Vampire Huntress (Rebel Angels Book 1)

by Rosemary A Johns

  Anarchy tensed, suddenly motionless. His breathing became raspy and uneven. His feverish gaze darted to mine.

  ‘With wings we fall, without wings we rise,’ Eden forked a broccoli tree, crunching hard. ‘I wonder though, my monster, whether an abomination such as you could ever be pure?’

  I bristled. If I got free, Eden was going down Hackney style.

  Eden carefully crossed his silver cutlery on his plate, before leaning closer. ‘Do you even know who you are? What you are?’

  I choked on my own spittle.

  You have to be playing to win?

  I tilted my head, as if interested.

  Eden wiped at the corners of his mouth with an ivory napkin. ‘Eyes are the windows to your soul, you know…’

  He reached forward to pull down my sunglasses.

  I jerked backwards, tumbling out of my chair and cracking the back of my head against the mosaic floor. I was breathing so hard through my nose, white stars danced.

  Then Anarchy was cradling me, and through the haze, I heard his calm voice, ‘Trick is to breathe slowly in these wankering gags. I’ve got you.’

  Slowly, the globe lamps of the restaurant fuzzed back above my head, along with Anarchy’s anxious face. Despite his agony, he held me close.

  Until Stephanie booted him in the stump of his right wing, and he howled.

  ‘You’re the Pure now, darling, so don’t go dirtying yourself by touching monsters, or I’ll have to cleanse you, well, more than I will anyway.’ Stephanie ground her kitten heel into Anarchy’s shoulder blade. ‘Little soldiers need training.’

  I arose, vibrating with a fury at the abuse to the Fallen who’d cared for me. I kicked, sweeping Stephanie’s legs out from under her. She flailed, before stumbling onto her arse. Her business suit ripped along its expensive hem, as she let out a startled squawk.

  The other diners suddenly hushed, before sniggering and snorting behind their hands.

  I might be handcuffed and gagged, but I could still fight dirty.

  Stephanie twisted to me, her ponytail spilling onto her shoulders and her lilac shirt half hanging out of her trousers. She raised her fist.

  Anarchy dove in front of her. ‘Cleanse me, bitch.’

  Eden chuckled, so close to my ear, I jumped. ‘Two rebels in Perfection Hotel, what shall I do?’

  ‘Let us go?’

  Eden kissed my hair, wrapping his fingers around the ash blonde strands. I tried to pull away, but he held me still. ‘Here comes a candle to light you to bed, and here comes a chopper to chop off your head.’

  I blanched, forcing myself not to cringe from his touch, as Eden spun me in a wild dance, before yanking me close against his velvet coat. Trapped in his lily scent, I battled to breathe through my nose, against the rising panic.

  …Here comes a chopper to chop off your head…

  It was easier to tip back my head and lose myself in the sparking stars in the night sky, than to stare ahead at the ranks of the Pure on Perfection Hotel’s roof terrace, and see the stars fallen to earth in their glowing eyes.

  As I knelt in the ice-freeze, cheeks whipped raw by the snow breeze, it was dying like a war criminal — a monster — that caught the sob at the back of my throat.

  Dying alone.

  You’re not alone, never forget that.

  I’m sorry, J, I let you down.

  Hold on, the diva awards are mine. How’s your choice going?

  Too busy dying to talk now. Unless you violet me up…?

  Righteousness isn’t a trick to pull out of your slutty hat, or do you want to transform into the wingless wonder in blue? A tyrant, mad on his own power?

  I glanced at Eden, who was sauntering in front of his followers, sweeping his coat back and forth like he was posing for photographs.

  I rolled my shoulders, rubbing at my wrists. Stephanie had taken off my handcuffs and gag once the army had assembled.

  A squeal. Guffaws. And the blast of Stephanie’s axe.

  I pushed myself up onto shaky legs.

  Decorative wrought iron tables and chairs dotted the terrace beneath the melting snow and Eden’s army, slouching or gossiping between them, looked so…ordinary. Suits and wool coats, mixed with dresses and scarfs. If it hadn’t been for their eyes, they’d have passed for human. But then their fangs and claws were hidden. And they’d hacked off their wings.

  Anarchy was trapped between a jeering circle. Every time he stumbled to escape, he was shoved back into the centre with Stephanie: his tormentor.

  His trainer.

  Rebel had been my Custodian. Yet when we’d trained in the glade, it’d been a thrilling dance: blade and fire, Sex Pistols and kisses, control and…love.

  I glanced away, as Stephanie blistered a searing line along Anarchy’s gut with her axe, before he could twist away.

  Anarchy howled. When he spun, stumbling to the edge of the circle, Stephanie yanked him back by his curls, painting his back crimson.

  ‘Roll up, roll up, death of a monster, lifetime special,’ I hollered over Anarchy’s weeping, spreading my arms like wings.

  The army of the Pure fell silent.

  Eden turned to me, his full lips curling up. ‘My, you are eager to sacrifice yourself. Yet would you be, if you knew the truth?’ His gaze clouded. ‘Lazarus rises, and we shall say, all our goodbyes.’

  ‘Hold the crazy line. Lazarus, what…?’

  Eden only whirled to his disciples, pointing at the heavens. ‘Exult, my soldiers, for tonight we purify the destroyer.’

  Destroyer?

  I stumbled backwards to the edge of the terrace. Eight floors below? The pavement, in front of the grand porch entrance. I clasped onto the crumbling stone ledge, before clambering up.

  I’m sorry Jade…that I didn’t find you…save you…

  Eden held out his hand with a click of his fingers.

  Stephanie glanced down at her axe, but then hesitated. ‘I could slay the dragon, Eden darling, if the fire—’

  With a growl, Eden snatched the weapon from her, although his shoulders stiffened and his fingers trembled.

  ‘Don’t worry, Eden,’ I said, my voice as soft as silk, even though my mouth twisted, ‘nobody’s perfect. Not even a fanatic.’

  Anarchy’s gaze met mine, intense and steadying; tears streamed down his cheeks, but he still forced a smile.

  Not every bastard Pure on that terrace hated me.

  I wasn’t alone.

  Eden lunged, flames fizzing from the axe.

  I took a deep breath. Then I closed my eyes and waited for Eden to execute a monster.

  21

  Feathers.

  They cocooned me in the soft scent of safety and home.

  Slam.

  Coppery sweetness spun me to heaven.

  I quivered, caught in the scent of angel blood.

  Rebel’s blood.

  Hell, if this was dying, it kicked living’s arse.

  My eyes snapped open.

  Rebel was holding me on the stone ledge of the roof terrace, before the furious glares of an army of the Pure. His mottled wings, which he’d wrapped around me, were as hard as steel, but his smile was fragile.

  ‘Hold on,’ Rebel yanked my arms around his waist, as his wings stretched out. Then he dove upwards into the cold night sky.

  ‘Guests may not leave the party early!’ Eden shrieked, bouncing on his toes.

  I sniggered. But then caught Rebel’s flinch. ‘You’re… This is… You’re saving me?’ I blinked, gripping so hard to Rebel’s hips, I must’ve been leaving bruises.

  He nodded. ‘I’m not the one who abandons people.’

  Hollers, the whoosh of flames beneath my boots, and bang of gunshots.

  Rebel swooped, dodging.

  I gasped at the glorious buzz of soaring through the dark in the arms of an angel.

  My heart thundered: I’d stood at the cliff edge of death — jumped — and flown.

  ‘Lazarus rises, bitches,’ I yelled down at Eden and
his soldiers. Their eyes gleamed like hyenas’ in the night. ‘I bet you wish you weren’t wingless now?’

  Whizz — a bullet grazed my ear.

  Best not to read the fanatic jackasses until you’ve actually escaped. After all, your ride could break down. The punk’s wing is wrecked.

  But he still risked saving me.

  Why? Oh, that’s right, girl, because you bound yourself by blood. Say hello to your baby vampire.

  I shifted in Rebel’s wings. The speckled violet feathers pulsed amongst a sea of grey.

  Rebel clutched me closer.

  The moon caught on the spear tips of the Thames, which curled far beneath us, criss-crossed with bridges. Cars and black cabs sped between blocks of skyscrapers and curving terraces. Cathedral spires and cupolas rose like illuminated spectres.

  A human world, spread like a kid’s playset.

  Violet and black seethed at the thought: to mould the world and make it mine.

  When I shuddered, Rebel stroked my arm. Then suddenly, his bent wing spasmed.

  I screamed, as we tumbled, spinning through the black.

  Rebel beat his wings frantically, plunging us further towards Hackney.

  We were about to get up and personal with London Fields.

  I braced myself, as we crashed into the frozen green. We cracked over a bench, before barrelling into a wonky goal post.

  My ankle twisted.

  I scrubbed my face in the slushy snow, struggling to bring down the coursing adrenaline spike. My whole body shook, even my toes drummed on the grass. I touched my throbbing ankle and yelped; I slammed my fist into the ground with a growl. ‘I won’t be flying Rebel Airlines again. You’re lucky the army didn’t shoot us down.’

  Rebel’s eyes flashed with hurt, before he smothered it with a smirk. ‘You after going back? That’s the first time I’ve flown since the gits hurt my wing.’

  I started to shake my head, but then stopped.

  Anarchy.

  The kid Fallen who’d tried to save me was still trapped with Eden.

  How the hell could I abandon him?

  ‘Yeah, we’re going back.’

  Rebel gaped at me. Then he briskly snatched his leathers, which had been stashed behind the goal post.

  Then it was my turn to gape. ‘You chose to crash here?’

  Rebel avoided my gaze, slipping on his studded jacket. ‘Made a balls of the landing. But I’ve an important meeting.’

  ‘Whilst I had fire at my neck, you were plotting meetings?’

  Rebel swallowed under his spiked collar. ‘Don’t get narky. I arranged it before the Pure killed my family.’

  His grief flayed him raw, but I couldn’t allow it to reduce my fury. ‘When you snuck out at night? Another secret?’

  He stalked towards me, dragging me up onto my swollen ankle. ‘What about your secrets, princess? Why are you after going back to terror hotel?’

  Did I say baby vampire? Make that a fully-grown vampire bitch.

  I bit back a groan. ‘No secret, you’re just not the only bloke in my screwed-up life.’

  The Bitch of Utopia shanks again.

  Rebel blanched. He steadied me against the goal post, before stepping back. His hands fluttered as if he didn’t know what to do with them. ‘Dry up, I never said…I didn’t think… Who is this bleeding muppet?’

  ‘Anarchy.’

  Rebel snorted. ‘Even has a muppet name.’

  ‘You could create a punk duo.’

  He tilted his head. ‘I don’t know any angels—’

  I crossed my arms. ‘Because he’s a Fallen…was a Fallen Angel, until that bastard Eden chopped off his wings. Now the kid’s one of the Pure.’

  Rebel slammed me against the goal post — bang — the goal trembled. ‘Mind yourself, princess. The Pure play with minds, until you’ll fly into the sun on Eden’s word.’

  ‘Anarchy helped me,’ I rested my forehead against Rebel’s. ‘He lost his wings for me.’ Rebel raised his pierced eyebrow. ‘I won’t leave the kid behind.’

  Rebel’s grip loosened as his turned away. ‘Like you abandoned me?’

  I blinked, confused. Then I remembered how I’d left him hidden under the bracken.

  What the hell had he thought waking up alone?

  I touched his cheek, remembering the bruise I’d marked him with. There was nothing left to show for it now, only pale perfection.

  Unwilling, his gaze rose to meet mine.

  I smiled. ‘I saved you, wallad.’

  Surprise, followed by understanding and guilt, chased across Rebel’s face, before he grinned. ‘Fair play to you. I knew you wouldn’t leave me…not after…’ He reached round to the back of his jean’s waistband, slipping out Star. He held it out to me on his palms like an offering. ‘I found it in the cemetery. I hoped you hadn’t rejected my gift.’

  I reached for Star with trembling hands, sheathing it. ‘Cheers. And I’d never do that. A gift’s too special, bro.’

  He scuffed his foot backwards and forwards through the snow. ‘The meeting today? You might eat my head off.’

  ‘I’ll rein in the bitch, as long as we go back for Anarchy after.’

  ‘Here’s the thing of it with Anarchy, if they’ve taken his wings, he’s already lost.’

  I blinked away furious tears. Then I slipped my hand under Rebel’s leathers, tracing his bent wing. ‘And what does that make you? Broken? Grey feathers?’

  He flinched. ‘Don’t touch me.’

  I froze, before carefully pulling away my hand.

  Rebel’s gaze was flinty. ‘We can rescue your toy boy Pure, but not until it’s safe.’

  ‘It’s never going to be safe, don’t you get it yet?’ I snarled, stalking away across the field towards the line of London Plane trees. The cold bit my cheeks, and my fingers shook. ‘We can’t hide. The only way to survive is to be the scariest monster. If they burn down our house? We burn down theirs.’

  Rebel drifted after me, his hands stuck in the pockets of his trousers. ‘A ball-bag like me never should’ve been your Custodian. Bad angels have no place…’ He hung his head. ‘In the name of Jesus, what made you think you could trust a Fallen?’

  ‘Fair question, Zachriel. Why do you trust us?’ A hard, sneering Irish voice called out, startling me. A tall vampire, in faded black denim jacket and emerald shirt, sauntered from the shadows of the trees. He had thick black eyebrows and eyelashes, with the shark-eyed hardness of a soldier. His short buzz of hair blazed as red as Rebel’s.

  ‘Briathos!’ Rebel breathed, stilling. Then before I could stop him, he bolted across the green towards the vampire, beaming with a joy that made him look younger than Anarchy. ‘I’ve fierce missed—’

  The vampire clouted Rebel in the nose.

  I growled.

  Crimson spurted down Rebel’s chin.

  ‘My name’s Wings now,’ Wings brushed his hand through his auburn bristles.

  ‘And I’m Rebel,’ Rebel pinched his nose, although the wallad was still smiling.

  ‘You see, there’s the problem, git angel,’ Wings shoved Rebel’s shoulders, and Rebel stumbled backwards, ‘you can play at being one of the Fallen but you chose not to Fall.’

  This was Rebel’s meeting?

  Rebel wiped the blood away with the back of his sleeve. The hesitant way he still smiled, his kohl darkened eyes warily hopeful, made my stomach flip. ‘I’m sorry—’

  Oomph — Wings booted Rebel in the balls.

  Rebel folded to the frozen earth, groaning.

  Wings shrugged. ‘Git angel.’

  Wings turned, but before he could stroll back into the shadows, I sprang towards him. I snatched his denim sleeve and smashed him against a London Plane.

  ‘Bastard Fang.’ The knee to Wings’ balls to punctuate each word sated the anger bleeding the park purple because he’d attacked Rebel.

  My angel.

  When Wings tried to curl around the pain, I pinned him to the tree by the throat.


  A feathered tattoo, which reminded me of the one on the face of the vampire who’d attacked me on the day Rebel had first fallen into my lap, wove round Wings’ neck like barbed wire.

  Mesmerised, I stroked over the feathers.

  The way Wings raised his pierced eyebrow, however, caught me off guard. How uncomfortably familiar it was. ‘I’d heard you were a ball buster, princess, but you know just how to touch a bloke.’

  Rebel struggled to his knees. ‘You keep your hands to yourself, Briathos.’

  ‘I’m not the one caressing her neck,’ Wings purred. When I backed away quickly, he laughed. ‘I don’t blame you for wanting to pull a real fella, not if you’ve been stuck with this banjaxed idiot. He already has you fighting his battles.’ He glanced at Rebel, assessing where to stick the shank next. ‘Can Zachriel even get it up with a broken wing?’

  Rebel surged to his feet. But I’d already spun Wings round and unsheathed Star.

  Power surged through me, spiralling me higher, after a night of powerlessness trapped in Perfection Hotel.

  I ached to slice and slash, until I’d reclaimed every shred of dignity stolen from me by Eden. Repaid terror with terror, starting with Wings…who was staring at Star with horrified shock.

  ‘You’re no warrior,’ when Rebel hugged his arms tightly around himself, I knew Wings’ taunt was meant for him. ‘Star’s not yours. How could you give it to…?’

  ‘She has more right than me,’ Rebel whispered.

  ‘A swill munching sow has more right—’

  I swung Star in a bright arc, and Wings danced backwards, steel claws springing from his nails. ‘I’m not one for quipping during fights to the death.’

  Wings smiled: brilliant and dangerous. ‘You should try it.’

  ‘Know something else I should try?’ I hacked the dagger as if towards Wings’ right hand, before shooting flames towards his left.

  In a blur of black and red, Rebel dived in front of the blast, howling as it hit his back.