Reaper: Faction 14 (The Isa Fae Collection)

by Gwen Knight

  And now, they were bleeding us dry.

  I’d become Arik’s personal bank, the one person who could supply him with atern. Magic that had always belonged to us. It was a job he’d forced me to work since I was fourteen. A job that if I refused or deviated from in any way, he would obliterate the Foundry and everyone within it.

  “Keira?” Logan called to me.

  I forced my thoughts back with a hard blink. My gaze sharpened only to find the residents of the Foundry standing on their porches, eying us. No, not us. Me. Hate darkened their faces, their mouths harsh slashes on their wrinkled faces. Time hadn’t treated them well, and here I stood, the source of all their problems.

  “They hate me,” I whispered.

  Logan’s hands curled over my shoulder in a silent show of support. “It isn’t that they hate you…”

  He didn’t finish his sentence, and I understood why. They did hate me. They hated everything I stood for. I took the magic that belonged to us and handed it over to Arik. I was the one responsible for his rise to power and for the Foundry’s decimation. The more magic I gave him, the less there was for them to survive.

  But if I didn’t, they’d die all the same. Arik had long since assured me of that. My actions at least gave some of them a chance.

  “Come on,” Logan urged.

  I nodded, then trailed after him, my gaze still sweeping over their faces.

  Logan led me around the next corner, his hand tight against mine. At the end of the street sat a small house, the wood swollen with frost. I continued down the path, all the while staring at it. The place I’d grown up, and the one place I thought of when someone mentioned home. It wasn’t much, but it’d been enough.

  After a teasing smirk, Logan lifted his hand and knocked. It only took a few seconds before the aged door swung open.

  And there he stood.

  The moment I caught sight of him, bittersweet tears pricked my eyes. Like Logan, he’d changed so much since the last time I’d seen him. His once dark hair had silvered, and his bright blue eyes were now a faded denim.

  “Keira,” he whispered, his hand rising to rest over his chest.

  “Daddy…” I felt like a young child again, staring up at the man I idolized above all others.

  Relief smoothed over the wrinkles in his face, and, without another word, he dragged me into his chest. “Oh, my sweet girl. I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever see you again.”

  Four years had passed for him since I’d last visited. The tears slipped over my cheeks as I considered his loneliness. My mother had died during The Crossing—horribly so. It was little more than a faded memory to me, but I still recalled the grief that had stricken my father. Then to lose his daughter…it was more than most could bear.

  I buried my face in the crook of his neck. His scent filled my nose, and my eyes fluttered shut as I reveled in this moment. His arms tightened around me, his fingers gripping my back as though he feared losing me again.

  “Daddy,” I wheezed. “Can’t breathe.”

  A deep chuckle shook his frail shoulders, but, finally, he released me and ushered Logan and me inside. “Come in, come in. I don’t have much to offer for food or drink, but you’re welcome to whatever I have.”

  “Don’t worry about feeding me,” I commented as I stepped past the threshold. The house’s familiar scent washed over me the moment I entered the foyer. The place where I’d always kicked off my shoes at the end of the day and the spot on the floor where I’d toss my jacket. Course, my father would always trail after me, clucking under his breath as he cleaned up after me. It felt like a whole lifetime had passed since I’d last stepped foot in here.

  “Does he know you’re here?” my father’s voice jerked me out of my memories.

  I forced myself to swallow. Then I met his gaze. “Uh, no. It’ll need to be a quick visit.”

  “Keira, if he finds out—”

  “He won’t,” I assured them both. “He’s too busy waging war with Estback right now.”

  My father’s eyes narrowed. “Estback? They’re north of us, right?”

  I nodded. “A small city-state on the edge of the mountains. About a day’s travel. Right now, I’m the least of his concerns.”

  “Until he needs you to reap the dead,” Logan chimed in.

  A brief silence fell over the three of us as we all contemplated the implications. With the Foundry untouchable, thanks to me, Arik had resorted to war to bolster his magical cache. Lay siege on another city, raze it, reap their witches. We weren’t the only city in Faction Fourteen who had taken in refugees, but Arik was the only one with a Reaper—a secret he kept well-guarded.

  “Well, until then, I’m here,” I stated. “I had to see you guys.”

  “And I’m so happy to see you,” my father said with a grin.

  He stepped forward and took my hand in his. His felt so narrow and slight. Frowning, I stared down at his fingers, my breath catching at the sight of his fragile bones. I’d always remembered him as a strong man, but now… Logan had mentioned that things had been difficult lately.

  I studied my father’s face. Bruised eyes and hollow cheeks, skin pale and waxen, his physique bordering gaunt.

  “You’re sick,” I whispered.

  He patted the top of my hand with a weak smile. “Don’t be silly. I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine.” I reached up and cupped his face, slick and warm with fever. “What’s wrong?”

  “Sweetheart…”

  I turned and eyed Logan. “Is this what you were talking about?”

  The two of them shared a glance, as though silently debating how much to tell me.

  Anger rose hard and fast from the pit of my stomach. I hadn’t come all this way for them to keep secrets. “Someone had better tell me what’s going on here.”

  My father’s shoulders rounded. He took both my hands into his and lowered them. “The healers think it’s just a cold.”

  “A cold,” I repeated. I considered the frail lines in his face, unsure what to believe. It certainly looked like more than a cold, but I wasn’t a doctor. “How long have you felt this way?”

  He opened his mouth to respond.

  “And don’t lie,” I said quickly.

  He gave a soft laugh. “I used to say that to you as a child.”

  “And don’t change the subject,” I scolded.

  “Damn,” Logan chuckled. “She’s good. I’ll let you two be. Should I boil some water, Nathan?”

  “There should be some on the stove already. If you let it cool a few moments, then pour it into some cups, that should be fine.”

  I waited until Logan left the room before I started tapping my foot against the floor. “How long, Dad?”

  “Oh, sweetie, it really is nothing. The healers just want me to rest, eat soup, build up strength. The usual.”

  I couldn’t help but frown. “What about work?”

  “There hasn’t been much call for a carpenter lately.” He shrugged. “It’ll pick up. It always does.”

  If he wasn’t working, that meant no incoming atern, which meant everything here. It was the whole basis of the economy. Atern separated those who lived happy, comfortable lives from those without, who tended to die in the streets. I grabbed his arm and turned over his hand, displaying the thin bracelet strapped around his wrist. The same bracelet we all wore. More times than I could count, I’d tried to pry off mine, but Arik had sealed them all with magic. All so he could monitor our power reserves and track our locations. The second we’d crossed into his realm, he’d ordered his people to slap one on each of us. At the time, I’d been a six-year-old girl who had just watched her mother die. I hadn’t thought to fight back. Now, fourteen years later, I knew better.

  A chill swept down my spine at the sight of the number flashing on the display. “My God. You’re down to five atern.”

  “Keira…”

  I tightened my grip before he could pull back. Five units was dangerous. And without wor
k, there was no way for him to acquire more.

  “No.” I shook my head. This wasn’t happening. I refused to see my father wallowing in the streets, half-frozen and starved.

  “It’s all right, sweetheart. I promise things will get better.”

  I swallowed past the new lump in my throat. Things would get better. Because I refused to let this happen. I was the Reaper, the conduit between witches and fae. If I couldn’t help him, then what was the point of my gift?

  With a slow breath, I willed my magic into my father. The sensation was strange, but one I’d long since grown familiar with. Gossamer threads broke apart from my soul, and my skin grew flush with silver light. Then, the threads bloomed like a rose from my skin, their vines winding around our wrists and joining us.

  “Keira…what are you doing?”

  The light swelled, and my magic slipped into his flesh when the thorns pricked him. I gritted my teeth and willed more of my power to him. Sweat broke out on my brow, my chest heaving as I fought to control my magic. Handing it over to Arik was never like this because I never dipped below one hundred units. This time was different. I wanted to give my father as much as I could. He needed it more than me.

  A voice in my head railed against my decision, cautioning me to slow the amount of magic I poured into him. My breath grew haggard and my limbs heavy. Only then did I stagger backward and release my father.

  Distantly, I heard a loud crash and felt a sharp pain slash across my arm. But I couldn’t see or hear anything. Everything was murky and grey, my vision dotted as I shook my head.

  “Keira!” someone shouted.

  Strong hands grabbed me by my waist before I fell.

  “What happened?” Logan’s voice sounded muffled in my ears.

  “She gave me her atern,” my father responded, his voice soft with awe.

  “Keira?”

  I felt a light tap against my cheeks.

  “Can you hear me?”

  I nodded. “Need to…sit.”

  A firm arm braced my back before the other swept out my legs. In one swift movement, Logan carried me to the couch. My head fell back against a lumpy cushion, and I released a long sigh. Better. Much better. At least the world had stopped spinning.

  When I blinked open my eyes, it was to find both my father and Logan staring down at me, their faces creased with worry.

  “You all right?” Logan asked.

  I lifted a trembling hand to my slick brow. I’d dipped too low. Too close to zero. I was almost afraid to look, but when I did, my heart skipped a beat. Seven atern. Enough to keep me breathing but not exactly energetic. My mind flitted toward the snowy field I’d have to trudge through, and I groaned.

  “Keira.” My father crouched down in front of me. “You shouldn’t have done that. I would have been fine.”

  Though my vision remained blurred, I could already see the improvements. He seemed stronger already. Color had returned to his face and fleshed out the aged lines that had creased his eyes and mouth. Magic was a wondrous thing.

  I shook my head, then winced when it throbbed in response. “I can get more.”

  “How?” Logan demanded.

  I grimaced. Not pleasantly, that was for sure. “Wouldn’t do for Arik’s pet witch to die, now would it?”

  Logan’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t argue. I appreciated that. My head couldn’t handle a full-blown debate at the moment.

  “You’re bleeding,” he finally said. “Let me see your arm.”

  He reached for my wrist, and I pulled back, tucking my arm against my side. I hadn’t meant to, but sometimes instinct ruled.

  Logan lifted his narrowed gaze to mine, then grabbed my wrist and drew out my injured arm. He pushed aside my cloak and dropped his focus. The moment his face darkened, I knew he’d spotted the marks. But I was too tired to fight him.

  “Dad, can you grab me a cloth?” I murmured before he saw what Logan had. “I’ll wrap this up, and it’ll be fine.”

  Logan held his tongue until my father left the room, but the moment we were alone, he tugged on my arm and traced the four long scars. “Who did this?”

  I didn’t need to look down to see them. I remembered them in vivid detail.

  “I’m sure you already know who,” I whispered.

  Logan’s fingers tightened around my wrist. “Arik did this?”

  My tongue swiped across my bottom lip, dampening it before I responded. “Punishment for my last attempts to escape.”

  Logan’s head snapped up. “What attempts?”

  “Whenever I come here. To him, that’s an escape, and he punishes me every time.”

  “Jesus, Keira.”

  I lifted a shoulder.

  “I thought they treated you well there.”

  A bark of laughter scraped up my throat. “Right. Locked in my room day in and day out. The only time I’m permitted to leave is when he lugs in a new shipment of dead witches for me to reap. He’s afraid another lord will hear of me and wage an attack. So the less I’m outside, the less chance someone else can learn of my existence. When I misbehave, I’m punished. Thrown into the dungeon, or something like this…” I gestured toward my bleeding arm. Another scar to add to the mix. “Hell, he’s made me stand by and watch while he’s executed other witches for breaking the law, then forced me to reap their bodies. Remember Christopher and Joanna?”

  Emotion flickered across Logan’s face. “I could kill him.”

  A weak smile chased across my face. “Good luck with that.”

  Before either of us could utter another word, a small holographic screen across the room flickered to life. At the sight of Arik’s face popping into view, I sucked in a sharp breath and shot to my feet.

  My God. He was back at the estate.

  And I wasn’t.

  2

  Osvea has always been the capitol of Faction Fourteen. To the west are the Uog Mountains; to the east the great plains; to the north the frozen lands; and to the south the barrens. Its ideal location has kept the city fed and profitable for generations, and the large, spiked fence encircling it has kept it nigh impenetrable. Those who have tried to take Osvea in the past have failed, and their bodies now rot in the surrounding bogs.

  —From Osvea: A History, by Michal Humner

  “No, no, no, no, no…” I chanted as I rushed toward the screen, heart pounding in my chest.

  Arik’s torso hovered midair, spinning in a gentle circle until it came to a stop facing us. Every house in Osvea and the Foundry had been equipped with a hologram screen, thanks to a decree set in place years back. Arik’s way of ensuring every last eye in the city was on him at all times.

  His familiar face came to a stop and his sharp, crystalline gaze settled on me. I knew he couldn’t actually see me. It was simply a trick of programming—a means of ensuring his residents paid attention. But that didn’t stop the shiver from rolling down my spine.

  As a child, Arik had entranced me. I’d always loved his beautiful platinum blonde hair and the way he wore it plaited down his back. I used to long to run my fingers through it, pull the braid apart and fan his hair over his shoulders. And then, I’d learned the truth. His entire appearance was compliments of a glamour. A trick of the fae. Another lie.

  I’d yet to meet a fae who didn’t hide behind a glamour. From my limited experience, they loved to change their appearances to fit whatever best suited their moods. Arik had always gone for attractive and enchanting. No need to look monstrous when his actions spoke louder than words.

  “Denizens of Osvea.” Arik’s voice boomed through the house. His image flickered in and out of sight—a short in the faulty electrical system. “It is with great joy that I bring you news of Estback’s fall. Earlier this morning, their regent surrendered his lands and estate over to Osvea.”

  My lip curled. “To you, more like.”

  Who was he kidding? Everyone knew of his aspirations. Faction Fourteen was a massive chunk of the realm. It encompassed a swath of prairie la
nd, an extensive range of mountains, and stretched all the way to the ocean on the west coast. And he wanted to rule it all. The other dozen or so cities merely stood in his way.

  How long until they started to fight back? Estback wasn’t the first city he’d conquered, and we knew it wouldn’t be the last. Surely someone would have taken notice by now? And then what?

  “My God,” Logan whispered, his voice rousing me from my thoughts. “One hundred and three witches dead.”

  I jerked, my gaze cutting to his. “What?”

  He pointed to the screen. “He just listed off the statistics.” Logan paced the length of the living room, color rising to his face. “This is insane! He’ll never stop. He’ll keep cutting us down until we’re gone.”

  I whirled back to Arik and listened as he continued to drone on about his success. One hundred and three witches… The only thing that kept the Foundry safe was Arik’s promise to me. But eventually, he’d break that promise. The fae were too power hungry, and he was the hungriest of them all.

  “Keira…”

  The sound of my father’s voice had me turning around. He stood in the doorway, a small cloth in hand, and his wide gaze latched onto the hologram. His troubled gaze flicked to me.

  “It’s okay,” I whispered, crossing the distance between us in three strides.

  “It’s not. You know he’s going to be looking for you. He’ll want you to reap those witches, and you…”

  “Won’t be there, I know. There’s a chance he’s already noticed my absence.” I took the cloth from his hand and pressed it against my arm, hiding the other marks. If Arik knew I was gone, the scars on my arm were telling of how he’d respond. My father didn’t need to know about that.

  His hand shot out and clutched mine, the fear in his face heartbreaking. “What will he do if he finds you gone?”

  I attempted a haphazard shrug. “It’ll be all right. I’m his pet witch, remember? He needs me to reap their magic. He won’t hurt me.” If only that were true.