Dark Alpha's Awakening--A Reaper Novel Page 15

  For once, Bran had outwitted him. And that infuriated Cael.

  One mistake was all it took to topple everything. But there was still hope. Neve was out of Bran’s hands—for now—and the Reapers were together. Not to mention, Bran didn’t know about Eoghan.

  Unless Xaneth had told him.

  Shite. How had Cael forgotten everything the Fae knew?

  Because you believed Xaneth would side with you.

  Cael should have known better. He had accounted for everything except Bran learning just how much power he’d taken from Erith. That was Cael’s mistake. And it just might cost him his life.

  Xaneth leaned against the doorway, flipping a knife end over end and catching it. He appeared bored, but Cael saw the way he noted the movements of everyone around the mansion.

  Cael closed his eyes when he heard his name whispered in his head. The sound of Erith’s voice was like a soothing touch against the pain that wracked him. He wanted so badly to answer her command. She understood that, but she let him know that she was still there, still fighting.

  He hoped he would be alive to see her take on Bran. It would be spectacular. And Cael knew she would win. No matter what Bran had taken from Erith, she was stronger mentally. Bran would use brute force and his magic, but neither would be enough to end Death.

  His woman.

  Cael bit back a smile at the thought of her in his arms and how well they fit together. He should’ve told her that he loved her. The next time he had the chance, he was going to do just that.

  He sighed as he thought of Seamus. Cael hated to admit that he hoped he was wrong about the Fae. The Dark could be the unknown he’d seen in his vision, and if so, he prayed that Seamus found a way to stop Bran from taking anything more from Death.

  It was the sudden halting of the movement of the knife through the air that alerted Cael that he was about to have a visitor. He opened his eyes to see Bran and Searlas walking into his prison. His body had healed from the magic Xaneth and Searlas had inflicted, but his wound from Bran had yet to mend.

  Bran smiled as he stopped before him. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of having you just like this. For thousands of years as I suffered in the Netherworld, I imagined countless ways to kill you.”

  “Keep blaming me for everything that happened to you,” Cael said, trying to hide his pain. “A real Fae would own up to his decisions and mistakes.”

  Bran’s smile dropped as he looked at the ceiling with a sigh. “That sounds exactly like something Death would say.”

  “You hate it because it’s the truth.”

  “You have your truth. I have mine.”

  “You broke the rules. That’s all on you,” Cael said.

  Bran crossed his arms over his chest. “It seems like your Reapers have as well, but none of their women are dead. One is even now a Reaper to replace Eoghan. How does it feel to have lost your friend?”

  “Do you want me to talk about my Reapers or Eoghan?” Cael asked with a grin. This could be a trick to get him to say something about Eoghan’s return. Or Bran might still be in the dark about Eoghan. “It seems you can’t keep your thoughts straight.”

  Bran stared at him with narrowed eyes. “Both, of course.”

  “You want to know why Death changed the rules, then you need to talk to her.”

  “Oh, I plan on it,” Bran stated.

  Cael gave a shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter what she tells you, it’s not going to be what you want to hear. You want to know why your lover is dead? Then look in the mirror. You’re responsible for that.”

  “No,” Bran stated, spittle flying from his mouth as his arms dropped to his sides. He stalked to Cael until they were nose-to-nose. “Death could’ve spared her. I could’ve been happy.”

  “We both know that’s a lie. You’ll never find any sort of joy because your soul is twisted and black. You hid it well before you were a Reaper, but the power your position gave you as one of us changed you.”

  Bran snorted as he backed up a step. “You know nothing.”

  “Deny my words, but you know I’m right.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Bran said. “I’m going to end Death and every one of the Reapers. I’m going to win. And then I’m going to make the rules.”

  Cael released a breath, sharp pains shooting from what was left of his abdomen. Damn, but it hurt. What was in Bran’s magic that kept him from healing? “You sound awfully sure of yourself.”

  “Even you know I’m going to defeat Death.”

  “Oh?”

  “Why would you give yourself over to me?”

  Cael frowned at Bran in confusion. “The answer is obvious. To save my Reapers.”

  “Are you sure it wasn’t to separate yourself from Death?”

  That was the last thing Cael wanted. “You really have lost your mind, haven’t you?”

  “Come now, old friend,” Bran said with a slight curve of his lips. “You know you’re going to die by my hand. I thought you’d wait until we met on the field of battle, and while I looked forward to that, I’ll accept your death any way I can get it. At least now, your men—and woman—won’t see what kind of coward you are.”

  Anger rushed through him, sharp and true. “Coward? Release me, and I’ll show you what a true Reaper is.”

  “We both know you always liked to be the best at everything, but you were failing Death. To her and your Reapers, you look like the hero sacrificing yourself for them. But, like I said, that’s a coward’s way out.”

  “I should’ve let you have two of my Reapers to torture?” Cael asked in outrage.

  Bran shrugged. “I’m going to eventually. You’ve just prolonged their deaths.”

  “You’re the one who is going to die.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  Bran’s smile was slow and sinister. “I have a sure-fire way of defeating Death once and for all. I just need more time to take what little power she has left. And it is so very little, Cael. To think that you came here to prove yourself to her, to show your Reapers that you could retaliate, but it’s been for naught. Death is all but finished. Where is she? If she were even half the being she used to be, then she would come to your defense. Shall we prove it? Call out for her.”

  Cael shook his head. “I won’t.”

  A purple orb appeared in Bran’s palm. “Call out to her.”

  Once more, Cael shook his head. He would die before he did anything that Bran wanted. But especially calling to Erith. He wouldn’t bring her into a trap.

  “Last chance.”

  “Just throw the damn thing and stop talking,” Cael demanded.

  “Oh, ho,” Bran said with a laugh as he moved his hand in a slight circle. “Look at you, thinking you can tell me what to do. I’m not one of your Reapers.”

  Cael grinned. “And I’m thankful for that.”

  Bran walked to him and held the orb against the side of his face, just short of touching Cael. “Call for Erith,” he ordered.

  Cael held his gaze, unflinching. “Kiss my arse.”

  The moment the words passed his lips, Bran shoved the magic into the side of Cael’s head. Cael ground his teeth together against the onslaught of pain that kept doubling with each second that passed. It became too much. Cael had no choice but to let out the scream of anguish that rose up within him.

  His skin burned, yet at the same time, it felt as if it were freezing. His body jerked, trying to get free of the pain. The smell of burning flesh and hair surrounded him, making his stomach churn, knowing it was his own skin.

  “Call for her!” Bran yelled in his ear.

  Cael was locked in the roiling agony, but he still forced open his eyes to glare at Bran. It took everything he had to say, “Never.”

  Bran let out a bellow and shoved more magic into the wound. Cael gave himself up to the blessed darkness that swallowed him.

  * * *

  He was so close to w
inning. Why wasn’t everyone bowing down before him? Bran pulled his hand away from Cael’s head, smiling at the burnt mess he’d left behind.

  “Is he dead?” Searlas asked hopefully.

  Bran shook his head. “Not yet.”

  “What are you waiting for?”

  “I want Death to be here. I want her to see what I’ve done to her favored Reaper.”

  “She won’t come,” Searlas said.

  Bran faced his lieutenant. “She’ll come if he calls for her. Cael and I both know it, which is why he refused. For now. By the time I’m done with him, he’ll be begging me to let him call for her.”

  “He doesn’t seem the type,” Xaneth said.

  Bran stilled before turning his head to the door where the Fae stood with one foot propped behind him on the wall. “Excuse me?”

  “Cael,” Xaneth replied. “He’s not the type to beg for anything, no matter what kind of torture you put him through.”

  Bran still wasn’t entirely sure about Xaneth. It was one reason he’d left him alone in the building with Cael to see if they spoke. The Dark had eagerly lobbed ball after ball of magic at Cael, but that could’ve been an act.

  Leaving them alone with enough time to interact had been the deciding factor. Xaneth passed the test, but that didn’t mean Bran would trust him so easily. It would be just like Death to send someone to spy for her.

  Bran walked to Xaneth. “Do you know Cael?”

  “No,” the Fae said with a dismissive shake of his head. “I know his kind. He believes in something, and as long as he holds that belief, nothing and no one will be able to break him down.”

  As much as Bran hated to admit it, the Dark might be right. Bran looked at Cael. “I need Death to see him.”

  “You plan on fighting her,” Xaneth said. “All you need to do is keep Cael until then. Bring him onto the battlefield. Kill him in front of Death and the Reapers. That should really kick them in the balls.”

  Bran laughed, nodding in approval. “I like you, Xaneth. You think just like I do.”

  Searlas mumbled something beneath his breath as he stalked from the building.

  “Ignore him,” Bran said with a shrug. “He gets his feelings hurt often.”

  “I should probably watch my back then.”

  “He won’t hurt you. I’ll make sure of that.” Bran put his arm around Xaneth and led him from the structure. “I’ve already gotten one enemy out of the way. Soon, Cael will join Eoghan. Then, the final act in my plan will be put into motion, and I’ll take down Death.”

  Xaneth smiled brightly. “I can’t wait to see that.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  It had taken Erith far longer than she liked to gather Cael’s Reapers and move them to another location. They couldn’t return to Inchmickery, nor could they go to Eoghan because she didn’t want to chance Bran tracking them.

  Not once had she thought about what might happen if Cael were taken. In her mind, that had never been a possibility. What an utter fool she’d been. She knew Bran’s hatred for Cael. She should’ve realized that he would do anything to separate Cael from the others.

  Every time Erith thought about what Bran was doing to Cael, she reached for her sword, ready to attack and make sure Bran could never hurt anyone again.

  Then she would feel the weakness within her, and she’d pause. If she were going to rescue Cael, she wanted to make sure she could actually do it and not fail in the middle—dooming them both.

  She had ushered the Reapers through numerous doorways—many she hadn’t used since her time as Mistress of War—to bring them to a realm where they could plan without Bran finding them. This world was deserted. She’d seen to that when she wiped everyone out so long ago.

  The buildings were crumbling into ruin, the plants taking back the realm, but it was somewhere to rest and gather their thoughts. There were huge swathes of forest that hadn’t been there before, and they were perfect places to hide.

  “In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you move so much.”

  She halted at the deep voice, not even realizing she’d been pacing. Erith turned to Fintan to find the Dark watching her with his head tilted. “Is that so?”

  He nodded. “You’ve taken us a long way from Cael.”

  “You think I’m abandoning him?” she demanded, stalking toward Fintan as fury churned like a storm-swept sea within her. “You believe I would do that to one of my Reapers?”

  Fintan didn’t so much as twitch. His red-rimmed, white eyes held hers. “I think it’s tearing you up inside that you had to leave him behind.”

  All her anger evaporated, dispatched like mist through the universe. “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Cael did what he had to do to get Neve and Talin free.”

  “He gave Bran exactly what he wanted.”

  “Himself,” Fintan replied.

  Erith looked at the trees around her, hoping she would find solace in them as she usually did, but it wasn’t working. “Bran will kill him. For all I know, Cael is already dead.”

  “He’s not.”

  She shot a frown at Fintan. “How do you know?”

  “Because Bran will want to kill him in front of you.”

  Her knees went weak as the truth of that statement hit. “Cael,” she whispered, knowing he would hear her call no matter how far she was from him.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Erith swallowed past the lump of emotion in her throat and squared her shoulders. It was her decision. She’d put the Reapers together, she’d given them their extra power and abilities. They were her responsibility.

  Just as Bran was. She should’ve killed him as Cael had urged her to do eons ago. Instead, she’d imprisoned Bran, which only fed his wrath.

  The war she’d been preparing for was upon them. No longer would she hold off, waiting for an answer to fall into her lap. No longer would she hope to find an easy solution to ending Bran and getting back to her life.

  By taking Cael, Bran set things in motion. It was now her move. While she didn’t see the battlefield like Cael, she had other options. And she was going to use every one of them.

  Because the minute she gave Bran the opportunity, he would kill Cael. And that was simply one death she refused to witness.

  “Erith?”

  She blinked and focused on Fintan. “We need to bring Eoghan and his Reapers here.”

  “War?”

  “War,” she replied with a nod.

  Fintan grinned. “About bloody time.”

  “Tell the others. I’m going to get Eoghan and his group,” she said before teleporting to the doorway.

  Erith returned to Earth and chose New Orleans as her destination. The night was dark, the moon hidden behind the clouds as she walked the graveyard.

  “Eoghan,” she called, summoning him.

  Within moments, he appeared before her. A small frown furrowed his brow as he looked around. “Interesting choice.”

  “Call your Reapers.”

  He hesitated, but he did as she commanded. Once the six stood around him, she looked at each of them.

  “What’s happened?” Eoghan asked.

  She parted her lips to tell him, but the words stuck in her throat. Cael’s face kept flashing in her mind as he looked at her with that sexy half-smile that made her melt. She knew exactly what it felt like to be held in his strong arms, an embrace she longed to have now.

  Erith inwardly shook herself. She had to pull herself together. Cael’s life depended on it. He was strong. He would think of something to remain alive, but she wouldn’t fail him.

  “After Bran’s army attacked Inchmickery, we decided to return the favor. Cael knew that Bran wanted the women, so we dangled Neve as bait with the Reapers spread out around the mansion Bran now occupies. While they fought, I went inside to find whatever it is that Bran’s using to take my power.”

  “Did you find it?” Eoghan asked hopefully.

  “No.” The word fell
like acid from her lips. “Cael wanted Bran to come for Neve, where Cael and Talin would then join her against the Dark. It happened just as Cael planned.”

  Cathal asked, “What went wrong?”

  “Bran’s magic has changed. He trapped the trio, preventing them from leaving. I got to the others before the same fate could befall them. And . . . then Cael agreed to give himself over to Bran if Neve and Talin could go free.”

  Dubhan’s face went slack with shock. “And Bran agreed? Why? He had all three.”

  “Because he knew what having Cael would do to Death,” Eoghan said angrily.

  Aisling shrugged. “But wouldn’t having three of the Reapers be better? He had them. All three. And he just let Talin and Neve go?”

  “She’s right,” Bradach said. “Bran could’ve killed all three right then.”

  Eoghan shook his head as he held Erith’s gaze. “None of you understand Bran. Aye, he wants to kill us, but first and foremost, he wants to hurt Death.”

  “Bran also knows I’ll come for Cael,” Erith added.

  Eoghan’s forehead furrowed into a deep frown. “You can’t. That’s exactly what Bran wants.”

  “Wouldn’t you go back for the others, as well?” Torin asked Eoghan.

  Eoghan ran a hand down his face as he turned to his Reapers. “Of course, but you’re missing the point.”

  “Nay,” Rordan replied. “Bran believes he’s already killed you. By capturing Cael and allowing Death to believe that Neve and Talin are safe, Bran is giving all of us a false sense of security while delivering the ultimate blow to Erith.”

  She nodded slowly. “Bran is waiting for me to show up. He’ll kill Cael in front of me. Then, I suspect he’ll take the last bit of my magic before he wipes out the rest of you.”

  “Fek me,” Rordan mumbled angrily.

  Eoghan looked at her. “We’re ready for whatever you need.”

  Her gaze moved from him to the others. “I wish I could leave you out of it. Bran doesn’t know about any of you, but if he defeats me, there’s a good chance he will.”

  Aisling flicked her long, black and silver braid over her shoulder. “I’d rather meet him head-on in battle.”