dung, and blood stench clinging to the valley.

  This was my yard now.

  The Glories bayed, dive-bombing in flaming formations, as the Matriarch landed so close to the fire it hissed; her feathers caught. She held up her hand, and the Glories pulled back, restless.

  The Matriarch’s hair billowed behind her. Her eyes were cracking ice. ‘You would dare use our own revered fire against us, traitor?’

  Why did it shank that my mum called me that instead of baby bird?

  ‘You don’t want to test what I’d dare. You know why?’ I exploded the flames higher, and the Matriarch stumbled backwards, as her wingtips blistered. Yeah, bet it hurt like hell when you did it to Drake through his Mark too. ‘Because trapped here I forgot…who I am. But I remember now. I may be half angelic asshole, but you know what else?’ I curled the throbbing fingers of my broken hand into Ash’s, and he clasped it. ‘I’m the vampires’ princess too.’

  Roars, howls, snarls.

  The Glories were about to get medieval: I’d misjudged my audience.

  The Matriarch, however, only shook out her seared wings. ‘You claim a shadowed heritage. I wished for you to defeat our world’s maze. Yet I too am guilty of forgetting that shadow in your soul. Because if you’re the Fallen’s princess, who do you believe to be your father? A beast who shall sing in your suffering.’

  I shrank from the cruelty of her smile. Then I shrieked.

  A glimmering myrrh whip lashed my mind, cracking it open as easily as cracking an egg. Memories, each one tumbling out one after the other, bled at the Matriarch’s feet.

  I sobbed, falling to my knees.

  Somewhere, far back in my juddering brain, someone — Ash — was calling my name, wrapping his wings around me.

  But twenty-one years of life had been laid bare, and I was coming apart.

  The flames above our heads stuttered.

  ‘This does not need to be hard,’ the Matriarch crooned. ‘I do not fly so high in arrogance I cannot admit my mistake. You corrupt love as well, but it’s your own: for the humans. Your memories are clearer than sparkling pools.’ Get out of my head, bitch. The Matriarch only smiled thinly. ‘By sending you to live amongst them, you’ve become as weak as an Addict.’

  ‘Then let me bounce, as I’m such a…’ I licked the salt wetting my lips away, forcing out the last word, ‘disappointment.’

  ‘You’re my precious daughter.’ She crouched over me, reaching out her hand. ‘The miracle to end all miracles. My marvel and our weapon. If you have such a perverse attachment to the humans, I shall appoint you their Guardian. Do you not wish to be a saviour? I have you back; I’ll not lose you again.’

  My chest clenched.

  Why the hell did she have to say those words? Alone in the children’s home, I’d dreamed of having a mum who’d want me and would never abandon me.

  Except, the Matriarch had just waded through my memories. As a smile danced on the corner of her lips, I curled over, withering inside.

  The bitch had played me.

  ‘Do one,’ I rasped, ‘I’ll pass on your Satan’s temptations.’

  Another lash of the myrrh whip; the last traces of my fire shield flickered out.

  Ash leapt in front of me. Unarmed and naked, he still looked deadly.

  When the Matriarch rose to her full height, she was no longer smiling.

  And that was deadly.

  I tensed, as she stalked towards me.

  Gold…violet…curls…

  A tumble of angel swooped from the side, dragging away the Matriarch: Drake.

  Shocked, I staggered up.

  Drake ramme
d the Matriarch into the wall, slamming her head into the rock with every pent-up ounce of repressed fury. Then he scowled over his shoulder at us. ‘Run, you fools.’

  Ash grabbed my elbow, hauling me stumbling towards the stinking cave he’d come through earlier.

  Crunch — the Matriarch smashed her fist into Drake’s chest, shattering his ribs.

  When he howled, she lifted his body, before slamming it down over her knee. Then she shoved his shattered body tumbling to the floor.

  A skewering jolt of fear shot through me.

  Was Drake dead?

  Ash’s grip tightened. ‘He said run.’

  I forced myself to nod, before we dashed for the cave’s shadows.

  Scolding, chattering chirps.

  Hundreds of swaying brown pears hung from the cave’s roof: bats.

  When leathery wings brushed against my cheeks in a plague-like cloud, catching in my hair, I twirled away from the horseshoe nosed freaks.

  Ash slipped his arms around my shoulders. ‘Don’t fear the bats, Violet, fear what’s calling to them.’

  ‘Naughty child to make me break my toy,’ the Matriarch roared from behind me. ‘I shall play with your Wings, and you shall watch.’

  No way was that bitch touching what was mine.

  At the sudden sound of beating wings, I glanced back. And then swung Ash around, tangling our feet, as we tripped against the dripping wall of the cave.

  Once more, dove-grey stained the night-time sky in a trembling haze. But this wasn’t vampires fleeing a battle, this was vampires attacking, and the bats flew with them.

  One painful moment of shocked silence.

  Then the Glories rose in blazing, outnumbered ranks, tearing into the ambush with echoing war cries.

  Severed hands, singed feathers, and scorched heads rained down on The Pit’s arena like favours.

  In the chaos, I shrank against the cave wall.

  Who the hell did I battle for? Angel or vampire? Or something else?

  I reached for Rebel through the bond.

  Alarm but no fear.

  At least the vampires hadn’t overrun my chambers where my Wings were being held during the Trials.