by Donna Grant
“I don’t mind.”
“You do,” he pressed. “I saw you sitting alone in the pub while Carrie was surrounded by men and Jamie was out on a date. I saw how, as soon as Carrie spotted me with you, she was at the table, flirting.”
Daire hadn’t known any of that. He hated that Bran had been there and used what was obviously a low moment with Ettie to get close. Daire tightened his arms around her, offering what small comfort he could.
“So you pitied me,” Ettie fired back.
Bran’s brows snapped together. “I never said that.”
“You implied it. Did you think I was so lonely that I’d jump at any man who flashed me a smile?”
“No.”
“You’re damn right I wouldn’t.”
Daire felt her tremble again, but this time, it was with rage. Her breathing came in huffs as she glared at Bran.
Instead of being put off, Bran smiled. “Ah, the fire within you is a glorious thing. It’s your spirit that drew me to you.”
Daire had to bite back a retort that nearly passed his lips. He’d cautioned Ettie, perhaps he should’ve given himself that same talk.
She blew out a breath and covered her face with her hands before slowly running them downward. “I don’t know what to say to that.”
“There’s no need to reply,” Bran said. “You look as if you could use a nice dinner. Let me take you out. I’ll make you forget all about this thing with your sisters.”
“Why?”
Both Daire and Bran frowned at her. Daire had no idea what she was getting at, and he grew nervous as silence followed her question.
Finally, Bran asked, “Why, what?”
“Why do you want me?”
Bran chuckled and moved closer. “I believe I’ve told you multiple times. Why is it so hard for you to understand how desirable you are?”
“I just want to make sure it’s me you want and not something else.”
“What else is there but you?” Bran asked.
Daire had to admit that Bran said all the right things. No wonder Ettie had melted under that charm. Bran was as smooth as silk.
She smiled up at Bran and even rested her hand on his chest. “The offer of dinner sounds lovely, but I don’t think I’d be very good company tonight. How about tomorrow?”
“I’ll take you out anytime you want, but I wish you’d change your mind about tonight.”
Ettie shook her head. “It wouldn’t be fair to you. I’ve already let my temper get the best of me and directed it towards you when you were just showing me compassion.”
“If I can’t change your mind, then perhaps I should stay,” he offered.
Daire wanted to throw him out of the house himself. Couldn’t Bran take a hint?
“Not until I get this thing settled with my sisters,” Ettie said. “And I will. Soon.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Bran said.
Ettie moved to the door and opened it. “I’ll have everything in order in a few days. I promise.”
“A man can’t ask for more than that.” Bran then walked to her. He paused and gazed down. “Is it just your sisters bothering you?”
“It’s only been the three of us for a while now. And I hate having dissention. When something isn’t resolved, it tears me up inside. It doesn’t help that they hate confrontation, so I have to work extra hard.”
“Do you want to?”
Ettie cocked her head to the side. “Do I want to talk to my sisters? Yes.”
“Work for this? For us,” he clarified.
She gave him a hurt look. “If I didn’t, would I continue seeing you?”
“Very true,” he said after a long hesitation.
“You don’t believe me.”
Bran flashed her a tight smile. “I usually get what I want, and right now, my sights are set on you. I don’t like that your sisters are coming between us.”
“They aren’t coming between us. I won’t allow that,” Ettie quickly said.
Even Daire got the distinct impression that Bran had given a veiled threat. Perhaps it was time to bring in more Reapers to watch over Carrie and Jamie.
Bran’s smile widened as he gave her a wink. “Until tomorrow.”
“Until tomorrow,” she replied.
Bran gave her a kiss on the cheek before leaving.
Chapter Ten
Something was amiss. Bran knew it, but he couldn’t lay his finger on what it might be. He’d sent out a blast of magic to see if any Reapers were near and veiled, but there had been nothing. Yet, there was no doubt Ettie was acting differently.
Bran pulled up at the manor he had chosen for himself and got out of the Range Rover. He walked to Searlas, who stood, waiting outside.
“I know that look,” his second in command said.
Bran stopped before him and rubbed his jaw. “I thought the Reapers might’ve discovered what we were about.”
“They’re not that smart.”
He exchanged a grin with Searlas. “Don’t underestimate Death or Cael. However, I’m happy to report that we can proceed with our plans. I believe Ettie might need some coaxing, though. She’s developed a case of cold feet where I’m concerned.”
“But you’ve been in the cottage.”
“That means nothing. I need her not only on my side, but I require her consent, as well. Otherwise, all of this has been for naught.”
“Then we get her on our side before the Reapers show up,” Searlas said.
Bran knew it wouldn’t be easy to turn Ettie, but he hadn’t imagined her sisters getting in the way. Ettie was the secret to everything. Once he had her, he had the sisters, the land, and more importantly, the key to the cabinet.
“What’s next?” Searlas asked.
“I allow Ettie a little more time with Jamie and Carrie. If the two siblings don’t come around, then I’ll send you and another in to . . . persuade the girls.”
Searlas grinned, his red eyes alight with anticipation. “Why wait? I’d like a taste of the youngest.”
“One more day, and then she’s all yours.”
Searlas rubbed his hands together.
Bran walked past his lieutenant and entered the house. The estate had been remolded and boasted the clean lines of a minimalist design, while the furniture and rugs had been recovered from bygone years.
The manor wasn’t exactly his tastes, but his sights were set on something larger—the entire universe. Once Death was gone, Bran could live wherever he wanted. Perhaps he’d even take the Light Castle.
Or build himself another.
Unlike Erith, he wouldn’t hide on another realm. He would live in the middle of the realm the Fae had chosen, to remind all beings of his power. And reach.
They would fear him. They would know that it wasn’t just Fae he could exact his vengeance on—it was all beings. All would know the faces of his new Reapers. No more would they hide in the shadows.
No longer would the Reapers be legends. They would be flesh and bone, leaving others quaking, wondering who they’d come to slay.
Bran walked past the dead body of the woman of the house. There was still a smile on her face from the pleasure she received at Searlas’s hand as he consumed her soul.
Her body needed to be removed. At least the husband’s body was no longer on the stairs. It had been disposed of last night.
Bran was disappointed that the three children weren’t at home, but all were off at university. That was too bad really. The two boys would make nice gifts for his army, but it was the girl he really wanted.
He walked up the stairs to the library and sat behind the desk. His gaze landed on the leather book he’d returned to the Fae Realm to acquire. The tome contained his lineage, but it wasn’t his ancestors he was concerned with.
Opening the volume, he flipped through the pages until he found his name, as well as his wife’s, and their children’s. He leaned back in the chair and stared at the entries for a long time, trying to recall memories of his fa
mily. But there was nothing. Every happy thought had been sucked from him while he was in the Netherworld.
The facts were there, however. He knew he’d been married, and he knew his spouse’s name. Bran also remembered he’d had children—both Fae and Halfling.
But that’s all he recollected. He didn’t remember holding his newborn babes, naming them, or even what their faces looked like. He wasn’t sure if they were still alive, and honestly, he could care less.
They weren’t his targets.
He followed the line of his children to their children and their children until he came to the last. The one thing he had that Death didn’t was family, blood. They would make him strong.
So strong, that no matter what Erith did, she wouldn’t be able to best him.
It was a blow she wouldn’t see coming.
None of them would.
~ ~ ~
Death’s Realm
Everything was changing. Erith could feel it in her bones. Her magic continued to fade rapidly, and it took everything she had to keep from showing it to her Reapers.
And Cael.
His eyes, however, saw everything. No matter what she did, he could see right through her. Only recently had he called her on it.
She’d believed all these years that he was afraid of her. When, in fact, he’d kept his silence out of respect. She knew that now because she recognized it in his silver eyes.
A sigh escaped her as she looked out her tower window to her realm. It had been her sanctuary, a place where she could be herself. Except, she was beginning to wonder if she’d built her own prison without even knowing it.
The sound of approaching footsteps caused her to turn her head to the side. Seamus halted at the doorway. She’d taken him as a prisoner after he helped Bran escape the Netherworld, and somehow, Seamus had become a friend of sorts.
“You should rest,” he said.
She turned away from the window to face him but refused to acknowledge his comment. “I gather your search has revealed nothing?”
He slapped his hand against his leg as his lips pulled down in a frown. “I’ll not give up on figuring out how Bran is taking your magic.”
“It may be out of your hands.”
His black and silver brows knitted together in a deep frown. “It’s gotten that bad, has it?”
“There is something I need to tell you.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head of black and silver hair as he took a step back. “Whatever you have to say, tell Cael.”
She smiled gently. “I can’t.”
“Why not? He leads your Reapers.”
How could she tell Seamus that she wanted Cael to remember her as she had been, not as what she was turning into? If she had to tell Cael what was coming, she’d never get it out.
And she wasn’t entirely sure what Cael would do.
“I’ve given you refuge, Seamus,” Erith said. “I could’ve killed you for what you did, but instead, I allowed you to make up for your transgression by helping me.”
Seamus walked into the room until he stood before her. He looked at her with red eyes. “I’ll be eternally grateful to you for that, but I’m begging you not to say whatever it is you want to tell me. It’s bad news, and you want me to know, so I’ll be the one to tell Cael. And that’s because you don’t expect to be around.”
“That was a rather simple puzzle for you to figure out,” she said with a smile.
He gave a bewildered shake of his head. “How can you smile?”
“Would you rather I cry. Scream?”
“I’d rather you fight!”
She walked to the bookshelf and ran her fingers along the spines of the books. “Do you know why I created the Reapers?”
“No,” he said after a bit of hesitation.
Erith stopped at one of the books she’d seen Cael reading. Stroking the spine, she called up an image of the Reaper in her mind.
Strong. Confident. Clever.
And oh, so handsome.
“I was not born as you were,” she explained and faced him. “I’m . . . more. When I fight, worlds tend to be destroyed. It’s why I gave that job to the Reapers.”
Seamus’s lips pinched as he considered her words. “You mean, you destroy worlds like Rhi?”
“It’s Rhi’s anger which causes her to glow. When she loses control, she can blow up a realm. She can also create one. Mine isn’t based on my emotions, but the physical act of battle itself.”
“Are you related to Rhi?”
Erith felt her lips soften into a smile as she thought of the Light Fae. “That is a question for another day.”
“You can still fight. Go to another realm and call for Bran. You know he’ll meet you.”
“It may come to that.” But she feared it was already too late. Bran had taken much more of her magic—her very life force—than she allowed even Seamus to know.
Seamus ran a hand through his long, black hair liberally streaked with silver. “I know the Reapers would gladly fight and kill Bran themselves, but they can’t even wound him now. Thankfully, he can’t harm them either.”
“So it falls to me,” she finished.
“You can’t let Bran win.”
A butterfly soared through the open window and landed on the bookshelf near her. “I don’t want that.”
“You’re afraid,” he suddenly said.
She briefly closed her eyes before she looked at him. “I am Death for a reason, Seamus. Long before I was who you see now, I was wrath and hate. I lived for battle and the waste that followed wherever I went.”
“What changed?”
Turning away before he saw the answer in her gaze, she said, “That is one secret I’ll never share.”
“You believe that you’ll become that person again if you fight Bran.”
“Yes. And I know I won’t come back from it a second time.”
Seamus walked to stand before her, making her meet his gaze. “No. I’m not going to sit around and watch you slowly weaken so Bran can kill you.”
“It won’t come to that.”
The look of confusion fell away from Seamus’s face. “Bran’s taking more than your magic. I can’t believe I didn’t realize he was taking your life, as well.”
“Cael splits his time between guarding the entrance to this realm and helping his men. He believes he can stop Bran if Bran happens to find my doorway, but Cael won’t be able to do that.”
Seamus’s shoulders slumped, his gaze dropping to the floor.
Erith continued. “I don’t want Cael seeing what I know is coming.”
“If he calls for you and you don’t go to him, he’ll come here,” Seamus said as he looked up at her.
She looked around the room. The tower had been her home for eons. Not once did she think she would be taken from it. “That is where you step in.”
“You want me to try and stop Cael?” Seamus asked, his eyes wide with disbelief.
“Cael won’t enter the tower without my permission. I’ll remain inside, and when Cael comes, tell him I’m not here.”
Seamus shook his head as he blew out a breath. “Forgive me for saying it, but you’re mad if you think that’ll work on him.”
“It’s why it’s important that you make him believe it. I don’t want him to see me. It’ll shift his focus. And we both know he needs to be with his men.”
“If there’s anyone who should be by your side, it’s Cael.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Why do you say that?”
Seamus held her gaze for a full minute before he looked away. “Because he’s the leader. And . . . well, I think he cares for you.”
“Keep looking for ways to get to Bran. Cael and the others are going to need a way to kill him,” she said before turning to leave.
“So you’re just going to give up?” Seamus called after her.
Erith paused. Sometimes, without even trying, she could feel the weight of the sword in her palm. She wasn’t sure what
was worse—being killed by Bran, or returning to being Mistress of War.
If only there were a third option.
She continued on, not bothering to answer Seamus.
Chapter Eleven
Ettie couldn’t stop staring at herself in the bathroom mirror. The seconds she’d had in Daire’s arms, his mouth on hers, replayed on a loop in her head.
She touched her lips and closed her eyes, recalling how his mouth moved over hers tenderly, seductively. All while his hand rested on her hip.
Just thinking of it caused her stomach to flip. She would still be in his arms if Bran hadn’t arrived.
Just thinking of Bran made the image of Daire fade.
She opened her eyes as her hand dropped to the sink. Ettie still wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that there were two Fae in her life. Daire’s story was fantastic and terrifying. There was so much she wanted to ask him about the Fae, but it seemed trivial with what she and her sisters faced with Bran. Especially since they didn’t know what Bran wanted.
Ettie wasn’t going to let Bran anywhere near her sisters. She was prepared to do whatever it took to keep them safe. No sooner had the thought run through her mind than she realized that she couldn’t watch over them all the time.
For all she knew, Fae from Bran’s army had already approached her sisters. Surely, they would be cautious now. At least, she hoped they would.
Her chin dropped to her chest. There was no amount of warning, no training she could’ve done that would ever have prepared her for this. And to think she honestly believed she was ready for whatever came her way.
With her stomach churning, Ettie took deep, calming breaths. God, how silly Daire must think her. Their little session proved that no matter how quickly she moved, she was no match for him. To make matters worse, she knew he’d been holding back.
Bran wouldn’t. He’d let loose with everything he had, and she’d be toast in a matter of seconds. Why had her father believed training her would be enough?
Her knowledge of fighting was enough to keep the arses away, but she’d be as insignificant as a gnat with the Fae. Running wasn’t an option. So where did that leave her? Absolutely nowhere.