Rebel Angels: The Complete Series

by Rosemary A Johns

  I scrubbed my face in the slushy snow, struggling to bring down the coursing adrenaline spike. My whole body shook, even my toes drummed on the grass. I touched my throbbing ankle and yelped; I slammed my fist into the ground with a growl. “I won’t be flying Rebel Airlines again. You’re lucky the army didn’t shoot us down.”

  Rebel’s eyes flashed with hurt, before he smothered it with a smirk. “You’re after going back? That’s the first time I’ve flown since the gits hurt my wing.”

  I started to shake my head but then stopped.

  Anarchy.

  The kid Fallen who’d tried to save me (and who was my family now the same as Rebel), was still trapped with Eden.

  How the hell could I abandon him?

  I nodded. “Yeah, we’re going back.”

  Rebel gaped at me. Then he briskly snatched his leathers, which had been stashed behind the goal post. “I don’t think so.”

  Then it was my turn to gape. “You chose to crash here?”

  Rebel avoided my gaze, slipping on his studded jacket. “I made a balls of the landing, but I’ve an important meeting here.”

  “Whilst I had fire at my neck, you were plotting meetings?”

  Rebel swallowed under his spiked collar. “Don’t get narky. I arranged it before the Pure killed my family.”

  His grief flayed him raw, but I couldn’t allow it to reduce my fury. “When you snuck out at night? After your promises, you’d keep another secret?”

  Rebel stalked towards me, dragging me up onto my swollen ankle. “What about your secrets, princess? Like why you want to go back to terror hotel?”

  Did I say baby vampire? Make that a fully-grown vampire bitch.

  I bit back a groan. “It’s not a secret. You’re just not the only bloke in my life.”

  Rebel blanched. He steadied me against the goal post, before stepping back. His hands fluttered as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “Dry up, I never said…I mean, I didn’t think…or assume that I was… Who is this bleeding muppet?”

  I couldn’t help the thrill that Rebel was jealous. Yet would he even understand my need for vampires, as well as angels and in different ways than I knew he was imagining? Although, whatever sexy fantasies he had were probably right when it came to Ash…

  I narrowed my eyes. “He’s called Anarchy.”

  Rebel snorted. “He even has a muppet name.”

  “You could create a punk duo.”

  Rebel tilted his head. “I don’t know any angels called—”

  I crossed my arms. “That’s because he’s a Fang…was a Fang, until that bastard Eden chopped off his wings. Now the kid’s one of the Pure.”

  Rebel slammed me against the goal post — bang — the goal trembled. “Mind yourself, princess. You’re talking like you want to save one of the Fallen. The Pure play with minds, until you’ll fly into the sun on Eden’s word.”

  “I’m not brainwashed. Anarchy’s kind, brave, and he helped me.” I rested my forehead against Rebel’s. “He lost his wings for me.” Rebel raised his eyebrow. “I won’t leave the kid behind.”

  Rebel’s grip loosened, as he turned away his gaze. “Like you abandoned me?”

  I blinked, confused. Then I remembered how I’d left him hidden under the bracken.

  What the hell had he thought waking up alone?

  I touched his cheek, remembering the bruise that I’d marked him with. There was nothing left to show for it now, only pale perfection.

  Unwilling, his gaze rose to meet mine.

  I smiled. “I didn’t abandon you, I saved you.”

  Surprise, followed by understanding and guilt, chased across Rebel’s face, before he grinned. “I knew that you wouldn’t leave me…not after…” He reached around to the back of his jean’s waistband, slipping out Star. He held it out to me on his palms like an offering. “I found it in the cemetery. I hoped that you hadn’t rejected my gift.”

  I reached for Star with trembling hands, sheathing it. “Cheers. And I’d never do that. A gift’s too special, bro.”

  Rebel scuffed his foot backwards and forwards through the snow. “Just so you don’t accuse me of keeping more secrets, the meeting today…? You might eat my head off.”

  “I’ll rein in the bitch, as long as we go back for Anarchy after.”

  “Here’s the thing of it with Anarchy, if they’ve taken his wings, then he’s already lost.”

  I blinked away furious tears. Then I slipped my hand under Rebel’s leathers, tracing his bent wing. “And what does that make you? Broken? Gray feathers?”

  Rebel flinched. “Don’t touch me.” I froze, before carefully pulling away my hand. Rebel’s gaze was flinty. “And don’t talk about me like that again. You don’t have to attack others to get your own way.” I pinked, opening my mouth to somehow take back what I’d said because he was right; attacking with words had been what the Hackney streets and J had always taught me. Rebel held up his hand, however, to stop me speaking. “We can rescue your toy boy Pure, but not until it’s safe.”

  “It’s never going to be safe, don’t you get it?” I stalked away across the field towards the line of London Plane trees. Rebel hadn’t knelt with his head on the block, or had to watch whilst Anarchy had lost his wings. He didn’t know Anarchy or understand what it felt like to leave him behind with Stephanie. The cold bit my cheeks, and my fingers shook. “We can’t hide. The only way to survive is to be the scariest monster. If they burn down our house? Then we burn down theirs.”

  Rebel drifted after me with his hands stuck in the pockets of his trousers. “I never should’ve been your Custodian. I don’t know the right things to do or say, and I’ve messed things up if you’d risk so much for a Fallen. Bad angels have no place…” He hung his head. “In the name of Jesus, what made you think that you could trust a Fallen?”

  “Fair question, Zachriel. Why do you trust us?” A hard, sneering Irish voice called out, startling me. A tall vampire, in faded black denim jacket and emerald shirt, sauntered from the shadows of the trees. He had thick black eyebrows and eyelashes, with the shark-eyed hardness of a soldier. His short buzz of hair blazed as red as Rebel’s.

  “Briathos!” Rebel breathed, stilling. Then before I could stop him, he bolted across the green towards the vampire, beaming with a joy that made him look younger than Anarchy. “I’ve fierce missed—”

  The vampire clouted Rebel in the nose.

  I growled.

  “My name’s Wings now.” Wings brushed his hand through his auburn bristles.

  “And I’m Rebel.” Rebel pinched his nose, although somehow he was still smiling.

  “You see, there’s the problem, git angel,” Wings shoved Rebel’s shoulders, and Rebel stumbled backwards, “you can play at being one of the Fallen but you chose not to Fall.”

  This was Rebel’s meeting?

  Rebel wiped away the blood that was dripping from his nose with the back of his sleeve. The hesitant way that he still smiled, and his kohl darkened eyes were warily hopeful, made my stomach flip. “I’m sorry—”

  Oomph — Wings booted Rebel in the balls.

  Rebel folded to the frozen earth, groaning.

  Wings shrugged. “Git angel.”

  Wings turned, but before he could stroll back into the shadows, I sprang towards him. I snatched his denim sleeve and smashed him against a tree.

  “Bastard Fang.” The knee to Wings’ balls to punctuate each word sated the anger bleeding the park purple because he’d attacked Rebel.

  My angel.

  When Wings tried to curl around the pain, I pinned him to the tree by the throat.

  A feathered tattoo, which reminded me of the one on the face of the vampire who’d attacked me on the day that Rebel had first fallen into my lap, wove around Wings’ neck like barbed wire. Mesmerized, I stroked over the feathers.

  The way Wings raised his pierced eyebrow, however, caught me off guard. How uncomfortably familiar it was. “I’d heard that you were a ball bust
er, princess, but you know just how to touch a bloke.”

  Rebel struggled to his knees. “You keep your hands to yourself, Briathos.”

  “I’m not the one caressing her neck,” Wings purred. When I backed away quickly, he laughed. “I don’t blame you for wanting to pull a real fella, not if you’ve been stuck with this banjaxed idiot. He already has you fighting his battles.” He glanced at Rebel, assessing where to stick the knife next. “Can Zachriel even get it up with a broken wing?”

  Rebel surged to his feet, but I’d already spun Wings around and unsheathed Star.

  Power surged through me, spiraling me higher, after a night of powerlessness trapped in Perfection Hotel. I ached to slice and slash, until I’d reclaimed every shred of dignity stolen from me by Eden and repaid terror with terror, starting with Wings…who was staring at Star with horrified shock.

  “You’re no warrior.” When Rebel hugged his arms tightly around himself, I knew that Wings’ taunt was meant for him. “Star’s not yours. How could you give it to…?”

  “She has more right than me,” Rebel whispered.

  “A swill munching sow has more right—”

  I swung Star in a bright arc, and Wings danced backwards, steel claws springing from his nails. “I’m not one for quipping during fights to the death.”

  Wings smiled: brilliant and dangerous. “You should try it.”

  “Know something else that I should try?” I hacked the dagger as if towards Wings’ right hand, before shooting flames towards his left.

  In a blur of black and red, Rebel dived in front of the blast, howling as it hit his back.

  I threw myself over Rebel, rolling him across the ground, until the smoldering fire died. I pinned him down by his wrists, and our bodies pressed together. I didn’t want to stop touching him because if I did, I was certain that I’d have burnt him to ash.

  “Not with Star,” Rebel pleaded, his body quivering with pain, “don’t hurt him with my father’s dagger.”

  “Why?”

  Wings’ shadow caught us both in its dark; his gaze was guarded. “I’m this git angel’s brother.”

  My hands tightened around Rebel’s wrists. He hissed.

  I warned you about trusting the killer angel.

  The Fall divided families, friends, and lovers: a wall between worlds. The question is whether your pretty boy, who tastes like heaven, is leading your sweet ass to hell.

  I crawled off Rebel, backing away.

  Rebel twisted his head to the side, unable to meet my eye. “You knew that my true da was one of the Fallen.”

  “Your brother too? And how many others? What is this meeting? Is it your attempt to wheedle your way back with them? Am I the slave to pay off your debt?”

  Rebel pushed himself onto his elbows. “How can you…?”

  I crouched and spun, catching Wings in a spinning heel kick. He bellowed, as I swept him onto his back next to Rebel. But when I slashed Star towards his throat, Rebel lunged forward.

  The tip of Eclipse pressed against my neck.

  “Don’t make me choose,” Rebel’s whisper shook with despair, “fam is fam.”

  Slam.

  Rebel’s sweet scent washed over me. Yet this time there was no safety.

  It was an illusion.

  Rebel had saved me, only to betray me to the vampires.

  22

  In the safety of my gamer world, I’d designed flawless angels soaring to the heavens, whilst vampires crawled deformed from the pit.

  Yet beauty was the true monster because it hid the twisted truth beneath.

  I’d been blind, just like Evie had prophesied.

  Cold rain teared from the ragged night sky above London Fields; my hair plastered to my head in snakes. I blinked it out of my eyes, shivering.

  Eclipse’s blade sizzled at my throat; I swallowed, but held my dagger quivering at Wings’ neck.

  “You trained me as a vampire huntress,” I hissed at Rebel. “But instead of having my back, you’re fighting against me on the side of a bastard Fang?”

  “And what’s Anarchy? A wingless fairy?” Rebel shoved the sword harder against my skin.

  Reluctantly, I sheathed Star. Wings slunk to his feet with a shudder of distaste, straightening his coat. When the blade dropped from my neck, I grabbed the collar of Rebel’s jacket and pulled him up.

  Rebel’s gaze was wide and pleading. “Princess, listen…”

  I lobbed Rebel towards his brother. “You made your choice.”

  “Wouldn’t you?” Rebel tilted his chin defiantly. “If this was Jade?”

  When Rebel touched the pouch at his neck that held Jade’s necklace, I stiffened. Would I choose Jade over…everyone?

  “Is this where you go all Bond villain and hand me over to your Fang family?” I lounged against a tree, as if I wasn’t set to bolt.

  Rebel blinked. “You think everything’s to do with you. This is between—”

  “A lost babby and his da.” When Wings gently hugged Rebel, I took a step towards them, but it was too late to stop Wings’ cruel words, “A traitor angel isn’t family. My little brother is dead to me. The next time I see you, it’ll be as my prisoner.”

  Wings kissed Rebel’s forehead, just as Rebel had kissed mine, before stalking away into the darkness between the London Planes.

  Rebel stood motionless; his hands were balled into fists and his long eyelashes curved onto his cheeks, as he gazed down at the icy undergrowth.

  His despair was so bitter that I choked on it.

  I patted Rebel’s shoulder, but he recoiled. “I told you not to bleeding touch me.” His voice was low and hard. When he turned his steely glare on me, it was my turn to flinch. “You were after murdering my brother. I hate the idiot, but he’s still blood. After everything I’ve… You still don’t trust me.” When I hesitated, he nodded. “See? And what about if…I Fall? Would you get your kicks torturing and killing me then?”

  I flushed, shaking with horror at the thought of hurting Rebel simply because he’d stayed on earth too long and had Fallen, but Rebel knocked past me, striding away across the field.

  Everything was happening too fast.

  I spun, shouting after Rebel, “Where are you diva storming?”

  “What do you care, Feathers?” Rebel hollered, without looking back. “I thought you had other blokes in your life?”

  Numb, I watched Rebel disappear into the black, leaving me stranded under the wizened trees.

  Alone.

  Loitering at the back of the burger bar on the Hackney Estate — alone — to the beat of grime music, stench of frying fat, and scowls of the kids in hoodies was like screaming shank me now.

  But I was the Bitch of Utopia. The swagger of the neon-haired girls and the boys with baseball hats should’ve been like coming home. Except, this wasn’t my world anymore. I didn’t belong: I wasn’t a human.

  If I’d felt it before, then I knew it now, huddled in this alley in the dead freeze of night as the last flurries of rain spat down.

  Yet what the hell did it matter, when I was summoning an angel?

  I leaned against the cold brick, remembering the sensation of violation when Commander Drake had attacked me. How the violet strands had invaded my mind.

  Drake was the only other angel that I knew and the only one who could help me. I’d sensed it: the connection was still there.

  I closed my eyes and sank deeper.

  Have I told you how much this idea is going to bring down the house…on your cute ass?

  Have I told you that you have a freaky obsession with my arse?

  Of course I have; it’s for the gods. Why shouldn’t I want a bite—

  Banned word, J, biting.

  Angels, aren’t they banned? You must hide me from Commander Goldilocks.

  I snapped onto the thread of violet in my mind. It thrashed, panicked, but I yanked, dragging it back through the maze that I’d built.

  I wiped my hand through my hair, focusing my br
ain in a startling way that flew me higher, flashing with a brilliant white that tasted of candy floss and spun me in its softness. Heady on the thrill, I hauled harder, until the strand trembled, tumbling out at my feet.

  Commander Drake stared up at me.

  He rubbed his eyes, as if he’d been asleep, before they widened in shock. His golden curls were tousled. When he stalked to his bare feet, they sank into a puddle. And they weren’t the only part of him that was bare…

  It seemed that Drake slept naked.

  My skin was suddenly too tight and tingling, as I stared at Drake’s ruffled beauty. Then I leaned back against the wall and sniggered.

  And the moment that Drake realized why…

  Hot rage flushed his cheeks, before his gaze froze ice-cold.

  Drake curled his wings around his body, covering himself in frankincense scented feathers. “I knew that you were extraordinary. Yet I’d also hoped you were different.’ He shuddered, casting an anxious glance up and down the alley. “You summoned me, Mistress, your wish is my command.”

  I stared at him blankly.

  The smile was bitter but it almost touched Drake’s lips, before he killed it. “Genie? Lamp? You may also wish to get in now insults about harems and whipping boys.”

  He lifted one pale eyebrow, daring me to utter a word, as he turned.

  Lashes — crimson and purple — marred his slim back. Interlaced welts wove across his body.

  I bit my lip not to make a sound.

  When Drake twisted to face me, his expression was cold again. “I told you, we all serve monsters.”

  Drake no longer appeared to be putting on a show.

  But I was.

  I stroked my fingers through Drake’s wings, in the same way that he had Rebel’s, when Rebel had been chained to the monument. I wished that this touch could be real, and that Drake could be mine, rather than some monster’s who whipped him and made him hate me.

  Drake panted, struggling to back away. “Enough. I can’t be here…like this.”

  “Stay.” Drake’s eyes flashed dangerously at my command. “And be silent too, bro.” He shook but he stood still, submitting to my caress. “Who’s getting off now, Commander?”