by Donna Grant
Just as he’d known, the Dark quickly focused on Neve. Cael lost sight of her for a second as he widened the tightening circle of Dark fighting him.
He ignored the pain of their magic that repeatedly landed on him as he turned, swinging and slicing his sword. He didn’t go after specific Dark. Instead, he kept the area around him as clear as possible so he could keep an eye on Neve and the others.
During one of his spins, he caught sight of Bran standing in a doorway of the house, his gaze locked on Neve, who appeared—even to Cael—to be in distress and overwhelmed by Dark.
It wasn’t until Bran was making his way to her that Cael saw her take down four Dark with one swing. Talin let out a shout as he plowed through the throng of Fae to get to his woman.
Cael grunted as a Dark jumped on his back. He flipped his sword and swung it back, sliding it between the Fae’s ribs. He threw the Dark off and blasted those nearest him with magic, knocking them down.
He took two steps and stepped on the back of a Fae trying to get to his feet. Cael then tucked himself into a ball and flipped over several Dark to land near Neve, right as Bran reached them.
“Show-off,” Talin said to Cael with a grin.
Cael glanced at Talin and Neve as the fighting halted in their circle with Bran’s arrival. He and Cael faced each other, their hatred there for all the world to see.
“I knew you’d do something stupid,” Bran said with a laugh. “This little retaliation of yours will get you nowhere. And not only that, you’re going to lose at least one Reaper.” Bran’s gaze shifted over Cael’s shoulder as he pointed. “Her.”
Cael smiled but didn’t bother to reply. The things he wanted to say to Bran could wait until later when they were fighting each other. Bran had no intention of battling, but Cael would make sure he had no choice.
“Nothing to say?” Bran asked with a sneer. “Have you taken Eoghan’s vow of silence? How . . . pathetic. You’re all that’s left of our merry little gang of Reapers, but that’s going to end soon.”
“You were part of that group, as well,” Cael pointed out. “You plan on committing suicide?”
Bran’s nostrils flared, his silver eyes narrowed. “I hated you from the moment you joined our ranks. What was it about you that Death liked so much? Hell, everyone liked you.”
“Probably because I wasn’t a wanker.” Cael couldn’t help the jab.
Bran snorted, a forced smile on his lips. “Death told me she regretted making me a Reaper. Right before she threw me into the Netherworld, she said I was her first mistake. Well, look at me now.”
“Her real mistake was not letting me and Eoghan kill you.” Cael took a step closer to him. “We had you. That’s what really galls you, doesn’t it? We had you beat, but Death stepped in and put you in that prison she designed just for you.”
Bran eyed him with so much hatred that Cael thought he might get the fight he wanted right then. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Neve and Talin behind and on either side of him. Cael had no idea if Death was inside the house or not. By the sounds of battle, Daire and Baylon were trying to get through the kitchen door.
“You’ve failed here,” Bran stated. “No matter how many Dark you kill, they rise again. What was your point in coming? What did you hope to gain?”
“Did you think you could come after the women and that we wouldn’t do anything?” Cael asked in disbelief.
Bran gave a little shrug as his lips twisted. “I’ll give you that one. You got them out in time. Barely. But I’ll find them. There’s nowhere you can hide them that I can’t reach. And when I do, every one of your Reapers will know the crushing helplessness of losing someone they love.”
“You’re assuming a lot.”
“Shall I show you the power I have? How about a little taste? To think, that bitch had this kind of power and didn’t use it. It astounds me.” Bran held out a hand, holding it palm up as a bubble of magic appeared.
It shifted from an iridescent color to a dark purple. Right before Bran threw it, Cael saw Xaneth in the crowd of Dark behind Bran.
“Move swift as the Wind and closely-formed as the Wood. Attack like Fire and be still as the Mountain.”
-Sun Tzu, The Art of War.
Chapter Eighteen
The moment Erith saw Xaneth, it was like a punch in the gut. She knew there was a good chance the Fae would go to Bran’s side. But it hurt nonetheless.
She’d given Xaneth a chance, had allowed him to live. And this was how he repaid her.
A part of her—the Mistress of War side—wanted immediate retaliation. But she knew where to find him when this was over. Reprisal would come to the royal Fae who had chosen the wrong side. For now, she was there on another matter.
Erith paused and looked through the window of the mansion to the chaos of battle outside. Her gaze scanned the bodies until she found Cael. Her hand fisted, eager to feel her sword so she could join him.
With little effort, she could clear the Dark Fae, but it wouldn’t end Bran. That couldn’t happen until she discovered how he continued to steal her magic—and her life.
She reluctantly turned away from watching Cael and remained veiled as she made her way through the rooms until she found the office Bran used.
Knowing Bran’s past before he became a Reaper, she knew he liked to keep things that meant something to him close at all times. Whatever he used to drain her was either in the office, the bedroom he chose . . . or it was on his person.
Erith sincerely hoped that it wasn’t on him. That would prove to be rather tricky to obtain. She could do it, but she wasn’t looking forward to it. Perhaps luck would be on her side.
She quickly searched the office, looking in every drawer, every cabinet, and searching for anything that was shrouded with magic. When she found nothing that might be connected to her, she rushed up the stairs and quickly located the master bedroom.
But that ended up being another fruitless search.
Exasperation rushed through her. This couldn’t be happening. She was sure she’d find something that would let her know how Bran was stealing her power and life force. Now, she had to concede that it might just be his magic.
“No,” she denied vehemently.
Bran had been a good warrior, but his magic had never been anything special. His strength had been in his calculating, crafty ways of getting to his enemy. Now that was being visited on her Reapers. And she hated it.
Erith drew in a determined breath and strode from the room to the stairs. She passed a window and glimpsed Cael and Bran facing off. She came to a halt as a mixture of delight at seeing Cael preparing to attack and worry that Bran would use some underhanded trick to hurt him engulfed her.
Then she remembered just how savage a warrior Cael could be. Her concern evaporated.
Everyone but a small circle of Dark surrounding Talin and Neve were still fighting. She couldn’t see Bran’s face, but Cael was as calm and collected as usual. But she knew that just beneath the surface was a wealth of rage, begging to be released.
“Soon,” she whispered a promise.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to be today. Erith wanted nothing more than to face off with Bran, but he’d taken so much of her essence already. She wasn’t sure how much her sword could continue to give back, and until Bran stopped draining her, she was hesitant to test it.
Though, she might not have a choice soon.
“Cael,” she called, letting him know that it was time for them to leave.
She waited to see if the Reapers would depart. Cael had heard her, and he should’ve already left. Why wasn’t he?
“Cael. Now,” she said.
His gaze lifted to the window, meeting her gaze so swiftly that she would’ve missed it had she not been looking at him. It was the only way he could let her know that Bran was somehow holding them. She should have suspected and planned for something like this, but she wasn’t too worried. The Reapers were very good, better than Bran on his best day.
Better than the ex-Reaper no matter how much of her power he had.
In order to help her Reapers, she thought back to when she went through the barrier around the house. The Reapers had breached it first, so nothing should’ve alerted Bran and his men to one more passing through it. She had felt no other magic that indicated that Bran—
Erith’s thoughts halted when she spotted something glowing between Bran and Cael. Her mouth went slack when she saw the purple bubble. No. That . . . it couldn’t be.
A scream lodged in her throat when Bran threw it at Cael.
Her lungs locked when Cael dove out of the way. She put a hand on the window, waiting anxiously for some sign of Cael. She didn’t release the breath until he slowly got to his feet and stood before Bran, murder in his silver eyes.
And much to her surprise, she found herself smiling.
Few had seen Cael in his true warrior form. There hadn’t been a need as a Reaper. They simply collected the souls she judged. It wasn’t until Bran returned that the Reapers had begun fighting again—though it came second nature to each of them.
Not even Bran knew the Cael that she had seen on the battlefield all those years ago. The intelligent, patient, clever Fae that Cael was. None of them knew how meditation allowed him to see a battlefield like a chessboard, moving pieces until he found the ones that would give him the win.
It’s why he’d never lost a battle.
It’s why he was so good at what he did.
It was also why he had been betrayed.
His ability caused others to fear him. But not Erith. Never her. His skill had only added to his power. And her desire for him.
Bran’s laugh reached her through the walls, even over the sounds of battle. Erith was about to reveal herself to turn Bran’s attention to her, but Cael shook his head. Cael wasn’t looking at her, and she couldn’t hear their conversation, but she knew the movement had been for her. It was confirmed a second later when Cael glanced her way again.
Cael’s eyes spoke volumes, no matter how fleeting the look.
Despite what Cael told her, she wouldn’t leave the Reapers. He should realize that. Erith flattened her lips and quickly made her way down the stairs.
The house was empty with the Dark outside fighting, but she still went on her own power instead of teleporting. With the amount of magic Bran had now, she didn’t want to trigger anything. It was fortunate that he hadn’t detected her.
She stood at the door Bran had exited from atop the steps, but she still wasn’t able to hear the conversation between Cael and the ex-Reaper. And that simply wouldn’t do.
Just as she was about to throw caution to the wind and teleport to Cael, she felt a rush of magic near her. It was a barrier that surrounded the small group of Dark, Bran, Talin, Neve, and Cael.
A trap set for her or anyone who tried to help the Reapers. She would’ve sensed the invisible barricade if she hadn’t been so worried about Cael. Thankfully, she had felt it in time. But how did she get them away?
As much as Erith wanted to hear the exchange between Cael and Bran, she knew she had to get the other Reapers away. She went to step down when she jerked to a halt as a Dark turned toward her.
He looked her way, frowning, his red eyes filled with such malice and hatred that it made her shiver. Evil had never bothered her before, but this was different. This reminded her of what she had witnessed in Usaeil’s eyes recently. The queen would have to be dealt with soon. Hopefully, Rhi would see to that, but if not, Erith would pass judgment on Usaeil.
Erith quickly slid out of the way as the Dark walked up the stairs and into the house. She knew that Bran had taken a lot of her magic, but she hadn’t realized how much until now. She had been certain of her ability to remain invisible to Bran and his men, but now, she was having doubts.
She ducked and dodged her way through the battle until she found Kyran. He was surrounded by Dark, but she shoved her way to him. Luckily, the Fae fighting were more concerned about trying to get to Kyran than seeing who—or what—was jostling them.
“Kyran, leave. Now!” she yelled above the shouts.
He whirled around, searching for her.
She sighed. “Cael is trapped. Get away before it’s too late.”
His lips flattened as he kicked at a Dark, but he gave a nod. Erith made her way back through the mass of bodies, stepping over dead ones that had yet to revive and fighting the urge to join the fray. She looked back once to see Kyran following her command.
She made her way as fast as she could to Daire and Baylon, who had managed to get into the mansion and were battling the Dark there.
It took so long to get to them, that Erith worried she wouldn’t have enough time to find Fintan. Erith hurried out of the barrier surrounding the mansion and yelled Fintan’s name. Only then did she lower her veil enough for the Reapers to see her.
Seconds later, Fintan teleported beside her. “What happened?”
“Bran has Cael, Neve, and Talin confined.”
Fintan’s red-rimmed, white eyes lifted to where the Fae now gathered. “It’s a trap for you.”
“I know.”
“You can’t go,” he stated.
She licked her lips as she gazed at the notorious Fae. Blood was splattered on his face, in his white hair, and all over his clothes. She’d once looked the same, but whereas she loved the bloodlust that consumed her, Fintan hated it. Always had.
Even now, he only took pleasure in ridding them of their enemies. He didn’t enjoy killing. She alone knew how he’d nearly refused her offer to become a Reaper because he didn’t want to take any more lives.
Erith sighed. “I can’t leave them either.”
“Where are the others?”
“I don’t know. I told them to go.”
Fintan wiped the back of his hand over his sweaty brow. “Tell me you found what you searched for. Please tell me that Cael and the others aren’t trapped for nothing.”
“I wish I could.”
He spun around, his flowing, white hair swinging with him as he fisted his hands. Fintan stayed that way a long moment before he faced her again. “I’m not leaving Cael.”
“Bran wants Neve. That’s what this is about,” Erith explained. “Since he couldn’t get the others, he intends to take the only one he can. And if he can hurt Cael in the process, he will. This was exactly what Cael set up.”
Fintan’s chest heaved as he stared stonily at her. “But Cael didn’t count on being confined. It might not bother you to lose a Reaper, but I can’t lose another member of my family.”
The calm Erith strived to keep vanished at Fintan’s accusation. She let him see the fury his words had caused. “With just a thought, I can take away the magic and life that I granted you,” she said, slowly advancing on him. “Don’t ever claim to know how I feel, because you know nothing.”
Instead of fear or even more anger, one side of Fintan’s lips lifted in a grin. “About fekking time you showed how you really feel.”
She blinked, taken aback. “What?”
“Trust me, I believe every word I spoke to you, but I also know that you care about us. And perhaps one more than the rest.”
Erith opened her mouth to deny it, but Fintan continued talking.
“You trusted Cael to be our leader. We’ve followed him willingly because of who he is, not because you said to. And lest you forget, I know exactly who he is and what he did for the Light Fae.”
She had indeed forgotten that Fintan had been sent by the King of the Dark to kill Cael and throw the Light Fae into disarray. Fintan had refused the order. The only time he’d ever rejected a mission. That had set the stage for his betrayal by the king.
Fintan glanced to where Cael and the others were. “I know how good Cael really is. If Bran knew, he wouldn’t try to fight him. He’d run the other way.”
Erith smiled.
“There is much more to Cael than we know.” Fintan looked at her. “Except for you. You know,
don’t you?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“We serve you. If you go back for him, you defeat the purpose of staying out of Bran’s hands. Cael will think of something.”
“Before Bran hurts Neve, or after?”
Fintan blew out a breath, his face tight. “I hope before.”
“Cael,” Erith shouted, strong and clear. “They’re all clear.”
Her heart missed a beat as Cael whispered her name. It was like a caress on the wind, brushing against her cheek. She wanted to reach up and touch her face, but she didn’t.
A moment later, Talin and Neve were beside her.
She frowned at them when she didn’t find Cael. Her heart clenched painfully as she realized exactly what had happened. “Where is he? Where’s Cael?”
Talin looked back at the mansion, tension tightening his body as fury rolled off him in thick waves. Neve held his hand, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.
“Where is he?” Erith demanded angrily.
Neve swallowed and said in a shaky voice, “Cael gave himself over to Bran in exchange for letting me and Talin go.”
No. No! NOOOOOOOO!
The scream went on and on inside Erith’s mind, but she didn’t let it out. She couldn’t. Because if she did, she’d never stop.
There was a way to get him back. All she had to do was face Bran. And that’s exactly what she was going to do. Because she would do anything for Cael. Anything.
She started walking, but within steps, Fintan wrapped an arm around her, yanking her back against him. He held her tightly as she fought him, kicking and hitting while trying to get to Cael.
“It’s not time. It’s not time.”
She didn’t know how long she struggled before she heard the words Fintan spoke calmly, over and over. She dropped her head back on his shoulder and looked at the sky of gray clouds.
Tears she didn’t dare shed welled inside her. She couldn’t lose Cael. Not now. Not after finally giving in to her feelings—and learning that he felt the same about her.
“I can’t leave him.”
“It’s what he wants.” Fintan set her down and turned her to face him. “But we won’t leave him there.”