Rebel Heart series Box Set

by Trina M. Lee

  “It’s not going to turn into a fight,” Rowen assured me, peering up at me with soulful amber eyes. “Maybe we say fuck all of them and release it ourselves independently on iTunes.” Mischief lit the smile he shot me. It created a warm sensation in my belly and then in my groin. Why did he have to be so unbearably hot?

  “Jett and Arrow would be pissed. Let’s do it.” I laughed when he kissed my stomach. I was stupidly ticklish like that.

  “And donate all the profit to charity.” Rowen chuckled, his breath warm through my shirt. “Arrow would love that.”

  He rose up to kiss me, and I put a hand on each side of his face, gently holding him close. His kiss was tender but passionate, a claiming of my mouth that left me swooning.

  “More of that,” I murmured when he began to pull away. Sliding my arms around his neck, I kissed him like it was our first kiss all over again. Every kiss still felt like the first, complete with the rush of butterflies.

  We engaged in a fun make out session until it was interrupted by a yawn. I clapped a hand over my mouth and stifled the next. “Sorry. That was so unsexy.”

  “Naw, I’m tired too. It’s after three. Let’s go to bed.” Rowen got off the couch and pulled me up with him.

  Falling into bed together, we laughed and joked, forgetting the tension our friends had caused with their ridiculous need to be better than the other. It had to be a front-person thing.

  Once our clothes came off, sleep didn’t seem so immediately necessary. The taste of him on my lips made me want more. Pressing him down beneath me, I kissed my way down his body, enjoying the way he tensed and gripped the sheets. Smiling to myself, I continued on, lower.

  The sudden pounding on the apartment door scared the crap out of me. Rowen and I both jumped, hearts racing as we looked at each other in confusion. Before I could wonder aloud who it was, Arrow frantically shouted my name, and there was such panic in that one word that I almost tripped in my haste to get to the door. Tying a robe tight around my waist, I opened the door before he could wake my neighbors.

  He fell inside the apartment, almost taking me down with him when he hit the floor. I flicked on a light and took in the sight of him. My brain needed several seconds to catch up with what my eyes were seeing. Arrow knelt on his hands and knees, quaking. Blood covered his hands and splattered everything from his clothing to his face.

  Closing and locking the door, I sucked in great heaving breaths, unable to speak.

  Rowen appeared, tugging his boxers into place. He took one look at Arrow and stopped in his tracks. “What the fuck? What happened?” Rowen seemed as confused and distressed as I felt.

  “I don’t know. I can’t remember.” Arrow gave a vigorous shake of his head and held his bloody hands out in front of him. Pupils a wide, drowning black, Arrow fixed me with an imploring look, as if he needed something from me. “Vicky… she’s dead. I think I killed her.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  I continued to stare in silent horror.

  Somehow Rowen managed to function. He grabbed Arrow by the elbow and hauled him to his feet. “How did you get into the building?”

  “Back door was ajar.” Arrow clung to Rowen, his gaze darting about with frantic desperation.

  “Is this her blood? Tell us what you know. Why would you think you killed her?” Rowen steered Arrow over to the kitchen sink and turned the water on.

  I stared transfixed at the bloody smears on the floor.

  Arrow shook with tremors that racked his whole body. He allowed Rowen to shove his hands under the flowing water, but he made no effort to cleanse his skin. “We left together. I took her to one of those afterhours underground raver clubs. We dropped some E and partied. The next thing I knew I was waking up beside her in the River Valley, near downtown. She was dead, and I was covered in blood.”

  “You don’t remember anything in between?” Rowen prodded him gently, trying to coax more out of him.

  “No.” Arrow shook his head and bit his lip, looking uncertain. “There was something else though. An upside down pentagram. Carved into her forehead.”

  I busied myself cleaning up the blood from the floor with paper towels, thankful there was no carpet in the entryway. When Arrow described the Satanic pentagram used by demons and black magic witches in spells and rituals, I realized he’d likely used it himself.

  Arrow was a lot of things: selfish, greedy, judgmental. But was he a murderer?

  “Shit, Arrow, please tell me you didn’t participate in some sacrificial ritual. Was Dash involved in this?” Giving up, Rowen shut off the tap. “There’s too much blood. You’ll need a shower for this.”

  “I told you, Rowen, I don’t fucking remember anything. Dash has been riding my ass for weeks now. He could’ve been there, but I don’t remember. Fuck, my head hurts.” Arrow swiped a bloody hand across his forehead and winced.

  “Is she still out there?” I asked, finally able to force something out. The shock had yet to wear off.

  “Yeah.” Arrow’s tone was somber. “I left her. What else could I do?”

  Rowen and I exchanged a look. If Vicky’s body was still there, it could be found by anybody. We had to do something.

  “Get into the shower,” Rowen instructed Arrow. “Me and Spike are going to go check it out. I’ll swing by your place on the way back and grab you some clean clothes. Stay here until we can figure this out. Nobody should look for you here.”

  With a nod Arrow gave us each a look that I think was supposed to convey gratitude but just looked pinched. “She’s off the path, in the bushes. There was a trail of blood though. You’ll find her if nobody else has yet.”

  He disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Rowen and I to stare at each other in bewilderment. I was definitely no longer tired. I was wide awake and terrified. We retreated into the bedroom to get dressed, neither of us speaking. I slipped into plain black pants and a Black Veil Brides hoodie.

  The clock informed me that it was half past four in the morning. The sun wouldn’t be up until almost eight. So even though it was risky to carry such a weapon, I grabbed the sword that Cinder had given me from my closet. The Midnight Star gleamed in the dull bedroom light. Wings curled off the handle around the base of the blade, which itself was inscribed with a language older than time, one I couldn’t understand. An amethyst sparkled between the wings. It was a beautiful weapon, one forged to battle demons. This whole scenario reeked of demon to me.

  “I’ve had a bad feeling all night,” I said once I heard the water running in the bathroom. “I guess this is why.”

  I grabbed my soft-covered guitar case, pulled out my guitar, and stuck the sword inside. It would be safer that way if we ran into a human, though hopefully it was still a bit too early for the diehard morning joggers to be out in winter.

  “Dash has to be behind this. He’s been punishing Arrow since the night at The Spirit Room when we all took him on together. Arrow might be a cocky loudmouth, but he’s not a killer.” Rowen sounded so damn sure. Of course he did. This was his best friend and brother we were talking about.

  I didn’t answer. I wasn’t quite as certain about that as Rowen was; however I barely knew Arrow. After a few months I was still learning what made the guy tick, and he hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to show me his good side, if one even existed, which was doubtful.

  When I continued to gather my things in silence, Rowen asked, “You don’t think he did it, do you?”

  Meeting his worried gaze, I shrugged. “At this point, I don’t have an opinion. Let’s just get out there and see what we can find.”

  Rowen didn’t seem too happy with that response, but it was the best I could do. I slung my guitar bag onto my back, grabbed a soapy kitchen towel for any trail Arrow had left, and led the way out of the apartment, down to the back entry, where we cleaned the blood smears from the door. Thankfully that was the worst of it; Arrow was wearing most of the rest.

  We took Rowen’s car, a black Dodge Charger. It was less
likely to dump us on the side of the road than my old, beat-up Chevy Nova. I adored the loud, stinky mess of a car, but there was a reason Jett had named it The Piece.

  As we pulled away from my apartment building, I cast a glance up at my living room window. It felt like there were stones in my stomach. The feeling of dread that had started the moment Arrow banged on my door intensified as we drove.

  “There’s no way he did it,” Rowen said, as if he needed to convince himself. “Someone has to be setting him up. It’s so obvious.”

  Was it? “Why would anyone bother if it was going to be obvious?” I wasn’t trying to play devil’s advocate—what an unfortunate term—but someone had to.

  “Demons. They don’t care about obvious. They care about their end game. Someone is punishing Arrow, and who’s going to keep them from getting away with it?” With a sigh Rowen tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the beat of the song on the radio. He did it unconsciously, music so embedded in him that it just happened naturally. “Shit, what if the cops get involved? Do you think Dash would let Arrow rot in prison for the rest of his life?”

  I didn’t need to touch that question. We both knew the answer. The police were often kept in the dark about demon activity, an easy feat for a demon of Dash or Koda’s caliber.

  But the police were only one source of concern as far as human authorities went. There was also the government-run Federal Para-Intelligence Agency, an operation I’d occasionally heard of but never seen in action. According to Cinder the FPA stayed more focused on humanoid supernaturals like vampires, werewolves, and witchy types. However, demons were known to have a hand in government, so there was no room for assumption.

  “Just try to stay calm, Rowen. Freaking out won’t help anything. One step at a time.” Giving his arm a reassuring pat, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Rowen wasn’t capable of handling this situation. He was too emotionally involved already, and we hadn’t even reached the murder scene.

  The closer we drew to the River Valley, the heavier the rocks in my stomach grew. Even though I hated myself a little for thinking it, if this were a frame job, I was glad they hadn’t targeted Rowen.

  The River Valley was a beautiful stretch of land filled with foliage, trees, and enough walking and bike paths for those needing to escape the city streets for a while. It also spanned a great distance. Thankfully Arrow had given us a basic idea of which way to go, but that didn’t narrow it down considerably. We wandered the trails for over an hour. With each passing moment Rowen grew more agitated.

  The air was frigid, causing me to pull the hood of my hoodie up over my head. I hated the way it blocked my peripheral vision, but I wasn’t immune to the cold. We’d had a few small snowfalls now. The first big one of the season wasn’t far off.

  “This is pointless.” Rowen kicked a rock out of the middle of the path. It skittered away as if driven by his frustration. “We’re not going to find anything before daylight at this rate. Vicky could be anywhere.”

  I agreed but chose to keep that to myself. “She’s got to be here somewhere. It couldn’t have happened long ago. Let’s keep looking.”

  The trees were bare of leaves, which made it easier to see a fair distance through them without having to venture too far off the path. I watched the ground as we walked, seeking blood or any other sign of foul play.

  “Do you feel anything? Demon?” The hopefulness in Rowen’s eyes had me stifling a sigh.

  “No.” I sensed nothing, but that didn’t mean nothing lurked out there. Rowen and I remained very much limited by our human half. We could sense demons when others couldn’t, but not if they were actively hiding their presence. “If a demon set Arrow up, I doubt they’d stick around long anyway.”

  “Arrow didn’t do it,” Rowen muttered beneath his breath. “Fucking demons. Lying pieces of shit.”

  I said nothing, letting him rant it out of his system. We continued to walk the path, one of us on either side, investigating the fallen leaves and dry grass.

  Then something caught my eye: a trail of blackened, crispy leaves, little more than ashes. It wound off the path into the trees. I bent to touch them, and they crumbled, leaving my fingers stained black. They’d been burnt.

  “Rowen,” I said, interrupting his tirade. “Over here. I found something.”

  His rant came to an abrupt end. Together we followed the blackened trail. It led us deeper into the trees where it ended at a large, burnt chunk of grass and melted snow. The faint odor of fire lingered. I searched the surroundings while Rowen examined the burn.

  There was no sign of footprints, nothing to indicate anyone had walked away from the scene. Vicky had been here. Was that burn mark all that was left of her?

  “This was demons.” Rowen’s voice dipped low. He ran a hand through the slushy snow and grass, searching. “They came for the body. Fast. So they had to have planned this.”

  Pressing my lips tight together, I shook my head, trying to figure it out. “But why? I mean, why bother?”

  “To punish Arrow. Maybe even to punish me.” Fear danced through Rowen’s eyes. “Dash said it was always me they really wanted. The son Rhine was never supposed to have. This could all be because of me.”

  I turned away from him and his guilt to continue my search of the area so Rowen wouldn’t see the pained look on my face. Maybe he wasn’t so far off the mark with that one. Much as I didn’t want that to be true, it could be.

  Rowen and Arrow’s father was the only fallen to ever father more than one child. Rowen never should have been born, and the fact that he was had the dark up in arms over him. They wanted him. And he had chosen the light. If Arrow was being punished because of that, there was no telling what Rowen would do.

  “I don’t think we’re going to find anything. Someone made sure of that. It’s weird that they’d use fire. Arrow doesn’t have fire. Does he?” I cast a glance back at Rowen who stared off in strange silence. Nephilim had their own set of evolving gifts, often inherited from their father but not always. Rowen and Arrow had very different gifts.

  “Huh? No, he doesn’t.” Rowen crept deeper into the trees and swore. When he emerged he held the beanie hat that Arrow so often wore, drenched in blood. “It’s definitely Arrow’s.”

  Which meant that Arrow had been here during the murder, and perhaps had even been involved. Of course, I didn’t say that, but I could see Rowen thinking it. His frown deepened, and he stuffed the hat in his pocket with a sigh.

  “Let’s head back,” I suggested. “We’ll talk to him, try to jog his memory.”

  Rowen nodded, looking miserable. “It’s always going to be this way, isn’t it? Arrow and me, we’ll never be normal brothers. Not separated this way.”

  Light and dark walked side by side. One could not exist without the other. Yet, they would always be separated, two opposing forces. I didn’t know how Rowen and Arrow would ever get beyond that. I wasn’t sure it was possible.

  “Come on.” Capturing his hand in mine, I gave a reassuring squeeze and tugged him back toward the path.

  Then my skin began to crawl as the faint scent of sulfur assaulted my nostrils. We were being watched. Rowen and I shared a look. He felt it too. The best thing to do was keep going as if we were unaware while remaining ready. I wanted to go for the sword in my bag but knew that it would tip off whoever was watching us. Better to just put one foot in front of the other and vacate, hopefully without incident.

  Soon relief flooded me as we sped away.

  The round trip ate up nearly three hours by the time we stopped at Arrow’s house so Rowen could run inside and fetch him some clothes. We’d accomplished little other than finding Arrow’s hat. Vicky’s remains were gone, any evidence scorched. I wasn’t sure if that were a good thing.

  When we got back to my apartment, Arrow sat on the living room floor with a towel wrapped around his waist, playing with my little tortoise, Seth, who crawled over one of the couch pillows while Arrow stroked a finger ov
er his shell.

  “Finally,” Arrow said, letting out an exasperated breath. “What took you so damn long?”

  Rowen flung the bloody hat at him along with the bag of clothing. “You’re welcome.”

  After kicking off my shoes and depositing my guitar bag in my bedroom, I flopped down on the couch and tried to hold my tongue. Part of me wanted to rip Arrow a new one. Quite often these days I had to tell myself that it wasn’t worth it.

  “Is this all you found?” Arrow asked, a brow raised in disbelief as he studied the hat. “What about Vicky?”

  “Good question,” I said with eyes narrowed at him in scrutiny. “She wasn’t there. Just that and a burn mark with a pile of ashes. Either someone took her or they destroyed the remains.”

  “But not this?” Arrow held up the bloody hat, his lip curling into a sneer of disgust. “So whoever took the body wanted this to be found.”

  Rowen sat down next to me and stared hard at his brother. “You’ve got to remember something. Anything. Try.”

  Arrow’s gaze dropped to Seth. He traced the lines on his shell with a finger, and like every other time I saw him show affection to the little guy, I was baffled. It didn’t make sense to me that he was such a douchebag at times, taking advantage of people and spreading darkness wherever he went, but that he had this soft side that I occasionally caught a glimpse of. It messed with my mind.

  “I told you, dude. I don’t remember shit. Someone drugged me or something.”

  “Pretty sure that someone was you, dude,” Rowen supplied.

  Unable to hold my tongue, I spat, “That’s called karma. It’s a bitch, huh?”

  I’d been drugged once. By Arrow. It was his vain attempt to keep Rowen and me apart, before he’d discovered that he was just a pawn in someone else’s game.

  Arrow turned a vicious smile on me. “There’s no such thing as karma. There’s only people doing rotten shit to other people.”

  “Yeah, I guess you would know.”

  Our gazes locked, and we stared at each other with thinly veiled contempt. It wasn’t easy to maintain eye contact with him sitting there naked other than the towel, which didn’t hide nearly enough of him. The heavy ink decorating his naked body was a mess of color against the pale white of his skin. I scowled at a smirking skull on his arm.