“The Legion may know…”
I backed away from him.
The same bastards as the Mage? Drake? Nathanael? The cult who tried to kill me, sliced off slaves’ wings, and promised genocide on the vampires?
“The Discipliners?” I spat.
Mischief didn’t hide his hurt expression fast enough. “Do you need soap to wash the filth from your mouth?” He snorted. “I was the one being disciplined; it’s my brother who leads such an exclusive club. Why…?”
“If we want to survive tonight, it’ll take more than rebelling from within. We also need bastards from outside. So, the Legion…?”
I closed my eyes, reaching into my mind for my connection with Drake.
I knew that Mischief couldn’t teleport through Lucifer’s magics, but the link through minds was different: it couldn’t be controlled by Lucifer.
I latched onto Drake’s trembling strand of violet, yanking it towards me.
When has calling out to the angels ever done anything but bite you in the booty?
To fight the devil, sometimes you have to make a deal with the devil’s enemy. Even if that enemy…is the true devil.
If you ask me, that’s a whole lot of devils you’re shaking your thing at.
If you ask a favor of the Legion, they’ll want something in return. Don’t you remember what they wanted last time?
You.
I hauled out the quivering thread, which writhed in my hold, before tumbling Drake to my feet.
Rushing on the thrill, I grinned.
Commander Drake groaned. Then he stared around in panic and confusion, tugging up his harem trousers that’d slipped down his hips, baring his creamy thighs.
Mischief was breathing raggedly, but he still gave Drake a droll wave.
Bastard mistake.
Drake roared, slamming Mischief against the Cage’s floor.
“Why,” Mischief batted his eyelashes, “I hadn’t realized that you’d missed me.”
“Be silent, traitor,” Drake’s voice was low. He wound his fingers around Mischief’s throat as he met my gaze. Had this already bitten me in the booty? Was I wrong to trust Drake because he was an angel? “Why do you bring me here? You save me once, only to entrap me now?”
“Get over yourself, Genie Boy,” I growled. Drake blushed. “We’re saving the world. My dad wants to take out the sun, and I want to help the poor bastards who need freeing like we did in Angel World. But I’m searching for someone with enough magic to take on Lucifer and liberate the Under World. Are you applying?”
“Your…dad?” Drake’s eyes widened.
I’d forgotten the fact my dad was Lucifer was a secret in Angel World.
“I thought that you’d already Sherlock deduced who my dad was?”
Drake gave a tight nod. “Congratulations to me then. I assumed it with good reason.” His fingers tightened around Mischief’s neck. I gasped at Mischief’s choke. “I apologize, princess, allow me to explain: the only angel who can contain the Light-bringer is the Matriarch. You see, he was once not simply her Wing but Marked.”
My stomach lurched. The Matriarch had Marked my dad as bed slave like she had Drake…? As she’d tempted me to Mark Rebel?
Had she played the same sadistic games, as I’d played by her side on Drake?
Drake’s expression shuttered with lofty dignity. “I suffer because she practiced her sessions on Lucifer. All Wings are brutally subjugated, since her tamed Wing fought back, burning away the Mark and leading the rebellion that broke our world.” He cocked his head; his curls fell over his eyes. “It’s extraordinary that you’d ask my help to break another world.” I clenched my fists. Why had I hoped that Drake would trust me? “What’s freedom worth, if it leads to slavery? You’re better than that, princess.”
I lunged at Drake, dragging him off Mischief by the scruff of the neck. Frankincense wound around me, rich and familiar. Hell, I’d missed every cold predatory inch of Drake.
I also missed the sword that he’d snatched from the floor of the Cage, until its tip kissed at my kidneys.
“Barakiel…?” Drake whispered, urgent with hope. “He’s alive?”
Barakiel: The Lightning Angel that Drake had demanded we save when we escaped Angel World. Why was he so important?
Violet screamed in jealous rage that Drake would think of another angel before me. Yet I quietened the dominant Glory inside because Drake wasn’t mine, no matter how much I wanted him to be. He belonged to my mum.
What right did I have to claim anyone as belonging to me, as the Matriarch had with Lucifer?
“He’s safe with the Blood Angels,” I murmured. “Not here, bro.”
Drake nodded, sagging. “Thank you, princess.” He smiled, grimly. “I understand that Glories may say they love. But they can’t because it’s poisoned.” He trembled, even as he pressed harder. “I am still your lamb, am I not?”
I hissed at the worming pain of the steel slicing my back. “I’m not the same. I won’t sacrifice you.”
“Lie.”
“Then you choose,” I offered. Drake’s questing gaze met mine; I lifted my eyebrow. “This isn’t Angel World, and I’m not wearing the Dictator Hat. Who apart from the Matriarch can take down Devil Daddy?”
Drake’s brow furrowed. “You’d hand me the power?”
Mischief raised his hand like the naughty school kid at the back of the class. “Sorry, did I miss the vote where we all lost our minds?”
“Hush, now, Zophia, or I shall make you lose far more than your mind.” Drake gave a curt nod. “My father, Mage Drake. He shall exact a price, but if it means your escape from the Under World…?” He shuddered. “I’ll ask him, and whatever he demands, I’ll give.” His smile was sad, although his gaze had softened. “See? I make an honorable sacrifice.”
Clatter — the sword hit the floor.
Drake had vanished back to Angel World to ask the most powerful Mage, my enemy, to join our rebellion and stop Lucifer taking the light.
Tonight, I became Queen of Chaos, and I either saved the world, or by my trident, it was ended.
25
When Sleeping Beauty woke up, she didn’t marry Prince Charming and live Happily Ever After. Instead, the kiss awoke the monster inside.
Next, came bloody vengeance and the pulling down of the world.
That’s your bedtime fairy tale, Bone Princess style.
I strutted into the giant chamber where I’d battled with the angels — the charred walls still stank of ash — on the night of my coronation.
My eyes widened.
When Lucifer had promised a party, he hadn’t meant that he’d hired clowns.
Vampires soared, sprawled, and even rocked out: naked. Except for their tattoos, piercings, and body paint: they’d graffitied the words of their rebellion across themselves.
FREEDOM. SEX. MAYHEM.
Cages swung from chains as entertainment; captive angels and Shadows were crammed into them as if they were strippers but instead of dancing they were forced to fight, as the bars heated.
Vampires called out bets, amongst the laughter and jeers at the angels’ wails.
Misrule, with Harahel tucked under his arm, twirled his cane — true Master of the celebration — spinning the madness into a tightrope that he walked.
When I swaggered in, with an angel on one arm, a Shadow on the other, and a naked Seducer leading the way like he was the queen…
Awkward.
I smirked. “When in Rome…join the orgy.”
Rebel clasped his arms around me, whilst Mischief rested his head on my shoulder.
Ash sighed, although his lips quirked. “One cuddle. No touching. Keep it above the waist.”
Mischief sniggered.
Ash’s large wings encircled us all, then he swayed us to the alienated goth-punk angst of My Chemical Romance’s “Vampires Will Never Hurt You”.
“What muppet chose the music?” Rebel muttered.
Mischief grinned. “This is
Lucifer’s playlist. He’s a killer but one with an astounding sense of irony.”
I pulled at the twisting bone that ran like Egyptian bracelets from my shoulders to my wrists. “Don’t forget the flare for the dramatic.”
The deadly lights around my neck glowed like a Pharaoh’s collar necklace: here came Nefertiti resurrected. And this time, she didn’t worship the sun, she ruled it.
Rebel had pulled on each piece of my coronation outfit in the quiet of my carriage room, as if he’d been my squire arming me for war: twisting strips of bone in my Mistress bodice and black leather panels floating out into a satin skirt in a Dark Queen’s ball dress.
When he’d drawn on the bone bracelets, he’d kissed the sensitive skin beneath: inner wrist, elbow, and shoulder.
I’d drawn in my breath, as I’d tingled down to the tips of my feathers.
“Sweet Jesus, you’re after being my queen,” Rebel had whispered. “You always were. The whole world could go up in flames tonight, and I’d walk into them for you.”
I’d caught his lips between mine, shaking at even the thought of him trapped in Lucifer’s Light. My dad had told me that I manipulated others with the same spark as him.
Has anything been real? Does Rebel love me? Or has my power whammied him?
You’ve no broomstick, Feathery-poppet, and no love potion either. It’s all genuine Irish loving.
Like the bond, Mark, and Blood Lover?
That’s a different type of power. You’re the bitch who chose to force control. Whether you use it over him…? That depends if you decide to work your extravaganza as a Puppet Mistress over all your fam.
What the hell have I done? Are any of my fam free?
I’d gasped, clinging to Rebel’s arms.
“Princess…?” Rebel had swung me round to Ash.
Ash had stripped on Lucifer’s order, whilst I’d dressed, only buckling his holster back around his waist. I’d bitten my lip not to tell him how hot the naked with only his shooter stripper look had been.
Sprawled over my foam bed, Mischief had crouched over Ash, whilst he’d worked on piercing Ash’s nipples with bone shards. Silver had shot from Mischief’s fingertips like a needle, and Ash had hissed.
“Concentrating…” Mischief had pierced Ash’s second nipple; Ash had whimpered. I’d been surprised at Mischief’s tender stroke of his cheek. “I’ve been a monumental brat, but the king’s never ordered bone shoved through my delicate bits.”
Ash had smiled crookedly. “Now I feel all special inside.”
Rebel had waved his hand in the air. “Excuse me, gits, banjaxed princess here.”
“Are you…?” I’d looked down. “Is all of this…your sacrifices and love…because you’re under my light?”
Three pairs of eyes had blinked at me.
Then Ash had burst out laughing.
Yeah, not the way that I’d expected it to go.
Ash had pushed himself up from the foam, flinching at the pull on his red nubs. “You’re a Queen of Chaos but a newbie when it comes to blokes.” I’d flushed. “Read me.”
He’d spread out his arms in all his naked glory, spinning slowly as if it’d been a striptease.
I’d arched a brow but studied him; he’d daubed words over himself in purple body paint: names.
REBEL, ANARCHY, KEY, BLAZE, SPARK, MISCHIEF, HARAHEL, MISRULE…
And over his heart?
VIOLET.
Ash had covered himself in his family. How could that only be an illusion?
I hadn’t recognized two smaller names, which had been under mine.
Ash had hurriedly crossed his arms over them, however, before I’d been able to read them. “My sisters,” his voice had been as hard as steel. “Lucifer’s Light is cold. It’s like the Devil’s Trident: dark. There’s no love. But you, Violet? You’re the opposite, even if you can’t see it yet. That’s why we follow you.”
At an insistent tugging on the violet strands in my mind, I’d pulled back, dragging out Drake at my feet.
Or his charred body.
The singed scent of feathers had wafted through the carriage room. I’d peered down at Drake, who’d groaned, forcing open his swollen eyes.
I’d been desperate for Mischief to heal Drake by taking his pain, or at least to crouch down myself and stroke Drake’s curls.
Instead, I’d forced myself to balance the bone tiara on my hair. “Your chat with the Mage went well then?”
Drake had spat a globule of blood onto my boot. “Hush,” he’d rasped like he’d been screaming ever since his return to Angel World. Maybe he had. “The deal is simple. The Mage shall offer his assistance at a time you shall not miss. In return for a promise.”
“Watch how shocked I’m not.”
The corners of Drake’s mouth had twitched into a smile, before he’d smothered it. “After, you’ll return with me to the Legion and train as an Apprentice in the Brotherhood of the Phoenix.”
“Not a chance.” Rebel had hunkered by Drake, pushing back his curls, just as I’d itched to. “Those brutal bad bastards—”
“As you wish,” Drake had slumped, closing his eyes.
Wait…Drake had given up?
What had been so terrifying about the Legion that even Drake hadn’t wanted me trained by them? Yet something had shivered through him — a despairing acceptance — at Rebel’s refusal.
Your collared punk has it right. The Brotherhood of Assholes is no Hogwarts. Remember, the Mage is all about making you star of the genocide show against the vampires.
It’s like when you unleash an even bigger mutant to bring down Godzilla. I can’t risk letting out my monster or Devil. If the Mage is the only bastard who can stop Lucifer—
You abandoned Rebel’s brother to escape the Mage’s influence. Was Haman’s sacrifice for nothing?
I’d flushed as I’d finally allowed myself to crouch next to Drake. “What’ll happen to you if I tell the Mage to stick his offer?”
Drake had opened his eyes but had refused to meet my gaze. “Nothing that concerns you.”
“You are my concern.”
Drake’s smile had been soft. “A lie. But a kind one.” He’d hesitated. “I cannot return if you do not accompany me.”
Rebel had whirled to his feet. “The great idiot can’t do that to his own son. With you being the Commander and the Matriarch’s Marked…the Feathered will get off on hurting you. Not to mention how Lucifer will burn—”
“I am aware,” Drake had replied, dryly.
I’d grasped Drake’s blistered fingers between mine. It’d been time for me to step-up and become the lamb. “I’ve been taking bets and bargains from the moment that I became the Bone Princess.” I kissed his cheek. “Deal.” Then I’d stood, straightening my dress. “Now let’s go party like it’s the end of the world.”
At my own coronation, I breathed in the sweet scent of my blokes — not owned by me, Poly-wings, like they’d have been in Angel World — but family fighting by my side.
A boy Blood, inked in battle scenes like a human comic, knelt at my side, holding up a skull goblet. Other Bloods were darting between the dancing or shagging couples: kid butlers.
I wrinkled my nose at the coppery richness, but Ash knelt, tipping the goblet to the Blood’s lips. The boy jerked back, even daring to shake his head. At the same time, he swallowed the blood convulsively like he hadn’t been fed in months.
I bet that he hadn’t.
We were being watched: vampires swooped closer, pulled out of their hedonistic daze to snarl at Ash’s insolence.
Black eyes, beating wings, and sneering lips.
Mischief lifted his head from my shoulder. “Oh look, what a Master Spy your whore isn’t.” He hooked me closer, as if for a kiss. Instead, he mouthed against my lips, “Punish him, before you appear weak, and we appear dead.”
Ash was feeding the boy with such tenderness; his gaze was distant. This was Ash’s first true moment of calm since…hell, I couldn’t even
think it…and I had to break it.
A gang of vampires circled closer to the scream of distorted guitars.
I steeled myself.
Then I booted Ash in the thigh, startling him tumbling onto his side. He gasped, as the goblet soared in an arc, before clattering down and spilling its precious life in a red sea.
The Blood cowered.
I hated that blokes were back to cowering before me.
Cheers and whistles.
That was another life ambition checked off: giving the happies to a bunch of brutal vampires.
Crash — the vampires at the far side of the chamber chucked their goblets at the walls, making a game of Hit the Slave.
The Bloods ducked, splattered under sprays of crimson, or were smacked in the face.
And nope, imitation wasn’t flattery.
When a thug with more piercings than skin held a Blood’s head underneath a fountain that spewed blood champagne, like bullying jocks everywhere, Ash snarled, jumping up.
Mischief rested his hand on Ash’s shoulder with an authority that shocked me. “Steady, soldier. Beaten dogs need to learn to bite their own masters, and we’re teaching them that trick.”
When Ash glanced back at him, I nodded.
Just a little longer…
Except, then it was my sister who threatened the rebellion. Because she was here, along with the other Blood Lovers, soaring above our heads.
The vampires held their partners in their arms, dancing through the air, like this was an epically twisted Cinderella’s ball. They fed from their necks, in between kisses, as if they were only sucking love bites. As my sister’s over bright gaze met mine across the room, I had to admit that I could see it now: the connection.
Love: dark and self-destructive. But then, who was I to talk about love? I wished that I could feel…anything…as purely as those Blood Lovers.
Even if they were idiots.
I still shook because if I did this now, I’d be risking Jade’s life, rather than protecting her. I’d be shattering her fairy tale, whilst she watched.
Could I shatter her world, as well as my dad’s?
Rebel linked our pinkies, twisting me to face him. I blinked up at him, as he murmured, “Everybody thought my da a fine fellah and a good angel. But he wasn’t. He was the type to break a slave’s neck just to teach me a lesson, belt me, and do such things…” He bit his lip. “But I still wept when Drake killed him.” He looked at me through his thick eyelashes. “See, the others may not understand, but I do. It doesn’t matter what he’s done: the git’s still your da.”
Rebel Angels: The Complete Series Page 73
