Rebel Angels: The Complete Series

by Rosemary A Johns

  “Lay off.” Rebel pulled away from Mischief; his fingers traced along the black collar around his neck, seeking comfort. “Sweet heaven, I knelt for Feathers. I’ve ballsed up everything that I’ve touched, but not her. Although I’m a bad angel, she’s treated me like I’m good; I’d die and be resurrected a thousand times for her.”

  My eyes burned with shamed tears. What did I know about love?

  The Unicorn Angel has a point, even if he is showboating his pretty ass.

  This battle for your brother will have a cost. At the end, I hope that his monstrous hide is worth it.

  And what about my monstrous hide, bitch? Am I worth it?

  Always.

  The warmth of J’s love was like a kiss in my mind, and I shuddered at its intimacy.

  Ash took a step forward. “We’ve lost enough brothers and sisters; Violet can’t be blamed for not wanting to lose anymore,” Ash’s voice was low and intense. He shared a glance with Rebel that shredded me. “And you’re not dying.”

  “Brilliant!” Rebel grinned, bouncing on his toes. “So, how do we do a flit with these familiars?”

  “We have the element of surprise,” Ash smoothly slipped into Brigadier mode: hell, he was hot like this. “But it won’t last for long. Check out the stables.”

  I scanned across at the Head Coven: The House of Snakes.

  A grand red-brick Elizabethan mansion squatted in a toad-like pile of blackened chimneys and turrets. An army of windows glared back at us, which were lit by the full moon.

  Behind the mansion lay the stables. I was betting a Seducer and an Addict that there weren’t horses inside.

  I nodded, “We have a winner.”

  “How does it go afterward for the Blood Familiars with Dr Frankenstein, mate?” Ash prowled towards Mischief. “Capture, feed, find good homes?” He snatched Mischief by the elbow, hauling him closer. “Or more like: capture, beat, experiment on?”

  Mischief laughed, yanking himself free and twirling to the edge of the wood. “Do none of you perceive that this is not about familiars? Or initiations, champions, or challenges? This is about saving the world, you tiny creatures, from Rahab. I’ve fought this battle, not for a year, but my entire life.” When Mischief panted, I drew back from his unleashed regal rage. “I wait, hidden in the shadows, whilst you prance in the glorious light. You wish to be our leader…? Then you will lead.”

  I crushed my nails into the palms of my hands, as my pulse pounded. I remembered the rockfall in the Ghost Caves: Mischief’s different but formidable power, which he’d been forced to hide his whole life. I knew about being different, but Mischief had suffered for it, whilst sacrificing for those who were weaker.

  Mischief had plotted against Rahab for centuries. Yet he didn’t seek power, only to free his people.

  That was a bastard hero.

  It also made him as dangerous as Rahab.

  I told you that this would be the choice: if you wish to be Protector, everywhere is a battlefield, and these are your sacrifices to make.

  You ride the world like a dick and you’re on top.

  If you’re not ready, then get off and let Silver Angel grind his sweet way to heaven. Because you’re not the only leader of this supernatural pack.

  Cheers: that’s an image I’ll never be able to bleach from my brain. And I’m not jealous—

  Lying to me is only lying to yourself, hooker. The Wizard Who Snarked has stronger magic than you. He’s been plotting rebellions for centuries longer than you. And pretty in punk has a man crush on him.

  Just remember you have one thing that he’ll never have.

  What?

  A biteable ass, girl.

  I sniggered, then flushed.

  Mischief swung to me. His eyes flashed, as he murmured, “Or do you forget what Ceri showed you in the Broken Nursery so soon?”

  My breath caught; I shivered.

  How did Mischief think that I could ever forget Fynchan clambering into my lap and clasping his arms around my neck like he trusted me, then laughing, as I made fire unicorns dance?

  I’d broken Mischief out to save the slaves. I was their champion. Yet how had Rahab twisted me into his creature?

  Mischief wanted a leader…?

  I stared between my family, who studied me back. “Then just call me Simon Says, bitches.”

  Mischief gave a sharp nod.

  “Let’s say the spell casters have the familiars in the stables.” I peered across the lawns. “What’s the chances the furry critters will come quietly? Blaze and Spark hunted me the first time—”

  “Do you know why the witches are the vampires’ enemy? They hunt us.” I didn’t understand the way Ash glared at Rebel.

  Rebel hung his head, pressing himself against the oak.

  I frowned, glancing between them. “Not following, bro.”

  “Don’t,” Rebel whispered. “Not now…”

  “Once they capture us,” Ash bit out, still not looking away from Rebel, “they transform us into familiars.” I gasped, biting hard on my lip. “We’re not capturing creatures for Rahab, but vampires. How honored do you think his guests will be?”

  I quivered, folding my wings around myself like that could change the truth. All this time I hadn’t known… “Blaze and Spark…?”

  My Blood Familiars: fam. I was their Keeper, but once they’d been vampires, the same as Ash, until that’d been stolen from them by witches.

  Blaze and Spark had been vampire brothers.

  “My mates,” Ash said. “They still are. I always looked out for them the best I could. Even when they were—”

  Crack — I swept Rebel’s legs out from underneath him, slamming him to the undergrowth; the twigs popped in protest.

  I held Rebel down by his throat; silver sizzled on my fingertips.

  “Don’t take off his head,” Mischief warned. “Control your beastly rage.”

  “Why? This bastard’s adopted family of psycho witches transformed Blaze and Spark into familiars. Did you hunt them? Hand them over for your Da to hurt? Were you even planning to help us against the Head Coven or are you still the spell lobbers’ bitch? Were you planning to betray us? Was Ash going to make a pretty wolf?”

  Rebel let out a sob, not even struggling, as I tightened my grip. Then I was flying backwards through the air, blasted by stinging silver. I landed with an oomph on my arse.

  Mischief stood in sparkling splendor next to Rebel; he held out his hand to Rebel, hauling him to his feet.

  Rebel clasped his neck, rubbing the redness. Hell, had I done that? I hadn’t even summoned Mischief’s magic, but it’d sparked. I paled at the danger, not to myself but to my fam and the bastard world.

  “Even you do not believe that nonsense tirade.” Mischief tossed his hair. “My name is traitor: it’s not Zachriel’s. If you truly believe that he could do any of those things, then it’s not only trust that’s missing within your astounding mind.”

  I pushed myself up. “My fam are vampires, I’m half vampire, and yet this secret…?”

  “I’m sorry, so I am.” Rebel peeked at me through his thick lashes. “Ages ago, my adopted family tried to teach me to hate, so I’d hunt vampires to turn into familiars. Whip my arse for fibbing, but I’d never hate. And I didn’t hunt for new familiars.”

  “Is that why you had us hunting those fanatic bastards, the Pure, instead?”

  Rebel nodded. “I’d never hurt a slave. Cop on! Don’t you know that about me yet, woman?”

  Ash marched to Rebel. “That’s why this…” When he clouted Rebel — crack — in the nose, I flinched. “…isn’t your balls. But if you ever hurt Spark and Blaze…?”

  Rebel grinned around his cradled nose. “You’ll kick me in the bollocks like the bad bastard you are? Just so you know…? Ditto, muppet.”

  When Mischief grimaced, pressing his hand to his forehead, I stalked to the edge of the wood. He might be used to handling pain (and his magic might feed on dishing it out), but the sooner we st
ole the familiars, the sooner that he’d be free of his headache.

  Mischief glanced at me in surprise. “Lucky me, you’ve remembered that we’re not on a pleasure jaunt. After all, if we don’t return within a single night, it’s only my brain that’ll splatter like an alien birth.”

  “We’re in our own series of 24,” Ash muttered. “Will they defuse the bomb in his brain in time…?”

  Mischief ignored him, scowling. “Or do you wish to squabble some more? Pause for some make-up sex perhaps? We do have a whore here at least…”

  Ash growled. “Make that two. You should show me your moves, silver hips.”

  How was I supposed to save the world, whilst the blokes at my back couldn’t see past their ancient divisions to the truth that they were so similar they could be geek brothers?

  Mischief’s expression darkened, but before he could snap at Ash, I snatched his wing, dragging him closer.

  Then I nodded at Rebel and Ash, who drew in, until we stood together in a circle. My wings rubbed against Ash’s: sweet and intimate. I linked my pinkie with Rebel’s, rubbing my thumb across his in apology. When his gaze met mine, it was sad and as distressed as the shadows across our bond.

  I’d betrayed his trust by doubting him in the surge of my new powers and I couldn’t take it back.

  Hell, I wished that I could take it back.

  Mischief hesitated, awkward on the edge of the circle.

  I smirked. “You too, grouchypants.”

  “If you insist on such displays of unnecessary affection.” Yet Mischief pushed Ash aside to nestle in next to me, gripping my hand hard. His wings were warm as they stretched over us all, including Ash.

  “We’ll be out in the open all the way to the stables.” Ash rubbed against Mischief’s feathers. Was that a bastard purr from Mischief? “Prime witch pickings.”

  “Now if we’d had Drake’s Power of Invisibility…”

  Mischief perked up. “Sneaky little Duma, hiding his light under a bushel.” I bit my tongue. Way to reveal Drake’s tricks. When Mischief’s eyes slyly narrowed, I had the feeling that he didn’t plan to send Drake a congratulations card. “Why do we need the golden child, however, when we have this?”

  Mischief let go of my hand, stepping back. His wings beat, just once, then silver broke in a wave over all our heads.

  Lights danced; my vision blurred. I swayed, only held up by Rebel’s grip.

  Then the wood shot back into sudden clarity, and I steadied. I peered around at the others. They were still there.

  When Mischief grinned at me, triumphantly, I shook my head. “Sorry, bro, epic fail.”

  Mischief sighed. “Move your arm, sailor.” When I shook my arm, I gasped; it shimmered multi-colored, camouflaging with the trees behind. “Shape shifter,” Mischief smirked. “I believe in sharing talents, remember?”

  “That’s a fine thing!” Rebel’s smile was dazzling, as he hopped from foot to foot. “We’re after doing this together.”

  “And if we’re caught — together,” Ash held up his hand to stem Rebel’s enthusiasm, even though he was struggling to get out the words, “I know what it is to be at the mercy of wicked witches. Here are the rules and they’re non-negotiable.” His jaw clenched. “No eating, drinking, or heroics. The Head Coven train vampires, Addicts, and mages: we’re not the Justice League, we’re the Suicide Squad.”

  I wet my lips, spreading my wings. “Then let’s play the super-villains.”

  I soared into the night sky towards the most powerful witches in England and an impossible challenge, with vampires and angels camouflaged at my back. If I failed, Ash would be lost to the mages and Rebel would die. And if we were caught, we’d become the witches’ creatures.

  14

  Creatures cowered, crawled, and crouched in the witches’ stable. Piss, dung, and fear stung my nostrils; I held my sleeve across my mouth. Ranks of gleaming eyes stared back at me from the stacked cages in the shadows.

  Yowls, chirps, grunts, squeaks…

  Rebel poked his fingers through to a white Arctic wolf, which loped forward, sniffing, before snapping at him with a snarl.

  “Sweet Jesus…” Rebel fell backwards, bottom shuffling into Ash who caught him, hauling him back to his feet.

  “Shh, familiar POWs,” I hissed, “unless you don’t want your captive arses sprung from jail?”

  Silence.

  I grinned: this Keeper still had it.

  Although, the Creepy Factor of being scrutinized by the intelligent gazes of squirrels, red pandas, ring-tailed lemurs, chimps, and badgers almost canceled out the Cuteness one.

  “No rush.” Mischief gingerly shifted his knees away from the path through the stable, which was molded with stone snakes. “I believe it’s only our lives dependent on the success of this mission. Plus, of course, this spell pressing on my brain like an unwelcome parasite. Not to mention…” He stroked the nose of a foal, which was nuzzling through the bars of a cage. He shook his head; his gaze was troubled. “…Until I was sent to the Under World, I would’ve had no concern for the fates of Blood Familiars.” His laugh was bitter. “Sometimes, I wish that I’d been able to wallow in my own safe ignorance. Truth is much harder once faced.”

  “Then let’s break out these bitches and break open that bastard spell.” When I seized the red squirrel’s cage, the squirrel chattered at me, before sweeping its bushy tail around and hopping back.

  A buzz tingled down my shoulder blades and gums. It prickled across my skin in goose bumps.

  Hold your sweet ass, Violet-puss. You’re buzzing like you’re riding one of your pretty boys. Your magic’s calling out to you. Have you blocked it for a reason?

  My magic is riding me, J. Like how it hurt Rebel in the wood…?

  I must’ve been watching the wrong channel because I could’ve sworn that it was your hand around the loyal little punk’s throat…?

  I slipped, but the magic’s dangerous. You warned me before…

  Come on, girl, you know you want to say it.

  You were right.

  Hallelujah, the heavens themselves did weep.

  All right, bitch, you’ve had your moment.

  I could tame the Devil’s Trident, but this is different. The magic shouldn’t be tamed, it needs to become part of me like the shadows. I just don’t know how yet.

  Until I do, I don’t want to hurt my fam.

  If you don’t listen to its warning, you’ll hurt yourself too.

  I yanked open the cage, snapping the lock, before reaching inside towards the chattering squirrel.

  Then I screamed.

  An electric current shot through my fingers where they touched the bars; I vibrated, as if a hot prong had been shoved through my hand.

  Howling, screeching, bellowing, squealing…

  The familiars were being shocked too, and this time, as they cringed or rolled on their backs, they shrieked their distress. And they didn’t stop.

  It was the perfect alarm system: the witches would hear us.

  J had been right again.

  I tried to wrench back my arm, but I couldn’t move it. Then Ash’s hands were curled around my shoulders, tugging. I stumbled backwards into Ash’s citrus wings, as Rebel tenderly kissed my burned fingers.

  “Spell, now,” I hollered at Mischief.

  But opening the cage hadn’t only set off the electric shocks.

  Mischief stared back at me with haunted eyes, as boa constrictors wound around him, holding him in place. He struggled for breath, even as another stone snake from the path transformed and slithered up his leg.

  Bastard spell casters.

  “Get a grip, Tinkerbelle, this is about saving the world.” I knew that it was a low blow, but Mischief was losing himself in the terror of his own personal nightmare come to life, and I had to snap him out of it. “Or is it you who doesn’t remember Fynchan?”

  Mischief’s gaze shot to mine, sharp once again. “So, the beast is catching on.”

  Mischief
’s eyes closed; his face creased with pain.

  A glass box, like the one that’d trapped my brother, materialized between us in the stable, before slowly expanding.

  Hiss — the snakes writhed, tightening around Mischief.

  “Screw the shocks, open the cages,” I growled.

  Yet before I could battle against the electric current, the air around us quivered.

  “Is that you, Mischief?” Rebel asked, hopefully.

  Mischief shook his head.

  “Clever little creatures with magic,” a simpering female voice arose in the air around us.

  A freezing draught, which was scented with berries, howled through the stables.

  The witch of the House of Snakes.

  I spun, but there was no one there.

  I drew Flight, just as Rebel unsheathed Eclipse. Ash nodded his head towards Mischief, before booting aside a snake to crouch over him, resting his gun on the head of the glaring boa constrictor.

  Smash — the glass box shattered, as if a giant boot had stomped on it.

  We all flinched.

  Rahab’s spell had been broken like it’d been nothing but child’s play, and so had my chance of winning the Mage’s Challenge.

  Numb, I gripped Flight until my knuckles whitened. I’d bastard lost my brother, Ash, Rebel…

  I hadn’t realized that I’d been shaking, until the cloaked witch giggled. “I hoped that I’d caught a wolf, but instead it’s a little quivering bunny. Still, we’ll play just the same. They all play.”

  Ash dropped his shooter, shrinking back.

  I hadn’t won the Mage’s Challenge. The Head Coven had caught my family and me. And now a psycho spell caster wished to play.

  I hadn’t planned Kinky Date Night strung up in the Head Coven’s Honesty Tower. Sometimes, however, you just had to go with the spontaneous.

  Clank, clank, clank.

  I slammed my shackles against the red-brick, rubbing my wrists raw, whilst I struggled. I swung on tiptoes against one side of the tower; my shoulders ached. I shivered, as the night breeze gusted through colossal circular windows on each wall. There was no glass, and the night roared in, mingling with a magic that was so wild I could taste it.