Stunned, I sprawled amongst the ruins of the crystals on the floor: fallen already…and it was bleeding agony. I groaned and then froze.
* * *
Grrrrr….
* * *
Asariel’s bared fangs were inches from my nose; deadly amber eyes glared into mine. Only a git couldn’t work out who was the prey in this equation. I lay still, throwing as many submitting vibes as possible.
Da sauntered closer — tap, tap, tap. ‘Are you rethinking your place in this little pack?’
Carefully, I nodded.
Da clicked his fingers, and Asariel whined, licking across my cheek with her rough tongue, before backing away.
Wincing, I risked sitting up. Asariel wound around Da, before collapsing on her haunches at his side.
Except, then I wished I’d still had a wolf in my face because Da pulled another chain collar out of his suit pocket and fitted it around my neck.
I tried to pull away, but Da tightened it until I choked.
‘Disobedience again so soon?’ Da patted Asariel’s head, and she snarled a warning. I dropped my hand away from the collar, where I’d been about to wrench it off. ‘A reminder: who you belong to and what will happen if you don’t become our hunter. You’re either our angel or our—’
‘Debt?’ I shoved myself up, violet blasting through me in trembling righteousness. ‘The Head Coven offer your life but only if you trap and transform the Fallen to familiars?’
Da’s shoulders hunched, as he crossed his arms. ‘There was no other choice. I was a child.’
‘You’re still a child,’ I burst out, ‘playing at parents because you lost your own.’
Da drew in his breath, blanching. Then he stepped towards me, and I couldn’t help the flinch, as he pushed my hair behind my ear. ‘I never play. We love you and we are your family. We’d sacrifice everything for you. Do not take away our love because there’s a price: love is pain. And we wish to save you.’
I leaned into his caress: family and love. It’d been centuries since I’d experienced either. Why did he make this so hard? I wanted what he offered. He was my family. But I couldn’t be saved like this. And what then? Would I become just another familiar slave?
‘You’re my family, and I’ll be your hunter. But the House of Rose, Wolf, and Fox is meant to save Addicts, you said so yourself. Not turn them into Blood Familiars when they fail. Please, this time, let me save you.’
Da grabbed me by the collar. ‘Do you wish me to be slaughtered? I am a…monster to these witches. I live on their grace because of these offerings. I didn’t choose—’
‘Enough,’ Ma marched into hall, hauling Da away from me and into her arms; her sharp bob tangled with his mane. ‘You’re angry…frightened…grieving. As am I. What can you teach our angel, whilst you battle with the nightmares snaking in your own mind?’
‘But he needs to be tamed, or we’ll lose him too—’
‘You say I’m not suited because of my grief but your grief eats out your heart. You tremble that our angel will suffer, as you did, under the cruel training of the Head Coven just for being different. For being born at all.’
Da rubbed his cheek against hers: I missed their closeness. ‘But if we don’t—’
‘We shall face it together,’ Ma twined their hands, even as Da shuddered. And why was guilt booting me in the balls? ‘Mother taught us duty to the Addict first, and we’ll honour her.’
Da nodded, although his hands clenched convulsively.
When Ma turned to me, her eyes were narrowed, although her expression was soft. ‘And you wish to leave us, for real? Because if you do, you shall be alone without our magic.’
I glanced at Asariel who hadn’t moved from Da’s side. ‘I want to save her.’ Unable to stop myself, I threw myself at Ma and Da, wrapping my wings and arms around them, as I sobbed. ‘I have to save someone, not just myself, even though…I don’t want to leave you. I’ll come back… I promise… I’m coming home.’
Ma stroked my feathers, as Da caressed my hair. At last, I pulled back.
Da wiped at his cheeks, before smartly holding his hands behind his back, although his smile was sad. ‘Well, go on then. And don’t be late back,’ he barked, as if setting a curfew.
I nodded, glancing at Asariel. She studied me, before loping to her feet and following me to the window.
Rain tears licked my cheeks, and I quivered. I peeked back over my shoulder — just once — at my family huddled together in the windswept devastation of the Great Hall, and then limped out through the shattered glass into the morning’s light: a wolf familiar and an Addict angel alone without the witches’ protection. Even though we were free, we were still the hunted.
8
Bad angels are punished. I’d known that mantra since before it’d been carved into my skin. But I’d been wrong to figure the witches meant to trap me in the dark, just the same as the angels. They loved me enough to free me into the light.
…Love is pain…
Except, it’d be Da suffering, not me, and he’d known that when he’d sent me away with Asariel.
I stiffened as I ran my fingers through the dense hair between her shoulders. She whined, as we skirted between oaks on the edges of the wood towards the river; up ahead, the stone bridge hooked over the churning Thames.
He never expected me to go back.
I stopped in the middle of the dripping trees. My bare feet ached from the cuts on my soles, my ankle throbbed, and a fat raindrop ran down my chest; I shivered.
The witches had trained me too well in fibbing, secrets, and betrayal: I’d not even hesitated to promise my return.
Yet Da hadn’t been tricked and he’d still let me go. Now that was love.
I keened, dropping to my knees. Asariel nudged me with her nose, and I looked up through my hitching breaths into her serious gaze. I wrapped my arms around her neck, and she shuffled closer.
I rubbed my fingers though the softness of her fur to soothe myself. ‘You probably don’t even understand me. But I’m not such an idiot I can’t work out what those bad bastards at the Head Coven will do to Da if I at least don’t go back.’ Asariel shied back, but I hushed her. ‘Away with you, I’ll make sure you’re a distance from here first. Then…we’ll both be taking our chances. And maybe I’ll get to be righteous for once.’ When Asariel licked my nose, I sniggered. ‘You’re welcome.’
Pulling myself up, I trudged towards the bridge, keeping to the shadows underneath it because a naked angel with feathers and prick swinging and his giant wolf was an even more mortifying thing for a human.
Except, there was a couple underneath the bridge: a woman with long curling blonde hair and leather jacket sucking at a fellah’s neck as his feet spasmed.
When tingles ran down my wings, I tensed: A Fallen.
When Curls raised her head — her fangs squelching out of the human’s neck — her black eyes glared at me, and I gasped because my mind tricked me, just for a moment, that I had Asariel back.
Sweet Christ, if only she was my Asariel…
Right until Curls marched up to me and clouted me across the cheek. ‘What the bloody hell is wrong with you, angel? Feeding here, not a spectator sport.’ I gaped, and she rolled her eyes. ‘All right,’ she cracked her knuckles, rolling her neck, ‘I’m happy to work up an appetite. You prance in here, all little lost lamb alone, were you looking for someone to play with?’
Alone? I swung round: no Asariel. And even though it wasn’t a bleeding surprise, it still hurt.
I think she’d learnt the lesson on betrayal better than I had.
Curls snatched the choke collar around my neck, and I furiously shook her off. She chuckled. ‘Or were you searching for a new mistress, slave boy?’
‘I’m not a slave, I’m a hunter,’ I snarled. Buoyed on the rush of righteousness, I understood that now: to hunt to save life alone. To save the humans because anything else made us the monsters too.
I spun, booting her legs out fro
m under her. With a startled oomph, she landed on her arse and then rolled to the side before I could land the next kick. Hissing, she punched me in the nose.
I licked away the blood, bouncing on the buzz of the battle, before blocking her clout to my guts. I snatched her long hair, slamming her head into the stone — one, two, three times.
She howled, slithering out of my grip, bolting for the far side of the bridge.
* * *
Grrrrr…
* * *
The rumbling growl echoed, as a wolf shadow was thrown distorted across the walls.
Curls shrieked, skittering too late to a stop.
‘Oh, and I’m not alone,’ I smirked, ‘this lamb brought his big bad wolf with him.’
When Asariel pounced, I ambled to the human’s side to the gurgling sounds of a Fallen’s throat being savaged: now that was being a hunter.
The fellah had passed out in the puddled grime beneath the bridge but he was breathing: a punk in red leather bondage trousers, a black ripped t-shirt, and leather jacket studded like armour. I grinned: a rebel’s clothes.
I stripped the fellah, slipping into his clothes (although I did leave him the small cotton undergarments because what in the name of all the saints was the point of them?). I caressed down the rough studs, before patting the punk’s tangle of hair. ‘Sorry fellah, but fair’s fair, I have just saved your life.’
Asariel huffed a grunt that sounded suspiciously like laughter.
Then I trailed a finger along the spiked black collar around the human’s neck.
Shaking, I wrestled the choke collar off, hurling it on Curl’s savaged corpse. ‘I’m no one’s slave…’ Then I unbuckled the spiked collar, before taking a breath and doing it up around my own neck.
Why did it feel so different? To wear a collar that I’d chosen? To wipe clean the feel of the metal with leather? Slavery with freedom? Control with choice?
‘What do you reckon to Rebel?’ I clasped my hands around the collar, holding tightly around my own throat, reclaiming it. ‘Who says I don’t get to choose my own name?’
Pale fingers ghosted over mine, just as frankincense scented feathers wrapped themselves around my middle, and a voice whispered in my ear, ‘I do, Zachriel. Unless, you’ve Fallen, and I’m too late?’
I startled, my pulse pounding so rapidly my chest hurt. ‘Please…’
‘Hush now,’ the Commander’s small hands tightened around my throat, ‘calm yourself. It’s not as if we parted enemies, after you allowed your witches to dishonourably burn me… Sorry, my mistake, so we did.’
When Asariel prowled closer, I shook my head willing her to understand to run, but she only snarled.
‘And who is your friend?’ His hands fell from my neck to rest around my waist.
Please, please let Asariel understand me…
‘Bolt!’ I hollered. ‘In the name of all the saints, Asariel, bolt and don’t look back!’
Asariel howled, as the Commander’s wings banded me to him, but she turned and fled out into the light on the other side of the bridge. My head hung down, and I couldn’t stop the tears cold against my cheeks.
The Commander spun me in his arms; he tilted his head, his golden curls tumbling into his eyes. ‘You weep because you’re caught?’
‘I weep…’ I met his gaze, ‘…because you’ve made me a betrayer now in the eyes of my family. The abandoner you accuse me of being.’
‘You would blame this on me? I tried, but there shall be no leniency this time, and nothing but the dark.’
I struggled to free my arm, before shakily raising my middle finger at him.
Unexpectedly, the corners of his mouth twitched as if smothering a smile. ‘Rebel, is it?’
‘Rebel,’ I nodded, before laughing and resting my head on his shoulder.
Because both hunter and hunted, I’d been caught. I’d lost my family, and I’d soon be a prisoner. An Addict, I’d lost everything.
But Asariel was free. I’d chosen this: no one else had fought for me. And after all, I’d always known bad angels were punished. And rebel angels were punished the worst.
The Commander pressed into the base of my neck, and through the white-hot agony, I was torn back to Angel World.
The End
Want to find out what happens next to Rebel? Continue the REBEL ANGELS series in Vampire Huntress now!
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About the Author
ROSEMARY A JOHNS is an award-winning, #1 bestselling fantasy author, music fanatic, and paranormal anti-hero addict. She writes snarky angels, savage vampires, and epic battles.
Winner of the Silver Award in the National Wishing Shelf Book Awards. Finalist in the IAN Book of the Year Awards. Honorable Mention in the Readers’ Favorite Book Awards.
Shortlisted in the International Rubery Book awards. Rosemary is also a traditionally published short story writer. She’s always been a rebel…
Website: https://rosemaryajohns.com
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/rosemary-a-johns
Read More from Rosemary A Johns
Series by Rosemary A Johns
Rebel Vampires
Rebel Angels
Redcap
AIR Novella 1.5
Amanda Booloodian
Redcap © 2018 Amanda Booloodian
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Redcap: AIR Novella 1.5
The werewolf may be my best friend, but if Rider calls me thick again, he’s going to be eating my hand warmers.
Working for the clandestine Agency of Interdimensional Regulation is amazing, until you’re stuck behind a desk. My first day back in the field finds me face to face with gremlins and those little creatures love their metal. I should have thought of that because losing your clothes at work is hard to live down.
Back at the office, news surfaces of goblins on the march. Aggressive, territorial, and downright mean, the goblins appear to be out for blood. Investigation leads us to the middle of nowhere in the dead of winter to see if the pixies are tormenting the surrounding population. When we find the pixies missing and their glen dying, our situation becomes more dire.
My powers and Rider’s keen werewolf nose sense a creature that doesn’t belong but our progress slows to a crawl when the wicked winter weather makes an appearance. Can we find the pixies, stop the goblin rebellion, and identify this new threat before I freeze to death?
1
Gremlins. My first day back in the field and I had my first gremlin call. Agents had wrestled with the gremlins a few times while I had been stuck on desk duty.
"You sure you're up for this, Cassie?" Logan asked. "It's quite a hike."
"My leg is fine," I insisted. "Good as new."
"Let's saddle up then," Logan said. "These varmints can be a nuisance. Best to get them sorted before they reach the junk yard."
"Varmints?" Rider'
s face crinkled, while he slung the gear bag across his back. "I do not know that word."
Logan looked stumped for a minute. "Um, small creatures."
I heard the small hint of a question in Logan's words. "Troublesome or mischievous child or other small creature." Logan raised an eyebrow at me and I shrugged. "When I was little, Gran used to call me and the neighbor girl varmints when we played together." I didn't want to encourage the continued cowboy lingo, but I had looked that one up and the definition had stayed with me.
"Right." Logan beamed as only an elf could. "Let's round them up."
We plunged into the woods with Logan leading the way. Once we were hidden from the gravel road, Logan's ears twitched. They slowly unfurled until they stuck out behind his head, ending in points. The skin and flesh rolled thin at the farthest reaches, and you could practically see the bright early morning sun shining through.
"Do your ears get cold in this weather?" I asked. The thought of that much exposed skin in the freezing temperatures of a Midwest winter made me nestle down deeper into my coat.
Logan chuckled. "Not in the way yours would."
"Did you have winters like this where you're from?" I asked.
"Not quite like this," Logan said. "The weather can't seem to make up its mind here. At home, it got cold and stayed cold until it was time to get warm again."
"How about you, Rider?" I asked.
"I am from here," Rider said.
"I mean where you grew up," I corrected.
"It was cold north of where we lived," Rider said, "in the mountains. My father took us twice when we were young."
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