Dark Alpha's Awakening--A Reaper Novel

by Donna Grant

  The other Reapers all nodded their heads in agreement.

  “You know my thoughts,” Eoghan said before Erith could look his way.

  She shot him a quick smile. “I’ve taken Cael’s group to another realm just in case Bran tries to track us.”

  Eoghan ran a hand over his jaw. “That’s a good idea. I suppose you have a plan?”

  “I know what Cael saw.”

  “Saw?” Cathal asked in disbelief. “How, exactly?”

  Eoghan looked at his Reaper and shrugged. “I don’t know how he does it, but somehow, when Cael meditates, he’s able to see parts of a battle.”

  “Sometimes, the entire thing,” Erith added. “It’s why Cael was one of the greatest generals in the Light army.”

  Bradach asked, “Then why don’t the Light know his name? Why isn’t he revered as he should be?”

  All eyes were on her. Erith had witnessed each Reaper’s betrayal. She was the only one who knew everyone’s secrets, their worst fears, and the things that they couldn’t face in the darkest hours of the night.

  Both Cael and Eoghan knew their Reapers’ betrayal to better help them if the time ever came. It was a gift she gave every leader. Not once had she ever told of anyone’s betrayal, and she wouldn’t start now.

  “His superiors feared him,” Eoghan finally said. “Because Cael never lost a battle. Not one.”

  Aisling shrugged. “Too bad for the Light. He was the Reapers’ gain, which I’m pleased about.”

  “What did Cael see?” Dubhan asked, getting back to the matter at hand.

  Erith took a deep breath. “Xaneth and an unknown Dark that could go to either side.”

  “Let me have a chat with Xaneth,” Torin said. “I’ll get him to choose our side.”

  Erith glanced at the headstone near her. “He’s already chosen. I saw him with Bran.”

  “Un-fekking-believable,” Aisling muttered furiously.

  Eoghan didn’t seem fazed by the news. “Did Cael identify the other Dark?”

  “No,” Erith replied.

  Eoghan put his hands on his hips and hung his head. “Unfortunately, I have news, as well. And you aren’t going to like it.”

  “It’s better to just spit it out.”

  Several tense moments went by before Eoghan lifted his head and met her gaze. “We happened upon some interesting information. Someone has sought out Bran in order to ally with him.”

  Erith thought of all the Dark Bran had been kidnapping, but couldn’t imagine what Fae would willingly align with him. Balladyn certainly wouldn’t. Or would he? No, there was something she was missing.

  “Who?” she finally asked.

  Eoghan’s lips compressed briefly. “Usaeil.”

  Erith should’ve seen that coming. The Light Queen was power-hungry—and frightened that the Reapers were coming for her. Word would’ve reached Usaeil about the missing Dark, and she would’ve looked into the rumors and discovered Bran. Since Bran wasn’t silent about what he wanted to do to the Reapers as well as Erith, it made perfect sense for Usaeil to ally with him.

  If Erith had her full powers, she wouldn’t hesitate to go up against the queen. Usaeil wouldn’t come close to matching her. But the simple fact was that Usaeil’s downfall was someone else’s problem—namely Rhi’s.

  Erith inhaled deeply. “I have a plan that could succeed. A lot has to go perfectly, and there’s a very good chance Bran will win. I’m telling you this so you have all the facts. There are three doorways here, leading to realms across the galaxy. Bran doesn’t know that any of you are Reapers.” She looked at Eoghan. “Or that you’re alive and back. I’m giving you the option to get Thea and leave to live a life far from the chaos that could erupt on Earth.”

  “I’m offended you’re even offering us that,” Rordan said. “I’m a Reaper. I vowed to follow you. And that’s what I’m going to do.”

  Bradach ran a hand through his short, black hair. “I’m tired of hiding from Bran. I want him to know my face.”

  “I don’t run from anything,” Torin stated.

  Cathal reached behind him and began to braid his long, black hair. “I’ve been itching to kick some arse for a while now. Better Bran and his army than my fellow Reapers.”

  “If I’m going to die, it’s going to be beside all of you, fighting our enemies,” Dubhan said.

  Aisling lifted her chin and shrugged. “My guys said it all perfectly.”

  Eoghan’s head turned to Erith. “We’re all that’s standing in the way of Bran’s reign of terror. I’m not going anywhere.”

  She smiled and motioned for them to follow her. “Come with me, then.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The pain came in surges, washing over Cael like waves crashing onto the shore, drenching him in agony until he shook. And he knew it wouldn’t end anytime soon.

  His eyes were closed as he fought to escape the misery by taking his thoughts elsewhere. But he knew when someone was in the building with him. Most times, it was Xaneth, but Searlas was always waiting in the background.

  Then there was Bran.

  Cael was so wrapped up in the pain that he couldn’t think straight. He tried to meditate, but he couldn’t take his mind to that plane.

  Instead, images of all the ways that Bran would trick the Reapers and kill Death kept rolling through his head. No matter how much Cael hoped otherwise, Erith and the Reapers would come for him. He would do the same in their place, but he wished they wouldn’t.

  The heavy thud of footsteps from the thick-soled shoes Bran favored warned Cael to prepare himself. Bran stopped before him and simply stood.

  After a short time, Bran said, “I always get what I want, Cael. And I want you to call for Death. You will do it. You’ll do it because I know how much pain you’re in. And it’s only going to get worse. Do us all a favor and call for her now.”

  “Why don’t I do it?” Xaneth offered.

  Searlas let out a hiss of anger. “As if she’d answer you.”

  “Well, I don’t think the Reaper is going to do it.”

  There was a smile in Bran’s words as he said, “Oh, Cael will do it. I’ve made sure of it.”

  Cael knew that Bran’s words could merely be a threat. Or, they could be the truth. It was immaterial. No matter the pain, Cael wouldn’t do what Bran wanted.

  The stinging grew worse, and Cael retreated into his mind once more, seeking refuge anywhere he could. Unsurprisingly, he found himself in his most recent memories with Erith. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t quit revisiting those memories. The pleasure, the contentment.

  The happiness.

  If Bran ever discovered Cael’s love for Erith, the ex-Reaper would stop at nothing to use it to his advantage. Already, Bran was fixated on Death. But it would be worse. So much worse.

  “You might as well give him what he wants.”

  Cael’s thoughts came to a sudden halt at the sound of Xaneth’s voice. He listened for Bran, but Cael couldn’t hear anyone else breathing other than Xaneth. Cael opened his eyes and pinned the Fae with a scathing look.

  Xaneth smiled, faking a shudder. “If looks could kill. I don’t know why everyone was so scared of you.”

  “Remove the magic holding me, and I’ll show you,” Cael stated.

  Xaneth cocked a brow as he shook his head. “You think I’m that dumb?”

  “Well, you did choose the wrong side.”

  “Is that right?” Xaneth wrinkled his nose as he briefly looked at the ceiling. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

  Cael didn’t know why he was wasting his time with the Fae. Xaneth only cared about himself. If the Reapers began to win, he’d switch sides again. Why was he so important to the battle then? Why had Cael seen him in his vision?

  Xaneth snapped his fingers and produced an oversized leather chair that he plopped into. “I’d probably be acting like a wanker as well if I was in your place. But everyone, even a Reaper, should kn
ow when they’re beaten.”

  “Beaten?” Shite, but it hurt to talk, the muscles moving in his head caused the pain to double. “I’m far from defeated.”

  “Doesn’t look that way to me.” Xaneth yawned. “Why don’t you show me how not beaten you are by healing that rather ugly wound on the side of your head? Or, better yet, break free.”

  Cael gave him a derisive snort. “Sod off.”

  “You’re not my type, amadán.”

  “Moron, huh? Is that the best you can come up with?”

  Xaneth covered his mouth as he yawned again. “Nay. I’ve got much better. I’m saving them.”

  Cael rolled his eyes when Xaneth began snoring a few minutes later. His vision had to have been wrong. Xaneth was the worst Fae Cael had ever met. Xaneth might be able to talk his way out of anything, but he was shite when it mattered.

  * * *

  Xaneth cracked open an eye as he gave a loud snore. Cael’s eyes were closed again. He was cognizant of the fact that the Reaper was fighting the agony of his wound. It showed in Cael’s eyes, and even in his voice when he spoke.

  It was difficult for Xaneth to look at the side of Cael’s head that was nothing but mangled, red flesh. Every once in a while, Cael’s body would jerk, every muscle stiffening as pain obviously wracked the Reaper.

  Xaneth could only imagine how torturous it was, but through it all, Cael stood strong and firm. Xaneth hoped the Reaper could continue on that path because Xaneth was no closer to getting near Bran than he had been.

  It would likely take weeks, if not months, for him to gain Bran’s trust, and Xaneth didn’t have that kind of time. Listening to Bran and Searlas, Xaneth knew that the trap they were setting for Death and the other Reapers was one that would wipe them all out with a single blow.

  The only good thing about all of it was that Bran didn’t know about Eoghan or the second group of Reapers. That would come in handy when the battle began. But the others would need Cael.

  It took Xaneth hours, but he worked his way closer to Cael to get a better look at the magic Bran used, not only to wound Cael but to hold him, as well. Xaneth intentionally spoke with the Reaper so that those spying on him for Bran could report that he wasn’t attempting to help Cael.

  If none of this worked, Xaneth would find himself strung up right beside Cael. And that simply wouldn’t do.

  A murmur of shock could be heard spreading through the Dark around the mansion. Xaneth jumped to his feet and walked to the door to determine what it was.

  “Hey,” he called to a Dark passing by. “What’s going on?”

  “Bran has a visitor.”

  Xaneth shrugged, not understanding what was so shocking about that. “So?”

  “So,” another said as he stopped and gawked at him, “I’d say the Queen of the Light is enough to get all of us at the mansion to see if Bran kills her or kisses her.”

  Xaneth staggered backwards, astonishment and alarm roaring through him. Usaeil couldn’t be there. If she saw him. . . .

  “Fek,” he murmured.

  What the hell was she doing there? Surely, not looking for him. The last time Xaneth had seen the queen, she’d been running for her life, afraid that Death was going to kill her.

  “Oh, shite.”

  Xaneth ran his hands through his hair. Usaeil was there to join forces with Bran. The queen didn’t like fearing anyone, and like a fool, she believed that she could control Bran with his cock. She was in for a surprise, and Xaneth hoped he was there to see it, but he doubted he would be.

  The one thing he was sure of was that Usaeil couldn’t see him. She knew his face as both a Dark and a Light, and it was too late for Xaneth to use glamour to alter more of his appearance.

  Yet Usaeil’s arrival might be just the distraction Xaneth needed to get into Bran’s office. Xaneth had enough information to take back to Balladyn, but he couldn’t leave until he knew how Bran was stealing Death’s magic.

  Xaneth owed her at least that much. And maybe, if he were really lucky, he could get Cael free. Then again, that might be exactly what Bran was hoping for.

  “Fek!” Xaneth yelled.

  This is what happened when he stopped thinking about only himself and decided to help others. Everything got complicated. And he hated complications.

  Xaneth glanced over his shoulder at Cael, who was so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t know what was going on. Xaneth peered around the door. It was now or never. He stepped out of the building and began following the others.

  Since there were too many Dark to be in the house, most shoved to get a glimpse from the outside windows. Xaneth squeezed and pushed his way through the mass of bodies into the house. He kept shouldering his way through the Dark toward Bran’s office.

  Unfortunately, that was also the direction everyone was facing. Xaneth paused for only a minute. He might not be able to get what he was looking for, but he could find out what was being said between Bran and the queen.

  Once Xaneth was outside the office, he flattened himself against the wall near the door and listened. The other Dark were all whispering so loudly that Xaneth couldn’t make out what was being said inside.

  With a frustrated sigh, he shifted and moved behind two rows of Dark. He was half-hidden if Usaeil should look his way, but now he had a view of both Bran and the queen. The fact that Bran had left the door open for everyone to see Usaeil spoke volumes.

  They talked in low tones. Usaeil flirted outrageously, while Bran appeared almost disinterested. Xaneth watched them for over forty minutes before he realized there was a section of Bran’s desk that he returned to again and again. It was done unconsciously as if something were there that he needed to touch.

  Or protect.

  An eternity later, Bran and Usaeil finally stood, sharing a drink of whisky that the Dark disbursed. Xaneth nearly veiled himself, but he remembered at the last minute that it wouldn’t do any good. The others would see him, and that would just bring more attention to himself.

  He melted into the shadows as the Dark slowly walked past, each wanting their own look at Usaeil. Then, to his surprise, Bran and the queen walked from the office. His aunt, the woman who had destroyed their family and taken the throne, came within inches of him.

  But her attention was on Bran, so she never noticed it was Xaneth.

  Long after they were gone, Xaneth stayed where he was. When the last of the Dark were gone, he casually walked into Bran’s office—only to find another Fae already there.

  The Dark stared at Xaneth. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  “I could ask you the same.”

  With a loud snort, the Dark said, “You’re new to the army. I doubt Bran trusts you enough to be in here.”

  “For all I know, you could be the one he mistrusts,” Xaneth returned.

  The Dark shrugged one shoulder. “I suppose our only recourse is to both remain to keep an eye on each other.”

  Xaneth saw how the Dark kept looking at the spot on the desk that Xaneth had seen Bran touching. He made his way toward the piece of furniture, his gaze on the rows of books behind it.

  Once there, Xaneth leaned back against the desk and tried to discreetly feel what was hidden.

  Suddenly, the Dark was before him, his red eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

  “No one of import. Who are you?”

  “No one you need to worry about. What are you looking for?”

  Xaneth was about to lie when he saw the Dark hastily step away as footsteps approached. Both men froze until the Dark passed by.

  Xaneth straightened and raised a brow. “Are you looking for something?”

  The Fae hesitated before giving a single nod.

  Don’t be wrong, Xaneth told himself. “In this area?” Xaneth asked, nodding his head toward the corner of the desk.

  “Aye,” the Dark replied.

  “Why?”

  The Dark rolled his eyes. “Lad, I don’t have time for this. Either move or call for Bran, b
ut I’m taking that.”

  That’s when Xaneth knew. “You work for Death,” he whispered.

  The Fae froze, his red eyes searching Xaneth’s face. His nod was barely discernable.

  Bran’s voice reached them, steadily growing closer.

  The Fae suddenly grabbed his arm. “Get it and go. Tell Death Seamus is on her side, and I always will be.”

  Xaneth hesitated.

  Seamus shoved him. “Go,” he whispered urgently.

  Xaneth turned and felt around on the desk. He found nothing at first, but then he felt the soft brush of an enchantment. He pushed his magic through his palms, lighting the spell. Xaneth worked his way through it, and when the magic was finally broken, he found a folded piece of paper.

  “Take it to her,” Seamus urged, his gaze pleading. “She might need it.”

  “What about Cael?”

  “The only one who can help Cael is Death. And Bran knows it. Go, lad, before it’s too late for both of us.”

  Xaneth clapped his hand on the Dark’s arm and teleported out right before Bran walked into the office.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The plan was good.

  Actually, it was the best they had.

  Still, Erith knew the odds weren’t in their favor.

  She stared down at the miniaturized mansion and grounds where Bran was as the others debated various ways to get the advantage. She should be focused, but her mind kept wandering to Cael.

  She wasn’t the only one who was having a difficult time, though. Kyran had told her the moment she returned that there was something wrong with River. He wanted to go to her, and Erith wished she could let him, but she couldn’t.

  And this was the main reason she had put the rule in place about her Reapers not having relationships. Because there would always be something that took their concentration away from their mission.

  “Death. You’re going to want to talk to me.”

  She jerked, not at the words but at the fact that they came from Xaneth.

  “What is it?” Eoghan asked, concern clouding his features.

  Erith swallowed and looked down as she wondered what to do. It could be a trap. Was she willing to go and find out? If it meant learning anything about Cael, then the answer was a resounding yes.