The Reaping (The Moondreamer Chronicles Book 2)

by Tamara Mataya

  Seriously, what kind of leader am I, freaking out and falling apart, instead of protecting my friends after an attack?

  A blow to the back of my calves throws me onto my back before I realize why the ground has tilted. I desperately try to breathe in, feeling like my lungs have collapsed, but the air's just been knocked out of me.

  Through the stunned shock and oxygen deprivation, I will my body to return to normal.

  The air is almost sweet as my lungs take in deep, welcome breaths but with that expense of energy, I’m tapped. My entire body is numb.

  Why the hell am I on the ground?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Skortia's face appears above me as she stands at my side. “And now the real battle begins, Moondreamer.”

  Panic gives me a tiny burst of energy, and I struggle to sit. She presses her foot against my chest, pinning me down.

  “Skortia, this isn’t funny. Help me get to Kaya.”

  “Are you seriously this stupid or has trust corroded your instincts and common sense?”

  I've never seen so much hatred. Her expression rockets home the truth I didn’t want to believe. “It was you all along. You were the spy.”

  “Well, look who just showed up. Brava, Syxx.” Her slow clap knocks me further down emotionally with every percussive slap.

  “Why? You were one of us! You were...” like a sister to me. I don't say it, I can't say it. Is this a training exercise, meant to get under my skin like never before? I banged my head pretty hard when I fell...but no. Because what she's saying makes perfect sense, in hindsight. She's always been here. She knows my weaknesses, my strengths in combat—hell, she taught me to fight.

  What better cover for a traitor?

  A bleakness settles over me like a lead blanket.

  I healed her wounds and comforted her in the hallway, tried to make her feel better about Maly when all along...I took her pain on, as well as my own.

  This emotional agony is second only to when I thought Draven had been killed at The Sowing. They're matching in intensity but far different. When I'd thought Draven had died, it fueled me, made me stronger, inspired me to fight back.

  This pain robs me of all strength and clarity.

  More than anything else, I want to curl up and block it all from my mind. I want to escape this reality because my god, it hurts. What's the point of fighting? Who else has been a spy, waiting to turn on me all along?

  Underneath the weight of her foot on my chest, anger starts to build.

  Because of Skortia, people have been hurt. People that didn't have to be. People who’d been hurt more than anyone should be.

  People who thought they were safe. Maly trusted me to protect her from harm, like I trusted Skortia. Maly's death wasn't my fault. It wasn't bad planning on my part at all. She didn't even give me time to fully mourn her—Skortia came after me while my tears for Maly are still wet on my face.

  One slips down and tickles my ear. I have to know. “Did you kill Maly yourself or just lead her into the ambush to let someone else do your dirty work?”

  “I didn't kill her myself, but I did inflict some damage. It wasn't me who snapped her neck and played with her corpse. Oh, how I wanted to savage it.” Her eyes glitter with an emotion I can't put a name to. It's too sharp to be insanity but definitely next door to it. “She was a traitor and she was weak.”

  “You're the traitor,” I spit back.

  “I am a Fae soldier—a true Fae soldier. She was a weak little nothing just like the rest of you.”

  Her contemptuous tone picks at the edges of my patience and control. I want to kill her so badly for Maly, for all of us. I need information more—and I need a minute for the room to stop spinning.

  Who else knows? Who else was in on it? “Did you tell them all of our secrets? About the safe house and how to find it?”

  “And let any of those snivelling toadies kill you first and take my credit? Please.” She slides a sword from the scabbard at her back. “First I'll kill you. Then I'll take your head back to Nakayla and Grayle. I'm guessing they'll be so pleased, they'll promote me. Because of you guys, a few positions have opened up on the High Council. I guess I have you to thank for that.”

  “Were you alone in this, Skortia? I can't imagine you pulled this off by yourself.”

  “Why is that?” she hisses through her teeth, casually trailing the blade along my side, not quite cutting me.

  “Because you're brawn, not the brains. You’d have needed help.”

  “Coren was helping me along every step of the way until your friends killed him.”

  And there's the rage entering her eyes now. I dry heave when I try to speak. “Were you lovers?”

  “He was my everything.” Her voice is raw, and thick, and brimming with barely leashed crazy.

  And I can respect that. Because people driven crazy by grief and loss are dangerous people.

  And right now, one of those dangerous people is running a razor sharp blade over my skin, deciding where to cut first.

  She got me down, but I'm not staying down without a fight.

  Except she's the one who taught me to fight.

  Get up! Give me strength.

  Nothing. I’m tapped. “My mom will be here soon. And while you might be able to beat me, you haven't got anything on her.”

  Instead of fear, humor enters Skortia’s eyes. “Oh, that letter was from me. I had no idea you were going out and that everyone would be gone. I couldn't have planned it better myself. Getting you alone is the gift of the year. Your mother isn't coming. I needed to make sure you were here to witness my performance.” She cackles. “The best part is you healed me. You healed the injuries she'd inflicted—the little bitch. I hadn't thought she had that kind of fight in her. Still, she broke in the end. And now I'm feeling great, all thanks to you.” She rolls her shoulders with a happy sigh.

  “What about Kaya?”

  “He’s not here either. I lied—it’s fun. I needed you to use your powers to heal me in a hurry, knowing it would tax you more. Have you noticed how tired you’ve been all day? Almost like you ate something that didn’t agree with you.”

  I’m such an idiot. “Your drink.”

  “You know what they say—a magical poisoned apple smoothie a day...”

  I am so screwed. What spell can I hit her with? What can I heal myself with? My mind’s reeling with her betrayal and from whatever she spiked my drink with.

  “Don't even think about it, Moondreamer. Or, try if it makes you feel better. We both know that when it comes to your powers right now, you can’t get it up. I think you're the most disappointing of all. You or your mother. We really thought she was with us until you showed up. You both had so much potential, so much power, and what do you do with it?”

  My eyes drift shut. Now that I know it’s there, I can feel the poison spreading through my body, licking the insides of my veins with tainted heat. “We help people, which is more than you can say for yourself.”

  “And that's exactly the disgusting little attitude I'm talking about. You are so much better than them, Syxx. You could really be someone—a real leader—and yet you're in hiding, having to be careful not to expose yourself to the human world. Why?”

  I open my mouth to answer, but the sensation of her blade opening my shoulder cuts off my train of thought. I can’t move but every sharp sensation of pain is clear.

  She twists the blade, smiling when I whimper. “Don't bother answering. I'm so bored of this covert bullshit. We're above the humans, and if they don't get with the program and accept that they are beneath us, then they'll be purged from our world. I really did care about you, kid.” Her eyes soften and she viciously kicks me in the ribs.

  I cry out, and she presses a foot against my throat.

  She's deeply severed some nerves or muscles in my arms—my hand doesn't even twitch. Neither do my powers. “You helped us kill Jecka.”

  “Of course I did. She was in Coren’s way. He should hav
e ruled everything.”

  I can’t squirm out of her way, but I’ll be damned if I die looking like I’m scared of this bitch. “I didn’t want Coren to die. But you can go to hell.”

  A white-hot pain flares in my stomach as the sword punches a hole through my concentration and body.

  Summoning my last dregs of energy, mere sparklers in a universe of velvet blackness, I go for a smile because fuck her. If only I could give her the finger too, go out with a clear message of my feelings about her.

  Skortia's foot comes toward my head.

  Then darkness.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  My lungs fill with air with a screeching sound, and I jerk to the right before my eyes open. I can move, and I’m lying in a bed, not on the floor.

  “It's okay, relax. You're safe.” Draven's voice penetrates the confusion.

  My thoughts are still so damn fuzzy. “What happened? The last thing I remember...”

  I remember falling and someone was there. Like dirt settling in water, the picture suddenly becomes clear. Skortia standing over me, the sword piercing me.

  Flesh flayed from bone.

  The look in her eyes.

  “Skortia!” I struggle to sit up, wincing at the pain in my side, panic trumping pain. “She's not one of us, she's been the Council's insider all along! She killed Maly and tried to kill me. We have to stop her, tell—”

  “We know, babe.” He adjusts the pillows, and his firm touch gently pushes me back to the bed. Trina’s on my other side, looking pale and drawn.

  “Did she hurt anyone else? I tried to fight her. The bitch poisoned me—it wasn’t a fair fight.”

  “No one else is hurt,” Draven interrupts my rapidly rising voice. “Skortia’s dead.”

  That makes me feel better. Okay, deep breaths. A stabbing pain meets my attempt at calming breaths. Following the pain, I pat down my body and touch the edge of a fat bandage beneath my tank top.

  Draven catches my hands. “You'll want to heal that before removing the dressing.”

  “Is it that bad?”

  Show me the extent of the injury.

  My eyes fly open. How am I still alive? “How?”

  Draven's expression is grave. “Trina knew some first aid, and Misty had a really good spell to counteract the poison and heal you a little. They did what they could, but we were all really hoping you'd wake up soon.” His voice cracks a little.

  I take one of his hands and grab Trina’s with the other, grateful to see them again. I work on knitting the tissue back together and healing the damage, so relieved I can reach my powers again. Not having them even for that short while was awful—then again, if I’d lost them naturally for an hour while someone wasn’t trying to kill me, maybe it wouldn’t have been as bad.

  It’s funny how quickly they’ve become part of me. Imagining life without them is nearly impossible.

  The pain is nothing to what I should be feeling with a wound this deep. Whatever Misty did was effective. I fix my shoulder and arm next, then give my blood a bit of a boost since I lost a lot of it.

  “Where is Misty?” I take my hands back to remove the bandages.

  Draven clenches his jaw. “She's gone to find Ashria. If you didn't wake in time, we knew we'd need her, or...”

  Or. I'd be dead. I pluck off the bandages, wincing a little as the tape pulls at my skin. The skin beneath it is as good as new. “Thank you, Trina.”

  She smiles but it’s thin-lipped and forced. “I’ll be so happy if you never make me do that again.”

  “So, you guys got home and found me on the floor? You must have arrived barely in the nick of time if Misty killed Skortia.”

  Draven shakes his head. “Misty wasn't the one who killed Skortia. We got here in time to see who did, though.” His speech is distracted by the looks he's giving my torso. He's fixating on my injury—even though I’ve healed them, the blood and wounds are all he can think about.

  “See?” I hold up my shirt, showing Draven my healed skin. “Don't look so worried. I'm fine now and can even use my powers again.” I can’t pretend I’m hunky-dory. “I’m tired. Whatever Skortia gave me knocked me on my ass. That part of me is okay too, I promise.”

  “Maybe you need a second opinion?” Sakarias’ loud voice comes from the door.

  I smile and roll my eyes. “You’re not a doctor.”

  “And yet I’m always willing to give my amateur opinion to a lady in need.” He grins, striding to the foot of the bed.

  He did it again. “You saved me?” My mind flashes back to The Sowing. He saved me then and he's saved me now. How can I ever begin to repay my friend? Tears of gratitude fill my eyes. “I have to say, your timing is impeccable.”

  “Oh, I'd love to take the credit for this save, but it wasn't me this time.”

  “Then who?”

  “That would be me.” Sakarias shifts out of the way, revealing Verica slouched against the frame, looking like a smug cat.

  Annoyance at her presence is suppressed by understanding. “You saved my life?” Disbelief flattens my voice.

  She rolls her eyes. “I don't like you, but we're on the same side. That counts for something.” She taps into the room on stilettos and stands next to Sakarias who takes a step away from her. She doesn't seem to notice.

  I don't even know what to say. I'd thought Verica was the traitor; she seemed to be the natural choice and logical conclusion with how she always goes out of her way to antagonize me. I bite the inside of my cheek. Fine, maybe a large part of me wanted her to be so I could vanquish her ass, ensuring I never had to endure her presence ever again and live happily ever after.

  What a nice, neat bow that would have been, but she really is one of the good guys. The times she baited me, the horrible things she said to me, were all a ruse. “So all along, the things you said were all a part of your cover.” My dislike for her thaws a little, and I’m beginning to admire her devotion to the cause, her commitment to my safety.

  Her pouty red lips curve into a smirk. “No, I meant every word. I really don't like you. No offence.”

  So much for liking her despite myself.

  She shrugs. “I happened by and saw her run you through, heard some of her speech. Bit melodramatic for my taste, but whatever. When it became clear you weren't going to beat her, I stepped in and saved the day. Though if I'd waited a moment longer, that Misty girl would have done it with her bare hands a minute later when they came back. Little intense, that one.” Her eyes widen and her mouth moues judgmentally. “Think someone's got a bit of a girl-crush on you, though I can't think why.”

  Words can't describe how much I hate that I have Verica to thank for being alive. I'm sure there's one of those handy eighteen-syllable-long German words for the way I'm feeling, but I don't know any that sum up the inner conflict. Whatever her reasons were for stepping in—and damn right I’m betting they were one hundred percent selfish—she stood and watched for a while before helping me.

  And yet, she did help me. Eventually. It would be wrong to lash out at her.

  The struggle is real.

  I swallow back my pride and anger because underneath it all, I truly am grateful. If it wasn’t for this woman whom I loathe, I’d probably be dead now. “Thank you, Verica.”

  She moves to my bedside and leans down. “No applause, cash only.” She winks. “Although, I think we could work something out.” She leers at Draven.

  A snarl fills the room, and it takes me a moment to realize it came from me.

  Sakarias is red from suppressed laughter and Draven shifts uncomfortably. Trina openly smiles.

  “Kidding. Well, as much as I'd love to hang out and be besties, nursemaid isn't a good look for me. And Syxx, you should brush your teeth. Your breath smells like a swamp’s ass. Tah-tah.” Verica clips out of the room and down the stairs.

  And then I can breathe again, which leads me to paranoia about my breath. “Skortia poisoned me by giving me a smoothie. It practically dissolved my
guts—that’s why my breath is gross.”

  Clean my teeth and freshen my breath.

  I lick my teeth, appreciating the sudden minty freshness.

  “You've got to hand it to her, she's got a lot of moxie to bait one of the most powerful Fae we've got,” Sakarias says.

  “Ugh! Who did she bait now?” I snap. The matching expressions on the boys’ faces registers. Sakarias meant me. “Oh.” I don't think of myself that way, but I guess it's true. “We need to get word that I’m healed to Misty and Mom, tell them that I'm okay. I don't want them panicking about me when I'm fine.”

  “I'll go,” Sakarias says. “I have to rendezvous with my team anyways. Got a lead about Nakayla I want to check up on.”

  “Keep us informed,” Draven says.

  The Selkie bends and kisses my cheek. “I'm glad you're alright, Moondreamer. The war wouldn't be the same without you.”

  His words weigh on my heart as he walks away. When you stare your mortality in the face, you expect there to be a mental slideshow featuring you and your life flashing before your eyes. I didn’t even get a musical montage. There was only pain and then darkness.

  I turn to Trina. “Why are you so quiet? It’s unnatural. Stop it.”

  “I'm forbidding you from getting hurt again. If we hadn’t insisted on going out, we’d have been here and this wouldn’t have happened.”

  I hold up a hand to stop her. “You’re spiralling. Stop. If things would have gone differently, who knows how much worse it could have gone. Maybe more people would have been hurt or worse. Skortia is the one to blame, not you or anyone else.”

  “I guess. But I’m not leaving the house without you again.”

  I manage a weak smile, understanding exactly how she feels—I felt the same when I saw her bruised face. Things will get maudlin really quickly if I don’t nip it in the bud. “This wasn’t an accident. You know me, doing anything to get more time to laze about in bed. Most people don’t want an audience, but I’m such an attention whore.”