Had I failed the Halflings already?
I ran my hands over Spark, who leaned into the touch with a sigh, and then Blaze, who squirmed, whilst checking for flinches that they couldn’t hide: signs that the Overseer had harmed them.
Finally, Blaze batted me away with a hiss. “Will you leave off fussing. The worst Gabriel’s done is snuggle us at night, the big Jessie.”
I stiffened. “You’re on first name terms with your captor now?”
The ancient powers spat and sparked that my Halflings had been…what…?
Snuggling with the enemy?
“Don’t be daft,” Blaze snorted. “He—”
“Nay, she’s not daft.” Spark blinked up at me through his thick lashes. “Our Keeper’s protecting us because she…” He caught himself, before rubbing his ears under my chin. “…Likes our foxie hides in one piece.”
Loves…?
I’d heard it, even though Spark had been quick to hide his painful yearning.
Hell, all I knew was that joy spiraled at the feel of Spark nestled in my arms. It wasn’t the same as the love, which blazed through me for Rebel, Ash, Mischief, and Drake... It was softer, just like Spark.
But it burned as brightly.
Blaze snatched Spark by the scruff of his neck, rolling him onto his stomach. Then he sank his teeth into his brother’s arse.
Spark yelped, scrabbling onto my shoulders, like I had a magic teeth extraction spell. Of course, he was right: it was called Bitch Voice.
“Teeth out of arse, or my hand will be connecting with your arse,” I snarled.
Reluctantly, Blaze drew back. Was he pouting? That was a cute look with his fox ears…and high up on my List of Things Never to Tell a Halfling.
I pulled Spark into my arms. He whimpered, at the same time as casting an indignant glance over his shoulder at his brother. “Stop with the Thor and Loki impression. Why the sudden need to cannibalize your brother?”
“I’ve warned him enough that my fangs would be taking a trip to his backside,” Blaze muttered, like a chastened school…fox, except that his tail still bristled with anger. “That numptie’s been weeping and wailing after you, ever since Gabriel took us in, risking his own godly neck. Yet even now he has to pretend. Will you not see that Gabriel’s as much a prisoner here, as we are?”
The Overseer — Gabriel — was as trapped as us? Had Gabriel truly been working to free us from the Angel Games? For the sake of Blaze and Spark?
“But the bastard’s in charge of the Games…” I spluttered.
“Aye,” Blaze leaned over me, drawing his hand gently down the back of my arm, even as he rubbed his nose in near apology through the feathers of Spark’s wing, “didn’t he pass on our messages?”
“Trust me,” Spark murmured; his gaze was hopeful. “It’s what you’d say. So, then you’d know that it was one of us. Trust…”
I was going to hurl. Why hadn’t I recognized my own words shanking me in the back?
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “That was genius-1000, but I was riding the deity dragon, and the rush addled my brains. I might’ve made a teensy-weensy mistake with Gabriel.”
Blaze growled. That was both intimidating and hot. “How teensy-weensy?”
“I screwed-up your escape plan: I didn’t — exactly — win the games. I might’ve rebelled, instead. And that epic fail makes me Gabriel’s spoils.” Blaze bared his teeth; no way were they going near my arse. “Maybe he’s been babysitting the vampire Halflings, but he’s also been lynching full-grown vampires: the bastard has been hurting my dad…and Ash.”
Blaze instantly stilled: I hadn’t forgotten that Blaze was Ash’s fanboy. He clenched his fists, bowing his head.
Spark threw himself off me, sore arse forgotten, as he wrapped his wings around his brother. “Ash will be safe, safe, safe…”
Blaze nodded. “I’ll make sure of it.” Then he knocked his brother sprawling to the floor with a yelp and marched to the archway. “Get your numptie self in here, Gabriel.”
I jumped up, reaching for Flight. My sword hummed in my hands, heating and wriggling as she readied for battle.
Maybe I shouldn’t have stirred the Ash Pot: Blaze had a bastard death wish.
When the grille slid open, Gabriel sloped through with his hands clasped behind his back. He didn’t meet my gaze. Instead, he cast a furtive glance at Blaze.
What the hell had happened to the Seraphim of the Angel Games, who’d unleashed judgment on me?
Apparently, he was busy scuffing his bare feet against the legs of a satin armchair, which sprawled next to the bed. He glanced up only to wave a hand at the opal blinds, which clacked down like a glimmering waterfall: the sun gave vampires a bastard of a migraine.
Did Gabriel truly care?
“Where’s Ash and the other lads?” Blaze shoved Gabriel into the armchair, straddling him and nipping at his neck.
What. The. Hell?
Gabriel in his Overseer Mode would’ve blasted Blaze with fire, rained down lava-wrath, or at least not wriggled with blushing shame.
With the power that he had, Gabriel was allowing himself to be dominated by a vampire, Halfing or not. What use could that be to his politics?
“On my wing, it’s the least punishment that I could conceive. Besides, it means that they’re free of the Abyss. Do I not at least rate gratitude for the risk?” Gabriel ran his hands up Blaze’s thighs, tangling his fingers through Blaze’s tail.
“Snuggling rights denied, bastard.” I sheathed Flight, although I circled closer. A warm, earthy scent of amber prickled the back of my nose. It wasn’t harsh like I’d expected. Instead, its velvety richness relaxed my shoulders, until I almost sank down to bury my head in Gabriel’s broad wings. Why did I ache to protect him, as much as I feared him? “What punishment? Where’s…?”
“The true bastard?” I startled at Gabriel’s blistering return to Overseer fury, as he swept Blaze into a bridal carry with four of his wings. Blaze snarled but couldn’t break free, as Gabriel stormed to a second window, whose blind snapped up: it looked out over a tiny courtyard. Blaze whined at the sudden light. Gabriel was as mercurial and volatile as the volcano that he controlled; any submission that he granted Blaze was no more than play. “He’s taking a child’s punishment. But then, perhaps you believe him weaker than me? My half-brothers and I are punished with the dark and have been since we were born.” He couldn’t mask his shudder, even though his gaze was hard. “Tell me, have you spoiled your family so with the light, that they’ll break at its absence?”
Gabriel waved casually across the courtyard at a row of low windowless cells behind steel doors.
Kids were locked in there as punishment? Gabriel still was? And right now, my family was trapped in the dark, even Ash. I’d tried to save him from the nightmare that had broken him under the witches, only to ensure this torment.
At last, Blaze managed to wrestle free, glaring out at the cells.
Crack — I slammed Gabriel across the windowsill, clutching him around the neck.
His throat bobbed under my hand, as he swallowed.
“Let them out now,” I demanded.
“If you had only followed my direction, sister,” Gabriel rasped, “I’d have no need for this petty show of vengeance. But everything is appearance or did your time in the human realm quite melt whatever brains the Fire God granted you?”
I shook, struggling to resist the waves of amber, which ached through every feather that Gabriel was to be cherished.
Yet where the hell had that come from because I wasn’t the type of bitch to do the whole romance package, even if the way Gabriel’s ebony eyelashes curved onto his cheek made me want to kiss him, until he looked up at me: wanted me too.
Was that his Angelic Power: to make others think that he was weaker than he was? Mischief had pulled the same trick.
“You’re not my brother.” I let go of Gabriel’s throat. Anael — my true half-brother, who I’d discovered in Mage Drake’s
castle — was somewhere alone in this labyrinth of temple courts. He’d never even been allowed out of the castle before: how would he be able to survive? “I already have a brother.”
Gabriel’s gaze softened. “You’re a Child of the Seraphim, who my father seeded. It’s not a full sister, but I rather think I have some claim.”
I stumbled backwards.
How could you tell me to trust the sexy sultan, J? He’s—
Archduke Gabriel, son of the Emperor. My fabulous son…and Mischief’s half-brother.
If he’s Mischief’s brother, why did he humiliate Mischief? And don’t give me the politics line because I know personal when it’s hurting my bloke.
You should know the rivalry between siblings, Feathery-treasure. Plus, only one son can be seen to have the strength.
As I still have all Jahael’s memories, however, I’ll hold my hands up: I’m not playing Switzerland in this war.
Have you ever been?
Gabriel massaged his throat, tapping at the sapphire choker, whilst studiously ignoring Blaze’s death stare. “I’m the Firstborn,” he explained, before chuckling, although the mirth didn’t reach his eyes. “Lucky me.”
Suddenly, the gate at the back of the chamber burst open, and a kid Wing with flowing onyx hair tumbling across his face soared into the Gilded Cage. He circled above my head on tiny violet wings, giggling. He was dressed in an identical indigo satin outfit to Gabriel, except for his choker. “Foxies!” He chorused, diving gleefully on Blaze and Spark.
“Archduke!” Blaze and Spark singsonged back like this was a practiced routine as familiar as family.
Maybe it was.
Why did my chest ache that I’d missed out on their new connection with Gabriel and his brother?
Hell, these were Mischief’s brothers too.
I couldn’t help the grin, as the newest Little Brother Archduke (and how many sons and daughters did Jahael have?), landed in Spark’s arms, petting his ears and squirming, until Spark crouched down onto all fours. Little Brother Archduke squealed with delight, as he jumped onto Spark’s back and rode him, holding onto his tail, as if it was a rudder of a ship.
I masked my laughter as a cough: marking that as Official Blackmail Material.
Then I glanced at Gabriel warily. Would he turn on the Big Brother stern-face at the interruption? Tame his little brother, as he had Mischief?
Instead, Gabriel sauntered to the armchair, stretching out in it with an indulgent smile. I shivered at the glimpse of the bloke behind the illusions, tricks, and deceptions: to something honest and real.
To his love.
He’d just shown his belly: the soft place to shank him. Was I the only one who’d know to use that against him?
The Little Brother Archduke, whose long hair had been caught back on one side with a pearl clip, tumbled off Spark and swooped towards me, clasping me around the waist.
I froze.
Blaze snorted. “The rascal’s a hugger, not an assassin.”
I relaxed, smoothing my hand across the boy’s wings, as he purred and nestled closer. Why were my eyes prickling with tears, simply from his small arms around my waist and the memory of the Broken kids that I’d saved? When I ran my hand along his back, however, he flinched.
Just like I’d feared Spark and Blaze would, if they’d been injured.
Who was hurting the Emperor’s son?
Silver stormed, violent with shadows; I steadied my breathing to force it to calm again. I cupped the back of Little Brother Archduke’s head, pressing a kiss to the warm crown.
Then he pulled back from me, slipping his hand into the pocket of my jeans like he was the Artful Dodger. Except, he’d left something behind, rather than stealing it.
I inched my fingers into my pocket, feeling the edges of a feather. At the touch, Rebel’s bond slammed through me: love with such force that I had to fight to stop my knees buckling.
What magic was in this feather… Rebel’s feather?
How did the royal kid know Rebel?
Little Brother Archduke kept his gaze down as he ambled to Gabriel, perching on his lap. Gabriel enclosed him in all six of his wings, rocking him backwards and forwards. Gabriel’s face was lit with a radiant smile like the sun, and I was desperate for him to turn such warmth on me as well.
It was so different to his usual defense of sarcasm.
Nope, no doubting that this was Mischief Mark Two. Although, maybe with a more psychotic flavor… Unlike Mischief, however, his older brother was full Seraphim, rather than only half, and had been brought up in this freaky temple by Jahael, and I’d stake my perky arse on the Emperor not being Mr Unconditional Love.
Yet despite that, Gabriel had risked his position as Firstborn to save Blaze and Spark and then to help me in the Angel Games, even if I hadn’t understood the message.
And still didn’t trust him.
I shuffled my feet, pulling my fingers away from the Rebel bonded feather with difficulty and rubbing my palms down the front of my trousers instead. “Cheers…” I muttered.
“Holy, holy, holy day: thanks from the creator’s favorite new toy.” I winced at the sharpness of Gabriel’s tone, yet his radiant smile was turned on me now, and I swallowed at the strength of the tingles surging through me: the hunger to show him how precious he was.
I shook my head in confusion.
Wait, stop the besotted bus: when had I ever thought of anyone as precious?
I sniffed at the soft amber scent suspiciously. Yet I still wished that I could bottle his smile and wear it around my neck in the pouch, along with my sister Jade’s angel necklace.
I shrugged.
“Would it be thanks for freeing you from the Angel Games, saving your family, or having the Guardian travel through Gateways in search of…” Gabriel wrinkled his nose. “Tortilla chips.”
I grinned. “All of the above.”
“Why, the feathers and bones shall turn to milk and honey.” I rolled my eyes at his theatrics. “Maybe you are the Queen that Spark wept for nightly.”
“God, bro, I’ve been upgraded.”
Gabriel sighed, before grasping his Little Brother Archduke by the chin and tilting his head. “Diniel, as much as you delight us with your presence, do you have permission to visit me?” The Archduke — Diniel — screwed up his nose, as if in deep thought, whilst he bit his lip: no way did he have permission. “Because I know Istafil, our Beloved Imperial Favorite,” and I’d never heard anyone manage to make a name sound more like a curse, “banned you as punishment, or did your magic advance to memory alteration, and she’s conveniently forgotten quite how much she detests us?”
“Well, I hate her too!” Diniel pulled away from Gabriel. He was shaking; his small fists were clenched, even though tears pooled in the corners of his eyes. Gabriel startled, as if horrified that his teasing had led to his brother’s outburst. “The Mongrel Witch doesn’t scare me.”
“She shall, if she ever catches you calling her that,” Gabriel hissed.
I glanced between them.
Witches did scare me because I knew the terrible things that they could do…that they loved to do.
“What’s the deal with this bitch?” I asked.
Gabriel’s mouth tightened. “I hope that you never need to know the answer to your question. She rules over the Beloveds in the Forbidden Court — my father’s toys — just as she has dominion over his children.”
“Toys?” I glanced at Diniel, whilst I struggled not to growl. “You’re not talking about his collection of Star Wars Lego and remote-controlled dinosaurs here…? You mean a bastard harem.”
Gabriel wouldn’t meet my eye. “It’s tradition.”
“So’s eating Brussel sprouts at Christmas; it doesn’t make it right.”
Spark padded closer, running his hand over Diniel’s wing. “Let’s get you back to the Forbidden Court.”
Diniel shifted off Gabriel’s knee with a sniffle, before sadly clutching Spark’s hand.
/> “Wait…” Gabriel surged up, swinging his brother around and holding him fiercely to his chest, before dropping him down again. “I’ll take him back. We’ll brave the Mongrel Witch together.” Diniel gasped, scandalized, before sniggering.
Unexpectedly, the wings on my top pulsed; the diamonds squealed.
Danger.
I drew Star, my dagger, whirling around, whilst I waited for the enemy to attack.
“Don’t worry, my lambs,” the sultry but spiteful voice sprang from the shadows, which slowly rose into the burning shadow of a woman. Diniel whimpered, clinging more tightly onto Gabriel’s hand. “I’m already here.”
Istafil had been spying on us.
My top vibrated even faster against my skin in warning.
How long had she been listening? Did she know that Gabriel had helped us?
Spark and Blaze circled closer, protectively.
The fire shadow sashayed towards Diniel and Gabriel with a swing of her hips. A fragrant Damask rose scent snaked around me; I choked. “Two bad little sons, their pets, and a naughty daughter, who need to be reminded of love’s burn. After all, I am the Mongrel Witch, isn’t that your name for me, my Flames…?”
“Bastard, no…” My eyes widened.
I hurled myself in front of Diniel, just as Istafil blasted towards Diniel’s chest winding ribbons of fire.
5
Growing up in Jerusalem Children’s Home, I’d weave stories about the mum and dad who’d abandoned me at birth. Fantastical and thrilling, the more I told them, the less I had to believe the nagging reality that no one wanted to adopt the freaky-eyed orphan.
Yet there was another type of kid in the home: the ones who had parents, but who’d spent their lives making up stories in which they’d been born orphans.
Because it’s family who can hurt us the most.
I cringed, closing my eyes and expecting Istafil’s flame ribbons, which had shot across the Gilded Cage, to burn me.
When instead, nothing seared me, and even the diamonds on my top had stopped vibrating at the danger, I cracked open my eyes.
Rebel Angels: The Complete Series Page 106
