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 female 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.
Hurt me, kiss me, burn me…
Rebel had submitted to me. Only me.
I wanted him back.
At last, Drake lifted his hand from Rebel’s neck; he forced Rebel to meet his intense gaze. ‘Nod if you understand now?’
Rebel raised his middle finger.
‘Wallad,’ I muttered.
Drake glanced at me with detached curiosity, before he noticed the offending digit. To my surprise, he almost smiled, before he stopped himself and scowled instead.
It was a glimpse of a bloke like Rebel, rather than the cold creature that burned you to your knees.
Why was the true Drake hiding?
‘I’ve missed these sessions,’ Drake trailed his hand down Rebel’s chest. ‘Why have you left me alone so long?’ When he stroked his fingers through Rebel’s feathers, Rebel quivered. ‘I should pluck out each of these grey feathers one by one.’
‘You know, at first I thought maybe you were the top boy angel on a power trip,’ I called over. I was paralyzed but I could still shank with words. ‘But now? I reckon you’re just the harem boy messenger.’
Drake’s shoulders hunched; his curls fell over his face. ‘You know nothing of our lives.’
And the angel was shanked.
‘I’ve met blokes like you before. The bullies at school because at home they’re hiding under their beds from the monsters that hurt them.’
Drake’s head snapped up. He eyed me suspiciously, as if he reckoned I’d read his mind. ‘Monsters?’ He sneered, but with a weary despair. ‘We all serve monsters.’
‘Yeah, but some of us get off on it more than others.’
‘Shall we see which of us it is who gets off on it?’
Hell, I was the wallad.
When Drake caressed Rebel’s wings, circling the feathers and massaging, Rebel squirmed and bucked. Drake’s gentle kisses on the remaining violet feathers, like veneration, were familiar and intimate.
I quaked in outraged jealousy at the touch, yet also at Rebel’s excited response.
How old was Rebel?
Drake looked like he was the same age as Jade, but he was a Commander. He could’ve been battling in these supernatural wars for centuries. And playing these games with Rebel for just as long.
I wanted to look away, my mouth so dry I could barely swallow, but I couldn’t.
Drake watched me closely, whilst he stroked his hand over the hardness in Rebel’s trousers, then worked his pulsing wings again, before backing down to soft kisses once more.
Rebel thrashed his head from side-to-side. At last I saw the tears, silent down his cheeks.
Drake was edging my pretty punk, and it was as much a torture, as the pain Drake had inflicted before.
Yet if Rebel was shaking, so was Drake. ‘Have you no idea what you’ve done to me, Zachriel?’ He wiped Rebel’s tears away tenderly. Then he glared at me, and my breath was taken by his hate. ‘Why are you always to be protected? Whilst we…’ He twisted the tip of Rebel’s bent wing, and Rebel howled silently, ‘…suffer?’
Drake dived to kiss Rebel on the lips, yet this time it was hard and impulsive, as if a forbidden touch.
Then he drew back, and once again was beautiful but cold slave plays at Commander.
I outstared the bastard.
Yet he shook his head. ‘Why would you weep for a son of the Fallen?’
I looked up sharply. ‘Why would you?’
Drake blinked. He raised his hand in confusion. Tears trembled in the corners of his eyes, spilling when he wiped his hand across them. The glare he cast me was deadly. When he spun to Rebel, he was nothing but cool detachment. ‘Remember, Addict, return to me soon.’ He swept his fingers down Rebel’s chest. ‘You didn’t think I’d miss spending Christmas together?’
When Drake stalked towards me, his wings beating, I fought not to flinch.
‘Bounce, pretty genie, your Master’s rubbing your lamp,’ I taunted.
Drake dragged the indigo silk trousers up his hips, where they’d slipped down, self-consciously. ‘You know, I have also met people of your kind before. And they are the monsters from which I hid.’ I winced. ‘Inside you’re keeping something…. extraordinary…from me. No one does that.’ He leant closer. ‘Not even you.’
Then I was falling forward on my face onto the springy moss, Rebel was howling, and Drake had vanished.
And that, my Feathery-sweetness, is why you should never have called out to the heavens for the angels to save you.
I stopped calling, J, and they still fell. And now one of them is mine.
I scrambled up, diving to Rebel.
Rebel pulled away, as far as he could in the bonds. His wings pulsed. His body quivered.
When I gently unchained his bruised wrists, he wouldn’t meet my eye. He pushed himself staggering to his feet; I struggled not to grab him by his shoulders and support him.
I knew when a bitch didn’t want to be touched.
Rebel slumped to his knees next to Eclipse.
‘So, son of the Fallen, huh?’ I said, quietly.
Rebel rested his head against the statue’s stone wing, stretching out on the moss bed. He sighed, as if fibbing took more energy than Drake’s session had left him. ‘A Human Addict and a son of the Fallen makes me almost the worst angel. You after punishing me now for that too?’
‘I reckon Genie of the Lamp already had that covered.’ When I sprawled next to Rebel, he shuffled away. My lips thinned. ‘Who was that bastard?’
‘Commander Duma Drake…’ Rebel hesitated, before he muttered, ‘My gaoler for forty years.’
A birdcage prison in the dark.
I swallowed, before crawling over to the bottle of water I’d dropped and the box of painkillers, which had been knocked into the bracken. Then I knelt next to Rebel, raising two pills to his lips.
He didn’t take them, as if it was a test.
‘I’m not one-man band playing good cop, bad cop. Swallow the happy pills.’ I massaged Rebel’s temples with my other hand. He opened his lips, and his pink tongue flicked out for the painkillers. He raised his arm to take the bottle, but sank back down again with a sigh. ‘Here,’ I held the water up for him. He swallowed, although he watched me guardedly. ‘I guess being a chocoholic wasn’t causing my migraines then.’
When I sat back, he grasped for the hilt of his sword. But exhausted by the movement, he sank down. ‘Balls…’
‘I’m not going to fight you again. Let’s agree you’ve a hell of a long Pinocchio nose, and I’ll snap it off if you grow it any longer. But are you broken because of what Drake did to you or because you’re Falling?’
Rebel’s glance was sharp. ‘I’ve been banjaxed for so long, but with you…? Sweet Christ, I was flying again.’ His shoulders drooped. ‘But now I’m in tatters. And you’re a huntress who’s rejected me as Custodian.’
‘I rejected being a prisoner.’
He gave a bitter laugh. ‘Any ape can see you don’t need me anymore.’
My heart beat, a deafening roar, sweeping me up, until I trapped Rebel beneath me, my hands pressed either side of his head.
A goodbye.
No way was the wallad making this a goodbye.
‘I won’t let Drake take you again.’ Rebel could try and hide his fear but it was written in the tension of his wings. ‘No need for the I’ll only slow you down hero dramatics. You’re not returning with Drake, no matter what he threatens. Look at me,’ reluctantly he raised his gaze; the fragile hurt he usually hid was breath-taking up close, ‘I’ve got your back. I won’t let you Fall.’
‘I’m bad, but I’ll never allow myself to be one of the Fallen.’ His fingers tightened around Eclipse.
Slap — I’d smacked his hand away from his sword, like a schoolmistress whacking the back of a naughty kid’s knuckles, before I’d even realised I meant to.
Rebel cradled his scarlet hand, but his gaze was thoughtful.
Violet and black spun webs round us, furious and possessive, cocooning us together.
‘Killing yourself doesn’t make you the noble knight,’ I pulled back, balling the snow between my fingers, ‘but the bloke who gives up, rather than battles to the end. Or do you just want to copy your family?’
‘Don’t talk about my family—’
‘We’re fighting this. And your punk arse isn’t leaving me when my sister is still missing. We made a deal. What if the Hackney kids were taken by angels? Our next move is to take this beef to Eden’s turf, rather than letting him hunt us. I need you.’
‘You need me?’
I froze, shocked by Rebel’s hushed awe. He stroked one shaking hand down my arm.
I did need Rebel. To find my sister and the other kids. To fight beside me against the Pure…
Because he was mine.
Yet unless he healed, we’d be targets for Eden when night fell. And I’d be alone to protect us both.
‘Better get you fixed up.’ I shoved Rebel against the fallen angel, snogging him hard in the wet snow.
When his hands weakly pushed at me, I pulled away.
‘A fib,’ Rebel bit at his full lower lip, ‘remember? Angel kisses don’t heal.’
I swooped on his lip, taking it between my teeth instead of his…and then I sank in my teeth.
Hell, if I was honest…? The vampiric power coiling and snapping inside had wanted to do this every time he’d torn his lip between his teeth.
Rebel stiffened, as I sucked.
Slam.
Sugary copper hit me in a sweet wave.
But it was even sweeter, when I drew back and bit my lip, before forcing my own blood into Rebel’s mouth.
This time, when he struggled under me, I didn’t allow him to escape.
Instead, I fed him the trickle of blood.
Slam.
I juddered, snow patterning behind my closed eyelids, as every atom danced alive on the sensation of our shared blood.
Slam.
Better than the moment a shank sliced…
Slam.
An explosion of life: I was flying.
‘If Angel kisses don’t heal, how about their blood?’ I murmured. ‘Word on the street is mine’s powerful.’
Rebel turned away his head. It booted me in the gut to see the…disgust…and tears in his eyes.
Yet when I shuffled back, he snatched my arms. Then he was snogging me fiercely, sucking at my lip.
Gently, I pushed him back, before holding out my palm and pulling out Star.
He blinked, before baring the long line of his throat above his collar, as if he expected me to cut his head from his shoulders even now for his sins. Instead, I curled closed my palm, his trust tempting me to pay him back in kind.
And I’d never trusted a bloke before. Not after Phoenix.
Don’t do this. The pretty boy is one step from fangs and claws.
I bared my neck, as Rebel had; Rebel watched me from underneath his eyelashes. Then I sliced a thin cut down my throat.
You’re feeding an Addict. If you bind the eyeliner punk to you with blood, you’ll have to kill him to free yourself, else he’ll kill you.
We’re the same, J, he understands.
And we both know your choices…feathers and bones…violet and black. Do you trust another monster?
Rebel snarled, before leaping onto me and knocking me back onto the moss. The small amount of blood from my lip had already strengthened him. He held me down by my shoulders, his hard body heavy against mine.
Had I saved Rebel or birthed a vampire?
I gasped, when black flecks sparked in Rebel’s eyes, before he lowered his mouth towards my bleeding neck.