Reaper: Faction 14 (The Isa Fae Collection)

by Gwen Knight

  They barrelled up to me, panting for breath and their faces bright with excitement. “You’re the Reaper!”

  I cringed. They couldn’t have known I hated that name, and it wasn’t their fault it was the only one they knew me by.

  The eldest stepped forward and glared up at me from beneath a thick, black fringe. “You’re not so scary.”

  I almost laughed at the sheer determination in his young voice, as though speaking the words aloud would convince him of that truth.

  He nudged one of the younger boys next to him. “Told you she wasn’t so scary! My mom says you’re just another human.”

  Well, that was a tad reassuring. I leaned toward him and brushed the heavy bangs back from his brow so I could see his crystal-colored eyes. “And just who are you?”

  He puffed out his chest. “I’m Niv.”

  “Well, Niv, you’re right. I’m not very scary,” I said with a playful wink.

  A shocked silence swept over their small group—as though confounded I would admit such a thing.

  “But my friend’s papa always said you’d come reap us in our sleep if we didn’t listen!” a younger one cried out.

  I froze, a lump wedged in my throat. That was nothing new, I told myself. I’d always known the stories they told their children about me.

  “Careful, now,” another voice spoke from behind me.

  I glanced back to find Oren leaning against the doorframe, an amused grin tugging on his lips.

  He pushed away from the door and swaggered toward us, his attention all for the kids. “If you anger her, she might reap you right here and now.”

  A startled squeal swept through the group.

  “Oren!” I scolded, then turned to the kids. “He’s kidding. I wouldn’t. I—”

  “Or she might sneak into your room tonight and wait until you’re all tucked in and dozing off.”

  “Nu uh!” Niv complained.

  “Don’t listen to him,” I said. “He’s joking. He doesn’t know what he’s—”

  “Or maybe…” Oren crouched in front of Niv with an open and honest smile on his face. “She’s just like the rest of us, exactly as your mother said.”

  Niv cocked his head, his little face scrunched with concern.

  “Maybe there’s actually nothing to be scared of. Could be that if you treat her like everyone else, she’ll treat you the same way. Hard to say though,” Oren said with a shrug.

  He straightened, then took my hand and turned it over, tracing my palm with his index finger. My breath quickened, and heat bloomed in my stomach, a reaction I hadn’t quite expected. What the hell was going on with me? He was fae, and I was human. Yet, I couldn’t seem to find the energy to care anymore. What did it matter anyway?

  “She saved my life, you know,” Oren continued, murmuring under his breath as though he’d forgotten he was teaching the children a lesson. His fingers traced over my hand and caressed my wrist, a feathered touch that had my heart pounding.

  After a moment’s hesitation, he turned back to the kids. “Now, run along, you scamps. Go bother someone else.”

  A swell of delighted laughter rose among the kids before they dashed off toward the nearest field, giggling about their close encounter with the famous Reaper. I stared after them, amazed by their reactions. “I didn’t notice any children here yesterday.”

  “Only a few. Niv is Taly’s eldest son. They were asked to keep out of sight the past few days while we all settled in. Should have known they wouldn’t keep them cooped up for long.”

  I watched as the group dove into the snow and gathered an arsenal of snowballs. Seemed they were preparing for an impending battle. “They really weren’t afraid of me.”

  Oren’s fingers brushed mine. “Is that a problem?”

  “No, of course not,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s just…I was never allowed to speak with the children before. Or anyone, really. But I always saw the fear when Arik marched me through Osvea. The way they huddled and cowered behind their parents.”

  “Things have changed,” he murmured. “You’re no longer the big bad wolf.”

  “What’s changed, though? I haven’t done anything.”

  “You’re here,” Oren stressed. “But most of these children were raised by parents who want to see a change. Taly, as an example, is a huge supporter of human rights. She would have raised her son with the same mind frame. Course, that didn’t stop their friends’ parents from spouting off that nonsense. But these children weren’t raised to fear you like others were.”

  He lifted his gaze and appraised me. “Plus, it’s hard to fear someone the same size as them.”

  I gave a watery laugh and slapped his chest as a few tears slipped down my cheeks.

  “Whoa,” Oren said, his hands rising to cup my cheeks. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought you knew you were short.”

  My laughter grew. “I’m not upset, you dolt. I’m happy.”

  “Oh, sorry. Hard to tell the difference with you.”

  I scoffed under my breath, but my smile remained. “You’re such a jerk.”

  “But you like that about me,” he teased, lifting his brow in mock defiance.

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” I replied, enjoying the banter.

  “Well, would you go this far?”

  Before I could question what he meant, he leaned down and brushed his lips over mine, feather soft and tentative, as though afraid of my reaction. I sucked in a sharp breath, my mouth parting of its own volition. I hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected such a bold move—I only knew I didn’t want him to stop.

  Emboldened, Oren’s hands swept down my back and grasped my hips, pulling me flush against him. His arms tightened around me, and he angled his head, taking the kiss to a deeper, more carnal level. The moment our tongues touched, I gasped and sank into him, my body flush with heat.

  He drew back then, pausing to brush his lips once more over mine.

  I blinked open my eyes and stared up at him, at a loss for words. Everything was dead silent, even the children’s shouting had faded away in my head.

  “Well then,” he whispered, sounding just as stunned.

  I lifted a hand and touched my fingers to my tingling lips. I’d never been kissed in such a way before. Even Logan’s had been chaste in comparison. And if my pulse was any indication, this one had affected me much more profoundly.

  I’d grown up with Logan—but Oren left me breathless.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his hands sliding away from my hips. “Not about to clock me one, are you?”

  I nodded, then shook my head, not entirely sure how to respond. “I—I’m fine,” I whispered. “Just surprised.”

  He ducked his head. “A good surprise, I hope.”

  I was about to say yes until a stray thought popped into my head—his uncle’s voice slithering through my thoughts. You’re nothing more than a rake. Oren was a player, always attached to some female’s side. Was that what this was? Just another woman to warm his bed?

  “Keira?”

  “Um. I need to go,” I said, backing away from him. “I…uh…”

  “What’s wrong?” He trailed after me, his eyebrows furrowed.

  “Keira?”

  Shit. I cringed at the sound of Logan’s voice. I slowly turned to find him standing on the porch, his eyes alight with rage. Had he seen the kiss? Because that was just what I needed. More drama between the two of them.

  “I’m fine,” I told them both. “But I need to go. You know, plans to make and whatnot.”

  Both stepped toward me. I sidestepped them and was about to dart around Logan when I jumped at a startling sound. I swung around, my heart leaping into my throat at the sight of Logan punching Oren across the jaw.

  “Logan!” I shouted.

  Not that my cry made a difference. Oren retaliated immediately, throwing his own fist into Logan’s nose.

  I froze, unsure of how to proceed.

  The fight exploded quickly,
the two tumbling to the ground and rolling around in the snow as they fought for the upper hand. Oren hauled off and struck Logan across the jaw again and again, proving him the more experienced fighter of the two.

  “Enough!” I screamed, hovering over them as they beat each other senseless.

  “You might not want to get involved.”

  I glanced over my shoulder to find Markos watching, disappointment creasing his eyes.

  “Are you kidding me? They’re going to kill each other.”

  “Or Oren will kill Logan,” Markos suggested.

  Anger burst within me, and before another punch could be thrown, I reached down and touched them both. The moment my fingers connected with their flesh, I called forth my magic. I wasn’t the most talented witch, but I knew how to distract someone, how to rob him of his power.

  The fight came to an immediate standstill, both men staring up at me with wide eyes.

  I gritted my teeth and struggled to release them. This wasn’t like the guards. I didn’t want to kill either of them. Not really. Though right now I could have punched them both in the face myself.

  “Keira…” Markos called to me.

  With a stuttered breath, I broke contact with them and stumbled backward. I’d taken a few atern each, nothing serious. But enough to put a stop to this madness.

  Both rose to their knees, panting for air.

  Nostrils flaring, I glared at them and shook my head, allowing the disappointment to shine in my eyes. Then without a word, I turned and stalked through the snow and into the house.

  “Wait! Keira!” Oren shouted.

  Before he could follow me, I slammed the door in his face and took the stairs two at a time to my bedroom. I needed to think about what had just happened.

  But when I shut my door, the sight that greeted me was enough to destroy me.

  “Daddy?” I whispered.

  Heart in my throat, I crept toward the bed. When I’d woken this morning, he’d still been asleep, and I’d opted to leave him. I’d known he needed rest, so I’d snuck out of the room as quietly as possible. But now, looking at him in the sunlight, I knew something was wrong.

  “Daddy!”

  I rushed toward the bed and reached for his arm. The moment I touched him, I knew.

  He was gone.

  I sat in the chair and stared out the window, ignorant to anything and everything other than the crushing pain in my chest. The silence in the room was deafening—enough so that I felt I might go insane. All I wanted was to hear his voice once more. But that would never happen again. We’d come so far, only to lose him so soon.

  Part of me wanted to rage at the world and the fates—whatever controlled our destinies. I’d given up my entire life to protect him, and when we’d finally found each other again…

  I sniffled and wiped my tears.

  He was sick, Logan had said to me when my hysterical screams had brought them all running to my room. I knew he’d been sick. But I’d given him atern, found him a new home, a meal, a bed.

  And it hadn’t been enough.

  I tucked my legs into my chest and rested my chin atop my knees.

  The sun had begun to set—the entire day gone to removing my father from our room and placing him to rest in the fields out back. I’d been touched that Markos had made the effort. And even more grateful when no one had asked me to reap him. I couldn’t have handled that.

  With a sigh, I turned my head and rested my cheek against my knees. Every bone in my body was exhausted. I was tired of running and hiding, and most importantly, tired of death.

  Without my father, this all seemed so ridiculous. Raising a rebellion, infiltrating Dask’s estate, and attempting his assassination. What for? My father would never see the day when witches were freed. Everything I’d ever done had been for him. And he was gone.

  A soft knock rapped against my door. “Keira?”

  “Leave me alone, Logan,” I said. I wasn’t in the mood for company.

  “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  Oh, sure. I was just dandy. Because a few hours was all it took to get over the death of a father.

  Ignoring me, he eased into my room. “Keira, I wanted to apologize about this afternoon. I shouldn’t have lashed out like that at Oren…”

  Laughter spilled past my lips, a reaction that quickly turned to tears. Like I gave a shit about their spat this afternoon. “Go away, would you?”

  He sighed. “All right. You know where I am when you want to talk.”

  I curled a lip at his suggestion. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I didn’t want to plan for the assault on Dask. I didn’t want to hear any of Markos’ apologies or Logan’s comforts.

  My shoulders slumped when I heard the door click shut.

  All I wanted was to be alone. But when I was alone, I wanted someone here if only to hold me while I wept. The first fourteen years of my life, my father was the most important person to me. After Arik had taken me, my father was still all I’d cared about. Protecting him was all that’d mattered. I’d done so much to guarantee his protection.

  My bedroom door opened again. I closed my eyes and released a long breath. Whoever it was, I just wanted to be left alone. But this visitor didn’t speak.

  I listened as he crossed the room toward me, then caught sight of Oren out of the corner of my eye while he pulled up a chair next to me.

  Still, no words. Instead, he sank into the chair and took my hand. Nothing more, nothing less. But that was all it took. The tears I’d been struggling to hold back spilled over, and I dissolved into wracking sobs.

  He repositioned our chairs so they were pressed against each other, then he slipped his arms around me and held me close. I didn’t fight it. Instead, I fell against him and rested my head against his chest. Unlike everyone else, I didn’t feel the need to drive him away. Perhaps because he’d recently lost his own father. Somehow that helped, knowing I wasn’t alone in this.

  It felt like hours had passed before the tears dried up, and throughout it all, Oren didn’t utter a single word. He’d simply slid his fingers through my hair and held me. After a while, we moved to the bed where we could stretch out.

  I fell asleep tucked against his side, listening to the sound of his even breaths.

  13

  These fae are so damned proud of their culture and people, as though they haven’t stolen it from us!

  —Random note found in the Foundry

  I woke when the mattress shifted beneath me.

  My eyelashes fluttered open until I found myself staring at Oren. While stretched across the bed, he’d thrown an arm over his eyes as though to block out the morning sunlight streaming through the window.

  I stretched from head to toe and yawned, then blinked when I felt a tight pull across my cheeks. They felt dry, almost like sandpaper, which seemed about right since I’d spent the entire night crying.

  My gaze wandered back toward Oren. He looked almost…peaceful, with his dark hair tussled from the pillow and his face smooth. From this angle, I studied his lips, remembering the sensation of them against mine yesterday. A large part of me wanted to feel them again and the emotions he’d awoken in me. I wanted to feel anything other than this yawning emptiness that had settled in my gut. I wanted to turn back time and have my only worries be those of Oren kissing me and Markos’ rebellion. In hindsight, those were simple concerns compared to dealing with my father’s death.

  He’d been sick. Logan had said as much. Not that it made me feel any better. I’d believed I could help him, but I felt as though I had failed him.

  I shook my head and inhaled a deep breath. I slipped out of the bed and snuck out of the room, padding over to the bathroom. The house seemed quiet, which was odd. Bursting at the seams as it was, I’d expected to hear movement or conversation. Still, I was in no mood to investigate, so I closed the bathroom door behind me and washed up, hoping to rouse a little life back into my cheeks.

  My reflection didn’t
encourage me.

  Hollowed cheeks, bruised eyes, sunken and pale skin. I splashed cold water on my face and brushed my teeth. Afterward, I combed through my tangled hair and twined it into a long braid. Anything to keep it out of my face.

  Then I slunk out of the bathroom without another glance, tired of staring at the blanched face in the glass.

  I opened my bedroom door to find Oren awake. He sat on the edge of the bed, his elbows propped against his thighs and his hands threaded through his rumpled hair.

  “Mornin’,” he said, his voice gruff.

  “Morning.”

  He lifted his head with a frown. “How are you?”

  I hated that damned question. Yesterday, I’d heard it nonstop. From Logan, from Markos, from Taly…but Oren had been the only one not to ask. He’d known what I’d needed.

  Grateful for his comfort the night before, I nodded and fed him the same answer I’d given the others. “Fine.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You’re not fine, Keira. And that’s perfectly all right. When my father…” He paused. “I shouldn’t talk about my father—this isn’t about him.”

  My chest tightened, and I padded toward him before lowering onto the bed. “I am sorry about your father. No one was there for you when he died. Not like you were for me last night. You haven’t had any time to grieve.”

  Mouth pursed, he stared straight ahead. I could see the hurt in his face, feel it in his tense muscles.

  “Dask…” His shoulders shifted with a heavy sigh. “Dask slit his throat. They were supposed to leave that morning for Estback.”

  I nodded. I remembered that much.

  “No one had thought to look for my father. He wasn’t supposed to be home. And afterward, Dask told everyone that our father had decided to go to Estback alone.”

  “But the hologram?” I asked, remembering the unadulterated fear I’d felt the moment Arik’s face had popped up in the Foundry.

  “Dask, I suspect. Our family is quite talented when it comes to using glamour. Many fae can’t sense it when we alter our appearances. It’s why Dask enjoys modifying himself so much. They can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t. All about intimidation in his eyes.” He glanced my way, then continued. “From my understanding, Dask had gone to find you, to put you under his lock and key, and when he discovered you gone, he had to act. There was no doubt in his mind where you’d vanished too. We’ve all known for years that you snuck out to the Foundry.”