Rebel Vampires: The Complete Series

by Rosemary A Johns

  “No!” Captain shook the computer like he could stop past me, flopping back onto his seat in shock, as Plantagenet’s scream echoed, and the blood spurted.

  Captain turned an appalled look on me, as if I’d just stomped on a butterfly. I guess that I had. “What did you do?”

  I forced myself to meet his gaze. “One leader of the Renegades: dead or alive. That was it, right?”

  “He was...?” Captain shook his head, as if clearing it of monstrous thoughts.

  You wouldn’t guess that the bloke had noshed his way through his entire family.

  “First I got grabbed and tested on at these research labs,” I burst out. “Then I’m rescued, and it turns out that it’s by the Renegades. Plantagenet? He was their leader. Now I’ve kept my side of your blackmail, so you give me Donovan, and we’ll be on our way.”

  Captain considered me, steepling his fingers. “Why? What does this prove? Except that you’re a murderer, and I already knew that you’re a yob. Your files detail your penchant for familicide.”

  “It’s not exactly a penchant…”

  “But this latest? A Magnificoe?” Captain’s fingers curled around his desk. “You’ll be answering to the Order of Electors over Plantagenet’s death. They’re hardly in the twentieth century, let alone the twenty-first. They have no place in our future, but one thing I’ll say for them: they will make you regret this. I only wish I could be the one to ensure that regret.”

  I shrugged. “If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride.”

  When Captain lunged over the table, security held me still by my arms.

  Fair fight, then?

  I tensed, but Captain’s Blackberry beeped. He paused mid blow to search through his messages. Then Captain’s face lit up. He tucked the Blackberry back in the pocket of his trousers, before forcing open my mouth and tracing over my teeth…one…at…a…time.

  No way was I letting Captain defile my fangs again.

  “Three guesses who that was?” He smiled.

  “Eminem?” I garbled through his fingers, “Donald Trump? Robert Pattinson?”

  Captain wrenched his hand out of my mouth and slapped me hard across the cheek. “Wrong. It was a ghost.”

  “I didn’t reckon you believed in all that.”

  “I’m a convert…since Plantagenet messaged me and sent evidence that you’re the Renegades’ leader.”

  I paled, taking a step back. “You’re lying.”

  Captain grinned. “Maybe. At least, somebody has betrayed you — Renegade. Oh joy! Now I get to break you again and I was so worried that I’d have to restrain myself.” Captain placed his hand almost tenderly over the print with which he’d marked my cheek. “I shall burn you. But first will come the dark.”

  You gave yourself up to Captain? To us? You sacrificed yourself with a staged betrayal?

  There was no Judas?

  You got it in one.

  Why? Such absurd…

  Risk?

  Stupidity.

  You must’ve known that Captain hated you more than most other Blood Lifers. I’ve heard the tale many times of your first encounter: how you cost him a fang. He believed you to be the worst of the posturing old bloodlines, suited only to be swept away.

  And he’s tried now: twice. I’m still here. All that is why I was perfect. The CCTV of Plantagenet’s death would only get Captain’s attention, and me into his office. I needed something that would excite him. Then he’d let down his guard, allowing me beyond into the heart of the Council and into the Red Room. And that something was me.

  The Red Room’s not most men’s idea of entertainment. I understand that Donovan’s here too, but being trapped with him…?

  Captain wouldn’t be able to help himself once he had me as a shiny new toy. He’d play with me, make an example out of me, and then break me to pieces in here…with you.

  The Jade Spider.

  Me?

  You reckon that I didn’t always know?

  But why am I so important? You can’t possibly have planned this whole rescue around me?

  Power behind the throne: isn’t that what you were singing before? A bloke like Captain could never run a joint like this, not without serious backup. The only thing I had to figure was whether you’d step out from behind the throne…and help us.

  “Why is Captain repeatedly messaging me about a disturbance on London Bridge? A…march? What in God’s name is this?”

  Liberty was gnawing on her brunette fringe like it was some poor bastard’s jugular; that was one of her many tells. Liberty didn’t reckon that she had any, hiding behind a mask of cold efficiency, but I’d have cleaned her out at poker.

  Liberty lobbed her Blackberry into her briefcase, along with copies of that night’s inquiry, before clicking it shut. The click was harsh in the hard shell of the Red Room.

  I fought to keep my expression blank and still my tapping foot. Because tells?

  Yeah, I had them too.

  I swallowed, as hope unfurled its moth wings, fluttering in my guts.

  Don’t let her work it out yet…just a little longer…

  Liberty’s jade eyes were assessing. She didn’t even need to speak to strip layers from my hide to wear as pretty looped necklaces. Every moment in that bleeding womb of a room with Liberty, I’d been suffocated. Secrets had Pied Piper danced from my tongue; I’d drowned in her.

  I’d been fighting for my life with every word and breath. From the very first night.

  There’s a reason that we fear spiders.

  Suddenly there were pounding footsteps outside, and the door was yanked open; the womb was torn bloody.

  My cue.

  I leapt over the desk, gripping Liberty around the neck.

  Liberty had some balls though because she did nothing more than lean back, as if knowing that I’d wanted a final, private word, allowing me to whisper, “That’s the bloody cavalry.”

  Then there were hands clutching, hurting, and ripping me away, before slamming me against the wall. Then a fist was raised to smash across my face.

  I glared Captain in the eye because this time when he beat me, it wouldn’t be in the dark, at gunpoint, or through his elected. If Captain wanted to hurt me, then let him be Blood Lifer enough to use his own fangs and fists.

  The blow, however, never landed because Liberty had caught it.

  Captain stared at her hand encircling his fist. His face swelled with childish outrage to match the color of the walls. “Liberty, will you allow me to…chastise the prisoner?”

  Liberty squeezed.

  Captain yowled, hunched over. When Liberty dropped his hand, he shook it, before hugging it under his armpit.

  “This is my room.” Liberty smoothed down her black suit. “My rules. No violence, remember?”

  “No violence?” Captain held out his bruised hand beseechingly.

  I only wished that she’d snapped off two of his fingers.

  Liberty smiled slowly. “Except by me. Especially when my inquiry session is interrupted on the final night before trial. It’s terribly irregular.”

  “Shall I show you irregular?” Captain snatched me by the scruff of the neck, hauling me out into the busy Council offices. I could sense Liberty behind: a strong, quiet presence.

  It made the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

  Out in the Council offices, it was bloody pandemonium.

  Blood and First Lifers alike were rushing from office to office with the slam of doors, as if they were the ones set to be burned alive. Everywhere laptops, TV screens, and iPhones blared out scrolling news.

  I craned to see, but Captain dragged me on. I could catch snatches of conversation though… They’ve closed it all… He’s furious; they say he’ll eviscerate… Anarchy…

  I couldn’t stop the grin, until Captain smashed me into the vast window, which was along the corridor to the blue room that was witness to my weeks of dark and fire-scarred torture. I’d been Blink’s reward and Captain’s toy: A legend t
o be broken.

  Now crushed against that glass, I looked out at the jagged skyline and the stars.

  I heard Liberty’s sharp intake of breath behind me.

  I wasn’t broken: I was legendary.

  My name was Our Light: leader of Light’s Renegades. And this was it — my rebellion.

  Welcome to the Rebel Age.

  You were waiting for the hope, weren’t you? And like all the greatest stories, it always comes at the end.

  There was no traffic on London Bridge because the Renegades had come to take me home. There were no black cabs or taxis honking, as motorcyclists weaved between. No businessmen staggering tense and cocaine-eyed from the strip clubs and brothels. No pickpockets, junkies, or clubbers with cheesy chips and kebabs.

  Nobody except my new family.

  Trinity swaggered at the head of her First Lifer crew with mutt proud at her heels. The homeless from beneath the bridge were liberated for one night to walk magnificent on top of it. They clutched torches, large and small; the arcs of light swung angelic, burning across the hell red bleeding beneath the bridge.

  Kids, veterans, single mums, and smackheads: it didn’t matter. They’d all donated blood to us Blood Lifers.

  Me.

  They were loyal to Trinity, and she’d voted in on the rebellion. They were the first of my alliances. The second?

  Aedan sauntered next to Trinity. He’d dressed for the occasion in a russet suit, which matched his swinging braids. Trinity kept shooting him these glances, when he clung to her arm in excitement.

  Yeah, not figuring on them plaiting each other’s hair in a girlie night any time soon.

  Alongside Aedan were the Lost Boys from Peter Pan’s. They were my Lost Boys now. Except, from the moment that my family and I had started working there, they’d been ours because Hartford had needed that. A new tribe to save and care for.

  I caught a flash of Brendan’s neon green hair in the throng, Kyle’s determined face was next to him, and even tiny Jamie.

  Behind the dancers came the third alliance: Kallis and the Renegades.

  They wore slogan t-shirts, with their declarations blown-up onto placards.

  REBEL HERE, YEAH?

  I’M THE BLOODY SUPERHERO.

  YOU CAN’T FLAY A REBEL’S SOUL.

  They waved the placards like grenades, as at their shoulders stalked the Blood Lifer slaves that they’d rescued.

  Alliance number four.

  Mother led the Blood Lifers, if swaying from one to the other, licking and pawing was leading, dangerously in her element. An army of tamed Blood Lifers…? I shivered with anticipation.

  I’d felt alone for so long and unloved. But now we were united and together.

  Yeah, I wasn’t alone. Because at the heart of the march was my infuriating, damaged, and confusing family.

  I knew that they didn’t — couldn’t — love like I did. Maybe we all love to different degrees. I crave every ounce of love squeezed dry because I give every drop myself.

  But they still loved me because there they were, riding to my rescue. They were the true heroes.

  They were my home.

  Sun and Plantagenet were grasping onto each other’s hands like brother and sister but I knew that they were more than that. It was lovers marching to war, each afraid for the other. Maybe, they were thinking of me too. Maybe, they wished that they were also holding my hand.

  A bloke’s got to hope.

  I studied Plantagenet like a moth drawn to the flame. Gone was that wankering catsuit, which had been the symbol of his slavery. Instead, he’d been transformed to the original Blood Lifer, and the bloke had style. A billowing ivory shirt over tight black trousers, with RAF leather coat to the bottom of his patent knee-high boots.

  That was one cracking coat.

  It was Hartford, however, glorious in linen suit and Long-lived radiance, who led the army. Even I quailed at his expression, as he swept along the center of London Bridge.

  Hartford’s gaze raised to the Blood Life Council offices, never wavering. I wondered if he could see me. For a mad moment, I considered waving. Then I remembered the needle, venom…and the cage.

  He couldn’t still be narked, could he?

  I noticed the fire blazing in Hartford’s eyes.

  He bleeding could be.

  Yet even after I’d taken Hartford’s place on the pyre, he was here. With the courage to stand up and lead First and Blood Lifer alike.

  Hartford stopped at the edge of the bridge. His gaze was still locked onto mine, and I shook at its intensity. Then he nodded to Plantagenet.

  Plantagenet spun in a circle as he waved at Mother. All of a sudden, a black ripple of iPods, speakers, and phones rose in the air like machine guns at a protest.

  There was a moment of silence, then “People Are Strange” rang out in the black in all its Gothic joy but no longer alienation because as every freedom fighter on that bridge sang along with Hartford’s bittersweet tones powerful underneath, we were joined.

  Every one of us.

  I noticed finally what my family had done: they had their fangs out.

  I laughed.

  This was the twenty-first century. There were no shadows or hiding, and this was my misfit rebellion: First and Blood Life united. No guns, just song and fangs. Mustn’t forget the bloody fangs.

  We’d never be invisible — or silenced — again.

  When Captain twisted my arm, I hollered. He hurled me across the corridor against the opposite glass. Echo and the Bunnymen rose from below, filling the narrow space and hanging between us three like a question.

  I glanced down through the glass to the courtyard below. There was the bonfire with the stake and ropes to tie me all pretty ready to roast for Easter.

  I twisted back to Captain. “Authority issues, mate. As in, I don’t accept yours. Now let Donovan and me go.”

  “The insolence!” Captain’s shirt was skew-whiff. He pointed at me wildly. “You’re a terrorist, a disgrace, and a—”

  “Music lover who also likes moonlit walks along the beach?”

  Liberty guffawed, then tried to smother it.

  Captain swung an outraged glance between us. “You’ve broken our most fundamental rule: you’ve exposed us to the humans. All of them. Every Blood Lifer worth their salt will want your head. This demonstration is already all over the Internet.”

  I grinned. “It’ll be viral. Like us.”

  Captain stalked closer.

  Liberty was simply watching like she always did: silent and calculating.

  The singing below grew louder like an unstoppable force, whilst Light’s Renegades advanced.

  “There’s a balance,” Captain blinked rapidly, “but what you’ve done? It’s…this is the end of the world.”

  “Now that’s what I call dramatic buggery. The thing about the world and its traditions, rituals, and rules? They’re bollocks. The world is changing, so we need to change with it. That’s what happens. It’s called life.”

  “It’s called Light. You chose this.”

  “I chose to allow all humans to deal with this new reality because the idea of the CIE making the decisions alone terrifies me. Now we all know the score, First and Blood alike. And the wild Blood Lifers? At least they’ll get fair warning about what’s coming.”

  Captain bit his own lip so hard that crimson beaded. He licked it away with one furious swipe of his tongue. “I don’t believe that you’re on the same page as us, in fact you have the delusional notion that you can rewrite the entire book.”

  “Sometimes a system becomes so corrupt and abuses so much power that some poor pillock has to stand up and make it stop. Today that someone is me.” I waved towards the window. “Oh…and several hundred others.”

  Captain took one step towards me. He vibrated from his jaunty peak of hair to his quivering knees. “Your nonconformity has ceased to be cute. If I can’t break a legend, do you know what I do?”

  I tapped my chin. “Send it hom
e with a pat on the head?”

  “I snuff it out.”

  Then Captain shoved. Not hard for a Blood Lifer. This building, however, hadn’t been designed for Blood Lifers.

  Crack — the glass shattered in one long sharp line, before spiderwebbing out.

  Then I was falling.

  It’s funny how time slows, as your stomach lurches. They say that your life flashes before your eyes but they’re wrong. I saw only two things as I fell.

  Kathy in the heather at Ilkley Moor.

  And Sun: her cold hands between mine, as caught in a bubble between past and present, we laughed in each other’s arms on Peter Pan’s dance floor, whilst “People Are Strange” played and the organ rose to its crescendo.

  I lived in that moment forever. If I was going to die, then I’d die a happy bloke.

  Because now there was no doubt or degrees.

  I was loved.

  So, as I fell to earth, I smiled.

  Suddenly, something yanked my t-shirt, and the cotton tore but it held. Then I was being hauled back in through the window.

  I stumbled onto my face. Breathing hard because facing second death and then life were both equally a shock, I stared up at Liberty.

  Stronger than she looked that one.

  Captain turned his astonished gaze on her. “Has the entire Council gone quite mad? I’m your Author. You don’t override my decisions.”

  “I think you’ll find that I do.” Liberty swept her briefcase into Captain’s stomach.

  He doubled over, before Liberty drove him back to the missing glass panel, as if the briefcase was a battering ram. Captain’s heels hung precariously over the ledge.

  “Liberty…precious…” Captain begged, whilst his eyes widened in panic.

  “I was never precious,” Liberty said softly, “none of us were.”

  One push. Then Liberty let go of the briefcase.

  Captain flailed backwards, windmilling into the night’s cold air. I wondered if his life flashed before his eyes. I imagine that it was bloody but boring.

  Then Captain was plummeting, as paper copies of the inquiry — my witness and secrets — fell like white tears around him. Captain screamed, when he landed impaled on the stake in the center of the bonfire, which had been built to burn me. He looked like a spiked voodoo doll.