by Donna Grant
“Then why come now?” Erith asked.
Cael couldn’t take his gaze off Death. Anyone looking her way would see just another Dark female. But Cael was used to seeing her long, wavy black hair and lavender eyes.
It was disturbing to see her disguised, with the thick stripes of silver in her hair and the red eyes that were focused on Kyran, as if Cael didn’t exist at all.
Why had she sent him if she planned to come herself? Or was this some test? Neither pleased him.
Kyran took a deep breath and met Death’s gaze. “My family has done enough damage. They need to be stopped. I know them. I know when they issue false promises.”
“Now isn’t the time,” Erith said. “Return to the caves. Now.”
With that, she disappeared.
Cael put a hand on Kyran’s arm when he tried to walk around him. “You heard Death.”
“I’m right here,” Kyran argued. “It won’t take me long.”
“Now isn’t the time,” Cael repeated Erith’s words.
Talin grimaced. “Cael, let him do this.”
Cael looked at each of them. “I learned a long time ago to read into Death’s words. Now isn’t the time. She didn’t say you couldn’t, Kyran, only not now.”
“All right,” Kyran said, and teleported away.
Talin blew out a breath. “We need to watch him. He’ll confront them.”
“I know,” Cael said.
But Kyran wouldn’t be alone. Cael would be with him.
* * *
River woke and simply lay upon the bed unmoving. All thirty books were translated. The Reapers had no more use of her. There was no reason to remain in the caves.
And that made her feel so wretched that tears stung her eyes.
She didn’t want to leave. For once in her life she wasn’t worried about a Dark hunting and killing her. She knew with the Reapers she was safe.
The burden of hiding and pretending had fallen away. She hadn’t realized what a heavy load it was until it was gone. How could she go back to her life before? She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.
Even if Kyran did manage to stop the Dark family from hunting her, she’d never really believe she was free. The moment she let her guard down is when they would strike. Kyran might stop one Dark family, but he couldn’t stop them all.
The only way for River to make sure this ended was to remain as detached as ever. She was never having children, so she didn’t have to worry about the curse falling upon another’s shoulders.
River rolled onto her back. Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement and gasped when she turned her head and spotted a woman so breathtakingly beautiful, there were no words to describe her.
“Hello, River,” she said with a softening of her lips at the corners.
“Hello.”
River gazed into lavender eyes and knew this woman was much more than a Fae. The fact she was in the caves must mean the Reapers allowed her inside.
The woman walked around the foot of the bed and stopped. River spotted an ebony lace and silk gown draped along the woman’s petite form. Her jet black hair matched the gown so perfectly, they blended together.
“Do you know who I am?” she asked.
River shook her head as she sat up to lean against the iron headboard. “No.”
“My name is Erith, though many know me by my other name—Death.”
River’s mouth parted in shock. This was Death? This magnificent, tiny individual ruled the Reapers? Then River looked past the beauty and saw the spine of steel, the determination in Erith’s gaze. Yes, this woman was certainly Death, because who else would dare to take on such a role?
“I wasn’t expecting a visit,” River said.
Erith stood elegantly. “I thought it’d be better if you and I spoke alone before the lads knew.”
“All the books are translated.”
She held up a hand to stop River. “I never had a doubt you would translate them. That’s not why I’m here.”
“Oh.” River wondered if this was when Death would send her away. Would she be able to say good-bye to Kyran? She really hoped so.
“Tell me, River, what do you see in your future?”
Future? Was Death joking? River looked for a smile, a hint that Erith wasn’t serious, but there was nothing. “More of what I’ve had.”
“Really? That’s all you see?” Death said with a hint of surprise.
River shrugged. “I’m the last of my family. I’m going to be the one to ensure that the Dark can’t hunt us anymore.”
“That’s an admirable plan, but it’s going to be a little difficult.”
“I’ve made sure of it.”
“Until Kyran.”
For the second time in minutes, River was astonished into silence.
Death walked around the bed and placed her hand on River’s stomach. “Yes, my dear, you’re carrying Kyran’s child.”
River wasn’t sure how to feel. There was excitement at the prospect of having a life growing inside her that was a part of Kyran.
Then she remembered what it was to be born into her family.
“Do you trust Kyran?” Erith asked, removing her hand.
River put her hands protectively over her stomach. “Yes.”
“Then have faith that he’ll take care of the Dark hunting your family.”
“Then I’ll be safe?”
A black brow rose. “I didn’t say that. There’s still Bran, and he’s intelligent enough to figure out what part you play in all of this. He’ll be coming for you.”
“Then I’ll be ready.”
“We’ll be ready,” she corrected.
River swallowed. “Are you angry about Kyran and me?”
Death resumed her spot at the foot of the bed. “You know why I put those rules in place, don’t you?”
“Yes. They made sense.”
“At one time, they did. Until I realized that history was doomed to repeat itself. No one is meant to be alone. All of you—human and Fae—were born for someone.”
River noticed that Death didn’t include herself, but she didn’t question it. There were some things better left unsaid.
“Even my Reapers,” Erith said. “Jordyn is a benefit to the group. Will she become a liability one day? Possibly. But she’s strong and determined. Just as you are.”
“Are you telling me I’m a part of this group now?”
One corner of Death’s mouth lifted in a smile. “That will be up to you and Kyran. You’re carrying his child. No matter how hard you try to keep that secret, Bran will find out.”
“Unless we stop him.”
Erith’s smile grew. “Exactly. I hear you’re an excellent fighter. Be ready, River. You’ll be called upon.”
River blinked and Death was gone. She looked down at her stomach. Pregnant. She was pregnant? After all the precautions she took, it had been the last thing she’d been thinking when she was with Kyran.
All she wanted was him, to get as close to him as she could. The fire, the passion between them ran hot and fierce. No wonder she hadn’t been thinking about protecting herself from getting with child.
Though it was going to be tough, she didn’t regret the child growing within her. Now more than ever she needed to stop Bran. She was tired of hiding, tired of worrying about someone coming after her.
If it was the last thing she did, she was going to make sure her child never had the same fears. Her child would know only love and happiness and peace in their childhood.
River threw off the covers and stood. When she looked up, Kyran was walking into her chamber.
Without a word, he strode to her and pulled her against him. She held him tight, giving him the comfort he needed.
“Is everything all right?”
“It is now,” he said.
Chapter Seventeen
Bran watched the rain as it trickled down the window. In order for him to find the Reapers, he needed to think like Cael. Cael might be a worthy opponent,
but he was also predictable.
Since the Reapers’ regular places where they used to gather were now compromised, that meant Cael would take them somewhere completely different.
There were a number of places Cael might have gone, but Bran knew the Reapers were still in Scotland—and not far from Edinburgh.
Too much was happening in Edinburgh for the Reapers to leave. With the librarian and the books Bran sought now gone, it affirmed what he already suspected.
And it infuriated him that Cael managed to beat him. Bran hoped Cael was enjoying his victory, because it wasn’t going to last long.
Searlas entered the study and softly closed the door behind him. “We only have a few more historical sites to look through. The Reapers will be at one of them.”
“No, they won’t,” Bran said as he faced Searlas. “Cael has taken them out of the city.”
“To where?”
“It’ll be someplace away from mortals. Cael wouldn’t bring attention to themselves that way.”
Searlas nodded as he listened. “They need somewhere to gather that will be private and difficult for others to get to them.”
“As well as shelter for the librarian.”
“You really think they have her.”
Bran turned and looked at his reflection in the window. His black hair was thick. He knew the face staring back at him, but he wasn’t the same Fae. Death had seen to that. Magic might have restored his looks that the Netherworld had eaten away day after day, but magic did nothing to repair his shredded soul.
“I do,” Bran replied and swiveled his head back to Searlas. “If she’s not shown up to work or returned to her flat, there’s no other explanation. Did you check her family?”
“She doesn’t have any.”
Now that was curious. “And you’re sure you didn’t detect any Fae blood within her?”
“I’ll stake my life on it,” Searlas declared.
“It might very well come to that.”
Searlas’s face darkened with anger, his red eyes narrowing. “Why?”
“I’ve gone over everything, and the only reason the Reapers would take the librarian is if her life was in danger or she was of some use to them.”
“She’s not a Fae, so we wouldn’t have targeted her. So that rules out that scenario.”
Bran shrugged. “Why would they need her if she’s simply a human?”
“They wouldn’t,” Searlas said with a snort. “They’re Reapers. They wouldn’t trouble themselves with a mortal.”
Bran waited for his lieutenant to realize the conclusion he’d spoken aloud.
Searlas ran a hand down his face. “Shite. If they took her, she’s half-Fae.”
“And you missed it.”
“She didn’t look anything like a Fae,” Searlas stated in his defense. “She wasn’t even remotely appealing.”
Bran appreciated Searlas’s cleverness with magic and freely used his skills in battle, but something like this slipping through could wreck all of Bran’s plans.
He watched lightning fork across the sky before he looked at Searlas. “Nearly all half-Fae have no idea what they are. They either use their beauty, or don’t care about it. Have you ever heard of someone who would go out of their way to hide it?”
“No.”
“Me either. Do you know what that means?”
Searlas barely kept his anger in check. “Of course. She knows she has Fae blood.”
“If she knows, then she was making sure to disguise herself from Fae. I need to know why. Immediately.”
Searlas turned and motioned for two men at the door to begin the investigation. “You’ll have the information soon.”
“Within an hour.” Bran listened to the rain patter harder against the window as the wind began to howl. “Now, that brings me back to the Reapers. They might’ve helped her because she has Fae blood, just as they did Baylon’s woman.”
“But you don’t think that’s the reason.”
Bran shook his head. “My suspicion is that she’s somehow tied to the books.”
“These books have been missing from the Fae realm for eons.”
“Isn’t it curious that this half-Fae who knows of her heritage would be working at the very place that has the books?”
A muscle jumped in Searlas’s jaw. “No Fae would just give those books to a human.”
“Someone did. No mortal found their way onto our realm and took them. Half-Fae or not.”
“I’ll find out.”
Bran took a deep breath when Searlas teleported away. Once Bran got the information he needed about the librarian and her connection to the books, he’d understand why the Reapers had taken her.
Even if Searlas and the rest of the Dark failed him, there was only one ending for the librarian—death.
The longer Bran thought about a half-Fae escaping his grasp and Cael having the books, the more furious he became. He hadn’t spent thousands of years trapped in the Netherworld suffering indescribable pain not to get his revenge.
Bran walked from the study to the lower part of the manor. The owners tried to hide the fact the house had once had a dungeon, but he’d found it anyway.
He entered the small dungeon and the smell of rot and dampness assaulted him. Bran didn’t pay the two Dark guards any mind. He stopped in front of the prisoner with her arms chained above her head and latched to the ceiling.
Blood ran from a cut at the corner of her mouth. Dirt and blood stained her face, hair, and clothes, but she still glared at him with anger in her silver eyes.
“Get on with it if you’re going to kill me,” she said vehemently, her Scot’s accent so thick the words were hard to discern.
Bran’s smile was slow as he cocked his head to the side and regarded her. “Oh, I’m not going to kill you.”
“You’re a sick Irish fuck.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” Bran took a step closer to her. He had to give her credit for not flinching as he neared, but her pulse let him know she was scared. “I’ve got something special in store for you. Soon you’ll learn what you are. Soon you’ll learn what I can do for you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Go to hell. I’ll be happy to show you the way.”
Bran grabbed the collar of her sweater and tore it down the middle. Then with a snap of his fingers her bra ripped at the juncture of her breasts and fell open, exposing her.
“That’s better.”
She lifted her chin. “You can beat me. You can rape me. You can abuse me any way you want, but you’ll never touch my soul.”
Bran cupped her breast and lightly ran his thumb over her nipple. It peaked instantly. He smiled. “You want me. You want this. I can see it in your eyes, hear it in the way your breathing has changed. I can feel it.”
To prove his point, he tweaked her nipple. At her quick intake of breath, Bran lowered his head until his lips were nearly touching hers. “You’re mine, Thea. I own your body, your mind, and even your soul.” He threaded his fingers in her brown locks and held her head steady. “Accept what I offer.”
“No.”
Bran released her because she was already breaking. Four days ago, her response had been shouted. This time was but a whisper.
“Bran.”
He glanced to the side to find Searlas. Bran kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, “You have a reprieve.”
With a nod to Searlas, he returned to the main floor of the house. Bran might have an army of Dark he recruited, but that didn’t mean he trusted them.
Not until they were back in the study that Bran had spelled against eavesdropping did he turn to Searlas. “That was quick.”
“We’re not the only ones asking questions.”
Cael. Again. Bran was really going to have to do something about him. “Tell me.”
“The Nighttails have put out a bounty on their youngest daughter, Maiti. Apparently she was spotted with two Dark at Taraeth’s palace before disappearing.”
Bran sh
rugged. “So? What do I care about some female?”
“Maiti tried to leave before. She wore a slave bracelet that couldn’t be removed with any magic.”
Bran chuckled as he poured himself some Irish whiskey. “How puny the Dark are compared to the power within a Reaper. It must’ve been Kyran and Fintan that helped her.”
“That’s my guess as well. None of the descriptions I got matched, so they used glamour.”
“Any smart Fae would.”
Searlas paused for a moment. “Maiti was in deep conversation with the Reapers.”
“But you don’t know about what?”
“Give me some credit,” he said tightly. “I went to the source.”
That made Bran grin. “The Nighttail family. And?”
“Nolan had a visitor a few hours before. A Dark who he had never seen before somehow made it into the house and had an audience with him.”
“It was Cael. What did he want of Nolan Nighttail?”
“He asked about a family of humans.”
Bran’s attention was now riveted. “And?”
“Nolan didn’t want to talk, but I convinced him. It seems that his brother fell in love with a mortal.”
Bran downed his whiskey. “A Dark Fae and a human. That certainly couldn’t work.”
“It didn’t. Nat was ordered to kill her, but he didn’t. He had sex with her once. The two faked her death. He got away with it for a little while until the woman gave birth—to twins.”
Bran’s brows shot up in his forehead. “Not exactly a surprise. A Fae can get a mortal pregnant easy enough.”
“Except Nat wanted her as his wife. He tried to talk his father into allowing it, which of course they didn’t. Nat then tried to run away with the mortal. The Nighttails caught up with the couple easily enough.”
“I suppose that somehow this mortal woman who birthed the twins is an ancestor of the librarian?”
“I do believe so. The Nighttails wanted her and the children slain.”
“Let me guess,” Bran said. “Nolan’s father didn’t want their blood on his hands.”
One side of Searlas’s mouth curved in a grin. “The Nighttails are close to the Lightslayers. The Lightslayers stepped in and killed Nat, but they left the female and her whelps alive.”