28
I never expected I’d face down an army of vampires, who hadn’t crawled deformed from a pit, but beautiful winged from the red-teared skies. War-moths, they soundlessly landed on the greens of London Fields, like black stars fallen.
War had come to Hackney.
And I was Violet of Troy: the bitch they battled to possess and carry home.
But I’d no longer be anybody’s girl but my own.
The winged ranks marched towards us. The blood dawn haloed the Fallen Army.
Cold rain ran down the back of my collar; I shivered. When Ash’s arm snaked around my waist, I was wrapped — just for a moment — in the aromatic scent of safety.
Until an albino Fallen, with pure white hair swinging to his waist and hooped piercings through his nose and ears, like a goth elf in floor-length black leather coat, paced forward. He snapped his fingers at Ash, as if he was a dog. ‘Here, Seducer.’
Ash coloured. Then he dragged his hand through his hair and took a step towards the Albino Fallen. Almost as quickly, he jerked backwards, shaking his head.
I snatched Ash’s wrist. ‘You told me you weren’t nice,’ I couldn’t hide the edge of tears, even if I could stop them falling, ‘but no way in hell did I take you to be a traitor.’
Ash spun, whispering, ‘I’d never betray you. But you crave to own, and the thing about being owned…? It sucks.’
I dropped Ash’s wrist, and he pulled away from me. He didn’t look back, trudging towards the Albino Fallen, with his head down and his hands buried in the pockets of his coat.
The Albino Fallen seized Ash, tangling his hand in Ash’s thick hair and slapping him, hard enough to make Ash stagger.
Sniggers ran along the line.
When the Albino Fallen clasped Ash to his chest, running his hand possessively down his chest, Rebel’s snarl answered mine.
Owned.
Ash understood the powers inside me: the violet and black curling underneath my skin crooned that he belonged to me. Yet the danger of listening to the siren song was being played out in the way the Albino Fallen clamped his hand around Ash’s neck, whilst he stroked down his jeans.
Ash closed his eyes, turning away his head.
The geek Seducer was never yours. Now the game must go on.
But there’s only Rebel and the foxies…
There’s only you, sweet cakes. There’s always been only you. Didn’t I raise you to remember that?
A sodden dash of rusty red — like blood streaking through the rain — and the familiars broke from the cover of the trees.
I smiled. I needed the little furry bastards winding around my ankles. Their howl, shriek and snap.
But instead, they wove away from me, towards Ash.
‘Blaze! Spark!’ I hollered.
The foxes turned their heads to gaze at me, sinking onto their haunches at Ash’s feet. They nuzzled his calves to comfort him, as the Albino Fallen’s hand gripped Ash’s neck harder.
And then there were two…
Tower Block B? Lit up, like fairy lights, with rainbow arcs of the Pure strung together? There was only one then.
And what about you?
I’m part of you, hooker, whether you love or hate me.
‘My brother…I have to try…’ Rebel bounced on the balls of his feet, his pinkie linking with mine, before he dove towards Wings.
Wings stood at the front of the Fallen ranks, his arms crossed over his denim jacket. The red lit his auburn bristles like a halo. He held up his arm to stop the other Fallen attacking at Rebel’s excited dash.
Rebel launched himself at his brother, clinging to him. ‘Please, there’s no need to fight. Give me a chance, Briathos. I know I’ve made a balls of things, but we’re family.’
And then there was one…
Bondage boy was always bad, Feathery-love. The question is why you ever wanted him to be good?
Wings rested his hand between his brother’s shoulder blades.
I should’ve hoped Wings shanked the punk who’d betrayed me. Yet all my heart ached was…don’t hurt him…not again.
Wings’ other hand stroked across the barbed wire line of feathers, which were tattooed across his throat, before he spun Rebel and shoved him skidding face down in the slushy mud.
In front of his enemies.
His family.
The sniggers became guffaws.
Rebel slammed his fist — in a squelching spray — into the puddle. Then he raised his head and our gazes met. He couldn’t mask the desperate pain fast enough: humiliated, rejected, and abandoned in front of his own.
Hell, if I ever discovered my fam, after years of searching, only to be kicked in the mud…?
I’d rent the world to ribbons.
Rebel struggled to stand, his cheeks streaked with dirt and rain. Wings took a run at him, booting him in the arse and sprawling him deeper into the mire.
A cheer erupted from the ranks; Wings lifted his arm in mocking salute.
I winced.
Rebel reddened, pushing himself to his knees again. This time, he turned half warily and half hopefully to the warrior next to Wings.
The Fallen warrior watched Rebel in stony silence. He towered over everyone, in a sea green suede jacket. He was older, although with the same flame red bristles, and a beard like a Celtic Chieftain.
‘Da…?’ Rebel tilted his head, his neck exposed and vulnerable.
This…hulk…was Rebel’s true da…?
I tensed, lurching a single pace forward, before stopping myself.
‘You’re dead to the Supreme Commander, git angel,’ Wings raised one pieced eyebrow. ‘Did you forget that if I saw you again, it’d be as my prisoner?’
Rebel ignored Wings. He repeated, more forcefully, ‘Da?’
The Supreme Commander of the Fallen strode forward. His eyes blazed severe and pitiless.
I slipped my hand to Star’s hilt.
Rebel breathed hard, his chest rapidly rising and falling, but like a lamb on the altar, he didn’t reach for his sword. Instead, he knelt before his dad, with that terrible hope burning in his gaze.
Please…please don’t…
The Supreme Commander stopped, close enough to have reached out and cupped his youngest son’s trembling cheek. He examined him: from his rain drenched hair, to the collar tight at his neck.
Yet all without saying a word.
Rebel shook far more than could’ve been caused by the rain, as if in the grip of a fever. ‘Da, please…’
Long, black steel claws unsheathed from the Supreme Commander’s nails, a second before they slashed across Rebel’s face.
As if at a signal, all along the line, the vampires’ claws shot out.
I unsheathed Star, holding the dagger high in front of me.
Rebel knelt in the muck at his dad’s feet. Scarlet lines scored his cheek; the rain wept away the blood. And still he didn’t reach for Eclipse.
This isn’t your fight. The Irish boy delivered you up to the Fangs. He deserves this.
Nobody deserves this. Anyway, fam is fam. And I protect my own.
‘Come to us, princess,’ the Supreme Commander held out his large hand to me.
‘Stick it, bro.’ I lunged across London Fields, dragging Rebel back by the arm.
Rebel struggled. ‘Why…? Da… Briathos…’
Slap — Rebel shook his head against my blow but then focused on me.
‘They don’t want you, and if you don’t land back in reality, they’ll claw your pretty head from your shoulders.’ I shook Rebel and then caught a sob at the back of my throat, holding my sodden sleeve to my mouth to stop the broken screams. ‘You’re a monster. Bad, damaged goods, broken. A freak. That’s why you’ve no family. Rejected. Abandoned. Nobody could ever want you.’
I choked, fighting for breath, as if my insides had already been shredded.
When I looked up, Rebel’s pinkie brushed mine again.
Rebel’s smile was shaky, but his look was one of such gentle understanding, I gasped. ‘You’re right, princess. But we’re not alone.’ He drew Eclipse. The light caught the metal studs on his leathers: punk armour. ‘Who do you want to fight first, Feathers?’ He smirked. ‘Take your pick.’
‘How about the bastard Fang who booted my Custodian in the arse?’
His smile wavered, before it broadened into a grin. ‘Your Custodian? If only for this battle, let’s see if we can’t boot his muppet arse.’
We rushed at Wings, lifting him by the waist and dividing him from the ranks. He yelped, but couldn’t squirm away. We hurled him into the same slushy puddle into which he’d kicked Rebel.
Wings arose, shaking his head and dripping muddy water, to the chuckles and clapping of his own troops.
Fickle bastards the Fallen.
Surging towards us, Wings hooked Rebel under the chin, before sweeping his feet out from under him. Then he pounded Rebel in the guts; Rebel groaned.
I threw myself on Wings, gripping the back of his denim jacket and heaving him away from Rebel.
But I dropped Star away from Wings. I remembered the distress tearing through Rebel when I’d threatened his brother with the dagger out here before.
I wasn’t the same bitch now.
Rebel sprang up and launched himself at his brother. He tackled Wings down to the ground, dropping Eclipse.
The two brothers grappled in the sludge, before Rebel pinned Wings beneath him.
I glanced at the Supreme Commander and the Fallen Army. Not a single vampire stirred, instead watching the gladiatorial combat with glee.
Rebel bit his lip so hard it bled; his shoulders quivered. He clouted his brother across the face, first one way and then the other. At each word he laid into Wings, ‘Why…won’t…you…forgive…me?’
Two swollen eyes scowled up at him. ‘Because that’s not redemption.’
Rebel scrambled back, like his brother had spewed fire.
I blinked, squinting up into the sky.
On the opposite side of Hackney to the red dawn crawling behind the Fallen, indigo bled into the sky.
A violet horizon…flew towards us.
Wings slunk to his feet. ‘Still a traitor then? You brought your friends to the party?’
‘The angels aren’t my mates.’ Rebel had become still; his face ashen. ‘They’re my gaolers.’
When Wings limped back towards his ranks, Rebel snatched up Eclipse.
‘This is war then? Both sides are going to battle over me?’ I clasped Star in sweaty hands. ‘Why am I so special?’
Rebel grinned, but his eyes were achingly sad. ‘You’re so much more than I’ll ever be. I wish… I’m sorry—’
‘Save it. If we’re not sliced into a fine red mist by either side, then I’ll expect the best on your knees apology, with begging and chocolate. But first? We fight.’
He nodded.
Butterfly light, the angels landed: an army of pulsing violet winged beauty. I fought not to prostrate myself before them in adoration.
Yet every one of those angels hadn’t saved me when I’d called out to them.
Drake marched forward: David to the Supreme Commander’s Goliath. He ignored me, as if the monster in the midst of the two armies was nothing but a pawn.
Commander Drake was in for a shock.
‘The princess belongs to us,’ Drake faced down the Celtic giant, even as his bare feet sank into the mud, and his sheer trousers stuck to his arse in the rain.
‘She’s ours, and we intend to take her,’ the Supreme Commander of the Fallens’ gruff response — the counter in a fierce business negotiation — shot flames coiling through my guts.
The bastard spoke about wanting me, but he wouldn’t even talk to his own son…?
‘Hey,’ I yelled, ‘better tell your soldiers to go home. Because nobody owns the Bitch of Utopia.’
Rebel grinned. We both spun, until we were back-to-back. Then we raised our weapons.
‘Is she always like this?’ The Supreme Commander grimaced.
Drake’s lips curled up, before he coughed, hiding his smile with the back of his hand. ‘Unfortunately, yes.’
‘Commander Drake,’ Rebel’s dad asked, with the reluctant respect of one old war leader to another, ‘in your judgement, is she insane enough to fight, regardless of our own battle?’
Drake lifted an eyebrow at me, before nodding, ‘Supreme Commander Flynn, that would be another yes.’
Then both Commanders raised their arms in signal.
Listen to me, you make a choice: black or violet. Bones or feathers. This war is—
Crazy. A couple of months ago, I thought I was just a regular woman. Before my twenty-first birthday and the fever that changed me, I was only a gamer with a kid sister. But now there’s angels, vampires, and wars between them over me. You want me to choose? I choose humans, J.
You didn’t choose Jade. In an hour, she’ll be dead. And the angel at your back? He’ll have Fallen.
I grasped Star so hard the hilt bit into my palm.
Rebel glanced over his shoulder at me, before gripping my other hand.
Slam.
This time the sugary copper spiralled me high, until I was bouncing on my toes, like Rebel. Until we were both grinning like wallads, as Drake sighed…and brought down his arm.
The steel sweep of beating violet wings, mixed with a wall of grey feathers. Flashes of flame. Shrieks, screams, screeches. Tearing of flesh from tendon and bone: hands and fire.
Johnny Rotten’s swag punk vocals and the killer guitar riff of “God Save the Queen” looped around my mind, whilst I shanked, barbequed, and booted in the balls.
Our brutal dance was beautiful.
Why had I ever let Rebel think he was a bad Custodian?
He’d freed me, as I’d freed him.
A hiss of pain, and I twisted to look over my shoulder.
The Albino Fallen’s claws were sunk into Rebel’s chest. Rebel struggled, pinned and panting. But the Albino Fallen raked his claws, like Legolas’ evil twin, down Rebel’s chest to his guts.
Rebel howled, swinging Eclipse, but the Albino Fallen crushed his wrist.
I didn’t notice Ash in the melee, until he’d hooked his arm around the Albino Fallen’s throat. Then he’d dragged the other vampire away from Rebel, into the sea of wings.
I thrust Star through the nearest wing; the feathers steamed. I yanked back my blade, booting the howling angel.
Suddenly Ash, his forehead streaked with scarlet, was at my back as well. I shuddered with the solid warmth of his touch.
And then there were three…
But for how long?
Don’t you get it? That doesn’t matter. They have my back now when it counts. I won’t forget it.
‘I couldn’t be in debt to you for saving me from frying,’ Ash shot at Rebel, clouting an angel in the nose, ‘or miss this Game of Thrones battle.’
‘This is a game?’ Rebel blinked.
‘Box set marathon. Pizza. My place,’ Ash twirled to kick the next vampire, but the vampire caught his foot, twisting his leg out of its socket. Then he hurled him back into the ranks of the Fallen.
Away from us.
Wings.
He was the bastard who’d dragged Ash back to the side of the Fallen.
I turned to help, only for Rebel to snatch my arm. ‘He’s after using the Brigadier as bait.’
‘What?’
Wings jumped on Ash’s arm.
Crack.
I flinched as Ash’s arm broke, and then as Wings stomped on it again.
Ash’s bellow rose above the clash of the battle.
I quivered, burying my shank in a vampire’s guts; his squeal equaled Ash’s.
Crack.
I cringed.
I couldn’t lose myself in the beauty of the fight and the beat of the Sex Pistols anymore, only the crunch of bones, blast of fire, and gash of the shank.
Crack.
I turned my head towards Ash, almost missing the flash of movement behind me.
Rebel.
I whirled, but an angel with shiny jet braids to her waist and glowing ebony skin, had already pinned Rebel’s arms at his side, wrapping her wings around him like a Venus flytrap.
One hard yank and Rebel had been swallowed into the pulsing angelic mouth.
I howled, searing a blistering path across grey and violet wings alike.
But Ash and Rebel were lost.
I was alone.
Crack.
I swung Star, shuddering at Ash’s pain. Then I sprang over crumpled bodies for a glimpse of Rebel. He’d been pushed to his knees; Drake’s fingers pressed at the base of his neck.
I’d sworn Rebel would never be touched by Drake again. That he’d never go back into the dark.
Star fell limp in my hand as I collapsed to the muddy grass.
Tears joined the rain streaming down my face; their salt was tangy on my lips.
I’d saved the world but I’d sacrificed…everything.
I’d known I would. But that didn’t make it easier.
Get that hoochie ass up. Since when did you give up?
It’s not giving up to save my blokes. They’ve earned that.
Someone dragged me backwards by my feet, banging my head against the ground.
Bump, bump, bump.
I sprawled in a dirt splattered heap.
Past the sound of my own quick breathing, the fast thump of my heart, and the heavy drum of rain against my face, I could hear how silent London Fields had fallen.
They’d stopped torturing Ash and hadn’t violated Rebel then.
A bitch could get used to this positive thinking.
I stared up at the bearded Supreme Commander, who scrutinised me back. The soft corner of his coat swung against my face like seaweed. Then he tangled his meaty hand in my hair and wrenched me up onto my knees.
I hissed, stumbling to crawl after him, as he dragged me forward through the parting ranks across the battlefield. When he stopped, I looked up through panicked eyes — straight into Rebel’s.
Drake held Rebel on his knees by a hand at his neck, inches from where the Supreme Commander gripped me.
This time, Rebel didn’t even try to smile. Terror vibrated from him in shuddering waves.
‘We both have something the other wants,’ Drake shook Rebel, like he was a sewer rat. ‘So, I propose an exchange: the princess, for your son.’
The Supreme Commander’s hold tightened in my hair. ‘Tactical error, Commander. Maybe because you were raised… broken? You never did understand emotion, Duma. You see, I already have my true son.’
The Supreme Commander glanced at Wings, who stole to stand at his dad’s shoulder, leaving Ash curled in a ball with his left arm shattered.
Wings’ face was a swollen bruise, but he didn’t look as satisfied to see his brother a prisoner as I’d expected. Instead, he glowered at me.
Rebel snarled, wrestling to break free from Drake. ‘Da, please, I’ll prove—’
‘The traitor chose you when the battle lines were drawn.’ The Supreme Commander’s hand wound even tighter in my hair. ‘Keep him. We only have room for true rebels.’
Whoops and catcalls.
Wings didn’t join in.
Rebel slumped to the mud, and Drake didn’t stop him.
‘You know what will happen to me if I leave without the princess,’ Drake’s voice was low and careful.
The Supreme Commander nodded but his grin was feral. ‘Now to win her, boy, you’ll have to fight.’
The leader of the Fallen Armies launched me to the side, at the same time as Drake flung Rebel. Our foreheads banged in a star blinding crack.
Then Rebel’s arms flung around me, pulling me against his chest, as if he could still save us. But it was too late. Because we were the winner’s trophies.
The angel and vampire armies circled. Wings passed the Supreme Commander a giant two headed black axe. The Supreme Commander swung it from side-to-side. It hissed through the air, as he tested its weight.
Drake paced forward in nothing but silk harem trousers, which slipped down his hips. Then he stretched out his glorious wings, their beat loud in the hush, and rose into the sky.
The Supreme Commander rushed Drake like a bull, lifting up at the last moment.
They clashed mid-air, battling across the dawn-tinged heavens; the axe sliced and gashed, whilst Drake’s speed was mesmerising. Drake slipped under the swing of the axe, booting the Supreme Commander bloody.
I gasped when I realised these supernatural creatures had only been playing with us before, like a cat does with a mouse it’s already caught.
The ancient forces inside me rose up, greedy and thrilled, thirsting for this power. If this was what I could learn in Angel World, then I wouldn’t be the one helpless on my knees.
Yeah, power, it’s an addiction.
When Drake’s wing slashed down across the Supreme Commander’s back, crashing him to the ground like Zeus’ thunderous fall to earth, I grinned.
Gank him… Do it… Do it now…
Then I heard Rebel’s sob.
Rebel’s dad was a bastard, but Rebel was about to witness…
The skank with the braids lobbed a huge sword with a hilt built out of violet feathers to Drake. He laid the blade, fizzing with fire, over the Supreme Commander’s neck.
Then sliced it down.
‘Christ, no…’ Rebel hurled himself to his dad.
At the same time, Wings staggered to his knees next to Rebel.
Both their flame red heads bowed over the fallen vampire. Their backs shook with silent, united grief.
How could I’ve wished for that?
The shadow of Rebel’s grief shrouded me through the bond.
In the veil of the rain swept park, less than an hour before dawn woke over London Fields, two armies stood in shock over the death of a leader.
Drake threw down his sword, before prowling towards me. Both sides quailed before him.
‘I’ve won you,’ Drake held out his hand: it was shaking. ‘You’re my prize. Zachriel too.’
It was the shaking that did it.
So, Drake was dangerous? A killer of vampires?
How many had I killed in Tower Block B? Wasn’t I a huntress? And now Drake was scared of me?
I clutched Drake’s hand, surging up and crushing his fingers. ‘You haven’t won me, Commander.’ He tried to pull away, but I squeezed harder; scarlet tears bled between where our hands joined. ‘You’re mine.’
He jerked. ‘Don’t—’
‘You bastard angels lost me twenty-one years ago.’ Dark pleasure snaked at the alarm dancing in his eyes. ‘Now I’m coming home.’
He tossed his curls to control the pain. ‘As you like. Angel World, however, may not be quite as you hope. Remember I warned you.’
The dark pleasure curdled to fear.
I dropped Drake’s hand — his blood sticky on my palm — at the anguish that’d flashed across his face, before he’d buried it.
But I’d been brought up in Jerusalem Children’s Home. I’d savoured every flavour of trauma from the kids who’d passed through.
Drake wasn’t kidding: Angel World was no heaven.
I drew back, but Drake cradled his small hand around my neck, his thumb pressing into the base. ‘Allow me to escort you home, princess.’
Dawn over London Fields exploded into violet.