by Donna Grant
“You were never my family!” Bran bellowed. “I left mine behind when I was killed.”
Cael crooked an eyebrow. “Do you think you are the only one who had a good life before they were betrayed?”
Bran shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what I say. You’ll always have some kind of answer that supports Death and her views. I’m tired of talking.”
“Finally, something we can agree on.”
The words weren’t even completely out of Cael’s mouth before Bran attacked. Cael saw it all in slow motion. Bran’s rage contorting his face, the orbs of magic in each hand as he reared back his arms, and then the spheres flying through the air at him.
Cael leaned first one way and then the other, letting both bubbles slam into him. He smiled at Bran’s fury of having forgotten that his magic made Cael more powerful.
It wasn’t until Bran stepped back in utter astonishment and ran into Erith that he realized that someone was behind him. Cael slid his gaze over and met lavender eyes that had haunted him for thousands of years.
Erith could’ve killed Bran at any time while he and Cael spoke, but whether she was Death or the Mistress of War, Erith didn’t stoop to something so cowardly. It’s what set her apart from the others. What made her special, superior.
Unexpected.
Astonishing.
Bran slowly turned and came face-to-face with Death.
“Hello, Bran,” Erith said calmly.
Bran shifted to keep both Cael and Erith in his line of sight. Then he glared at Death. “What did you do to Cael? How did you save him? I always knew he was your favorite, and this proves it.”
“I did nothing,” she replied.
Cael took a step toward Bran. “She didn’t. You gave me the ingredients. Then, you put me in a situation of your making. That gave me all I needed to mold them into what I needed.”
Cael didn’t realize the truth of the words until they were spoken. Because that’s exactly what had happened. His drive, his love for Erith had pushed him past the point of death to continue to fight for her, to love her—leaving him to become whatever he was now.
“It’s over,” Erith told Bran.
Bran snorted loudly and raked his gaze angrily down her body. “It’ll only be over when I breathe my last, and that’s not going to happen.”
“A fool, as always,” Cael stated.
Bran looked from one to the other, his eyes narrowing. “You’re lovers!”
Cael glanced at Erith as he smiled, thinking of the joy he felt when he held her. “Aye.”
“If only I’d pieced that together sooner,” Bran said more to himself than anyone else.
Erith’s sword burst into gold and silver-tipped onyx flames that danced along the curved blade. “You took my magic. You took my life force. You took Cael. There wasn’t anything you didn’t take from me.”
Bran sneered. “You forgot Eoghan.”
“Nay, she didn’t,” Cael said and pointed to where Eoghan fought with the others.
A trace of dread filled Bran, seeming to knock some of the wind out of his sails as he turned and looked over his shoulder to see not only Eoghan but another six Reapers.
Cael shrugged, his lips twisting. “We might have forgotten to let you know that Eoghan returned and that he’s now leader of a second group of Reapers.”
Bran’s head snapped to Death. “Another group?”
“I never said there was only one,” Erith replied.
“This isn’t how this was supposed to happen!” Bran bellowed in outrage.
* * *
Whatever hope Erith had that Bran would realize he was beaten and surrender died with his yell. She’d seen his betrayal, sat by him as he died, and welcomed him into the Reapers. No one was perfect, and that included her. Bran had made poor choices that had led to his betrayal, but she’d seen that sliver of good in him.
The problem was that it was just a smidgen of good with darkness all around it, suffocating the light inside him until it was no more. And Bran welcomed the darkness. That was the difference between him and everyone else who battled it.
The strength Bran had gained by being a Reaper had led to him desiring more. He was never content to be in the shadows, hiding what he was—or carrying out Death’s commands.
She’d seen his discontent growing, but she’d thought he would see the futility of his ambition and settle into being a Reaper. None of the others had the aspirations Bran did, and she hadn’t known how to handle it.
Ignoring the problem and thinking it would work itself out had been the wrong course of action. Her decision had cost the lives of four Reapers. She hadn’t wanted to lose another—whether by Eoghan’s and Cael’s hands, or her own.
Yet she’d made another wrong choice by tossing Bran into the Netherworld. The prison realm had only stirred his anger and revenge. Now, here she was, back in the same place she’d been before she threw Bran into the Netherworld.
A part of her wanted to give him the option of imprisonment, but that was a mistake she wouldn’t repeat. Enough lives had been disrupted and taken as a result of that choice.
The moment she passed judgment on Bran, the flames on the sword leapt higher. It was another side of her new self, and she quite liked it. Though she wasn’t going to enjoy taking Bran’s life.
“You think I’m going to go down easy?” he taunted her.
She gave a shake of her head. “I would expect nothing less of you.”
Erith didn’t need to ask Cael to stay out of the fight. She knew he would by the way he stood, watchful and ready. There was much she wanted to say to Cael, but she couldn’t stop looking at his eyes that had gone from silver to the darkest purple she’d ever seen.
Cael had always had a presence about him, but there was something different now. Something more commanding, fiercer—if that was possible. And it made her stomach quiver with delight.
Erith focused on Bran. Despite his egotistical, narcissistic nature, Bran was a formidable opponent. And even with the majority of her power returned, she didn’t take her victory for granted.
They came together in a clash that sent sparks flying through the air. His magic met her sword as they came face-to-face, and she saw the determination in Bran’s eyes. He would never relent or give up. If she were going to win, she needed to take his life.
“You don’t have the stomach to kill me,” Bran stated with a laugh.
Erith shoved him away, bending backwards when an orb came at her face. She watched it fly over her, narrowly missing her.
She landed on her back and kicked up to her feet before she spun, swinging her blade down toward Bran. Erith gritted her teeth and kept advancing, sending Bran stumbling backwards as her swings grew stronger and harder each time.
Memories of her past life as Mistress of War returned with a vengeance. The battlefields, the cries of the dying, shouts of anger, and the air heavy with blood and death.
But it didn’t overwhelm her. She took control before the bloodlust consumed her. For the first time, she truly realized who she was.
She was the Mistress of War.
She was Death.
She was both—stronger, wiser.
And accepting of both halves of herself.
She released a battle cry as she leapt into the air, grabbing the pommel of her sword with both hands as she plunged it into Bran’s chest on her descent.
The world went quiet. The Reapers and Dark Fae ceased fighting. The only sound was Bran’s ragged breaths. Erith belatedly noticed that his hands gripped her arm.
Her gaze followed her arm to the black blade that had pierced his heart. She looked into Bran’s face then, hating the misery swelling within her.
“You have been judged,” she stated.
Bran coughed as his legs crumpled. He fell back, taking her with him. Cael was beside her in an instant as she rose up on her knees. A moment later, the Reapers—along with Balladyn and Cat—surrounded them.
“You won,” Bran
said with a little laugh.
Erith drew in a breath as Cael’s hand rested on her shoulder. “There’s no joy in taking your life. I will admit, you were a formidable enemy.”
“I nearly bested you.” Bran smiled, blood filling his mouth.
“You were one of my Reapers, Bran. You were family. This was the last thing I wanted.”
He swallowed, his breathing becoming shallower. “But it had to be done.”
“I hope you find peace, wherever your soul goes.”
Bran held out his hand. Erith didn’t hesitate to take it. When Bran died, she would be beside him, but she wouldn’t offer him new life. This time, he would be gone forever.
He smiled, a tear leaking from the corner of one eye and falling into his black hair. “Don’t ever let anyone else get that close to killing you.”
“I won’t,” she promised.
Tears gathered in her eyes when his lids closed for the final time. Then, he disintegrated to ash and floated away on the breeze. Erith watched it for a moment. Then she gasped in shocked surprise as all the magic Bran had stolen from her returned.
She felt alive, renewed. And formidable. She lifted her face to look at the others.
After so much anger between Bran and herself as well as the Reapers, she had expected his death to be many things. She hadn’t been prepared for the anguish she felt over having to kill him. And by the look on everyone else’s face, neither had they.
Erith climbed to her feet and faced Cael. The tears that fell down her face were ones of relief at finding him alive, tears she hadn’t allowed herself when she was in battle.
Erith moved closer to him, peering up into his dark purple eyes. “You came back.”
“For you.” He reached up and gently caught one of her tears on his thumb.
“Good.”
His smile was slow as it widened across his face. Then his arms reached for her, pulling her close before his mouth was on hers, kissing her as if he hadn’t tasted her in forty lifetimes.
She melted against him, no longer caring who saw them or who knew about their relationship. Because she loved Cael.
And the world needed to know it.
Chapter Thirty-one
A new chapter was beginning. Cael knew it without the words having to be spoken. Bran was vanquished, and everything could go back to what it had been for the Reapers.
Or could it?
He didn’t want to be relegated to someone Death communicated with simply because he led the Reapers. He wanted her. All of her.
Cael cracked open an eye to find everyone around him wearing shocked expressions, except for Balladyn, Eoghan, and Fintan. Balladyn, for his part, had no idea of the inner workings of the Reapers, nor did Cael know why the King of the Dark was with them.
As for Eoghan, the smile on his friend’s face said it all. And Fintan also seemed pleased.
Cael reluctantly ended the kiss. He and Erith stared at each other, smiling for a long time in silence. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her of his love, but he’d rather do it in private instead of with everyone watching.
Erith’s gaze dropped and slid to the side as she too became aware that they weren’t alone. “There is much we need to discuss,” she whispered.
He nodded.
Then, with a sigh, she moved to his side. In an unexpected change, she slid her fingers against his. He curled his hand around hers and shot her a grin. Together, they faced the others, but there were only smiles and nods of agreement.
“I didn’t see that coming,” Cathal stated.
Rordan grunted. “You wouldn’t see a mountain coming at you.”
“I, for one, am happy,” Baylon said.
Daire couldn’t stop smiling, while Neve was nearly bouncing, she was so happy. Kyran gave them a wink, and Fintan bowed his head, though there was a twinkle in his eyes. Cat clapped her hands together softly, also smiling. Talin let out a loud whoop, and soon, everyone was cheering.
Eoghan walked to them. “It’s about damn time. Now, want to tell me how the hell you’re alive and why your eyes are purple?”
“Aye,” Dubhan agreed. “I’d like to know that, as well.”
In the next heartbeat, the cheering halted as they all looked expectantly at Cael—Erith included.
Cael shrugged, unsure where to begin. He turned his head and locked gazes with Erith. “I knew how badly Bran wanted me, and I counted on that when I handed myself over in exchange for him letting Talin and Neve go. I knew he’d want to use me to get to you.”
Erith’s hand tightened on his.
“I don’t know what kind of magic he used or how he was able to call it forward, but I’ve never felt pain like that before,” Cael continued. “He told me it would slowly get worse, and it did. At the end, when you came, I couldn’t even stand on my own. Breathing hurt so badly, I held my breath to ease it.”
He paused and glanced at the others. “I knew when Erith showed up that there was some kind of plan. As soon as I heard the battle at the back of the mansion, I assumed you hoped I’d give you a way to get to Bran.”
Erith’s smile was watery as she nodded. “I knew you’d figure it out.”
“I didn’t have much time left before the magic Bran used killed me. I was prepared to give my life for you to succeed.” He turned his attention to the others. “All of you.”
Torin frowned irritably. “And?”
Cael’s gaze lowered to the ground as the painful, furious events returned to his mind. “I used the last of my strength to get free of the Dark holding me. Then there was nothing but anger.” He slid his gaze to Erith. “And love. I couldn’t fail you or the Reapers. I wouldn’t. Somehow, I took the magic that had been killing me and used it to help myself. It meshed with my own power, and that’s what allowed me to get to Bran.”
“But you fell,” Erith said. “Bran said something to you, and you fell over.”
“He tried to call the magic back to him, and it was enough that it halted me. That gave him the time to see you beside me as I lay dying.”
Erith faced him. “I tried to take his magic from you. That caused you to cry out in pain, so I brought you to my realm. Where you died.”
He cupped her face, rubbing his thumb across her cheek. “When I woke up, I felt . . . different.”
“With the purple eyes, I’d say you are,” Neve said.
Aisling’s head tilted to the side. “Bran syphoned Death’s power then used it on Cael, who then managed to shift and change it to meld with his own. Am I the only one who sees the purple eyes as a part of Death?”
“I’ll be damned,” Eoghan murmured.
Cael frowned when he looked at Erith. “Is that true?”
She put her hand on his chest and closed her eyes. A second later, they flew open as she gaped at him. “Yes.”
“Equals,” Bradach said into the silence that followed.
Cael and Erith shared a smile. Movement out of the corner of Cael’s eye caught his attention. He lifted his head in time to see Balladyn take two steps away from the others before he teleported away.
“We need to get this place cleaned up before any mortals come,” Eoghan said.
Cael couldn’t believe that he’d forgotten about the Dark that remained. The magic Bran had shared with them was gone, but they knew who the Reapers were. And that meant they needed to die.
Erith’s face was grim as she stepped away from him to retrieve her sword that was lying in the grass. Cael moved in front of her when she straightened.
“They can’t know of us,” she said.
Eoghan quickly said, “Xaneth did and didn’t speak. Balladyn knows.”
While everyone looked around for the King of the Dark, Cael caught Erith’s gaze. “Enough have died today.”
“I agree, but do you know what will happen if others know who you are?”
“Aye,” he said with a nod.
“Then you understand why those who have survived need to die.”
Cae
l turned to look at what was left of the army. “They’ve not run away. Do you know why? Because they fear you. Us. They know we can find them.”
“They can still tell others about all of this,” she argued.
“That’s a possibility. But what if they couldn’t?”
Her brows snapped together. “What do you mean?”
“It’s a wild idea I’m taking from the Dragon Kings. What if we erase their memories of everything having to do with Reapers?”
Erith’s lips parted as her gaze moved between him and the Dark. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
“I can.”
Lavender eyes slid to him as her lips turned up at the corners. “What are you now? I feel the strength of your magic. It matches mine.”
“I’m the one who is going to help you solve this problem.”
They strode hand in hand to the army. Erith stood beside him as Cael used his magic to wipe the Darks’ minds of anything having to do with Reapers or Death before sending them on their way.
When the last Fae left, Cael and Erith returned to the others. When Kyran commented on Balladyn’s disappearance, Erith waved away his words.
“I’ll be visiting Balladyn soon,” she said. “But there is something I want to say first. I kept the two groups separate for many reasons. I was lucky that it all worked out in the end and we were able to work as a team.”
“Family,” Daire corrected.
Cael liked the grin that pulled at Erith’s lips. She was happy. Truly happy. And that elated him.
She pressed her lips together. “For too long now, I’ve been alone on my realm. It’s a vast place, and quite honestly, the most perfect realm there is. But I realized that it’s also the ideal spot for all Reapers to live.”
Cael was as astonished as the rest of the group. He raised a brow when Erith looked at him, but she just winked, a sparkle in her eyes that he’d not seen before.
“No one can get into my realm that I don’t want,” she continued. “The Halflings who have found love with the Reapers will be safe there.”
“You mean . . . for all of us?” Kyran asked.