Vampire Princess (Rebel Angels Book 2)

by Rosemary A Johns

  Yet.

  Ash gripped my chin, tilting my head so our gazes met. ‘The Ice Commander went all Gandalf and held the monster back so we could pass, and you’re staying behind to watch? This is our best chance to escape.’

  ‘You’re right.’ How, even for a moment, had I forgotten Drake’s pulverised body, defenceless now under the coming surge of grey? Because he’d saved us. ‘But I’m not abandoning the Broken.’

  ‘Why?’ Ash scrutinized me with a sudden intensity. ‘You’re a princess. Has no one told you the perks include perfection, rather than the Broken, Addicts…Seducers?’

  I pressed my lips to Ash’s mouth, flickering my tongue across his, until he squirmed. ‘Nobody’s perfect. And the imperfections are hot as hell.’

  ‘My daughter…’ The Matriarch’s urgent plea broke into my mind telepathically, jerking my head round.

  I stared into my mum’s eyes, as she stood stranded, alone in the centre of the Pit.

  Just as I’d stood during the Warrior Trials.

  Except, instead of the impassive Glories lining the walls, vampires crawled like giant bats.

  My throat tightened.

  High on the ledge, the Mage was making a final stand. He raised his arms above his head, Thor-like, holding back the vampire tsunami with blasts of invisible power.

  ‘Soar as saviour at your mother’s side.’ The Matriarch forced herself into my head again, holding out her hand to me. No games this time. ‘If you save us, failure in the Trials will be counted as nothing. Monster, Rebel, or Vampire, I care not, simply be a princess. Redeem yourself.’

  My eyes burned.

  Who the hell was I?

  Then I knew: I didn’t belong to either side. I wouldn’t be owned. And I did have a choice.

  I licked Ash’s lips. ‘Han, it’s time we broke you out.’

  He grinned. ‘What did Sexy Snake Drake say?’

  We gripped each other’s hands as we hollered, ‘Run!’

  Then we dived together into the cave to the screams of Angel World, chatter of bats, and the Matriarch’s howl.

  I hacked through the leather bonds, which bound Dillon to the outcrop of rocks.

  Clank — Flight sparked against the jade, which shone as if it’d been greased in oil.

  Dillon snarled around the harness gag, and for once I was thankful to the kinky bastard angels.

  I’d promised Gwyn to free the alpha prick, but I didn’t want to lose my fingers in the attempt.

  Battle’s chambers fitted the warrior bitch. A vast open training space, with thorny briars growing along the back walls and supersized Venus flytraps with purple tongues.

  I blanched. ‘I’m not wearing my geek pants but I’ll take a punt those blooms didn’t crawl out of the Gateways?’

  Harahel shrugged one shoulder. ‘The Gateways aren’t your computers. Just facts and our past. These giants are one of the Gateways’ infinite evolutionary possibilities. Although, they’ll only thrive here on Angel World.’

  ‘Bastard shame,’ I muttered, shivering against the spray of the waterfall that thundered over the leather bonds.

  How long had Dillon been trapped in the freeze?

  First, we’d rescued my Wings.

  It’d been epic to throw Rebel his red bondage trousers and black leather jacket and t-shirt. His face had lit up like I’d gifted him the world or maybe erased the bastard Mark.

  He’d slipped my sister’s iPod into his jacket pocket. Then he’d have broken his nose, tangling his legs in his trousers in his excitement, except Ash had caught his arm.

  Something had passed between the two of them, before Rebel had simply nodded, ‘Brigadier.’

  Ash had sprawled against the wall. ‘Angel.’

  Haman had growled, tossing his long hair over his shoulder like a tiny tiger, before launching at Ash in defence of his brother.

  Rebel had caught Haman’s arm. ‘He’s a muppet, but he’s our muppet.’ He’d strapped on Eclipse, shining with surging power. ‘I know who I am; I remember.’ A grin spread across his lips. ‘Now, let’s make Angel World remember too.’

  Clank — one final blow, and Dillon fell forward onto his knees, free.

  He fumbled with the gag’s buckle, whilst Gwyn darted through the waterfall away from Rebel and Harahel, who guarded the entrance. Gwyn dropped at Dillon’s side.

  I sheathed Flight, wiping the wet hair out of my eyes.

  Dillon wrenched out the gag, hurling it with a plop into a puddle at my feet.

  I raised my eyebrow. ‘A cheers would’ve done, bro.’

  ‘Put me back,’ Dillon growled, winding his fingers in Gwyn’s hair. ‘What do you think my Glory will do — to all of us — if she discovers me free?’

  ‘Is drop dead and die too hopeful?’

  ‘You’d risk Gwyn? Do you not remember how I’ll hurl you off a mountain?’

  Slap — Gwyn’s tiny hand smacked across Dillon’s cheek; Dillon didn’t even flinch but he looked like a whipped dog. ‘The princess is our saviour. She’s risking herself to save you seeing as you’re my cariad, and I love you.’

  ‘That gives me the boke: two big Jessies.’ At Battle’s mocking voice, Gwyn shrank back.

  I blinked the pearl water teardrops out of my eyes, peering up at the jade roof; Battle descended, bow already in hand, from a tunnel.

  Why had I expected less from the Supreme Commander?

  The tip of Battle’s arrow flamed. She jerked it at me, and I backed away from the Broken, out of the waterfall’s spray.

  Gwyn whimpered, and Dillon tightened his hold.

  ‘No whipping boy this time; you take your own skelping. Do you know what I do to head cases who try and steal my toys?’ Battle’s grin was feral. ‘I burn off their hands.’

  Then she aimed her arrow and fired.

  25

  I swerved Battle’s flaming arrow, but the whispered kisses of its fiery trail singed my cheek.

  The jade walls of the chambers pulsed like a heartbeat, bleeding goo across the training space.

  I drew Flight but slipped, landing on my hip with a crack and spinning arse over tit into the Sleeping Beauty web of briars; Flight clinked towards the spitting waterfall.

  Curved thorns, as long and sharp as the velociraptors’ sickle-shaped claws, slashed my skin, marking my cheeks and palms in crimson tears.

  Through the sting, my vision clouded; I flushed with fever. My tongue expanded in my mouth. My breathing shallowed at the pungent scent, like rotting cabbages.

  Bastard poison.

  If Battle reckoned this princess was sleeping for a thousand years, she didn’t know how tough they raised them in Hackney.

  My Wings dashed towards me, but I held up my hand, which ballooned in front of my diseased mind: monstrous. ‘Bastard stop. Don’t step into the Hunger Games.’

  Battle chuckled, notching a new arrow to her bow. ‘Have you forgotten your first lesson? Notice the predator, not the pretty.’

  I rolled onto my stomach, skidding in the green gloop as I worm crawled away from her. ‘I’ve had a bitch of a day: mind molested, dinosaur whomped, and now I’m caught between two psycho armies who both want my arse. So, stick your evil banter.’

  A giant purple tongue licked out, curling around my waist and pinning my arms at my sides. It dragged me into its sticky embrace.

  I shrieked, dangling in the air; the world shifted like funfair mirrors.

  The Venus flytraps swayed; their mouths hung open in salivating expectation of their treat: Little Shop of Horrors plays Angel World.

  I wriggled, but then stilled, whining at a fiery brand on my forehead. I forced myself to focus: Battle, with bow raised and the arrow resting on my head.

  Fight this.

  What…?

  Remember who you are, sweet thing: the side you’ve chosen and the power in your blood.

  ‘Why settle for your hands, when I can take your daft head?’ Battle pushed the arrow into my skin; it sizzled. ‘You stole my place at
the Matriarch’s side, I’m just taking it back.’

  I closed my eyes against the agony in my head and the hate in Battle’s glare.

  Ganked for pushing my adopted sister out of the nest. A nest I didn’t even bastard want.

  That even topped the dinosaur whomping.

  Scuffling, clanking, shrieking.

  A flood of apples: refreshing and piquant.

  I cautiously opened my eyes, before I gasped.

  A scarlet pool. And Battle huddled in it, clasping her gushing stumps to her chest. Harahel stood over her, his gaze flinty, gripping Flight with white knuckles. His trousers were sprayed in crimson.

  Flight had allowed Harahel to fight with her?

  Maybe because Harahel was protecting me. And maybe because he was revenge on a stick.

  Harahel kicked Battle’s bow, skidding it into the venomous briars. ‘Who’s Imperfect now?’

  Battle rocked, her eyes vacant. She pressed her stumps against her knees, painting them red. ‘Don’t leave me like this. Will you end it?’

  Harahel slouched closer. ‘Let’s see, did you end it for me? Or did you beat me and…’ He looked away, running a shaking hand through his long curls, ‘…because you said I was weak? Weak for this?’ He raised his right arm. ‘For sacrificing on the battlefield?’ He crouched over Battle; she flinched when he turned her head to meet his hard gaze. ‘Concentrate. Anpiel trusted you: we’re family. And if she was here, she’d have done worse than slice off your hands for touching me.’

  Battle jerked away from him with a snarl. ‘The Matriarch will fry you for touching me.’

  ‘You’re joking, yeah? You’re nothing now. Just another Imperfect.’ He grinned as he tapped her nose. ‘Enjoy my life.’

  She howled and bit at his fingers, but he snatched his hand back with a laugh. He jumped up, sliding Flight underneath the Venus flytrap coils.

  My head lolled; grey nibbled at the edges of my mind.

  ‘Hang in there,’ Harahel muttered. ‘And yeah, that was a bad pun. Can you even hear me?’

  My eyelashes fluttered.

  ‘Taking that as a yes.’ He yanked back Flight.

  Rip — Flight tore through the tongue in a burst of reeking fluids.

  Harahel caught me in his arms, as I toppled forwards lost to the poison.

  …A feathery nest… Fingers stroking my cheek… Scratches throbbing… Burning, burning, burning…

  Thick paste cooling like breath blowing through my veins… Sting fading… Fever dying to embers…

  ‘…What then?’ Ash’s frustrated whisper. ‘The Pure are fanatics, but their strategy is sound. Remove the wings, remove the means of escape.’

  ‘You’re saying it all arseway, Brigadier. They only copied the Matriarch’s trick.’ Rebel’s reply. ‘The real problem with us scattering is Broken Hollow. There’s no way out of that bleeding place unless you’re after counting the sunlight shafts. And what was the problem with that again?’

  ‘No wings. That’s called trapping yourself in an indefensible position: the bottom of the mountain. Plus, you’re giving me the shivers, angel. Has Violet ever told you how sexy you are when you play at General?’

  At Rebel’s roar, I blinked open my eyes. ‘Play nicely, boys. I didn’t know war games gave you stiffies.’

  Instantly, they were at my side, each touching one injured palm, as they glowered at each other.

  I squirmed; I’d been laid in the far corner on Battle’s nest of feathers. My armour had been stripped away, along with Star. When I strained, I could hear fighting above us and further out in the corridors.

  The vampires had shattered Angel World.

  ‘What’s Broken Hollow?’ I asked.

  ‘Most Glories don’t allow their Broken to sleep in their chambers,’ Rebel answered. ‘They’re after using them and then sending them to the Hollow. Broken are kicked and booted if they’re found in the rest of Angel World without a Glory, so it’s where they live the rest of the time too.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Didn’t you know?’

  I looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

  Gwyn had merely always been there when I’d needed him, disappearing somewhere when he wasn’t.

  How did I break out the toys, when Broken Hollow was deep in the mountain, designed to hold the wingless captive?

  I wrinkled my nose: a medicinal cherry gloop clung to my exposed skin. It ponged like wood smoke.

  Dillon clattered a tray of the cherry herb by my head, and I met his eye. ‘Cheers for the save. Again.’

  Dillon shrugged. ‘It was one of my duties to tend to my ex-owner when she pricked herself.’ He sneered dismissively at Battle’s huddled form on the training space. ‘And I didn’t do it for you.’ His lips twitched into an almost smile. ‘I wouldn’t want Gwyn to injure himself by slapping me again.’

  ‘Careful, cariad,’ Gwyn popped up from the feathers behind me, pouting, ‘fear the wrath of Gwyn.’

  Dillon snorted with laughter.

  ‘Say we set up a plan to play Pied Piper and lead the slaves out of Broken Hollow?’ I sat up. ‘What about the slaves trapped in their Glories’ rooms?’

  Hold onto your strawberry cheeks, hunty, the Pied Piper drowned those rats. Plus, he wasn’t the poster boy for equality because he left behind the boy who couldn’t walk fast enough.

  Are you abandoning those who can’t fly to safety? Or are you leading them to their deaths?

  Bitch, that’s the last time I use a metaphor around you.

  I notice you’re not answering.

  I turned down status, power, and my own mum. What more do you want?

  You to prove it.

  ‘We’ll find them,’ Dillon dragged Gwyn up, hugging him to his side. ‘And collect everyone, Broken and Imperfect, in Broken Hollow. We know the Glories who’ll be keeping their toys tied up.’

  ‘I’ll go with them, knowing the Imperfect.’ Harahel sheepily held out Flight to me.

  I hefted her by the hilt, before placing her down. ‘You’re a lucky bloke, she rolled over for a tummy rub. You tamed yourself one tough bitch.’

  Harahel followed the Broken into the corridor, before calling back at us, ‘Hey, I’m irresistible.’

  Ash sniggered, straightening to watch the door. ‘I like that angel.’

  Rebel spluttered, staring at him. ‘Muppet.’

  Haman knelt next to me, passing a cool cloth over the paste and easing it off. His long hair swept across my skin, and his vanilla infused wings wrapped around me.

  I sighed. ‘You’re hired, bro.’

  Haman giggled but then flushed, torturing his lower lip with his small teeth: just like his brother. ‘You look like a tribal princess.’

  Rebel rolled his eyes. ‘She looks like a—’

  ‘Choose your next words carefully.’

  Rebel grinned. ‘Sow who’s rolled in mud.’

  Ash smirked. ‘The art of seduction: R.I.P.’

  Haman’s panicked gaze swung between Rebel and me. Then he curled over with his forehead to the floor. ‘Please forgive my brother. Zachriel doesn’t always know what… Please, it’s not his fault; discipline me…’

  Rebel paled, tugging on Haman’s arm, but he wouldn’t kneel up.

  Haman’s shaking only stopped, when I stroked through his hair. ‘No forgiving or disciplining. I’m not the bastard Legion. I don’t want you kneeling at my feet, but at my side or battling at my back.’ I pulled Haman onto the feathers next to me, and he blinked at me, confused. ‘Rebel is fam. So, you are too.’

  Haman stared at me. ‘I’ve been alone...the lowly Son of a Fallen…but now a princess claims me as family?’

  Awkward, I shrugged. ‘Don’t go reckoning I’m the Disney variety, more like the freaky bitch who leads you into the Apocalypse.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he firmly shook his head, ‘family is family.’

  My eyes prickled. ‘Yeah, bro.’

  ‘About the Apocalypse scenario,’ Ash pulled off masterful Brigadier, even if he
was the only bare arsed bastard in the room. ‘How are we flying out of here with an army of the Broken? I’m trying to trust you, but unless they can grow wings, it’ll be our last stand.’

  ‘You either trust me or you don’t. None of this trying bollocks.’

  Ash mock saluted. ‘I trust you, Yoda.’

  Grow wings…?

  I quivered. Falling forward, I gripped onto Rebel.

  Royal blood: J had called it powerful.

  From the beginning, Drake had shown me visions, Ash had shied from it, Rebel had saved himself from Falling through it, and my Training had danced around it.

  My blood.

  It opened the Gateways because after everything I’d forgotten the vision they’d shown me when I’d first asked how to survive and escape Angel World. Because I hadn’t understood the riddle. Except, it’d told me the answer, and I’d ignored it.

  I had to share the revelation.

  Soaring, I pulled Rebel into a kiss, twining our tongues. First hesitant, and then lost in the thrill, he snogged back. When he closed his eyes, I stroked around the edges of the Mark.

  He arched with the fireworks of pleasure sparking through him, and the image I danced into his head.

  Streaks of blood seeped from backs, before coiling out of the wounds into curled letters:

  Love touched

  Blood Princess

  We fly Again.

  Rebel jerked away from the kiss. ‘Blood Princess,’ he whispered, snatching Star out of my scabbard, before flipping me onto my stomach.

  He slashed through my dress, drove the shank between my shoulder blades with a twist, and made me bleed.

  26

  Betrayal is a bitch.

  I howled, fumbling at the shank buried between my shoulders. I couldn’t reach the hilt, however, only the slick gush of my own blood.

  Why was I bleeding like a victim in a slasher?

  The jade walls smouldered — fire in their depths — as they rumbled.

  I spluttered on the feathers forced onto my tongue, sinking face first into the nest.

  This is why I never trusted bastard men, J.