Dark Alpha's Awakening--A Reaper Novel

by Donna Grant

  Searlas’s nostrils flared again. “Good.”

  Bran motioned for his second in command to leave. Once he was alone, Bran let his thoughts turn to Death. It was a shame to kill something so beautiful, but he alone knew that Erith was a monster that needed to be put down.

  Her rules that he’d broken had earned him banishment for eons, but now those same edicts no longer applied to the Reapers. It wasn’t fair that the Fae he’d fallen in love with should be killed, while the others got to not only keep their lovers but also have them near.

  Bran suddenly smiled as an idea grew. It was time they discovered where the Reapers’ women were. Let the Reapers experience what it was to lose someone they loved. It was only fair since those were Death’s rules.

  “Searlas!” Bran shouted.

  A second later, the door opened, and the Fae walked in. “Aye?”

  “How do you feel about killing the Reapers’ women?”

  Searlas’s smile was slow. “When do I leave?”

  Chapter Six

  Nothing ever went as he imagined it would with Erith. Then again, what else did Cael expect from Death?

  She might be the most stunning creature in the universe with more power than any other, but she stood alone. Always alone.

  Was it because she liked it that way? Or was it because she didn’t trust anyone?

  He ran a hand down his face as he arrived in his chamber at Inchmickery.

  “That’s not the face I hoped to see.”

  Cael closed his eyes at the sound of Eoghan’s voice behind him. “I’m beginning to miss when you refused to speak.”

  “You just don’t like me pointing out the obvious.”

  Turning to his oldest friend, Cael met Eoghan’s gaze where he reclined in one of the two chairs. “What are you doing here?”

  “You actually have to ask that after our conversation?” Eoghan replied with a black brow raised.

  “You have your own Reapers to see to.”

  Eoghan crossed an ankle over his knee. “They’re taking care of either collecting souls or trying to locate Xaneth.”

  “So you thought you’d come to bother me?”

  “Actually, Thea wanted to see River. The prospect of a babe makes my woman smile. And I like making her happy.”

  Cael blew out a breath. “Perhaps you should get her with child.”

  “Who says I’m not trying?” The grin slipped as Eoghan dropped his leg and sat forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “I know I’m not the only one worried about the women here. Though Neve is a Reaper. She can take care of herself.”

  “But there’s Jordyn, River, Cat, and Ettie. Not to mention Thea,” Cael added. “Ettie has been training the others with weapons, and Cat has combined her magic with ours as protection around the isle.”

  “Cat and Ettie might be able to fight since they’ve already done so against Bran. But Jordyn’s and Thea’s skills lie elsewhere. And River’s attention will be on her unborn child.”

  “If Bran attacks the women now.” Because both of them knew that Bran would go after them. “If he comes at us, each Reaper should take his woman and go somewhere safe to protect them.”

  Eoghan’s lips flattened. “Separating us. Giving Bran the advantage to go straight for you. I don’t like that.”

  “Bran doesn’t know you’re back. He also doesn’t know about Thea or her connection to Usaeil. And he doesn’t know about the other Reapers.”

  “I don’t want to even consider what he might do if he does find out about any of that.”

  Cael pinched the bridge of his nose. “The women need to be elsewhere. We need to move them quietly and quickly.”

  “I agree. But where?” Eoghan asked.

  Cael shrugged and shook his head. “That’s going to depend on each of you.”

  “And we don’t tell each other.”

  “Precisely.”

  Eoghan pushed to his feet. “Before we go out there and inform the others, what happened with Erith?”

  “She’s fekking stubborn, that’s what.”

  Eoghan had the gall to grin. “Of course, she is. She’s Death. She’s the strongest being I’ve ever encountered—physically, mentally, and magically. I wouldn’t be concerned about Bran at all if he hadn’t syphoned her magic.”

  Cael swallowed. His stomach knotted every time he considered that he might lose her. “Did you ever wonder why she created the Reapers?”

  “To carry out her judgment against the Fae.”

  “You know as well as I do that she doesn’t need us. She could do it all on her own.”

  Eoghan’s gaze narrowed. “I’m guessing this has something to do with her past. And by your words, it has to do with that sword.”

  “What did you feel when you saw the weapon?”

  “Like I wasn’t too sure I wanted to be near it.”

  Cael twisted his lips. “Erith said the blade is why there were no Fae in Killarney. Apparently, it repels them.”

  “But not us?”

  “We have some of her magic, so we don’t feel it as strongly.”

  Eoghan’s brows lifted as he sighed. “Fek.”

  “That’s one way of putting it.”

  There was a brief silence, then Eoghan said, “She told you about her past, didn’t she?”

  Cael nodded. He didn’t want to think about the idea that he might lose the woman that he’d fallen for so long ago, but if it took Erith becoming the Mistress of War to defeat Bran, then he would stand beside her.

  Because a life without Erith in it—regardless of who she was or what she did—was better than one without her.

  Eoghan ran a hand over his jaw. “Bloody hell. I suppose it all makes sense now.”

  “You didn’t see her face. She’s ashamed of who she was. And now I understand why she created us.”

  “Because she didn’t want to kill anymore.”

  “I suspect it’s also why she didn’t take Bran’s life,” Cael said. “Though she did kill his Fae lover.”

  Eoghan shook his head. “I can’t believe you didn’t stay with her.”

  “She didn’t want me there.”

  “So you left?”

  Cael frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Exactly what I asked.”

  “She’s Death. She makes the rules.”

  Eoghan shrugged nonchalantly. “Now that Bran has taken so much of her magic, perhaps it’s time someone else made such decisions. You want to be with her. Go be with her.”

  “I lead the Reapers. That’s where I’m supposed to be.”

  “But there won’t be any Reapers if Bran kills her.”

  Cael clenched his hands, fury rushing through him at the thought of the corner he’d been backed into. “You don’t think I know that?”

  “Cael!” someone shouted through the door.

  He didn’t wait for Eoghan to answer his question. Cael turned on his heel, threw open the door, and strode into the open area to find Xaneth standing between Aisling and Torin with Daire off to the side.

  Cael looked from Daire, who had called for him, to Eoghan’s only female Reaper and gave a nod before doing the same to Torin. Then he focused on Xaneth as Eoghan came to stand beside him.

  Within the next heartbeat, the rest of Cael’s Reapers filled the space. He kept his attention on Xaneth, who was none too pleased with being there.

  “All you had to do was ask, and I would’ve come,” Xaneth stated, shooting a scathing look at Talin. “I didn’t need to be dragged here.”

  “Oh, please,” Aisling said with a roll of her red eyes.

  Xaneth glanced her way before he took a step forward and looked from Cael to Eoghan. “I gather the two of you want something.”

  Eoghan crossed his arms over his chest. “You could say that. Originally, you wanted to join Bran to be able to kill the Queen of the Light.”

  “Usaeil deserves to die,” Xaneth said between clenched teeth.

  Thea walked through one of t
he arched doorways. “No one knows that better than me.”

  Xaneth bowed his head toward her. His silver eyes swung back to Cael. “If either of you wants to know if I’ve joined Bran’s army, I’ve not yet. I was in the Dark Palace, hoping to be approached.”

  “He and Balladyn have an agreement,” Aisling added.

  At the female’s words, Cael saw Xaneth stiffen. Interesting that Xaneth was known for his ability to negotiate with both the Light and Dark Fae, but Aisling seemed to get under his skin.

  Xaneth lifted his chin. “Aye, the King of the Dark and I came to terms. Balladyn wants Bran found so he’ll stop taking Dark. I want to find Bran to fight Usaeil.”

  “I thought you gave up on that notion,” Eoghan said.

  Xaneth shrugged. “The only one looking out for me is myself. I always look at my options.”

  “And you still believe Bran is one of them?” Cael asked.

  Silver eyes slid to him. Xaneth held Cael’s gaze for a long moment before he said, “Aye.”

  “Death could’ve taken your life at the Light Castle after we confronted Usaeil. She chose not to. You should consider that, as well.”

  “I have.”

  Cael cocked his head to the side. “Obviously, you don’t fully understand what’s at stake here.”

  “Oh, I do,” Xaneth said as he widened his stance and looked at the Reapers around him. “Bran is stealing Death’s power. He plans to wipe her out before coming for all of you.”

  The room was quiet, all eyes on him. But Cael didn’t care. He also wasn’t concerned with how Xaneth might have discerned that bit of information. What mattered was getting Xaneth on their side any way he could.

  “You fought alongside us once before,” Eoghan said.

  Xaneth snorted loudly. “So?”

  “So. . . .” Cael said. “You know we keep our word. Bran is not only a traitor, he’s a liar. As soon as he finds out you’re Usaeil’s family, he’s likely to kill you or hand you over to her to make an alliance.”

  “I know,” Xaneth replied.

  Cael glanced at the floor. “Death has forbidden me from forcing you to side with us. I know you only do what benefits you, so let me give it to you straight. I’ve seen how things play out for us. There’s Bran’s massive army of Dark Fae that he’s imbued with the same power he stole from Death. And us. Fourteen against hundreds—if not thousands.”

  “You don’t stand a chance,” Xaneth said.

  Fintan gave a bark of laughter. “That response tells me that, despite fighting alongside us, you still don’t know anything about Reapers.”

  “I second that,” Aisling added, her red eyes narrowed dangerously on Xaneth.

  Cael grinned. “Most of those in Bran’s army are there by force. When it comes right down to it, they won’t fight for him. Not when they realize just who they’re fighting against.”

  “Fine,” Xaneth said. “Maybe you’re right, but that still doesn’t explain how you believe you stand a chance against Bran when he’s growing in power, and Death is losing hers.”

  Kyran’s red eyes blazed as he said, “We’re fighting for Death, for ourselves, and for those we love. We have something at stake. The Dark with Bran do not.”

  “Revenge drives Bran,” Torin said. “There’s nothing in it for anyone else. He cares for nothing but himself.”

  Neve fingered one of the many daggers on her person. “And that means he’ll gladly sacrifice anyone to move his vengeance forward. I know from personal experience, as I watched him kill my parents and turn my brother Dark.”

  “I saw you in my vision,” Cael told Xaneth. “I saw you standing between us and Bran’s army. You’ve not chosen a side yet.”

  Xaneth frowned. “I have a better chance at continuing to live with Bran. As you said, the odds are stacked against you.”

  “Actually, you have a better chance of survival by disappearing, which I’m surprised you haven’t done,” Aisling stated, her voice dripping with derision.

  A muscle ticked in Xaneth’s jaw, but he didn’t so much as look Aisling’s way. His gaze held Cael’s. “What if I can’t decide now?”

  “You mean you want to know if we’re going to hold you? We won’t,” Cael promised.

  Eoghan said, “Nor will we do anything if you tell us you’ll join Bran. But know that I’ll come straight for you on the battlefield.”

  “So will I,” Baylon said.

  Talin nodded. “Me, too.”

  “I’ll get to him before anyone else,” Aisling promised.

  Cael released a breath. “You see, Xaneth, we’re a family. Each of us was betrayed and killed before Death came to us and offered us positions as Reapers. Blood doesn’t bind us. Something much stronger does.”

  “Loyalty. Devotion. Honor,” Eoghan said.

  Xaneth’s eyes lowered to the floor. “Thank you for giving me your side of things. You’ll know my decision soon.”

  Cael watched as he disappeared. He held up a hand, stopping anyone from going after the Fae. “This decision is Xaneth’s alone. As he said, we gave him our pitch. It’s Bran’s turn.”

  “While we have you all here,” Eoghan said, glancing at Cael, “there’s another matter.”

  Cael looked at each of his Reapers. Every one of them had found love, including Eoghan. He knew the joy love could bring, but he knew the heartache of it, as well. After everything his Reapers had endured, he didn’t want any of them to suffer by losing their women.

  “If I were Bran, I know exactly what I’d do next,” Cael said.

  It was Kyran who nodded in understanding. “Come after our women.”

  “He wants us to feel what he went through,” Eoghan said.

  Talin shook his head. “That’s not going to happen.”

  “No, it’s not,” Cael replied. “Because we’re going to make sure it doesn’t. Each of you needs to find a safe place for your woman. Don’t tell each other or me where you’re going. And just to be safe, everyone should split up to make it harder for Bran to find you.”

  “He found them before,” Baylon pointed out. “He’ll do it again.”

  Eoghan held out a hand for Thea. “Bran won’t be able to go after all of them at once. We need to make it as difficult for him as possible.”

  “The goal is for everyone to come out of this alive,” Cael said. “But be prepared for anything.”

  “Shite,” Fintan said as he ran a hand through his white hair. “Cat isn’t going to like this.”

  None of them would. Hell, even Cael didn’t like it. But he wanted them to live, so he’d do whatever he had to in order to ensure that happened.

  “Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.”

  -Sun Tzu, The Art of War

  Chapter Seven

  It’s only a sword. A weapon I wield. It does not control me. It does not control me.

  “It doesn’t control me,” Erith said aloud as she held the sword. A memory of the life she once led with the sword tried to rise up within her, but she kept it back. Barely.

  The rush of power that filled her was exhilarating, invigorating. The weakness that had plagued her vanished like an afterthought. She didn’t know how long this would last, or how many more times the sword could revive her waning magic.

  That’s why she had to find Bran now and use her strength while she could. The sooner she discovered how he was taking her magic, the better.

  She knew how long she’d used the sword, letting it build its power with each death. Countless fatalities, endless victims. Its might hadn’t diminished over the millennia. Instead, it had grown stronger.

  Erith stalked to the doorway, but she had only gone a couple of steps before she halted and looked down at the full skirts of her gown. Her current mission wasn’t to fight Bran head-on, but if she did, this wasn’t the attire for it.

  For just an instant, she almost called up her old armor, but Erith decided it was best not to tempt her tenuous hol
d on the bloodlust that threatened to overtake her. Holding the sword was already taxing her control. The armor would remind her of the many battles she’d fought—and the lives she’d taken.

  Just thinking of it made the pommel heat in her palm. Her eyes closed as she recalled the swiftness with which she’d descended upon a realm, the power that fed the blade with each kill.

  The fear and reverence that had filled the eyes of those she selected to die.

  When they saw her coming, they screamed one word—Death. It was the only name she knew until she had chosen Erith.

  Cael.

  It was because of him that she had wanted a name. Cael had made her . . . crave . . . so many things. It was because of him that she desired more than just a companion. With Cael, she wanted it all.

  Erith was the first name she had used. The King of the Dragon Kings, Constantine, knew her by Heather, Iris, Blossom, and others that suited her purpose.

  But she could never stop being Death or the Mistress of War, no matter how many names she used.

  She didn’t know why she had been born, or for what purpose. Yet, she’d somehow found her way to the only thing she was good at.

  And Bran wasn’t going to take that from her.

  Erith’s eyes snapped open. The black gown disappeared, replaced by black pants and an armored corset that molded to her body and over her shoulders. Matching armored vambraces graced her forearms. Tall boots came up to her knees, as her long hair formed into a thick braid. Next was a coat that came up high in the back but hung down to her knees on either side. The best part was the hood. The humans had a vision of what Death looked like to them. Perhaps it was time she incorporated some of that into her outfit.

  She loved the color black. Not because it signified death. It was the Fae who made that connection since she was always seen in the color. No, she wore black because it was her color. The queen of colors, she’d always called it.

  It was strong but serene. It was a color that trumped all others. A color that was bold and commanding.