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 balls 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.