Rebel Angels: The Complete Series

by Rosemary A Johns

  I bit my lip. I didn’t mean it… Why was my blood burning with such outrage…?

  “And I thought you stronger than the shadows, Phoenix Queen, so that you wouldn’t allow them to use your words as whips.” I jumped at Mischief’s rebuke.

  Mischief didn’t crouch next to me, but instead, skirted the shroud of shadows, slipping his arm around Drake.

  Drake blinked in confusion but didn’t move away from Mischief’s comfort.

  I flushed, winding the darkness closer, whilst it fogged ever denser.

  Cool it, Feathery-darkness. Call off the wailing mourners, million dollars’ worth of lilies, and unicorn drawn hearse.

  Hell, J, I’ve missed you. I need you—

  Who wouldn’t miss this level of fabulousness? But the Sorcerer of Shadiness, who’d not only bleed the prince but demand that he break his own neck, would do much worse to my neck. So, excuse me for not putting it on the block.

  This is a now you see my sweet ass, now you don’t kind of visit. Because you’ve forgotten that you’re on the island of illusions.

  It’s kind of hard to forget the magic.

  Not magic: what’s real. What’s ever been real.

  The noose around Rebel’s neck felt bastard real.

  You promised anything to save your angel in eyeliner. Even if you hiss and spit, Rahab thinks that he has you by the throat. Just like your brother.

  Help me…he’s dead…and I can’t…

  You can. This sorcerer has molded his own world for so long that he’s forgotten others can shape stories too.

  Pull an illusion on him. Then show him what a true monster looks like.

  Strengthened by J, I straightened my shoulders, dragging the shadows back inside with a shudder. They settled with a reluctant shrug.

  I forced myself to study Anael’s face: he had the same cheekbones and chin as me…as the Matriarch. His brunet hair, however, he’d inherited from Phoenix.

  If I’d been raised by the Legion, held in the Mirror Lodge with nobody but pets to torment and Drake as my whipping boy, what the hell would I’ve been like…?

  The Matriarch would’ve killed Anael simply for being a boy, however, so was Rahab these boys’ savior or their oppressor?

  A choked breath.

  Suddenly, Anael’s eyes snapped open, his wings fluttered, and he gasped back to life.

  I squealed, clutching Anael closer; my pulse drove a deafening beat, as my fingernails cut into Anael’s upper arms. No way in a wizarding white winter was I letting go.

  Anael’s dazed gaze met mine; my breath hitched at the intense connection. This wasn’t indifference or hate. My blood called to his in a genuine sibling bond; it made laughter bubble up my throat, just as tears streaked down my cheeks again.

  Anael’s brow furrowed, as he swiped a finger beneath my eye. “You would weep for me?”

  I wiped my own scarf across the tears, as I grinned. “Yeah, bro. If you’re into this resurrection trick, get used to it. That’s what it means to have a sister.”

  Anael cocked his head, before tentatively smiling back. Then he caught Drake’s eye and gave a tight nod, which made the tears trembling on Drake’s eyelashes fall.

  Drake had known that his brother would rise again. How many times had Drake been forced to witness Anael’s self-murder? How many times had he welcomed him back to life?

  “My clever monster.” Rahab rapped one hand on the palm of the other, prowling closer; I gripped Anael tighter. “Such a good boy.” When Anael’s smile slipped into something vicious, Rahab faltered. Then Anael’s insolent mask was raised again. “Your sweet father hated forced resurrections too, even if, unlike the Phoenixes, he lost no memories.”

  “Your zombie angels are unnatural parasites who steal my life.” Anael uncurled from my lap. He had some swag talking back to the bloke who’d just had him kill himself. “Why would you expect them to come back whole?”

  “Now, now,” Rahab wagged his finger at him, “I can offer either a hug or a spank, don’t push me to worse.”

  “I would advise you not to touch me.” Anael’s eyes were wild, as he pushed himself into a crouch. I wet my lips, hunkering next to him.

  Rahab stared between us; his wings flamed behind him. Then he gritted out, “Brothers in the Legion.”

  “Bastard, no…” I launched myself at Rahab, but he blasted me back with his invisible magic that had paralyzed me before.

  Anael caught me, before laying me down; my muscles juddered. “My resurrection trick did not amuse you?” His lips curled up at one side of his mouth, yet his gaze was still dark and savage.

  This time, he lounged to his feet, impudently raising an eyebrow at Rahab.

  Killing Anael might’ve taught me a lesson, but it’d also taught Anael one: that he had a sister who loved him. It’d loosened Rahab’s hold over him. Maybe each resurrection reset something, until he’d been reconditioned again…

  “You both think that I’m a harsh father.” Was that wet glistening in Rahab’s eyes? “But you’ve been sheltered from the harsh truths. There are creatures, realms, and universes, which I hope you never discover. Do you believe that I’m doing anything more than preparing you for leadership of our Brotherhood? As if I’d…” Anael broke position, snaking his arms around Rahab’s neck and massaging his back; Rahab stiffened, before softening under the caresses. “You are my prince, Anael.”

  “Sorry to hurl all over your bonding moment, but you’re the prick who told him to break his own neck.” I stared at Rahab. “In the book of Sick Parenting Techniques, that’s Number One.”

  Rahab shrugged. “You’re a child of Lucifer who was raised amongst humans. A Glory. I’d be shocked if you did understand.” I paled, glowering at the way that my brother’s head rested on Rahab’s shoulder. “Have you not learned, with all your spying and plotting, that there’s a faction within the Legion who think a Glory has no place in the Brotherhood? They call you the False Pretender.”

  I forced myself not to glance at either Drake or Mischief: spying and plotting? Just how much did Rahab know?

  “How amusing,” Anael chuckled, “do I get to play with their insides?”

  At least when he’d been dead, I hadn’t shivered at my brother’s Dexter vibes

  Rahab tutted like Anael was the bright kid in class who’d missed the point of the lesson. “Don’t you see it? I raised you to be the Phoenix King: Champion of Light. But your sister stole that from you.”

  Anael shoved away from Rahab, trembling. “Is this a new game, father?”

  “Game?” Rahab soared into the air, pointing down into the courtyard, where Firebird slumped against the wall. “Only the one that we’ve trained towards your entire life. The battle for your birthright. You always needed a monster who was your equal to prove your worth against and look…I’ve found you one. If you lose now, your sister will take your place in the story. Rise, my savage prince, do not Fall.”

  Hell, the crazy bastard had dragged me back here to lay before Anael’s feet, in the same way that Anael had hunted Tiger. He’d needed me to grow into a worthy opponent for his own prince. Like with everything else on this island, Rahab had created a narrative of opposition: siblings battling to outdo each other: Rising or Falling.

  All along, I’d only been needed as my brother’s shadow.

  I bit hard on my lip, resting my hand reflexively on Star’s handle. I’d never be reduced to someone’s shadow again: Invisible, misfit, freakshow.

  I was the bitch of Utopia; I was the Silver Queen.

  When Anael twisted to me with his eyes blazing, I didn’t need to read his thoughts by telepathy because I was the only thing standing between him and his birthright. Then he’d be king.

  A rumbling roar.

  Anael spread out his wings and howled. He rushed towards me, scooping me in his arms, as he tumbled us both over the railing.

  I thrashed in his lime-scented hold, but his arms bound me like iron.

  Crunch — I landed un
derneath Anael in a feathered heap of bruises and fractured bones.

  I hollered, booting my heels in the puddles.

  “Unhand my Feathers, brute.” Firebird launched himself at Anael: a kid scrabbling on a giant’s back.

  Anael almost smiled, before he rammed his elbow into Firebird’s gut. Then he leapt off me, hauling Firebird by his neck to slam him against the wall.

  Crack — when Firebird’s head smashed on the rock, he whimpered.

  “You don’t discipline your Undeserving, and your slave dares to address me…?” Anael ran his hand over Firebird’s soft head of silver bristles, before whispering, “To think of the pride that you used to have in your pretty hair…”

  I’d forgotten that Anael must’ve known Nathanael. Yet he still treated him with such savagery, compared to the gentleness of the slap he’d given Tiger.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll always be the fairest of them all.” I drew Flight in one hand, who hummed her joy and agreement in the fight, and Star in the other: because a bitch could never have too many blades. “But according to Daddy Nero, only one of us is getting out of here with the title Champion of Light. Would you believe me if I said that I’d learned my lesson on the hollowness of the Phoenix Crown, so take the bastard?”

  Anael’s grin was fierce. “Sister, the Crown is mine; every world will kneel before me when I rise.” So, that’s what it feels like to have every hair on your body stand up at the same time… “And weapons aren’t sporting when I’m unarmed.”

  “What can I say?” I weaved the blades through the air as I stalked closer. “A bitch fights dirty.”

  Anael examined his nails, whilst spinning and pinning Firebird to his chest. “Surely not? Pity for you, I play without weapons at all.”

  The water around me heaved. Distracted, I glanced down, only to attempt — unsuccessfully — to tug away my feet from puddles, which had solidified to rock around my boots. I swayed, struggling not to fall over. Anael raised his eyebrow, jerking his head behind me. I twisted around, just as water gushed from the mouths of the masks at high pressure. I closed my eyes against the assault, which washed away my weapons.

  Water, water, water…

  I held my breath, as my skin felt scoured clean away from my muscles.

  At last, the jets petered out, and I gulped for air. When I opened my eyes, I found myself staring directly into my brother’s face. I bit back the scream.

  I was on Anael’s turf: his training ground. He could manipulate the castle like Rahab, and I stood between him and his deepest desire.

  I’d mourned his death, when I should’ve been mourning my own.

  Anael still held Firebird by the scruff of the neck.

  Firebird studied me; his gaze was desperate and aching with love that I didn’t deserve. “Tell me what to do, my Feathers. W-what should I do?”

  “Come, give orders to your slave. Are you not a queen?” Anael’s mocking smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Stick it,” I snarled, before meeting Firebird’s lost gaze and saying, softly, “You look to Rebel after—”

  “What?” Anael whispered, his fingers tracing my chin, as he tipped it up, bringing our faces together like he was mapping our family similarities, just as I had done. “After you die? After I kill you?” When I shuddered, he pressed even closer. “Yet I find that I have no desire to hurt my little sister.”

  I reached through my Blood Bond to Rebel, pulling his power into me, even as I hunched my shoulders like I was defeated. To my shock, Ash tugged on me as well: an outline of vampiric power. It fed into my own.

  “I love you, Anael, messed up as you are,” I murmured. “But I promised to save the world, even if that makes me the villain who does hurt you.”

  Anael’s confused gaze met mine. Then I seized the back of Anael’s neck, before I tore into his throat.

  23

  It was dangerous to shatter someone’s glass world, just as I’d brought down my brother’s by defeating him in Neptune’s Courtyard. The lies, pretenses, and dreams of their lives fell around both of you, slicing you to ribbons.

  Lime-tinted copper — my brother’s stolen blood and birthright — still coated my mouth, as I huddled on my bed in the Mirror Lodge. The violet ball of light crackled, dimming. I licked my tongue along my teeth, seeking out the taste of my brother: the connection. As if I could chase away the look of betrayal in his eyes the moment that my blunt canines had worried through his neck.

  Rebel and Ash knelt next to me on the covers, dipping cloths into a bowl of water and drawing them over my scraped elbows, cleaning out the dirt like they could wash away how I’d hurt Anael: the rush of his power between us, whilst I’d sucked his life into mine.

  How did Ash stop himself when he drank? How did any vampire become more than a killer? Yet Lucifer had taught them a way.

  Hell, kudos to the bastards because in that moment, with no one to hold me back, I’d buzzed on Anael’s magic and I’d risen on the magnificent call of Code and Brotherhood: to see the world kneel.

  Except, I’d fought against both my mum and dad forcing any world to their knees. I’d never be the same as them: a tyrant.

  I’d struggled to let go of Anael, stumbling back. Then he’d gracefully fallen to one knee in front of me.

  Why had he done that?

  My fingers bit grooves through the velvet cover. I’d hunted my brother, and by his twisted rules, I’d won. Then why did I have the feeling that Anael had done a Drake and thrown the fight?

  Let’s throw the whys in the trash and ride straight into celebration town.

  You beat the Butcher, Violet-fire. The crown now sits on your queenly head.

  Then why does my brother’s desperation, despair, and darkness shift through me? It’s like hot ash in my bastard arteries.

  You played the game by his hunters’ rules.

  Plus, if you put your mouth around something nasty, you’ll catch something, hooker.

  And you’ve just upped the Star Wars brother and sister cringe fest.

  Half-brother.

  It still counts, and never going there. Look, the Midas Mage bleeds Anael, then resurrects Phoenixes using his stolen life. And I just took Anael’s blood like…

  You were the same?

  Like I had a right to it.

  You’re wrong, girl. You took a walk on the vampiric side because you’re the true champion and queen, whereas your I could ride him into battle gladiator of a brother was never meant to be more than a prince.

  Don’t you feel it…?

  You’re scaring me and what’s worse…you’re tempting me.

  What’s to tempt? Your regal arse already knows that it’s true. The only question is: now you’ve become the highest rank in the Brotherhood, how far will you go to bring this cult crashing down?

  After all, we both know that winning a place here as honored queen is your deepest wish come true…

  I snarled — alive to myself once again — diving off the bed. The water bowl tipped over; rusty coils spilled out, staining the covers. Ash snatched Rebel’s hands like he didn’t dare let go in case Rebel vanished; purple that deepened to black still noosed Rebel’s neck.

  Rebel wasn’t dressed in the shift anymore, at least. I shuddered to see him wearing his spiked collar and leather coat again. Yet the reality was overwhelming. Rebel was alive, but I’d almost lost him.

  I shook my fuzzy head, focusing instead on an attempt to remember. After the heady drink of blood, followed by Anael kneeling…what’d happened…?

  I clenched my fists, but the buzz of borrowed magic and victory had blurred the memory.

  When I stared around the chamber, I noticed Firebird’s bowed head. He knelt in the far corner next to the mirror; his small body was mottled with bruises. Ceri knelt next to him, rubbing into the skin over his ribs a lavender paste, which I hoped was for healing because my brother had kicked Firebird’s arse epic style.

  Yet I sprawled on a bed, whilst Firebird knelt on the floor
because he was a slave.

  Not in the world of the Silver Queen.

  When I prowled towards Firebird, he quivered, bowing his head lower.

  Ceri set aside the bowl of paste, wiping his finger sensually clean of it down the center of Firebird’s curved back; Firebird whimpered. “There’s a lush sight: our sexy champion, just like I knew you’d become, see.” He kissed the back of Firebird’s neck with a tenderness that shook me. Nathanael had been a Discipliner: the bastards who’d trained, beaten, and stolen Ceri’s wings. Yet Ceri handled Firebird now that he’d been raised a Phoenix, as gently as woven glass…like his death had absolved him. Ceri sighed dramatically. “Will my queen still not play with me?”

  “I thought that we were done playing?” I dropped to my knees in front of Firebird, pulling him onto my lap.

  Whoever Firebird been before, now he was mine.

  Firebird peeked up at me through thick lashes, resting his head on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, my Feathers,” he muttered, “for failing you. Please punish me.”

  My guts twisted. “You could never fail me.” My gaze met with Ceri’s; Ceri leaned forward, massaging Firebird’s shoulder, even as he furrowed his own brow in concern. “You’re my fam and…” Hell, I hoped that Ash and Rebel were listening too. “…that means I’ll always have your back. It doesn’t matter what you do, I’ll love you because that’s what fam means.”

  “I’m getting a piece of this loving.” Ceri whooped, swooping in to nip light kisses down my neck. I squirmed, shifting Firebird to one side, although he clasped onto my hand. I glimpsed his smirk, however, when Ceri dug his thumbs into my feathers, and my breath hitched. “Do you know the torture you’ve put me through with only my hand — and this whole fantasy with you in kinky Domme mode — to get me through?”

  “We tried that fantasy in the Under World: it sucked.” Ash soared across the chamber, enveloping my other side with his wings. “Although, Violet in kinky bondage wear was hot.”