The Reaping (The Moondreamer Chronicles Book 2)

by Tamara Mataya

  He positions himself over me, trailing a hand up my thigh to caress my hip.

  I pull him down so he's lying on me, pressing me into the bed. I don’t care what kind of hard place I’m up against as long as Draven’s there with me, pinning me against it.

  His lips brush mine gently before deepening, slowing down. Lips meld together, tongues meet, and hands explore as we spend the rest of the day showing one another that we are very much alive and well and sleep can go fuck itself.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  After the long journey home, Skortia meets Draven and me at the door. “We've got company.”

  “Who?” Draven asks.

  “A few Fae Army members.”

  My heart sinks that it’s not Trina. “What? How?” I crane to peek over her shoulder, but we’re alone in the hallway.

  Skortia smirks. “We managed to find Jecka again.”

  I shake my head. “Doesn't seem like she's being too careful about staying hidden.”

  Skortia smiles at me. “Her unmitigated arrogance works well for us. A team followed Jecka but couldn't get past the barriers of the building she entered. They waited until she left and stayed in place. A few hours later, a small group of Fae came out. They made contact and an altercation took place. The Fae were transported here last night.”

  “How old are they? How many?”

  Ashria strides down the hall greeting us. “There are two females and a male. The females are sixteen and nineteen. The Incubus male is twenty-three.”

  She wanted Draven to sleep with Mare. I shake off the anger and focus on the present. “What's the plan?”

  “The older female, Fire Elemental/Sprite, and the male are settling in, albeit warily. They've volunteered information about themselves—nothing about the army yet. We haven't had time for a proper conversation, though I can’t imagine they’ll just start spilling everything they know.”

  Draven scrubs his hands down his face. “It's good they're talking at all.”

  “Yes, but we think the young female has more information. She is more combative than the other two and fought against us the hardest when we made contact. Her name is Janska. She's in the blue bedroom.”

  The blue bedroom is one of three that lock from the outside only. The blue room, the pink room, and the green. If they're in those rooms, they aren't friends of ours.

  “And what do you want me to do?” I wipe the sleep out of my eyes.

  “You're closer to her age.”

  Skortia nods. “I’d do it, but I was the one who captured her. She sees adults as the enemy, reacts badly to people she perceives to be in positions of authority.”

  “You’re both young and powerful,” Ashria points out. “You may be able to reach her in ways I can't. Talk to her.”

  The last thing I want to do after the last few days is make nice with another stranger, but I head upstairs before I can talk myself out of it. Knocking twice, I enter quickly, shutting the door behind me.

  Janska sits rigidly on the floor in the corner, playing with the end of her long braid. One glance is all it takes to see her heritage. Selkie. Pure Selkie. She’d be beautiful if not for the hatred making her face a hard mask.

  Her liquid-brown eyes are large and untrusting as she sizes me up. Her smirk tells me she finds me lacking—until I wave a hand and the door locks itself behind me.

  “My name is Syxx. You're Janska?”

  She sits up. “What are you?”

  “Does it matter?”

  She laughs, trilling notes that drip with condescension. “Of course it matters. I'm not wasting my time if you're not one of us.”

  “One of us?”

  “I'm sure the rest of you are Fae—at least partly, but they seem weak. You might be strong based on how you locked the door. If that was you.”

  “It was.” Deciding to show off a little, I will the high-backed wooden chair to slide over to me from across the room. I turn it backwards and straddle it, folding my arms on the back and resting my chin on my arms, trying to appear casual.

  Really, I want the thick wood of the chair between us. This is a Fae Army member we're talking about, and she hasn't developed those muscles in her arms by sitting around playing video games. She's a warrior.

  “You're one of us all right. So why are you working for them?”

  “Them?”

  “The sympathizers.” Her eyes shine with a kind of beatific hate—zealot eyes, lit up from within by whatever bullshit the High Council's lackeys stuffed her young mind with since birth.

  “I'm not sure what you mean by sympathizers.” I try to draw her out. “I'm on the side of anyone who wants peace. I'm on the side of the Fae and the humans. I don't value one over the other, simply because we're all too different to even begin comparing ourselves.”

  Her face hardens. “If you're not with us, you're with them.”

  “It's not as confrontational as they make it seem. We all want the same thing. Nobody wants to hurt you.”

  She curls her legs in closer to herself, hugs them with her arms. “It's not going to work. They told me you'd try this. Try to be my friend, say we'd be buddies, right up until you stuck the knife into my back and moved on to do the same to my brothers. My sisters.”

  “I'm the one trying to keep your brothers and sisters alive.”

  “You're the one who separated us!” Her voice rises to a snarl.

  “And what about those who separated you from your mothers? Your real families?”

  “I don't have or need a mother. I've got thousands of siblings and a people to liberate. I don't have time for the creatures that bore me and didn't want me.”

  I don't even know what to say. I've looked into the eyes of the women who had their children taken away; I've seen the broken stares that painted their faces with a sadness so complete I almost drowned in it.

  Didn't want her? That couldn't be further from the truth. “Is that what your captors told you?”

  “My guardians told us the truth.”

  This time I'm the one laughing mirthlessly. “You really have no idea. Your parents were forced to breed, then forced to hand you over to the Council. You were ripped from your parents and taken away.”

  “Don't bother with this game. I'm not going to buy it. Let me go.”

  Curiosity gets the better of me. “If I let you go, what would you do?”

  “I'd gather my brother and sister and go back home.” Not so bad. “And I'd kill any of you that got in our way.”

  Not so good.

  “Janska—”

  “Where are Ibor and Misty?”

  “They're safe.”

  “Not what I asked.” Her seething is so intense I expect it to manifest, seep from her pores, and drip to the floor like hot tar.

  “They're not being as uncooperative as you are, so they’re not locked up.”

  Her eyes widen. “You're lying.”

  “Janska, you've been lied to your whole life. Do you even know about your people?”

  “The Selkies? Of course I know. We learn about our heritage, even if we come from weak parents.”

  “There's no such thing as a weak Selkie.”

  Pride flashes in her eyes for a second before she shakes her head. “Stop it.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop talking to me. You're the liar. You're the one who is trying to keep us down. You're the one who will hurt us. You've probably already killed Ibor and Misty.”

  “Your ‘siblings’ are safe. We're not like the people who held you captive.”

  “I'm done listening to your lies.”

  “You need to know—”

  “Leave,” she screams so loud my ears ring.

  “I want to help you.”

  “Leave!”

  I stand. “Please. You don't have to talk if you don't want to. You're safe here. No one will hurt you. Janska, just—”

  “Leave!” Spittle flies from her mouth.

  She's going to have an aneurism if I st
ay, so I lock the door behind me and head down to the kitchen, feet heavy on the stairs, willing my ears to stop ringing.

  Draven, Skortia, Kaya, and Ashria sit around the table.

  “Where are the other two?”

  Draven stands and gives me his chair. “Sleeping.”

  “How did it go with Janska?” Ashria asks.

  “Not well,” I admit.

  Skortia scowls. “Did she cooperate at all?”

  “No. I left when she screamed at me to leave. I was worried she’d have a rage seizure on me if I didn’t.”

  Skortia pats my forearm. “You can't cut out their devotion to the cause overnight.”

  “Have the other two spoken much about their experiences?” Draven begins kneading my shoulders.

  Skortia drums her fingertips on the table. “Ibor and Misty have spoken with us, yes, though not at length. They have had doubts about their purpose for some time. Ibor wasn't a favorite, so his resentment has worked in our favor.”

  Kaya sighs. “That and they've been treated awfully. Even just offering them a meal went a long way to fostering trust.”

  “They were kept hungry,” Ashria elaborates. “When he was smaller, Ibor found the kitchen and saw all the food, despite the meals being meagre to the point of almost nonexistent. He asked why they couldn't have a little more to eat. The leader said they'd ask. That night before supper, the superiors asked who was still hungry after meals. He stood up and urged his friends to do the same. They received no food that night or for the next three days as punishment, to make them realize how lucky they were for what they had. He never complained again.”

  “It stuck with him for years.” Skortia sips from her glass.

  “It's unnecessarily cruel.” Draven’s anger makes his hands knead a little harder.

  “That's nothing.” Kaya grimaces. “Most of them are stone-cold killers. It's how they were raised.”

  “We knew they would be ruthless.” I stand and grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

  “No, Syxx,” Skortia says. “Part of their training was killing without remorse. They are trained to believe that their obedience to the Fae High Council should outweigh their attachment to anything or anyone else. No questions asked. Even friends.”

  “Holy shit.” The words leak out of me, mind slipping to come to terms with this, finding no traction. Needing an anchor in this sea of horror, I reach for Draven’s hand. “The things they've gone through are so much worse than I imagined. They're either going to welcome us to get away from the things they've been through or cling more tightly to the bullshit they were fed. I’d want to believe I hadn’t been lied to—that it hadn’t been all for nothing.”

  He squeezes my hand. “It's going to take a lot of patience, a gentle touch.”

  Futility tugs at my heart. “I tried to start a dialogue with Janska. She wasn't having it. If that's the kind of things she's experienced since she was a child...I don't even know what to say.”

  Kaya crosses his arms. “Mostly, tonight we talked about the Fae, giving them the real history of our people, and they listened. Ibor and Misty were shocked by all they heard. It will take some time for them to adjust. Their idols have been destroyed, their beliefs shattered.”

  “Then we'll have to give them something else to believe in,” Draven replies.

  “Why not just glamour them? You have the power.” Skortia looks first at Ashria, then me.

  “I think they've gone long enough without thinking for themselves,” I answer. “Glamours are what got us into this.” I'm unable to keep the edginess from my voice, anger at the Council's methods still affecting us even though most of the members are dead. But then, it was the High Council pulling the strings all along.

  It's so frustrating how everyone just stood back and watched all this shit happen, let these kids be taken away and indoctrinated. And I'm the one who has to come in and clean it all up. I'm so tired of this. Even tonight—coming home after the mission with the Vampires and we're greeted at the door with another landmine for me to step on so others don’t have to.

  And then I get it.

  The confusion and sorrow in their eyes hits home; they weren't waiting up for me and Draven to come in and fix this.

  They were still up because they couldn't get what was done to the children out of their minds and were seeking comfort in each other's company because they were unable to actually do anything about the situation.

  These powerful Fae warriors have been undone by the reality of the army we're facing, what the soldiers have seen, the horrors these children have lived from the moment they were snatched away from their mothers.

  Just like the Fae soldiers, we need a shred of hope to cling to as well.

  I take a deep breath and have a bash at building morale for a change. “There's still hope—they’re talking to us and if we're able to get through to some of them, then we'll be able to get through to more of them. Maybe when the resistors see that their comrades are on our side, they'll understand and join us as well.”

  Draven bumps his shoulder against mine and smiles. Skortia nods, looking less skeptical. Ashria’s expression is as inscrutable as ever.

  Kaya's shoulders droop slightly as some of the tension leaves him. “You're right. Not only have we gotten through to two of them, but we've got three of them and they are full of invaluable information about the Fae army. That alone should buoy us. It's an edge we didn't have a day ago.”

  “We've got another edge.” I meet Draven’s gaze with a smile.

  He grins back. “Four names the Vampires gave us.”

  “Jecka, Coren, Nakayla, and Grayle.” A stunned silence meets my words.

  Skortia recovers first. “Who is Grayle?”

  “Our old pal Graire's older brother.”

  “I’m not familiar with Grayle, though that’s not uncommon. I hid you, and so other families will have secrets too.” Ashria’s eyes shine with pride even while she grimaces at the news, and I know she’s drawing a parallel to the way she kept me hidden from the Council. “You did it, Syxx.”

  “We did it. The meeting didn't go exactly as planned...whatever, we have their word they will help us if need be. And expect a woman my age to show up any time. Her name is Trina. She's human, with us. Let her in the barrier.”

  “Well done.” Kaya smiles.

  Ashria’s smile fades back to business. “Don't relax yet. Draven, you’re to meet Sakarias—same place as last time.”

  I frown. “Now? We just got back.”

  Draven embraces me. “Duty calls.” His smile is sad and he pulls me close.

  “I can't wait until all of this is over, and we can just be together,” I whisper against his neck.

  “I know. We'll just have to work that much harder to ensure a speedy victory.”

  I don't speak my fear that we may not win at all, but he must see it in my eyes because he rubs warm, soothing strokes down my back, melting my fears beneath the urge to purr like a cat. It would be so easy to stay like this, secure in his arms, the world forgotten. But there might not be a world if I stay here, so I let go.

  He gives me a squeeze that makes all the bits of me that want to fly apart hold for a little while longer and walks out the door.

  Ashria stands. “We're still going to parlay with the Sprites, Syxx. Knowing who the High Council members are isn't enough. We've got to find them and take them out as well.”

  Please don’t let us need to leave right away too. “When do we leave?”

  Her lips thin with determination. “Tomorrow night. You should get some sleep.”

  Tomorrow night? The urge to slam my head into the table a few dozen times flows over me, but I resist.

  That's energy I can’t spare.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Draven's warm body isn’t sprawled beside me when I wake with no memory of how I got upstairs to bed. I don't need a blanket when he's around, though I like them anyways. Something about being snuggled under a quilt is soothing
and helps me sleep—lately there’s no trouble there; I don’t fall asleep as much as pass out.

  Something about being snuggled next to Draven makes sleep the last thing on my mind. I wish he were here right now instead of gone. Again. I can’t allow myself to give into the fears that he’s hurt or worse.

  If he was here...I’d run lazy fingers up his arms, down his chest and abs. He’d moan in his sleep and I’d kiss his neck, wondering if his dreams had taken a more interesting turn.

  Gently sliding my hand up his thigh over the soft cotton pyjama bottoms he'd be wearing, I’d trace light circles over his hip bone.

  He’d smile and open his eyes. ‘Morning, beautiful.’ His voice would be husky from sleep.

  I’d bend and kiss him, shivering as he throws the blanket over us, grabs me in his arms and wraps me up in his warmth, pulling me to lie on top of him.

  A soft knock at the door jerks me from my fantasy.

  “Syxx?” Ashria's voice is low—she must think I'm sleeping.

  “Hang on.” I try to finger comb my hair, feeling like I've been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. Draven would chuckle at my harried embarrassment; he’s totally shameless when it comes to being together. He’d probably blow me a kiss on my way to answer the door.

  “What's up?”

  Ashria tweaks an eyebrow. “Ibor and Misty are awake. Now would be a good time for you to talk to them before we leave.”

  “I thought we weren't leaving until tonight.”

  “Change of plans. We have the advantage in knowing the fourth High Council member's identity, but it's an advantage we may not have for long. We must move quickly.”

  “Alright. Give me a minute and I'll be right down.”

  Closing the door, I sigh at my bed, sadly devoid of my sex demon lover. All I want is more time to ravage that sexy motherfucker. Is that too much to ask?

  Stretchy jeans are the best for travelling and also allowing me flexibility to fight if I need to. Paired with a tank, t-shirt, and hoodie, I'm ready. Layers are the way to go—the Sprites we're going to see live in the mountains. It's better to conserve all the energy I can instead of wasting it on low-level things like staying warm and hydrated. Magic isn't infinite.