The False Rebel fluttered his eyelashes. ‘Why should I do that? You’ll simply beat me.’ I shifted, unable to meet his gaze. This was a fight to prove strength and fearlessness and…I didn’t know anymore. Why was it suddenly complicated, when before it’d seemed so clear? ‘Also, your father ordered it not because of my…performance…but because I spoke out for your pets. Oh, I’m sorry, does that make it harder to despise the cowardly user of magic?’
‘One winner, one loser. Then I get to wash, eat, and sleep. You’re just a number.’ I smashed my fist into his gut, and he doubled over groaning at the same time as he transformed back into his silvery curl of angel.
Mischief peeked up at me. ‘Fine, but you pushed me to this.’
In a sizzling spray of sparkles, he changed…into a tiny silver unicorn.
I gaped at the fluffy creature, my fingers cramping to control my urge to stroke.
What. The. Hell?
‘Your favourite, I believe?’ That same cool voice but from the unicorn’s sweet mouth; it blinked its large eyes. I’d always wanted a unicorn toy as a kid. But we don’t get what we want. I’d learnt that lesson before I could toddle. Could this angel read my memories…desires? ‘Surely you couldn’t harm a—'
I yanked him up by his adorable twisted horn, dangling him high above the ground. His little hooves kicked, as he mewled.
Guffaws, beating of wings, and clapping.
Yeah, so I was playing to the audience: sue me.
It wasn’t enough to simply defeat your opponent. The Bone Carnival demanded blood. I shrank back, however, at the thought of kicking a unicorn’s arse…or even Mischief’s.
The bloke had played with me like I was real and not the freakshow centrepiece.
When his cute pink muzzle attempted to pull back into a snarl, I tried to smother my grin.
‘I claim the prize.’ I shook Mischief again for good measure.
Misrule edged forwards, twirling his cane. ‘Bones and blood…?’
This was the point I should be splaying Mischief’s guts across the Cage, unless he truly had transformed into a toy and had stuffing inside him. Mischief was right, however, the black had retreated, and even though he’d been sly, I admired that he was a sneaky bastard.
You found a bloke’s weakness and you shanked him sharp.
And he’d found mine.
I wasn’t my dad’s enforcer, here to mete out his punishments. I was his daughter, yet he wouldn’t even see me. That was my weakness, not Mischief’s magic.
Me against a toy unicorn? Hell, I’d pay to see that fight.
Misrule reluctantly nodded, amidst catcalls.
I dropped Mischief, and by the time he’d hit the floor he was back to his angelic self.
He ran his hand through his hair, smoothing it back, before holding out his wings. ‘Go on then, exact your blood revenge on the loser.’
Instinctively, my hand dropped to the leather necklace of fangs around my neck: one pulled from every vampire I’d beaten. I rolled my eyes. ‘Colour you dramatic.’
Mischief winced, as I plucked a grey feather from his wing, before hissing, ‘Despite all, you’re tamed.’
I shrugged, slipping his feather behind my ear jauntily. ‘And you’re a prick.’
Misrule gripped Mischief by the hair, hauling him to the corner of the Cage.
I sagged. At last, I could return to my bedroom — cell — and…
Misrule held up his arms again. ‘A double feature!’ I shook, my legs buckling: the bastards. ‘Let us welcome the Seducer. Once the fiercest warrior amongst us, the Seducer is now owned by the fiercest warriors amongst us.’ A burst of laughter from the vampires, who’d thronged around the Cage; their grins were feral, and their black eyes sparked. I trembled both with rage and fear because I hadn’t seen the Seducer — Ash — since he’d betrayed me into the hands of the vampires. Yet he was also fam; he’d fought by my side and knelt for me. How the hell could I battle him, when I didn’t know if I wanted to kill or save him? ‘Bet on the bones. Then let the battle cleanse with pain!’
Skulls dropped from the roof at each corner, swinging with human blood: a fortune.
They wanted us to bastard kill each other.
Clank — the side pulled up, and Ash limped into the cage.
Naked.
His olive skin was paler than normal and purpled with bruises. His ribs showed clearly enough to be counted like he’d been starved. Had he even been fed since we’d been brought here?
Ash didn’t raise his head to meet my gaze. I stared at him.
Bastard look at me.
Instead, he scrutinized the grime on his bare feet. Until fires, as bright as the spotlight, blazed in the corners of the Cage. Then he swooped at me, holding me close.
Despite my confusion, a sense of safety and home cocooned me, as his clove-fragranced wings did. He was quivering; little tremors ran through his body. I stroked my hands down his spine: each bone jutted out.
‘Bet,’ Ash whispered. At last, his gaze found out mine, and I caught my breath at the desperation, which made his eyes gleam. ‘I bet I can beat you, Violet. And if I do, you give me all your winnings from tonight and now on.’
I frowned. ‘Cool it, gambling-900. This is what you want to say to me?’
He swallowed. ‘I’m sorry—’
‘Now you’re on the approved apology tracks.’
‘…But I can’t do the whole getting us dragged into the Under World drama thing, gorgeous. We bet, we fight. You probably kick my arse.’
I pouted. ‘You’ve derailed. Apology crash alert.’ I stroked the back of his neck with my fingers. Why did we have to be here, under the spotlight and forced to fight? ‘So, what do I get if I win?’
Ash stiffened, drawing back from me; I instantly missed the warmth of his wings. ‘Me — to punish for the night.’ It was my turn to stiffen. ‘And there it is, the apology. Burn me, cleanse me, kill me. Your chance to…punish the traitor.’ Then he murmured, dropping his gaze, ‘How else will you forgive me?’
I shoved him away. ‘Who says you get to be forgiven?’
Clatter.
I jumped back, as weapons dropped from the roof like screwed up confetti: swords, axes, and shanks.
They were serious about us getting down to business.
‘Then I guess I am sorry because this is our Fight Club moment.’ Ash raised a leather crossbow, which had fallen at his feet. It flamed with a hissing arrow.
My eyes widened; the pulse in my throat pounded.
Ash aimed, before firing the blazing bolt at my head.
2
I might have once been the angels’ princess, but now I was Mistress of the Cage. And the Geek Fang should’ve been kissing my violet leather boots…not firing flaming bolts at me.
I twisted to the side, grimacing as I knocked my wrist clanging against the bars. When the bolt grazed my right wing, searing the feathers, I howled.
A roar, gasps, cheers.
My vampire audience outside in the chamber drove themselves into a fanboy frenzy over the challenger to their Champion.
I panted: hell, Game On.
Violet and black blasted in twin volcanos: angelic and vampiric side united in their fury to punish the bastard who’d dared damage my new wings, which had only been birthed on the night we’d flown from Angel World.
I growled, glaring at Ash across the heat of the Cage.
He’d frozen, staring at the crossbow as if he’d never seen it before.
And just as I wanted to boot him in the balls, so I wanted to push back his sable mane and snog him until I’d calmed the clamouring inside to claim him as mine. Eighty-eight fights was too long to be without him.
Too long alone.
We’d all been pawns in Angel World’s twisted sports. Yet I’d rejected my mum, power, and the Crown for Ash…and he’d been playing me, before betraying me and my angel blokes to the vampires.
He’d bet a night of punishment, hungering to get down with
the whip and hairshirt look?
Ash had better prepare himself for penance Hackney-style.
Except, as Ash chucked the crossbow to the side, his charcoal eyes sparking, he was the panther ready to strike.
I sprang at him with a high kick, but he caught it, twisting me round. I scratched at his chest, gouging crimson lines, but he clung on, forcing me down. His mouth was set in a grim line; I’d never seen him fight like this. Panic shot through me in icy tendrils.
‘I thought you only fought for me,’ I gritted out.
Ash ground his elbow into my throat, and I choked. ‘Funny thing, Violet, I begged you to kill me. You? Told me to go back and kneel for the Fangs. Went back, knelt, fangs.’ His teeth lengthened, as his lips ghosted across mine. ‘Why didn’t you kill me?’
Bones and blood. Bones and blood. Bones and blood.
I shivered. I hadn’t realized how freaky that tribal chant was until I was the poor bitch about to be turned into chunky salsa.
Tingles raced through my fingers, but my violet fire wouldn’t ignite. Why wouldn’t my powers work?
Ash tore back my armour; his hands shook. ‘I can make you fly. I’m…different. I won’t drink because your blood is precious, but we’re the performing lions: I’ll have to savage. Look, I wish I could be the hero but I’ve been stripped and spoiled, until there’s nothing left.’ He licked down my neck. ‘This won’t hurt.’
He kissed my throat; his fangs grazed my skin.
‘I bet you say that to all the girls, Seducer,’ I hissed.
He flinched. Why the hell did I still hate it that he flinched?
Let’s go: it’s violet time, J. Or I’ll be the carcass safari-style.
And the Mistress of the Cage becomes Mistress of Scaredy-cat City! All it took was rebellion in the ranks.
Let me read you some realness: your powers only work with righteousness. And what’s righteous about curb stamping your dad’s enemies?
It’s a fair fight. I’m like a prize boxer, yeah?
And I’m Mary Poppins, and you’re battling Dick van Dyke.
Then Dick Van Dyke has bitching long teeth.
The king is training you. But it’s not your fighting he’s soldier drilling, it’s your loyalty.
How many vampire fangs will you claim for pots of blood?
Ash hesitated, his lips pressed against my throat; my pulse fluttered against his mouth.
Bones and blood. Bones and blood. Bones and blood.
Squirming, I reached for an ivory shank that’d been dropped into the Cage; my fingertips grazed the hilt. Here little shanky, just another inch, you know you want to come to Feathers…
Suddenly, a skull of blood swayed down from the roof and directly in front of Ash. The coppery scent coated my nostrils, just as Ash stiffened. His gaze darted to the skull; he licked his dry lips.
How long had he been starved?
I grasped the edge of the hilt… Good little shank…. It thrummed, warm and alive in my palm.
At the same moment, the floor of the Cage heated. Even through my armour, I arched away from the burn. Distracted by the blood, Ash didn’t notice the move, until I bucked up my hips, twisting our positions: him beneath and me on top. His naked back and arse pressed against the scorching floor.
Ash screamed.
I winced but pressed my blade to his throat.
Still keening, Ash stilled.
Bones and blood. Bones and blood. Bones and blood.
There’d been no thrill or dance to the fight. Instead, there’d been nothing but a deadly intent, which chilled me. Because for the first time my head was clear of the noise, light, rage…and I’d known what I was doing.
What I’d become.
My eyes burned; I blinked away the tears. No way was I doing…this…again.
My dad could find himself another punisher.
You shake your thing, girl! You’re the Mistress of the Carnival.
What about the unrighteous speech you rained down on me?
Where does righteous come into it?
You’re not in Angel World anymore, Feathery-kitty, and you need to grab your bony pussy and work that thing until you’re flooded in black as much as violet.
Cheers for making me chuck up.
If you’re a Vampire Princess? This is the price. Choose.
I’d forgotten, J, that I even had a choice. But I’m awake now, and I won’t be caged…or cage others.
I won’t make anyone else pay the price.
Ash writhed, whimpering against the heat that was blistering him.
Sniggers.
I glanced up at the bars of the cage.
Misrule slumped to the side with his arms crossed. He managed a small smile. His gaze was concerned, however, threaded by a twitching fear.
I blazed to get medieval on the alpha prick who’d reduced Misrule’s glorious joy: Supreme Commander Wild.
Wild was top boy of the FF: The First Fallen. The elite bastards were also known as the Feathered, the devoted army unit who’d rebelled first in Angel World with the king and Fallen by his side.
Yeah, I had another ‘f’ word to describe them and it wasn’t only fanatical.
Wild, the leader of the Under World’s enforcers, sprawled next to Misrule, with one meaty arm against the bars and the other wrapped around Misrule’s shoulders, so tightly I could see the imprint of his fingers. Wild’s shaved head, which was tattooed with wings, gleamed in the light; he wore nothing but a chocolate blazer open over golden chest, bondage trousers, and a hooped nose ring. When he caught my scrutiny, he winked like a malevolent jinn.
I flushed. Then I jolted.
Fair fight?
Weapons Ash had never fought with before…blood to distract him…heated floor when I was dressed and he was naked…
Wild had rigged it for me to win.
When I glanced around the Cage, I noticed other enforcers dressed in their standard chocolate blazers with leather belts, soaring around like bouncers at a gig.
Was any of this anarchy real? Or were the Feathered containing it like a police state?
Ash stared up at me; his eyes large in the spotlight. ‘Claim your prize.’
‘Bones and blood,’ Misrule called.
I dipped my finger in the blood, tracing it over Ash’s lips. He licked it off desperately, sighing. Then I wrenched back his head. ‘This won’t hurt.’
He laughed, but it could’ve been a sob. ‘I bet you say that to all the boys.’
‘Only the ones I defang.’ I yanked out his canine with a twist.
He yowled.
Yeah, I lied about the not hurting. It’d hurt me like a bitch to do that to him as well.
Tugging out the leather necklace with the other eighty-seven teeth, I knotted on my trophy. Yet now the manic energy had cleared from my mind, I shook at the weight of so many…manhoods…strung around my neck.
Why the hell had I worn it with such pride before?
I wiped a tear off Ash’s cheek. ‘Stop with the kicked puppy routine; it’ll grow back. It’s not like I chopped off your hands.’
‘Florence Nightingale rating? One out of ten. Although, you’d look hot in a nurse’s outfit.’ Ash struggled to edge off the floor, even though it was cooling.
I didn’t miss the wince as he spoke, or the way he poked his tongue into the new gap where his fang had been.
‘Not really into the dress up stage of our relationship. You lost the bet.’ Something ancient and black inside fluttered at the way his eyes widened, and his breath became ragged. I dragged him closer. ‘You’re mine to punish for the night.’
Yet why did I wish Ash was mine, rather than owned by the FF, for more than the night? That I simply owned him?
The dominant bitch roared inside, as Ash cowered back, and in the close heat of the Cage to the beating wings, stamping feet, and howls of our vampire audience, I snogged him. Because I’d won him.
My prize.
Even as inside I was the one cringing, terr
ified at what I’d unleashed.
3
A Blood Princess, my blood was freedom. Yet in the Under World?
That freedom cost.
I staggered into the ‘bedroom’ that I’d been assigned as Cage Champion, steadying myself against the central pole from the hard shove to my back. The dust and cast-iron stink caught in the back of my throat.
I rubbed my hand suggestively against my fang necklace as I glared at Mr Pushy. ‘Always room for one more, bastard.’
The FF, who had feathers down his cheeks like tears (maybe there was one for each angel he’d killed), snorted. ‘By the light, bloodthirsty little thing, aren’t you? You already have your prize. He’ll be delivered to you once he’s been…made pretty.’ He leered, before sliding shut the door with a clank.
I sank onto a torn blue seat, running a hand through my hair. In a disused station of the London Underground, I slept in an old train carriage, which had derailed at Camden Town. The windows spiderwebbed with cracks, and bold primary colours splashed the walls with the routes beneath London. If the king hadn’t shut off the tunnels with guards and darkness, I’d have escaped into the human world that the routes plotted out for me: way to mock a bitch.
The punk band, Shame’s, aggressive drum and bass throbbed from Misrule’s party on the other side of the tunnel: dangerous punk for the fearless outcasts.
When I yawned, stretching, two flashes of red uncurled from the back of the carriage and leapt onto my knee. I giggled, tumbling back beneath handfuls of silky fur, as two noses snuffled up and down me, whilst I writhed.
I waved an imaginary white flag. ‘You got me. The Tickle Champion’s crown goes to the fox brothers.’
My Blood Familiars, Blaze and Spark, pinned me underneath their paws.
One rust red and heavy, the other sleek and bright red, both were larger than a regular fox. And they’d abandoned me to stand by Ash at the battle of London Fields, even if they’d been returned to me like pets once I’d become Champion.
Vampire Devil Page 2