7
Shocked out of the blackness of sleep, I booted at the intruder before swinging out of bed.
‘Sweet Jesus, woman, would you take it easy?’ Rebel popped up at the side of the four-poster, shuffling closer on his knees as he rubbed his bruised forehead.
I shivered in the cold draught seeping through the open door. A weak glow bled from the galley. Crossing my arms, I slouched against the bedpost.
I peered through the gloom at him. ‘You’re braving Da’s severe consequences?’
Rebel pulled at his scarlet pyjama trousers as they slipped, before resting his elbows on the wolf throw. He wasn’t wearing a top, and his wings beat slowly. ‘I’m an Addict, it’s true, but I’ll help you because I saw your memories and…I’m not always a ball-bag.’
If it hadn’t been for Rebel’s melancholic thoughtfulness, I’d have spluttered with laughter. Instead, I patted his shoulder. ‘Yeah, not always.’
This was it: I was freeing…something. Rebel had blazed to glory when he’d broken Toben’s neck and saved me. Now I knew he was a Human Addict too. Piece by piece, he was fitting together.
Except, I didn’t know if it was as the golden hero, or the Big Bad crawling from the pit.
And by using Rebel, I was hurting him.
My hand shook, as I unclasped Jade’s crystal necklace, placing it into Rebel’s palm — the snake tempting Eve — before pressing his fingers around it.
He smiled at me, relaxed and unguarded, innocent beneath his thick lashes, before he lay back on the oak floorboards.
I hovered over him, as his breathing slowed and he closed his eyes. I scrutinized the movements behind his eyelids and the twitching of his legs.
Could he see my sis? Had he found her?
Then he arched, thumping his back against the hard wood. His legs kicked.
I remembered Da’s hand around Rebel’s neck, forcing his collar to dig into his chaffed skin. If you disobey me…
I glanced at the door.
The witches would come swooping in, if they heard a racket.
Bang.
Rebel’s head raised and then cracked down again.
Bang.
I hissed, cushioning Rebel’s head with my hands, but now his feet drummed a jerky beat, and his arms spasmed.
His eyes rolled open and then back. His mouth gaped.
Hell, hell, hell…
I prised the necklace out of his claw fist, hanging it around my neck. ‘Come back to the real world.’
I slapped him, before someone grabbed my shoulders.
‘Stupid child,’ Ma threw me to the side against the wood panelling.
I clutched my ribs, whilst three figures in silk dressing gowns crouched around the flailing angel, whispering and pressing their hands to his neck.
Da rose like a primitive god, the white-tipped brush of a fox swinging around his neck and a shank gripped in his hand.
I quailed, shrinking against the hard oak.
When Da stretched Rebel’s bad wing, like a pheasant’s ready for plucking, and set the tip of the blade to the base, I hurled myself on his back.
Da tutted, but still plunged in the shank.
Rebel shrieked awake.
I tumbled from Da’s back to pet the feathers, trying to draw out the pain. Wherever Da had jolted Rebel from by force, he was bleeding back by degrees, staring wildly between us. His wings thrummed, as soft as I’d imagined under my fingertips.
Da pulled out the blade sharply, but Rebel didn’t make a sound. At last, his gaze settled on mine, and then as one we looked up at his family, who were standing around us now in a silent circle.
‘What happens when you intentionally disobey?’ Da demanded.
To my surprise, Rebel’s hand crept into mine, like a kid turning to the monster in the wardrobe for protection when he’s threatened by the one living under the bed.
‘It was her,’ Evie lunged at me, but Ma caught her shoulders. Evie stamped her foot like a curly-haired toddler. ‘She’ll destroy…devour…him. Can’t you see? Please don’t punish my angel. After what’s been done to him…’
‘He defied me. He knew what discipline would follow. She may share the consequences since she’s the temptress.’
Da yanked us both up, with a hand at the back of our necks.
Rebel still clutched my hand; his palm was sweating.
I struggled, spitting like a cat.
When we were hauled into the study, I couldn’t help the anxious glance at the cane. The same panic as the last time I’d been brought to this room curdled in my stomach.
Ma unlocked a small door that was engraved with a rose, wolf, and fox. It matched the picture above the range. The door was hidden amongst the books and opened into a square, black space.
A box inlaid with gold. Not big enough for a man — or angel — to do more than kneel…
‘Wings open, Zach.’ Da rapped the door. Shuddering, Rebel obeyed. ‘On your knees.’
Rebel dropped down with a beautiful grace, although there was a terrible bleakness in his eyes. He edged into the ornate gold box in the wall. It forced him to bow his head and curl around his wings. By the time he was contorted into the space, his muscles must already have been cramping.
I booted Da’s shin; Da’s mouth thinned.
Yet I couldn’t allow Rebel to suffer alone, when I was the devil who’d whispered rebellion in his ear.
I didn’t need Evie’s smug tap on my shoulder to fall to my knees and shuffle in facing Rebel. Without wings, I fitted.
I nestled against Rebel’s chest, in the cradle of his wings, cocooned in his feathers and I was flooded by a sense of coming home.
Slam — the door was shut, and we were locked in the dark.
Rebel grabbed both my hands. His wings trembled. Fast, panted breaths filled the black. His chest rose and fell like a terrified horse’s.
Now I knew why the sadists punished Rebel in this way. It was the same lesson I’d learned at J’s knee: Find a bloke’s weakness and shank sharp.
I stroked my thumbs in gentle circles over the backs of his knuckles. ‘You’re having a panic attack.’ The same words I’d repeated to Jade, every time she’d cowered in corners. ‘You’re safe. Just breath.’ I squeezed his hand in time with his slowing breaths, until at last he slumped, resting his forehead against mine. I shifted on my aching knees. ‘So, you really are one of these Addicts, huh?’
In the long silence, I reckoned Rebel wouldn’t answer. Then he replied, ‘Ages ago, I looked beyond Angel World to the human one. And when I did, I was screwed…the call and thrill of it was too much. The gentle beauty of human family, love, music, food, drink, dancing, duds…and freedom.’ He laughed. ‘See? Bad. Look, but not touch. Ever. And I was after touching. So, Human Addict. The House of Rose, Wolf, and Fox saved me.’
I snorted. ‘Transformed you into a torture doll.’
‘Discipline, not torture. To remind me. Outside here, I’m hunted because I’m an Addict.’
‘You’re locked in a box. What’s worse than this?’
‘Forty years in one.’ I bit my tongue. Just sometimes I wished I could hold back the bitch. ‘I was captured,’ he murmured, sad and soft. ‘A birdcage prison in the dark.’
The bloke’s voice was haunted; I didn’t blame him.
Then realisation hit me. ‘You couldn’t open your left wing?’
‘The gits strapped it down. They only allowed it to open a little, never to fly. You do that? It’s the worst pain an angel can endure. They’re after making sure you never forget how far you’ve fallen because you’re an Addict.’ His tone was tear-tinged. ‘I hoped I’d have the strength to break it this time. But once an addict, always an addict.’ I bumped my forehead hard against Rebel’s. ‘By all the saints…’
‘Better an Addict than some tight-arsed angelic bastard. I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have encouraged you to…overdose. But you helped me when you knew the risk and that makes you fam.’
His breath caught, before he whispered, ‘I couldn’t find your sister because she’s no longer on earth.’
I didn’t know I’d whimpered, until Rebel’s lips were pressed to mine in apology. ‘And she’s not dead, you dope. She’s in Angel World or…’
‘You leave me hanging, I’ll twist your balls.’
‘She’s no longer fully human. Just like the other lads and lasses, I reckon.’
It was my turn to gasp in the blackness of that box.
Slam — the sugar copper swallowed me, until I was bubbled in its — slam — tingling warmth — slam — soft feathers and — slam — sweetness.
Despite everything, the waves of sugar stroked me down from my panic.
Taken by the angels or not human? I didn’t know which to hope for after the birdcage story.
‘It doesn’t matter. Fam is fam.’
‘Then I made a mistake,’ Rebel’s tone hardened. Here again was the warrior with the flaming wings and righteousness. ‘Now we know who could’ve taken your sister, we can’t hide like babbies. I’m more than an Addict; I’m a hunter. And you, princess? You don’t know it yet, but you can fly higher than I can even dream.’
As I nested in Rebel’s wings, I could pretend I’d found fam.
But that was the lie.
Hunted or hunter, Rebel’s addiction would free me from the witches’ house.
Find the weakness and shank it sharp.
You can be a prisoner in a cell or in your mind. A prisoner to society, your conscience, or whispered self-doubts. In a prison of family or love.
Yet you can choose whether you fly, even in chains, or remain forever shackled in the dark.
Evie led Rebel and me stumbling towards the gloom of the Great Hall; heavy gold velvet curtains suffocated the light. My legs cramped after being trapped all night in the box. Rebel wrapped his wings around me like a feather coat; they twitched with tiny spasms of pain.
Yet we’d survived, together. And now we had a plan.
When Evie spun with a mocking bow to usher us into the hall, which was hung with black wolf skins and russet, white-tipped fox brushes, I faltered.
A vast contoured map of London — Westminster, Buckingham Palace (her Maj’s yard), and even my Hackney — pulsated in rose quartz across the entire hall like a heartbeat.
A crystal world, the human London, in the hands of the witches.
The Deadmans crouched over the map, whispering to the air, like they were commanding invisible legions.
I tripped, dragging Rebel down too in a tangle of sweet Jesuses.
Then Rebel hauled me up, the righteous fire sparking in his eyes again. He raised his boot and…crunch.
Big Ben stomped by an angel.
Take that, Godzilla.
The map glowed violently, as if convulsing from a bleeding wound.
Da and Ma merely straightened. Ma gave a casual shrug.
‘Tantrum over?’ Da unclasped the fox brush from around his neck.
‘Take them off her,’ Rebel raised my hands, jangling the handcuffs.
I wouldn’t be a prisoner anymore. That’s what we’d agreed in the long night. And Rebel would teach me what it meant to be an angel, so I could save my sister.
‘I don’t think so.’ Da waved his hand dismissively.
Rebel raised his foot to stomp on Parliament, but I gripped his elbow. ‘Before you get medieval on the politicians, why don’t you just snap these cuffs with your super strength?’
Evie sniggered as she knelt by the map, stroking the crystal Big Ben; the quartz fused back into shape. ‘They’re angel proof, of course, else how could we chain him? Where do you imagine we magicked the bondage-wear from, special one?’
Rebel avoided my eye.
I flushed. I should’ve guessed I wasn’t the first angel to be chained by these witches.
‘I’m surprised last night taught you nothing, Zach,’ Da held the fox brush above the map, sweeping an outline through the air.
I expected Rebel to flinch, but instead he squared his shoulders. ‘You’re wrong, Da. When you locked us up, it taught me I’m more than an Addict. To face the worst. That this isn’t about me anymore. It’s about—’
‘Princess, princess, princess,’ Evie exploded, shoving Rebel back, but he caught her hands.
‘And that’s why you need to uncuff her,’ Rebel insisted gently, winding Evie’s curl around his finger, ‘because we need to train. She has the right to be taught her powers.’
When Evie glanced between us, I was surprised by the wetness trickling down her cheeks. She nodded, but before she could reach my cuffs, she was stopped by Da.
‘Train?’ Da’s lip curled, before he raised the brush even higher, stroking it from base to tip, one — two — three — times. Rebel paled. Da bit his lip savagely, trailing the white fur through the crimson, as if the fox had only just been torn bloody. ‘Vulpes Vulpes.’ The crystals hummed, a dangerous, furious whine. Da barked again, ‘Vulpes Vulpes.’
The walls shook; the fox brushes hanging as trophies thumped a beat.
Rebel clasped my hand, dragging me back towards the door, without once looking away from his scarlet mouthed Da.
‘I knew I hated spell lobbers,’ I muttered, clinging to Rebel.
Then in the centre of the crystal London, a tail appeared.
A fox’s brush. Bushy and black-fringed.
Then heavy flanks and a huge rusty-red body, larger than any regular fox. But then regular foxes didn’t materialise body part by body part like a screwed-up version of the Cheshire Cat. Black paws, legs, and finally a narrow head with pointed black ears and…
Dangerous but intelligent amber eyes, studying me.
I froze. The fox’s unblinking scrutiny called to the dark under my skin.
‘Send them back,’ Rebel pleaded. ‘We don’t need Spark and Blaze.’
That’s when the second fox materialised at the large fox’s shoulder.
Except, this fox appeared all in a rush, like it was late. Bright red, with a brilliant white throat, chest and white-tipped tail, it was as pretty as its brother. It ducked its head and whined, nuzzling the first fox.
Then it too turned its green gaze towards me.
‘You wished to train,’ Da nodded at the foxes. Their tails lifted. ‘Now train.’
When the foxes stalked towards us, we backed away.
The witches had set new demons on us. Creatures they were using to hurt — train — us.
Just like I’d used and hurt Rebel.
The foxes prowled closer, baring their sharp thin teeth.