Vampire Huntress (Rebel Angels Book 1)

by Rosemary A Johns

  What. The. Hell?

  Ash’s wings were larger than Rebel’s. And their tips glowed fiery violet.

  Ash was a vampire. Yet he had the wings of an angel.

  I hadn’t realised I was staring, until I heard Rebel’s muttered, ‘Poser.’

  I caught the way Rebel’s own bent wing drooped; he turned away his head.

  How would it feel to have such a damaged wing?

  When Ash spun his magnificent wings, and Rebel simply stood next to the marble memorial, his own wings hanging limply, waiting to be hit, enough was enough.

  ‘Allow it!’ I booted the back of Ash’s calf, startling him out of his spin.

  Ash only nodded, folding back his wings and shrugging into his army coat.

  When Ash patted Rebel on the head, Rebel winced. Ash grinned and sauntered back with what sounded like a gasp of relief to the chapel shadows.

  Hell, I was desperate to follow him into the dark.

  When Ash shot me a kiss over his shoulder as he strolled away, the base of my neck throbbed. ‘Happy Christmas! See you soon, Violet.’

  ‘She won’t,’ Rebel yelled after him, hopping from foot to foot, ‘be seeing you, that is.’ When Ash disappeared into the shadows, Rebel shot off a final ineffectual volley like his honour depended on it, ‘So…don’t be after coming back.’

  I put my hands on my hips and raised my eyebrow.

  Rebel deflated. ‘I told you some vampires were different.’

  The vampiric nature still wreathed me, as I slunk closer to Rebel; he shivered. ‘What am I?’

  ‘A hunter?’ He smiled tentatively.

  I grabbed him by the throat; he let me. He choked, as I threw him onto his back across the monument. His head banged against the thick iron bar embedded across it. ‘What. Am. I?’

  His gaze darted anywhere but mine. ‘Daughter of an angel.’

  ‘Cheers Obvious-1000. And?’

  A shake. Gasp. Struggling this time.

  ‘Daughter of the Fallen. Humans call them vampires,’ he bit his lip so hard it drew blood, ‘but once they were also angels. Ages ago they rebelled and now they’re forced to live here on earth.’

  Daughter of an angel… Daughter of the Fallen.

  I backed away, shuddering. Violet and black…both sides warring or joining in a tidal rush.

  Rebel’s veiled truths had forged me into a huntress of Fallen Angels.

  I shook. ‘Why would that Fallen army boy risk…?’

  Rebel grimaced. ‘The muppet was after seducing you.’

  ‘That was…seduction?’

  Ash’s touch to my neck bursting pleasure from my shoulder blades… The thrill as his fangs grazed my neck…and the way he’d made me laugh.

  Yeah, seduction.

  ‘What makes these — Fallen — any better than Eden?’ I demanded. ‘You only had us ganking the Pure.’

  Rebel’s gaze hardened. ‘Don’t believe I said better, only different. And the Brigadier would carve the wings from my back as foreplay, just so we’re clear.’ He flicked the chains on his bondage trousers, struggling to find the words. ‘The Pure? They slaughter humans. The Fallen? They feed, but they don’t kill.’

  Feed. At last it rose up: a coiling, inky-black.

  I slammed Rebel back, trapping him against the marble, pushed even higher on the spiral by his shocked growl.

  Then I kissed the base of Rebel’s neck, as Ash had kissed mine. I relished his moans and knowing, whilst he writhed — my prisoner — the pleasure surging through him, just as the power pulsed through me.

  This was the moment before the shank sliced…

  ‘Everybody kills,’ I whispered.

  Rebel stiffened under me, but it was too late. I bit, right over the base of his neck, shooting sparks to the surface and searing the skin.

  He howled, his legs kicking. His body bucked and fought against mine.

  I held him down, worrying him like a dog.

  I was the gamer, and Rebel was my avatar.

  I’d won my freedom, but now I was reborn: daughter of angel and the Fallen.

  I pressed my teeth in deeper; my lips burned Rebel.

  Finally, he stopped moving.

  When I staggered back, I stared at the body of the silent angel, sorrowful in the snow.

  And I shook. Because I didn’t know whether Rebel was alive or dead.

  17

  Rebel lay — dead as a statue — across the top of the veined marble monument. His violet and grey streaked wings hung limply outstretched. Rusty chains shackled his wrists to the iron bar sunk in the marble. Snowflakes softly landed, before melting on his closed eyelids.

  Sacrificial slaughter Hackney style.

  I leant over Rebel, stroking his cold cheek.

  A single moment’s loss of control had ghosted the land of bones and feathers echoing through my mind: the crack of wing-bones splintered beneath my feet.

  Death crawled across my skin with burning kisses.

  I didn’t know how long I’d been standing in the freezing silence of the cemetery.

  ‘Why are you crying, princess?’ Rebel’s agonised rasp startled me to life.

  I tripped back, stumbling over my split bag of shopping, before falling on my arse.

  Rebel’s spluttered laughter hacked into a cough.

  Cautiously, I dragged myself up, hanging onto the cool lip of the marble. ‘I’m not…’ I wiped at my cheeks. Wet. I pinned Rebel’s chained wrists. ‘If I am? It’s because of what I have to do.’

  His gaze darted to mine, before he weakly tugged on the chains, which I’d nicked from the padlocked doors of Abney Park Chapel. Then he banged his head back on the monument with a hiss. The skin on his neck was still blistered around the bite. ‘What in the Jesus…? Am I after being your prisoner now?’

  ‘You tell me.’ I bit out, tightening my hold. ‘You’re still hiding a world from me. How can I trust you?’ He cringed. ‘What’s with the playing vampire hunter when they’re Fallen Angels?’

  I snatched my water bottle and the box of painkillers from the ripped plastic bag, before hopping onto the monument next to Rebel. Then I balanced the pills next to his head teasingly, as I took a deep swallow of water.

  He licked his dry lips. ‘I reckoned it a fine thing to give you a choice.’

  ‘Not following you, crypto.’ I slammed my hand over his mouth and nose, as Ma had done to me.

  His lips were cracked under my palm. I quaked with the desire to balance the water up to them. To be the one to save and protect him. Yet first, he was mine to hurt.

  I recoiled from the thought…and the way Rebel struggled, before submitting.

  He stared up at me with wide eyes.

  At last, I drew away my hand.

  ‘Ages the angels and the Fallen have been in an ancient war,’ his chest heaved as he prattled out the words, frightened I’d steal his air again. ‘You, Feathers, are the special one both sides want back. I fancied you needed some time, so you didn’t simply pick out of responsibility or duty. I know what that’s like.’

  ‘Yeah, so special they dumped me in a kiddies’ home.’ I glanced away, staring at the chapel spire’s long shadow…and the darkness between the oaks where Ash had disappeared. ‘And call me monster.’

  ‘The Pure are fanatic bastards. There’s no use grousing about—’

  I shook the bottle and droplets of water sprayed onto Rebel’s cheek. He arched into the cool. ‘Punk prisoners watch their mouths.’

  ‘Punk prisoners have a throat on them. And a fierce headache too.’

  I shook the painkillers rattling next to his ear. He winced. ‘Sore, yeah?’

  ‘Love is pain.’

  I drew back, hurling the pill box against his temple. I grimaced myself at the smack, as it bounced off. ‘Why don’t the Pure have wings?’

  ‘They cut them off.’ Rebel shuddered; the tips of his own wings folded across his chest. ‘It’s a sign they’re cut off from the angels. Purified. Look, I’ve made a bal
ls of my life so far, please don’t make a balls of yours because I’m a muppet.’

  I gaped at him. ‘That was inspiring. The light has entered my life and—’

  ‘Dry up,’ he pouted, ‘I told you I was no good at talking. Angels, the Pure, Fallen Angels. They’re all hunting us, and you don’t have an effigy to hide you. That’s what matters. End of story.’ He glanced up at me from underneath his dark eyelashes. ‘Now give me water and blessed pain relief, woman.’

  I tipped the water to his lips. He closed his eyes, breathing hard. The first drops touched his tongue.

  Then I drew back the bottle. ‘Just one question first: how much do you hate me?’

  His eyes snapped open. The flash of shock? No bastard could fake that.

  ‘I-I don’t—’

  ‘Part vampire here. You’re a vampire hunter. And my kind just murdered your family. Am I missing something?’

  Rebel writhed, testing the chains, as he tried to scrabble backwards away from me.

  I wrenched his head up by his flame of hair. ‘Are we on the same side, or are you playing me?’

  ‘Everyone’s playing you, but I’m the only one who’s also protecting you.’

  I leant down and whispered, close to his ear, ‘How’d I know if I should be a vampire, or an angel hunter? Or kill you all?’

  Rebel blinked, opening his mouth like he wanted to say something, before snapping it shut and frantically fighting against his chains.

  I smirked, resting back on my elbows.

  Rebel twisted his wrists, tugging them bloody. When scarlet snaked down his arms, I rested my fingers on his chest, stilling him. Panting, he scowled at me, like a teenager caught sneaking out after curfew.

  The sugary scent of his blood, melding with the static sting of his fear, was electrifying.

  I raised the bottle of water to his lips again. This time he didn’t drink, but with a resigned sigh, turned away his head.

  Then I remembered how Rebel had held out the goblet to me when I’d been manacled to his bed without taunting or demands that I beg. I gripped Rebel’s chin, turning him back, as I tipped up the bottle.

  For a moment, he choked. Then he was swallowing, his throat bobbing underneath his spiked collar.

  When I finally drew back the bottle, dropping it to the ground, he gave me a cautious smile. Then yipped when I plucked a dove-grey feather from his wing.

  ‘Is this why you’re so weak you can’t even escape those chains?’ I asked. ‘And your migraine…?’

  He flushed, hunching with the same shame as when Da had discovered the first grey feather in the study. ‘I’m Falling, princess, and it’s fierce frightening. If a Human Addict stays too long on Earth…we become the Fallen.’

  I traced a finger down his cheek. I didn’t even know I was trailing a burning path, as I had with Tiny Fang, until I smelt the seared flesh. ‘Why would you risk…? It doesn’t matter. Get your arse back to Angel HQ.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Not asking.’

  Rebel shook his head.

  ‘The bird cage and the dark? It can’t be worse than turning into…’

  ‘You?’

  ‘I’m not a vampire,’ I growled.

  ‘And that’s why I don’t hate you,’ Rebel said softly.

  I booted the marble. ‘But if you stay here, you’ll Fall.’

  His wings quivered. ‘Sometimes we’re not free to make choices, even between bad ones.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I believe myself to be the guilty party.’ I jumped at the cool, light voice behind me. I twirled round, shielding Rebel. Then blinked. An angel with the purest violet eyes, creamy skin, and golden curls, leant against the silver birch. He met my scrutiny with a considering look. ‘No, that’d be you, wouldn’t it, Zachriel?’

  ‘Commander Drake,’ Rebel had frozen statue-still, but breathed so fast, he teetered on the precipice of panic attack, ‘this isn’t… I wasn’t…’

  ‘Hush now,’ Drake strolled towards us, his pale violet wings spreading out in violent glory.

  An earthy scent, like ancient church incense — or frankincense — washed over me.

  When Rebel trembled, I rested my hand on his shoulder.

  I’d wished to see other angels.

  Be careful what you wish for.

  Drake was a kid in nothing but silk indigo trousers, which hung off his slim hips like he’d escaped from a harem. He was exactly the type of achingly beautiful bastard I’d have let into my bed.

  Then Drake smiled: cruel and knowing. His predatory eyes were ice-cold fire.

  I shrank back.

  ‘I had to see you at Christmas,’ Drake stroked his fingers through Rebel’s snow dampened hair, ‘and look, you’re already gift-wrapped.’ He tapped the chains approvingly.

  Why had I allowed myself to forget that the other angels were Rebel’s enemies? I’d crushed the effigy to let them in and bound Rebel sacrificial for the slaughter.

  ‘Not your gift,’ I unsheathed Star, toying with the blade. ‘Better get your arse back to your Master of the Lamp, before you’re whipped Arabian style.’

  I was surprised when Drake’s eyes clouded with hot hurt. ‘Wish to fight for him, princess?’

  Princess? Wasn’t that just Rebel’s pet name for me?

  The word startled me enough to miss Drake’s step forward. He didn’t even raise his hands but suddenly he’d invaded my mind.

  I screamed as I was blasted backwards.

  Violet strands sliced into my brain like a thousand shanks, carving it bloody.

  18

  Sometimes you can’t face the worst. You have to hide.

  I struggled onto my elbows, wincing from my wrenched muscles. Then I sank into the bed of moss, where Drake had blasted me. A statue of an angel, fallen and broken, peeked from the snow dappled green. My fingers brushed Rebel’s studded leathers, scabbard, and harness, which I’d tossed onto the moss when I’d stripped him, ready for sacrifice.

  Taking a steadying breath to control the agony in my head, I concentrated on the day Rebel and I had run from the Blood Familiars. I blocked out the icy snow numbing my fingers and soaking through the knees of my jeans.

  Instead, I imagined the thick privet hedges of the maze at the House of Rose, Wolf, and Fox.

  With a dizzying lurch, the maze shot up in my mind, blocking the questing violet. And Drake’s attempt to read my memories and my secrets.

  I risked raising my head to glance at Drake.

  Drake was scrutinizing me, his pale eyebrows raised in shock.

  Then the strands slicing through my brain, in bursts of rich frankincense, twisted.

  I shrieked.

  ‘The Commander won’t truly harm you,’ Rebel’s words were soft and distant through my pain. ‘It’s all games, so it is. He only hurts lesser angels. You can battle him.’

  Hedge, right turn, left, fox shaped topiary, left turn, right…frozen statue in the centre…

  The strands quivered, like ribbons of skin, twitching their way through the maze.

  Through my head.

  Searching.

  I curled around myself, slapping my palms against the sides of my head.

  I’m sorry I booted you out, J, I was wrong. Please…

  Save the whole song and dance, you must hide me. If harem pants discovers—

  You’re scaring me. I’ve never heard you sound so—

  Like I just won the scaredy pants award? Trust me, Commander golden curls would destroy us both if he found me. You don’t get it yet, but the world needs our hoochie mama asses. And only you can save us.

  How?

  He wants to find something at the centre of the maze? Then let him.

  The strands turned the final corner, towards the fountain carved out of marble. A rose blossomed open and as if being born from it, a fox and a wolf.

  I closed my eyes, weaving my creation for Drake.

  The ribbons hesitated at the edge of the fountain.

  A fe
male warrior angel, with gold wings and wielding a blazing sword, exploded up from the ice. The heroine from my computer game, glorious in her perfection, cut down the ribbons, as quickly as they wrapped around her.

  Slow clapping.

  I opened my eyes, one at a time.

  Drake assessed me, his head tilted for one long moment, before in a rush that winded me, he withdrew from my mind. Then he shrugged. ‘You shall have your secrets, princess. But I shall have your angel.’

  ‘Allow that,’ I shoved myself to my knees, reaching for Star.

  With a bored flick of his wrist, Drake ordered, ‘Stay.’

  ‘I’m a bitch, but I’m no dog,’ I snarled.

  Except, I couldn’t move.

  Panting in sudden terror, I pulled on my knees, but they were stuck to the icy moss. My hand was glued to the hilt of Star.

  It had to be a trick, but I couldn’t break it, even when Drake sauntered to Rebel’s chained body, and Rebel writhed, jerking on the chains to escape.

  Only hurts lesser angels?

  And I was a captive spectator.

  ‘You told the princess to battle me.’ The back of Drake’s small hand touched Rebel’s cheek. ‘Lay still when I’m talking.’ Rebel stopped struggling, but refused to meet his enemy’s gaze. Drake’s soft curls swept Rebel’s lips as he leant over him. ‘Why is that?’

  ‘You know me, Commander,’ Rebel smirked, ‘bad angel.’

  I flinched, waiting for the clout.

  Instead, Drake stroked Rebel’s temple, which was still creased in pain from his migraine.

  To my surprise, Rebel relaxed under the touch. Until Drake whispered, ‘You’ve forgotten who you are, Zachriel.’ He grasped Rebel’s hair and twisted his head to one side, exposing the base of his neck. ‘Who you belong to. And the only way to make the pain stop.’

  Drake pressed on Rebel’s neck, and I shrank back at Rebel’s howl.

  Rebel reared up, every muscle straining against the impossible pain, as if he’d been electrocuted.

  ‘Be silent,’ Drake commanded coldly.

  Rebel’s screams cut off, yet his agony continued. He twitched against the chains, his mouth wide but his shrieks silenced.

  I hadn’t expected the scalding wave of possessiveness released by being forced to watch another angel inflict pain on Rebel. He might be a bastard but he was my bastard.