Rebel Angels: The Complete Series

by Rosemary A Johns

  Abyss wasn’t sounding like Lollypop Land for Fairies. And dying wasn’t on my to-do list.

  “Sorry, bro, but I don’t take orders from freaky disembodied body parts. Plus, wallowing in fruitless rutting…?” I caressed Mischief’s sensitive wings, until he arched against me. “If you weren’t just the voyeur but had the balls to be part of this feathery ride, you’d know that it’s worth living for, even bringing my fam back to life.”

  The Overseer’s eyes narrowed. A blast of cool mint, sweet with honey, blew Mischief and me back.

  Crack — my head slammed against the wall.

  I groaned.

  “Oh, here’s an idea, beastly deity,” Mischief cradled his nose, which had smacked into the scaled wall next to me, “how about not taunting the powerful Overseer, whilst we’re trapped in the angelic Hunger Games?”

  I shrugged. “We’re already caught in your nightmare. What’s the worst that Twinkle Eyes can do?”

  Mischief sighed. “And you consider it’s I who needs a gag?”

  The Overseer’s lush lips chuckled. “We have only been playing, brothers and sisters. What else does one do with toys?”

  When boa constrictors slithered out of the floor, Mischief scrabbled backwards, and I yelped, hauled after him by the shackles. This was just like the snake attack at the witches’ house, as if the Overseer had reached into Mischief’s mind and plucked out a horror to punish us both.

  Yeah, Mischief might’ve had a point on the Overseer baiting.

  Mischief whimpered, scrabbling at his own chest, whilst the snakes coiled up his trousers. I growled, unsheathing Star, my dagger. Then I took a breath, before I plunged it through the coils.

  The snake exploded in a spray of glitter.

  Cheers and polite clapping.

  Wearily, I looked up to see our Seraphim audience shimmering in and out above our heads.

  Invisible, the Seraphim only made their presence known at victories or failures: which had this been?

  Each angel god had six silvery violet wings, which fluttered more like arms. Red-dyed feathers had been woven into their silver hair, which matched the crimson satins that flowed off them, as if they were flaming matches. I quailed before the rolling waves of buzzing power, which called to my own.

  Ever since I’d entered The Burning Temple of the Seraphim, there’d been a static thrumming beneath my skin. As soon as I’d battled in the Angel Games, it’d blazed through both angelic and vampiric sides of my nature. It’d sung to me of something deeper inside: a craving to meet my creator.

  To take Jahael’s power.

  My breath hitched, and I shivered.

  Why the hell was I coming over all Game of Thrones? Perhaps that’s why Jahael had refused Mischief and me an audience, and perhaps it’s why I was so desperate for one.

  The Seraphim faded back to invisibility, even if I could still feel the bastards watching. The burning power dwindled too, until I reined in the autocrat and remembered Mischief’s personal fear had just come to life.

  I ran my hands down Mischief’s tremoring arms, stilling his hands, which had gouged scarlet furrows down his pale chest. His eyes were glazed, and I knew that he was lost in the Lower Vault of Castle Drake with the snakes… I’d rescued him then too. Except, he hadn’t believed that it’d been out of love.

  Did he believe it now?

  At last, Mischief’s gaze focused on me. “Why would you save me, when I brought you here?” I hated the insecurity in his eyes. “I should be no more than your prisoner or hostage after I—”

  “Trapped us in this freakshow of a realm?”

  Mischief gave a short nod. “How can you trust a sly traitor?”

  My gaze hardened. “Who said anything about trust?” Mischief flinched. “We need to survive together. Then we’ll rescue our fam because you can pretend that you don’t care but you have their back, as much as you have mine. You know what though? I’ll kick your arse if you go searching for Jahael as a Sith mentor for your dark side.”

  Mischief bristled. “How precisely do you know that he wouldn’t be a Jedi?”

  “Pleasure Pavilion with torture rooms Yoda scream it doesn’t.”

  Mischief’s lips quirked into a grin, which he couldn’t hide fast enough. He pouted. “Childish.” Then he curled his hand into mine. “Do you imagine that this is the greeting I hoped for from my father? Hated by my mother and scorned by the other mages for my feminine magic, simply because Jahael enjoyed walking amongst other worlds and creating bastards…like me.”

  I licked my dry lips. “Being shackled to me and thrown into death games isn’t your deepest desire? Why not? I’m legendary.”

  I tangled Mischief’s legs with mine, tumbling him over in a flash of leather. He laughed, rubbing his hands down the tight trousers, which I’d been dressed in, before I’d been shoved into the Games. Then he traced along my top that glistened with purple diamonds in the outline of six Seraphim wings, which pulsed when danger was near.

  “I shan’t call you beast anymore,” Mischief mused. “Or my Sailor Moon. How about—”

  “Your god?”

  Mischief hissed. “Tempting, although blasphemous, but no… You will be my sultan’s jewel.”

  I snorted. “Your daddy’s the sultan.”

  “Who’s seeded inside you as well… Wait, are your diamonds pulsing or are you just pleased to see me?”

  I peeked down at the angel wings that were threaded onto my top.

  Hell…

  “Don’t let us interrupt your scintillating drama,” the Overseer drawled. His eyes widened into spinning vortexes. Why did his sarcasm remind me of Mischief’s? “You’re worshiping the Fire God, may his will always stand, through your battles in the Games, although one would’ve thought it was through your—”

  “Sassy charm?” I cocked my head. “Epic violet boots? Love?”

  “It’ll be the boots,” Mischief muttered. “Knee-high leather… We’ve all got a thing about your boots. Although, maybe he should be worshiping your boots…?”

  “I thought we weren’t taunting all powerful pink lips?”

  Mischief shrugged. “That was before the snake trick. Now I fully intend to make it out of Court One and to hurt him with more than words.”

  “Holy Competitors, I merely fulfill my duty, as must you.” Was that concern in the Overseer’s voice? I grinned. “And if you love, then burn with it.”

  Light flared through the room.

  Blinded, I raised my arm over my eyes. My top flashed a warning.

  Screech.

  I rolled Mischief to the side, as a flaming crimson creature with a horn on its head swooped past him.

  I paled, whilst my pulse thundered. “Either I’ve been sucking on the crazy juice, or that’s a—”

  “Dragon,” Mischief snapped.

  “I was going with My Little Unicorn’s on Fire.”

  Mischief arched his brow. “We may wish to work on the survival part of our plan now.”

  Screech, screech, screech.

  Three more dragons, like they’d been set alight and were pissed about it, plunged out of the gloom.

  Mischief threw me to the side this time. He howled, as he was caught between the dragons’ burning flanks. I slapped at Mischief’s singed feathers, putting out the embers, whilst he hissed.

  Screech, screech, screech.

  Mischief and I stared at each other. Three more dragons? What was this: Snow White and the Seven Freaky-horned Dragons?

  I gripped Mischief’s hand. “Bastard run…”

  Mischief and I stumbled through the undulating room, whilst the leg shackles clanked and tugged painfully, towards the glass gate at the end and the only exit into the inner room of the Pavilion.

  Please, let it open…

  A dragon swooped overhead; its sharp claws scratched along my scalp in fiery brands. I tripped, but Mischief caught my elbow pulling me on towards the gate.

  Clang, clang, clang.

  “Open sesame
!” I pounded on the glass. It’d never worked before, but sometimes even a god was desperate enough to reach for the classics. “Divine knocking on heaven’s door, bitches.”

  And sometimes, less of the classics.

  Mischief twisted me to face the Serpent’s Chamber again. “I always imagined that I’d make a noble St George.” He cast me a sidelong glance. “Until you came along and slew the dragons for me.”

  “Looks like you’ll get your chance.” I tightened my hold on Mischief’s hand. “Unless we’re now playing the role of damsel sacrifice, and I swore that I’d never be the damsel.”

  The dragon brothers snorted, as they turned as one: they had no problem working together, but then how long had they been trapped down here? Unless, they were only illusions, as the snakes had been.

  The dragons felt real enough, however, as they soared towards Mischief and me. When the dragons’ mouths opened, shooting out flames towards us, we recoiled — trapped against the gate — and I howled against the heat of the towering inferno.

  2

  When Rebel had trained me as a huntress, he’d taught me that killing should only be to save others, or else you’d become a monster too. During an apocalypse, Mischief had fought to stop me transforming into Lucifer’s beast who was infected with a spark that enthralled men to sacrifice their lives. Here in the Pleasure Pavilion, however, the Seraphim killed for sport.

  And Mischief and I were their playthings.

  The heat of the dragons’ breath scorched my skin and singed my hair in a stinking rush. I screwed shut my eyes against the brutal blaze.

  Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t…

  Mischief’s fingers slipped from mine in the dark.

  My heartbeat — thud, thud, thudded — in my ears, drowning out the rumble of the flames. I scrabbled, clawing along the glass of the gate to reach Mischief again. If this was my time to go out in a blaze of glory, then I wanted…needed…to know that he stood at my side.

  Still, this was the last room before the center of the Pleasure Pavilion and the final battle to win the Angel Games; it’d be an epic fail to be killed, when the end level boss was just through these gates.

  I clasped Mischief’s wrist, edging his stiff fingers between mine.

  “Trust me,” the Overseer’s supercilious voice whispered like winding silk into my mind.

  I jolted, as the gate melted. Then I was tumbling through, away from the seven dragon brothers and the Serpent Chamber and into the final room of the Pleasure Pavilion.

  Oomph — I landed hard on the ruby floor.

  For long moments, I lay gasping and choking.

  Lips caressed against mine, sucking away the burns, blisters, and pain…healing me.

  I struggled to open my eyes, whilst Mischief vibrated with the dual agony of his own roasting and mine as well: his Angelic Power took my pain. His skin was waxy pale with the effort. I stroked his hair, which was damp with sweat, behind his ear. How many times had he suffered to save me now? At last, he broke away with a shudder, before resting his head on my chest.

  “The Overseer did promise that we would burn.” Mischief tilted his head. “But then, I imagine that he must have to compensate for something, since the insufferable bully lacks anything but eyes and a mouth.”

  I shifted to my knees, remembering the Overseer’s secret whisper.

  Why had the Overseer rescued Mischief and me? We should be dragon fodder, but the Overseer had allowed us through into the final room, even if he’d used my own demands for trust to skewer me.

  Had the mysterious bastard been helping us all along?

  I glanced around and then whimpered.

  I shoved myself back against the sparkling wall, which rose above my head so high that I couldn’t even see where it ended. When seven blazing dragon statues burst from the walls, I clutched Mischief’s tunic, yanking him closer. The vast chamber stank of sulfur; the smoke from the statues stung my eyes. The Pavilion was spherical, and in its center was the deep Abyss. I shivered at the blackness.

  Was it as deep as it was high?

  When I’d lived amongst the humans, I’d designed a computer game, Angels vs Vampires, where vampires had crawled deformed out of a pit to be battled by the golden perfection of angels. I’d since learned that there was no such thing as perfection, and that in the epic war between angels and vampires I was the Protector for both sides.

  Yet here was the pit.

  Delicate fingers caught my jaw, turning my chin away from the gaping Abyss.

  Mischief studied me, before kissing me tenderly, just once, behind the ear. “My, have I lost all my charms, that our impending death at the hands of whatever hideous creature slithers out of the depths takes up all of your attention, jewel?”

  I spluttered with laugher. “Not in the land of belly dancing centaurs.” I rubbed my thumb over Mischief’s wingtip, and he leaned into me with a sharp intake of breath.

  “Exhibitionist,” he sniffed.

  “Prude.”

  “The Abyss, unless your impending death has less value to you than the hardness in your trousers, brother, is where the Fallen are damned.” The Overseer’s eyes shone out of the blackness below us.

  I jerked: how had I known that, when I’d designed my computer game? Humans called Fallen angels vampires. Had J, who’d been seeded in me by Jahael since birth, also brought memories of the Seraphim?

  I choked on the clouds of smoke, which drifted from the dragon statues, then licked across my dry lips.

  How long had it been since I’d had anything to drink?

  “You thirst, sister?” The Overseer’s voice softened.

  Had he caught my thought? Was the bastard reading my mind?

  Fluffy puppies snuggling out of the pit, all my family safe, and…

  The Overseer chuckled. “By His wing, I’m no jinn. I assure you, I have no reason to compensate for anything…so, I can be merciful. Drink.”

  The ruby floor dipped to create a pool of crimson water.

  I shook but I forced myself not to dive on the water. “Not on your freaky eyes, bro. If witches have taught me one lesson, it’s don’t take drinks from your captors. Poison me once, yeah?” Mischief’s hand hovered over the pool, and I swiped it away. “Seriously? I had to watch your crazy arse drinking at the Head Coven and not even know…” I couldn’t help the way that my voice wavered with the memory of Mischief unconscious. Suddenly, my neck was warm with the awareness of the Seraphim shimmering in and out and feasting on my distress. Was Jahael watching? “You could’ve died and…”

  “You almost sound sincere in your concern.” I startled at Mischief’s hesitant tone, as he scrutinized me. With a lifetime of mistreatment by Glories — female angels — did he still not understand that I’d meant my love? Could he ever truly love a Glory? “Drinking was less painful than the alternative, as it will be now. Or is this a case of: you can lead a beast to water, but you can’t make it drink?”

  Stung, I reached for the water.

  “Without using your hands,” the Overseer commanded, smugly.

  I flushed: what was this, Domination 101?

  Mischief rolled his eyes. “Allow me to be your Official Taster.”

  His cheeks blushed, as his pink tongue lapped at the pool.

  Titters.

  Mischief’s shoulders hunched, whilst the Seraphim crowded closer.

  I got Mischief’s humiliation because I was a queen, but he was an Archduke, and these were his people. Returning the long-lost bastard, he hadn’t expected that they’d throw a parade, but being shamed and tortured had to be a boot to the balls.

  Note to self: no more pissing contests with the Overseer. He didn’t need a prick to be one.

  Mischief curled his wings around himself as if in comfort against the catcalls.

  Screw Mischief being my taster. If he could become the Seraphim’s dog for me, then I could for him: we’d be their bitches together.

  I bowed my head over the pool; th
e water smelled sickly sweet of roses. Before I could take a long lick, however, soft feathers tickled my nose.

  Mischief’s wing hovered beneath my face like a feathered bowl with water pooled in its softness.

  I shot Mischief a glance.

  Mischief shrugged. “Hands free…” I grinned as I lapped at the rosewater, taking care to suck at each feather because a bitch has to be grateful to her squire. I fluttered my eyelashes at Mischief, who groaned at the sensation, struggling not to spill the water. “Insufferable minx…” Suddenly, Mischief slumped, wrapping his wings around me. “I m-may have made a t-tiny miscalculation…”

  “What the hell…?” I shook him.

  Mischief’s eyes were glazed, as he wheezed. The six purple Seraphim wings on my top pulsed. “Now you tell me that it’s dangerous, bitches?” I pinched one of the diamonds, and it squeaked indignantly. “How about an early warning system next time?”

  My gaze became blurry too; a numbing sensation crept through my body from the pins and needles in my toes to the tips of my fingers.

  Nope, not getting good tinglies from being right about the bastard water.

  Violet and black spiraled inside me in righteous fury at the Overseer; it buzzed beneath my skin. The Overseer asked for trust, but in The Burning Temple, there was nothing but deception.

  “Only cowards poison.” I shot an arc of violet flames towards the traitorous eyes.

  The eyes blinked out, before appearing in blazing fury above our heads, whilst the giant lips hissed, “In the name of the Most Worshiped Love, the Emperor, I merely anointed you, fit to meet the Damned.” The lips quirked. “Surely anything worth winning is hard? Or would you like me to make it easy for you, insignificant ones?”

  “Let me think about that… Of course, I wish you to make it easy,” Mischief panted. “I’ve always been insignificant: please, go ahead and try to shame me into the hero’s way. You have no idea what I’ve sacrificed or the true battles that I’ve fought, none of which have been upon stages for applause. So, easy it is.”