Vampire Mage

by Rosemary A Johns

  “Now you bring a vampire attack upon us,” Och hollered.

  I blinked away the blackness, holding my hand to my bruised throat, as the walls shimmered and screeched.

  Vampire attack…?

  Ash reached for my hand, but with a sudden tilt, I was tossed to the other side of the kitchen, tumbling over the table and catching my hip with a sharp enough pain to bring me all the way to consciousness again.

  Then I was falling through the wavering wall.

  I became soft taffy, weaving through shadows, as I was dragged out of Castle Drake. Briny water burst down on my shoulders, thrusting my head beneath the waves of the Atlantic Ocean, until I was drowning.

  7

  Drowning smelled surprisingly like dropping into a barrel of fresh apples.

  My lungs screamed, as I held my breath. I thrashed in the salty water that stung my nostrils, tumbling around in the black ocean.

  Which way was the surface…?

  I clamped closed my eyes against the spiralling panic, as I flailed desperately towards air, except there was nothing but water, water, water…and I couldn’t breathe.

  Hell, I couldn’t breathe.

  So, this was drowning?

  I hadn’t even ticked off half the names on my List of Asses to Kick. I’d thought I’d at least go out in a blaze of glory, rather than this cold death on the ocean bed.

  Darkness shouldered in around me; my vision was shutting down.

  I couldn’t hold my breath any longer. As soon as I opened my mouth, however, water would rush in, and I’d be dead…

  Then wings cocooned me in the aroma of orchards, whilst lips caressed against mine, pressing open my mouth.

  I shook my head. My pulse was like a living thing, pounding in my ears, but strong arms held me close, whilst magic skittered, sparking across the kiss.

  I inhaled, choking on the sudden oxygen. Then greedy for it, I twined my tongue with my angel rescuer, deepening the kiss and dragging more oxygen into my burning lungs.

  Slowly, my mind calmed.

  My awakening magic unwound itself from around my neck, ignited by the kiss and freed from my own personal terror of drowning. Then I clamped my wings around the angel — and now it was his turn to struggle — as I yanked him backwards through the black.

  Bastard dry land…

  The thought burst through me, driving the magic, shadows, and the booming thud of the ancient powers deep inside.

  Crash — I landed on a strip of coral rock, below a crumbling cliff and the steep face of the castle.

  The wind whipped the ocean spray against me in stinging lashes. A drain sluiced water in and out of the castle’s wall.

  The angel who’d breathed air into my lungs sprawled underneath me. Except, now I’d opened my eyes, and my wings flamed us in a ghost violet light, I could see that his wings were dappled with grey, rather than violet.

  A Shadow: an angel who was Falling, becoming a vampire because he’d been away too long from Angel World.

  Hell, how had I forgotten the vampire attack…?

  Yeah, that’s right: drowning.

  I shoved the Shadow onto his front; he let out a shocked oomph.

  “Hey, easy on the feathers, or I’ll have to ruffle your pretty ones right back,” Harahel pouted. “And since when was this a kinky nudist camp?”

  I flushed, crossing my arms over my tits.

  Harahel brushed his waist length brunet curls out of his eyes, before twisting them to squeeze out the water with his single hand, since his right hand was missing. In the Under World it hadn’t mattered that he’d lost his limb in battle: he hadn’t been seen as an Imperfect. Instead, he’d been taken as Blood Lover by Misrule, one of the highest-ranking civilians, who’d run the rebellion to overthrow my dad.

  Harahel’s ash harem pants, which in Angel World had denoted his Imperfect status, had been replaced with black leather trousers, a sheathed ivory dagger, and an army green Great Coat with bone buttons. I grinned to see him restored to the legendary soldier he’d been before Angel World had reduced him to a librarian.

  When I shivered, he slipped off his Great Coat, shrugging it over my shoulders; it smelled of him, like springtime. I burrowed into it, sniffing the collar. “Cheers, but what are you doing floundering around like a feathery fish? This is a mage wasp nest; they sting intruders to death.”

  Harahel slouched against the rocks, blinking the spray out of his eyes. “They don’t want to see the mighty Harahel when he goes BOOM!”

  “And you don’t want to see the Bitch of Utopia when she gets medieval on your arse for hiding secrets. How did you do that business with the Snog of Life?”

  Harahel leapt up, shoving his hands into his pockets, as he scanned the waves like he was waiting for something. “My other tricks will blow your mind! Although, I might’ve…stolen them from the Head Coven.”

  “Wait a bastard minute.” I dragged Harahel’s coat closer like it could ward off his words, whilst I hauled myself up. “Did you just admit to stealing from spell lobbers?”

  Harahel gazed upwards, pursing his lips, before muttering, “That’d be a yes.”

  “And Misrule had a fit of temporary insanity…?”

  “He doesn’t know.” Harahel grinned. “Just call me The Rule Breaker.”

  I couldn’t help grinning back because even clinging to the edge of the cliff this was the most freedom I’d had in twenty-nine days. Over the stink of the salt and seaweed, with the faint whiff of iodine, I could scent a way out…

  I just didn’t know if I could take it.

  “Not to sound the ungrateful bitch, but isn’t the Under World light one ruler?”

  Harahel rubbed his arms. “You mean the ruler’s Blood Lover?”

  I snorted. “Don’t play the brat card. Misrule doesn’t treat you the same way as my sister and some of the other Blood Lovers are treated, like you’re a deluded kid caught in the romance, when in fact you’re little more than a blood bag. You’re Misrule’s partner.”

  Harahel scrunched up his nose, before sighing. “Until I Fall, I’m still an angel in a Fallen’s world. Colour me dramatic. Plus, Misrule banned me from rescuing you.” He booted a pebble like a kid whose dad wouldn’t let him stroke a rabid dog.

  “Because only bastards stop their lovers from taking on martyrdom missions…”

  A glimpse of luminescent fire, like glowing jellyfish beneath the waves, lit up the sea. I trailed off, staring out at the blinking lights.

  Harahel shot me a guilty look. “And for my second magic trick…”

  I crushed him against the cliff, shaking. “Swear to me on Poseidon’s prick that’s not some freaky arsed underwater war because of me?’

  Harahel tilted his head. “Why his prick?” When I growled, Harahel sniggered. “OK, OK. I’m a brat but I’m a charming brat, and it seems a whole bunch of Fallen have a thing for angels…or me…”

  I groaned. “You’ve brought your fanboys to fight?”

  The lights flared: underwater fireworks.

  Och had accused me of being a traitor, and even though I hadn’t known it, he’d been right. I was the Queen of Chaos, and I’d brought anarchy to the ordered Legion…death…to both the mages and Harahel’s followers.

  Loyalty would get both sides ganked.

  Harahel nodded. “Saving you will be worth Misrule’s spanking.”

  I seized Harahel’s wrist, hauling him after me towards the drain into Castle Drake. He dug in his heels, but I yanked him harder, until he skidded after me. “I’ll be the one taking you over my knee in a minute. If you want to play the hero and risk your soldiers’ lives for me, then we’re saving every single one of my blokes.”

  I wrinkled my nose at the rotting stench as I dived into the drain’s darkness.

  “Yeah, not happening.” Harahel stumbled into my back, knocking us both toppling into the stinking waters; I retched. “I’ve missed my mates every day. Don’t you think I want to swim away with Rebel and Ash? Mischief reckoned
I didn’t know how they treated him here, but I did.” I didn’t miss the blush on Mischief. It was easy to forget that Mischief had been our rebel leader back in the Under World. “Yet the spells won’t last forever. I made a choice: it was you.”

  “Flattering. But epic fail on convincing me.”

  Harahel tugged me to my feet with a snarl. “Wouldn’t they want you to be free?”

  “That’s not the problem. I can’t be free, if they’re not.”

  At last, Harahel grinned. “Then I guess it’s us against the spell!”

  I grinned too, as Harahel and I darted down the tunnel, only to be hurled in a howling tangle of limbs and slosh of seawater, as if the castle had puked us out of its lungs, onto the floor of the Bailey.

  Slam — I yowled, as my kneecaps slammed into the hard amber.

  Then I peeked up at the ranks of mages, who glared at our soaking and half-naked — dramatic — entrance.

  Harahel clambered to his feet, slipping out his dagger that glowed ghostly between us.

  Och, who stood legionnaire tall at the front of the Lazarus Mages, raised an eyebrow at me.

  Appearing with a Shadow during a vampire attack… How the hell did I talk my way out of the traitor target already painted on my back…?

  I opened my mouth, then closed it again.

  What do I bastard say, J?

  That depends, Feathery-cupcake. Have you chosen the side of my favourite apple-pie librarian and his Lord of Misrule?

  You know I have.

  Do I? Because here’s some tidal wave realness that’ll sweep your ass away: if you choose to be Protector to more than one world, then your vampire whore was right. You’ll need to play the Mage…your brother…and every dick who gets in your divalicious way…until you’re the last bitch standing on the battlefield.

  But if I win like that, I’ll destroy everything that was worth saving.

  Your call, girl. It always has been.

  Harahel scowled, raising his blade. “Come on, kiddies.”

  When Och nodded, the mages circled, leering.

  “Time to run, not wave your dick around.” I leapt up, snatching Harahel’s elbow and thrusting him through the closest archway.

  Then I shrieked as I was swallowed by shadows.

  Harahel and I landed with a crash. I reached in the dark for Harahel’s hand, before questing out with my foot in the small space. It smelled dry and stuffy: a bastard wardrobe.

  “If this is you…? You can stop it now: I’ve learnt my lesson,” Harahel whimpered.

  “I’m not the one messing,” I growled. Then I hollered, “Allow it McEvilTardis, or one spray can and I can get real creative.” I gripped Harahel’s hand tighter, whilst the wardrobe shook; I hissed, cowering at the furious buzzing. Finally, I smirked. “Glad we have an understanding, bitch.”

  I threw open the wardrobe door… The world lurched… Then I fell on top of Harahel in the centre of the Iron Barracks.

  I peeked up at the circle of apprentice faces peering down at me.

  Drake glanced between Harahel and me (and why did I have to be wearing Harahel’s coat?), before linking his hands in front of himself. At least his wings weren’t still ash-stained. “My Queen,” he nodded at me as politely as if we at a ball, then at Harahel. “Librarian.”

  “You mean Ruler,” Harahel pushed himself up with a haughty tilt of his chin, before holding his hand out to me, “of the Under World.”

  “Pissing contest officially not useful right now,” I hissed.

  The corners of Drake’s mouth curled into a smile, before he smothered it. “I believe the exit is that way…Ruler of the Under World.”

  The other apprentices exchanged uncertain glances, but Drake stepped in front of them. Without a leader, they were nothing but sheep, whereas Drake was still the courageous commander of his kid army.

  What would be done to Drake for letting us go?

  “If you know where the exit is, why don’t you take it with us?” I dared him to look away.

  Drake’s eyes widened; he fidgeted with the tops of his trousers.

  Harahel rolled his eyes. “Come on…”

  “I apologise, but I can’t,” Drake whispered. Why did even the thought of abandoning him skewer me? “My father’s threatened to visit my punishments for disobedience on Zachriel. Unless you can promise Zachriel’s rescue, I cannot risk his suffering.”

  I blinked. “Why would you care? You were his gaoler and torturer for forty years.”

  Drake flinched. “I wonder how it slipped your notice that I myself worked under the direction of your mother? Tortured just the same? I remember quite well how you enjoyed those dark games.”

  The other apprentices goggled at our free show.

  “For real?” I stormed towards Drake, caught between fury and tears, but Harahel snatched the Great Coat’s sleeve, and this time it was him propelling me towards him.

  My insides churned, as my angelic side wailed in horror at leaving Drake thinking I was still that Glory: a bitch like my mum who got off on his pain or thought he got off on Rebel’s.

  As I twisted to call back to Drake in the doorway, however, the shadows crowded around me again and…

  I gurgled, choking on water and floundering in the murk, until I realised with a jolt that my feet were on the sandy seabed.

  What. The. Hell?

  A silvery glimmer shimmered around me, and suddenly I was sealed safely in a bubble, gasping in deep breaths. I could still smell the briny stench as I peered out into the depths. They were lit by the flare of magic warfare beneath the sea; both sides were like shades in the gloom.

  A touch on my hip, and I yelped.

  Harahel held up his hand to ward off my defensive attack. Then his dagger lit spectral in the dark.

  Violet me up, J.

  Like Little Miss Physics Don’t Mean a Thing can conquer water with her fierce fire…?

  Magic fire and righteousness.

  And what’s righteous about fighting angels to save yourself?

  I’m battling a cult to save the brave bastards who rushed out on a crusade to save me. That’s righteous.

  Flames rushed down my arms and sizzled across my palm. They cast a purple glow across the boulders, darting fish, and feathery coral reef ringing us. I shifted my feet in the oozing sand of the mountain ridge.

  Then a shadowed figure with flaming wings dived towards me.

  I shot a fire bolt through the water, but the angel didn’t slow. Blinded by a sudden shoal of tiny fish, as dense as fog, I became entangled in seaweed. I ripped at the fronds that tied my ankles, slicing my palms on their rough edges. At last, Harahel sliced through the strands, wrenching them away.

  Except, just as I straightened, Harahel howled because the angel had reached us.

  It was Rahab, sparkling like a golden — pissed off — god.

  Rahab swept his wings around Harahel, as if he was cradling him. Rahab flared his wings, however, brighter and hotter. “The Phoenix knows, I’ve tried to be a good father to you, allowing you into my secret home with my saved boys,” he blasted into my mind like a branding. “Yet here you are playing traitor with Fallen vermin.”

  When Rahab wrapped his arms tighter, even I could feel their heat scorching my cheeks; Harahel sobbed.

  “Punish me,” I shot back telepathically, before stepping through the warming water. “I’ve had the rewards, now give the punishments. Just don’t gank Harahel and the vampires.”

  Rahab tossed his curls, considering. Then he tipped his head, bringing his lips closer to mine, even though they never moved. “Wish granted, naïve apprentice.”

  He bit my lip, and on my gasp, he pushed his tongue into my mouth. But instead of oxygen, water gushed into my lungs.

  And this time, I truly drowned.

  8

  I gagged, thrashing against the delicate hands that were holding me down. My lungs burned, as I retched against the salty water searing my nostrils. Lips pressed against mine, sparking an
d sucking, as the pain receded along with the panic.

  At last, I could breathe again.

  The mouth lifted from mine.

  I gasped — in, out, in out, — screw chocolate, all a bitch wanted was oxygen.

  Coughing and retching, and someone that wasn’t me.

  When I opened my eyes, Mischief was laid next to me, spluttering into his hand. His skin was clammy, and his eyes dazed: he looked like he’d been drowned. And as he’d just taken the pain of my drowning from me with his Angelic Power, he bastard had.

  I traced my fingers along the floor, which buzzed with a constant tingling static — magic — and up Mischief’s cheek. He startled at the touch.

  I clasped my arms across my chest: Harahel’s Great Coat had been removed, along with the chain and collar, but a velvet sheet had been dragged around me. I rubbed my chin against its softness. My blurred gaze transformed the grand room of domed ceilings and arched windows out to the blazing stars into a golden ocean. But then again, this was the Gold Palace.

  Rahab’s inner sanctum.

  In a month of obedience, I’d never been invited to tea in the palace. It only took one day and night of true rebellion, however, and my corpse had been dragged here for reanimation.

  Score for the corpse.

  Rebel, in true damsel fashion, had been hidden away like a sultan’s treasured jewel behind the palace’s glimmering gates. Rahab had guarded him fiercely. At last, however, the dragon had found her way in.

  Mischief raised his eyebrow. “Why, for a sailor who seems determined to swallow half the sea and even some fish too, you are perky.” When he bent over with another coughing fit, I clasped my arms around him, dragging his head into my lap. He blinked up at me: exhausted and tremoring in shock. “How many brownie points do I get for saving you again? Wait, not saving you…what’s it called…oh yes, bringing you back to life?”

  When I stroked his hair, it was as much for my own comfort as for his.

  “Be silent. Why do you imagine everyone wishes to hear your incessant prattling, Undeserving?” I stiffened at Rahab’s command.