Rebels and Realms: A Limited Edition Urban Fantasy Collection

by Heather Marie Adkins

  But when he discovers the wicked secret of the witches’ house, he’s forced to choose between saving the rebel he’s sworn to protect…and saving his family.

  Either way, he risks the dangers of both the Head Coven and Angel World…

  1

  Bad angels are punished. And I’m a bad angel, so I should know. Every Human Addict, who’s been corrupted away from Angel World, flushes with that shame. But here’s the question: who does the punishing?

  Angels? Witches?

  They’re both hunting me to burn, control, and trap me in the dark.

  Except, the secret is that the witches love me: they’re my adopted family. And love is pain. But pain is better than biting loneliness.

  Ages ago, I only watched the human world. But when the savage thrum of humanity’s freedom sang to me, I was after touching too.

  See? I’m Zachriel and I’m an addict. And we’re the worst angels of them all.

  Kingston Upon Thames, England November 1978

  Shivering, I perched in the shadows behind The Mutineer pub, my bare feet soaked in puddles. Waves of laughter broke like the golden light through the windows; I pressed my hand against the glass.

  Had the witches awoken to discover I’d fled their bed? Without their magic to protect me, had I been tracked by the angels…?

  My tongue swiped across my lips, remembering the fiery explosion of tastes the last time I’d snuck from the witches’ house, across the stone bridge, and to this boozer on the banks of the Thames to feast with humans. But since my last shenanigans, the witches had wised up and taken my clothes.

  No more playing human, they’d scolded.

  My violet wings drooped, and I groaned. A naked angel? I didn’t know who’d be more mortified if I marched in there feathers and prick swinging: me or the humans.

  * * *

  Clang.

  * * *

  I froze at the rattling from behind the bins, before backing away towards the swirl of the river. I ran my hand nervously through my flame-red hair. When the metal lid of the bins rolled towards me, I jumped, my heart thundering. My foot slipped in the mud.

  I glanced up at the hushed vastness of the night sky. Rushing with the thrill of such independence — how did most humans still not see the supernatural worlds warring around them? — I spread my wings. They flamed spectre-bright, before slowly beating, as I rose up into the dark.

  Only to be yanked down by a soft yet powerful hand around my ankle.

  I eeped as I kicked out, flapping my wings like a canary caught in a cat’s claws. Except, these were the claws of the bad bastard who’d been hunting me since I’d slipped away from Angel World to the human, becoming an Addict who’d thrown away angelic glory to walk amongst the apes.

  Commander Drake.

  His violet eyes blazed but his expression was cold, as he cocked his head, tumbling his golden curls to the side. His creamy skin had been seared across his chest down to his harem style indigo silk trousers; his shoulders were blistered along the curve of his pale violet wings. Yet he still had his heavy harness and scabbard for his sword strapped over them.

  Had he been punished because he’d failed to catch me?

  I was a muppet.

  Why had I risked coming out here without the witches’ wicker effigy, which magically hid me from the Commander’s sight?

  Oh right: addict.

  The Commander tugged on my ankle again — there’d be bruises — and I tumbled onto my arse in the sludge with an undignified squelch.

  He lifted his eyebrow. ‘Zachriel.’

  I inclined my head. ‘Commander.’

  When you’re a naked mud monster at the feet of your enemy, pretend dignity is the only way to go.

  Blushing, I sneaked my hand to cover my prick, just as the Commander attempted to hide his smile. The git’s younger than me, despite all his pretend dignity, and when my Angelic Power is memories, I’m an idiot for forgetting it.

  But then, he’s also a leader of our armies…and my hunter.

  The Commander held out his small hand to me. ‘Come. Enough folly, let us return now.’

  Who needs dignity?

  ‘Spin on it,’ I smirked, sweeping my wings, which had stiffened to steel, across his ankles.

  He yelped, stumbling into my arms as if we were lovers. His breath ghosted across my cheeks. For a moment, he melted into the hold, resting his forehead against mine. ‘Zachriel, I offer this one chance. If you stay here much longer, you shall Fall.’

  I nutted him because he was right — angels who remained too long on earth became what humans knew as vampires — but no one likes a smug git.

  The Commander collapsed back, dazed, before pushing up and spreading his wings like a threat. His gaze was frosty. ‘As you wish.’

  He drew his sword — Flight — in a howling halo.

  I shuddered, scrambling up and instinctively grasping for my own sword, only to pat bare skin between my shoulder blades. I’d abandoned my sword, Eclipse, just like I’d abandoned my effigy, the witches, and my sense of bleeding self-preservation when I’d answered the siren call of humanity.

  When the Commander stalked towards me, I soared into the sky. Was I truly close to Falling? And becoming one of our enemies? Because we angels have been battling the Fallen in a brutal war for centuries.

  Shaking, I sought inside for my violet righteousness that’d power my fight, but the inferno wouldn’t blaze. My chest tightened, as the Commander swooped after me.

  When a pulse of white flaming wings burst from Flight, I twisted to the side, but the spitting feathers caught my left wing. I screamed, tumbling down like a fireball.

  Sweet Christ…

  The Commander tossed Flight into the mud, catching and rolling me across the ground to put out the sizzling flames. Then he dragged me up, ramming me against the side of the stone bridge.

  ‘Let me help you break this addiction.’ He raised a shaky hand to smooth down my spiked hair, which was crusted with muck. Even through the haze of agony, I noticed that his eyes gleamed, as if he was holding back tears. ‘You excel at running and abandoning others. But you have a duty, responsibility, and a—’

  ‘Home?’ I scoffed. ‘Get on with you, it’s been ages since either of us could claim that. But now? I have a family.’

  ‘The witches?’ This time, it was the Commander’s turn to scoff. ‘They’re hardly more than children. They shall not save you. You believe they love you?’

  ‘Ma and Da—’

  ‘They’d dare name themselves…?’ He grimaced. ‘You’re drugged, Zachriel, on this petty world’s tawdry delights.’ He clawed his hand through the feathers of my charred wing; I panted. ‘I’d burn every human if it saved my lost angels: my Addicts.’

  ‘Please…’ I writhed; white dots danced in front of the grey edging around my vision. ‘Lay off. I’m a bad angel, but the human world it’s…like breath. Life. Their music, duds, dancing… Look at the sky above, Commander, and know that no one can stop you flying or rule when or how long. Freedom.’

  ‘Hush now.’ The Commander’s hold on my wing gentled, but his glare was icy. ‘Those are the words of a Fallen: the damned. You’ve forgotten…’ He looked down, suddenly appearing uncertain. ‘…us both.’ He gripped my chin, tilting my head so our gazes met. I suddenly realized he was as desperate as me. ‘One final chance to submit and return. I shall plead for leniency.’

  I closed my eyes, unable to keep looking into his intent stare.

  The git was promising a better deal than I’d ever hoped for: a way to return with him to Angel World, on which I’d turned my back. But if I took it, I would be an abandoner of the family who’d adopted and loved me. And after a taste of freedom, I could never submit unwillingly again.

  When I opened my eyes, he read the answer there without my needing to say a word. His fingers tightened around my chin; I moaned. ‘Remember, I tried to save you. But now you’ll be taken back as one of the hunted. Shamed as an Addict. Puni
shed in an eternity of dark.’

  ‘Or you’ll burn, little brat,’ Ma sniggered, leaping from the top of the bridge onto the Commander’s back.

  Ma — Louisa Deadman, witch of the powerful house of Rose, Wolf, and Fox, and my adoptive Ma — showered the Commander in silver sparks, as he stumbled backwards. The Commander yelped, as each spark bit through his already burnt skin or singed his feathers.

  It looked like two teenagers tussling: Ma was wrapped in a floor length wolf fur coat, and her brunette hair swung in a sharp bob, as she grinned wildly. ‘Hey, naughty one,’ she shot at me. ‘Angel ours, you are quite the adventurer.’

  I flushed, before shrugging. ‘I wasn’t trying to bolt, I—’

  ‘Save the reunion,’ the Commander hissed, snatching Ma’s coat and hauling her off his back. I roared, diving to her side. The Commander ruffled his feathers, patting at the last fizzling sparks. ‘Now, set aside this silliness and—’

  A gold lasso crackled from the black mouth of the bridge, pinning the Commander’s arms to his sides. He thrashed side-to-side but couldn’t free himself.

  I grinned, bouncing on my toes, as Ma embraced me in fur and the spicy scent of cinnamon. ‘Brilliant! Now what was that blathering about how the witches wouldn’t save me…?’

  Da strode out of the bridge’s gloom, holding the Commander still at the end of the gold strand, like a leash. He loomed over the Commander in his russet wool coat over regimented suit: he might have only turned eighteen but he dressed like a headmaster. And he was just as intimidating: and my savior.

  When Da’s large hand traced the Commander’s cheek, it was the angel who shivered. ‘Boys who steal what is not theirs will be taught quite the lesson.’

  The Commander’s eyes narrowed. ‘Be silent, witch. I’m no Addict to kneel and be chastised. Do not think you shall steal my angel.’

  Da tightened the flaming lasso; the Commander groaned.

  Ma shoved me onto my back, slipping out a silver knife. My breath caught, but she only nicked her own palm. Blood tears dropped onto my chest.

  Da dragged the Commander after him, as he knelt by my side. He smiled at me, his tumble of ebony hair falling over his eyes. I smiled too because they’d saved me.

  Then Ma sliced Da’s hand, however, and as both their blood bubbled in blood magic, which made my back arch, Da leant over me and whispered, ‘You are in more trouble than you can imagine, Zach.’

  When the crimson burst through me, I gasped. I’d been saved from the angels, only to be caught by the witches.

  2

  I’d never known it was possible for a kiss to be both a celebration and a warning.

  * * *

  Thud.

  * * *

  I’d landed on the oak floor of the hallway in the witches’ House of Rose, Wolf, and Fox, and Ma and Da had materialized in the air above me, tumbling in a gigging tangle next to me, giddy from the victory.

  Despite the roiling in my guts from having made a balls of my nighttime mission out into the human world, which had ended in being caught by Drake, and then being dragged back here like a naughty school boy, I’d grinned myself at their joy.

  After the funeral for Louisa’s ma last week, there’d been nothing but simmering grief; I’d bolted to escape the emotions I hadn’t understood.

  Finally, Ma had rolled on top of me, her intense gaze pinning me, until I’d been trapped.

  Then her lips bit mine, and I opened my mouth to her insistent, punishing tongue: a celebration and a warning.

  I shivered.

  When she drew back, her fingers clamped across my mouth and pinched shut my nose. My eyes widened, as she panted, pressing kisses down my convulsing throat. ‘You’re our first adopted angel child. Why would you play such dangerous games?’ She pouted. ‘You pretty pretend the innocent. But do not imagine your wickedness is hidden.’

  I spasmed; my heels drummed out a rhythm on the floor.

  Da pushed himself up, rubbing the blood from his hands fastidiously. ‘You are in need for a lesson on obedience and self-control, Zach. Did you not once think that Louisa may not be…suited…to fighting or dealing with you, whilst grieving for her mother?’

  He bent over, rubbing his young wife’s shoulder gently, before easing her hand from my mouth and nose; I gasped in grateful lungful’s of air.

  Ma pecked a final apologetic kiss onto the tip of my nose.

  ‘Sweet Jesus, I’m a muppet. I made a holy show of myself, and after a Fallen murdered—’

  Da stamped on my burnt wing; I howled.

  ‘I, on the other hand,’ Da continued coolly, his coat sweeping across my writhing face like a fox’s brush, ‘am more than equipped to deal with bad angels. It’s been the duty of this House to find, save, and protect Human Addicts for centuries: to stop you from Falling. And I shall not dishonor my adopted mother by failing you, Zach.’ He ground his heel harder into my feathers, and I groaned. ‘Well then, who is in charge of your discipline, guidance, and training, if you please?’

  ‘You are, Da,’ I rasped.

  ‘Quite.’ Da grasped me by the scruff of the neck, hauling me down the Tudor paneled hallway.

  ‘You forced me to use the last of my mother’s blood magic,’ Ma skulked after us, trailing her fingers across the oak. ‘Stupid child, how can we protect you now we can only crawl like the rest of the ants on this world?’

  ‘But I’ll protect you, so I will.’

  Her gaze sharpened. ‘One day, you won’t, and we’ll die.’

  I bit my lip, as Da pressed his palm to the iron cellar, thrumming it with golden sparks, before swinging it open — clank.

  When I peered into the musty black, I whined.

  Ma swept after us; the large wolf pendant around her neck caught the moon’s light through the arched windows, gleaming on each step. ‘You would put him with our…wicked secret?’

  Shocked, I tried to raise my head…What in the name of all the saints lurked in the shadows?

  Da only hurled me down the stone steps into the cellar, however, before slamming shut the trapdoor and abandoning me to the mercy of their wicked secret.

  My nose crunched into the stone wall at the bottom of the steps, as I stumbled, twisting my ankle.

  ‘Sweet Christ,’ I spun, flapping my wings to stop myself from collapsing to the concrete floor of the cellar.

  * * *

  Clink.

  * * *

  My head shot up at the slithering metallic sound from the far corner.

  * * *

  Clink.

  * * *

  The wicked secret: was it a spell? A trap? More training? After my idiot flit I no longer felt like the warrior I’d once been and more like a rat in two kids’ experiment: and this was the maze.

  * * *

  Clink.

  * * *

  Two fiery violet points flared, dancing like fae and weaving towards me.

  I quivered, taking a step back, as my wings tingled: I wasn’t alone. ‘Come out or I’ll boot your arse.’

  A sigh. ‘Promises, promises.’

  I swept my wings forward, flaming in an illuminating arc. A female angel with inky curls, bronzed skin, and a mauve silk dress. I blushed when I remembered I was still naked, but she smirked.

  Except, her eyes were black, and her wings were grey apart from their pulsing tips: she was one of the Fallen who’d been our enemy since they’d been cast out of Angel World.

  * * *

  Clink.

  * * *

  She raised her shackled hands. ‘I’m Asariel and until a couple of days ago, Irish, I was just the same as you: an addict.’ She examined me, cocking her head. ‘Those witches are a piece of work. How long until you…?’ Suddenly, her shoulders slumped; her gaze slipped from mine, as she whispered, ‘This morning, I think I Fell.’ Without even realizing I’d moved, I was cradling her in my wings and stroking her curls; her quiet distress called to me because this could’ve been me. ‘My wanker wings are gone but…I c
an’t tell if my eyes…? Are they…black now?’

  Sadly, I nodded, pretending not to notice the tears wetting my chest.

  ‘I just wanted to fly in the moonlight,’ she murmured, nuzzling closer. ‘And now? I’ll never fly again.’

  I frowned. ‘You’re grieving, so you are, because you didn’t find a kind Ma and Da to adopt and save you in time with their magic. But don’t grouse; you’re safe now.’

  Asariel shoved me in the chest; I stumbled backwards. Her black eyes were wide. ‘Say what? Are you so la la you don’t know what the witches’ covens secretly deal in? What they do to big bad wolves like me?’

  She licked her lips, stalking towards me. Startled, I tripped, but she caught my elbow, dragging me towards her. When she kissed me, I expected it to be punishing like Ma’s kiss, but instead it was gentle and coaxing; she licked across my lips, until I opened my mouth, and then twined our tongues like she was desperate not to be alone anymore.

  And by all the saints I understood that.

  When Asariel drew back, resting her shackled hands on my chest and her forehead on mine, we were both panting. ‘They’re your family?’ She asked.

  ‘They love me.’

  ‘There are different types of love,’ she shrugged, ‘and some of them are even more dangerous than me.’

  ‘What…?’

  She wrenched the chains between her manacled hands around my neck and twisted.

  So much for trusting the Fallen; so much for trusting an Addict…

  I choked, scrabbling at the chain, which bit into my throat. My legs buckled, but Asariel held me up.

  Holy Mary, I was going to die in this cellar: as punishments go, some might call that harsh.