Dark Alpha's Awakening--A Reaper Novel

by Donna Grant

  “You should know that by joining my army, you’ve now chosen a side. Bran has ignored you, but he’ll come straight for you now. His men won’t be able to kill you, but he will. Just as I can kill his army.”

  “I don’t understand,” Balladyn said.

  Fintan motioned the king over. “I’ll explain it all.”

  The three teleported near to Bran’s mansion. Fintan kept ahold of Balladyn, keeping him in the Reaper’s veil so the king could see who was veiled and who wasn’t.

  “Eoghan,” Erith called when they arrived.

  One by one, the Reapers appeared. None seemed surprised to find the King of the Dark with her. Instead, all were anxious to fight.

  Erith watched as Balladyn grinned knowingly when he saw Cat walk to Fintan before their fingers intertwined. Then Death looked at each of them.

  “We’re sixteen to their thousand,” she told them. “I suspect Bran has more of my diary pages to take my power, and in order to combat that, I need to feed this,” she said as she lifted her sword.

  Cathal grinned widely, his red eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yes.”

  “I’m going straight for Bran’s men.” Erith then looked at Balladyn. “To kill them.”

  “I don’t want my people to die, but if it saves more from being taken and Bran from gaining control, then do it,” Balladyn said.

  Erith thought about Cael. She’d believed that he would be standing beside her in this final fight. When the grief threatened to overwhelm her again, she turned toward the fury instead. Only when it was over, and Bran was no longer an issue, would she let herself mourn.

  Then, she would give Cael a proper funeral worthy of a great warrior, Reaper, friend, and lover.

  Rordan lifted his sword. “For Cael.”

  “For Cael,” the others replied.

  Erith touched her sword to the rest and whispered, “For Cael.”

  Balladyn produced a sword and moved it with the others, nodding to Erith.

  She lowered her weapon and stared at the mansion over the undulating landscape and through the branches of the few trees that dotted the grounds. “Xaneth said the main group of men were at the back of the mansion. That’s where we’ll go. It won’t take long for Bran to notice us. He’ll try to take my power, and then he’ll come for me.”

  Erith scanned the faces around her and smiled. “I forgot who I was. Eoghan pointed me in the right direction while Cael helped me remember. I feared becoming Mistress of War again, but now, I welcome the fury and bloodlust that used to rule my world. Now, I won’t stop until Bran is dead. I will avenge Cael.”

  Without another word, she teleported right into the middle of a group of Dark. A battle cry roared from her lips as she swung her sword.

  The moment the blade tasted the blood of the Dark, it sang for more. Every Fae she encountered had Bran’s face, and she hacked each one to bits, working her way through the crowd, satisfaction rising as she grew stronger.

  When a dozen or so Dark jumped on her, she slammed her hand upon the ground, sending a blast of magic that took out over a hundred of Bran’s men with one blow.

  Erith spun as more Dark came at her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her Reapers, Cat, and Balladyn fighting. But she was waiting for her target.

  And Bran wouldn’t be long in coming.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Erith.

  It was the first thought that went through Cael’s mind when his eyes snapped open. He was . . . different. He could feel it in his bones and in his blood. Even in the depths of his soul.

  He sat up, recognizing the room immediately. His hand went to the side of his head that had been ravaged by Bran’s magic, but instead of mangled flesh, he found himself restored. Same when he checked his chest.

  Cael rose from the bed and began searching for Erith. He found Jordyn on the stairway. Her turquoise eyes widened at the sight of him, her jaw going slack.

  He waited for several minutes for her to wipe the surprise from her face. Finally, he asked, “Where’s Erith.”

  Instead of answering, Jordyn backed down a few stairs before she turned and raced to the bottom.

  Curious about her reaction, Cael went looking for a mirror. He understood when he stared at his reflection. It was him, everything the same—except for his eyes. They were no longer silver but burned a dark purple.

  He lifted his arm, looking at his hand as he felt his magic coursing through him. It was stronger than even what he’d had from being a Reaper. Cael also sensed a darkness within the power that hadn’t been there before.

  And that’s when he knew. The magic Bran had used to kill him had somehow melded to his own. Why wasn’t he dead, though?

  “You’re alive.”

  He turned at the sound of Ettie’s voice. She stiffened when she saw his eyes. But he didn’t have time for that. “Tell me what happened.”

  Thea came up behind her and cautiously approached him. “You died.”

  Confusion and anxiety swarmed him. Cael searched his memories. He thought of fighting Bran, remembered feeling such rage at the fact that his friend had turned on all of them in such a way. And then Cael recalled wanting to fight Bran to save Erith.

  He’d used the magic poisoning his body, turning it into a weapon and welcoming it as he went after Bran. And he remembered holding Erith’s sword. Then everything had gone dark. He’d comprehended then that he was dying. Still, Erith had tried to help him. Her attempt to remove Bran’s magic had been excruciating. Then he’d felt her hand on his face, right before he became unconscious.

  That was the last thing he recalled before waking up.

  Cael looked around for some sign of Death. When he realized that the only ones he saw were Reapers’ wives, a sinking feeling wrapped around his stomach.

  He stalked to the women. “Where is Erith?” he yelled.

  “She went after Bran,” Ettie said.

  Cael had to get to her. He wasn’t going to let her fight his nemesis alone. Cael belonged beside her. He always had—and he always would.

  Cael shoved past the females and jumped over the side of the stairs to land several floors below.

  Above him, Thea shouted, “Erith sealed the doorway.”

  He didn’t care if he had to build a new one, nothing was keeping him from going to his woman. It didn’t matter how many Reapers were with her, he was supposed to be by her side—and that’s exactly where he would be.

  He’d worry about how he had come back from the dead later.

  When Cael reached the doorway, he put his hand on it and felt the magic ripple beneath his palm. Erith’s magic. The portal was sealed, preventing anyone from coming or going. He gave a little push, and the magic opened enough for him to walk through.

  Once on the other side, he added his own power to the seal before teleporting to the mansion. He was met by the beautiful sight of the chaos of battle. He smiled, and his fists clenched with the need to join in.

  His gaze immediately found Erith as she plowed through dozens of Dark at a time. The dead lay littered at her feet. Cael then found the Reapers but was shocked to not only see Cat alongside Fintan, but Balladyn also joining in the fray.

  It looked like Erith had found the unknown Dark Cael had seen in his vision. It had never entered his mind that it might be Balladyn, but it made sense.

  Cael spotted Searlas making his way toward Erith, but he didn’t worry. She spun elegantly and sliced his head from his body before returning to the four others she battled.

  Cael began making his way to her when he did a double-take and found Bran standing off by himself. The ex-Reaper pulled something from the inside pocket of his jacket and opened it.

  Cael didn’t know what it was, but he instinctively knew that it was how Bran had been stealing Erith’s power. He didn’t wait around for Bran to begin reading. Cael teleported directly in front of him and grabbed the pages, engulfing them in flames.

  “Nooooooo!” Bran bellowed as he staggered back in
disbelief. He watched the remnants of the paper float in the air before he looked at Cael, shock reverberating over his face and bearing. “There’s no way you’re alive. No one could survive what I did to you,” he whispered in alarm.

  Cael grinned tersely. “I did.”

  Bran swallowed and gathered himself, his gaze narrowing in determination. He held out his arms, forming two purple orbs of magic. “Perhaps you need another dose.”

  Cael leaned to the side as one bubble flew past him. He grabbed the second with one hand and, spinning, tossed it back at Bran, who moved before it could hit him. But Cael didn’t mind. He had something special planned for Bran.

  The ground rumbled beneath Cael’s feet. He looked toward Erith to see that she had used a magical explosion that obliterated the Dark around her. She shifted, her gaze landing on him.

  The surprise that went through her was evident in the way she jerked at the sight of him. Cael wanted to go to her, to hold her, but he couldn’t, not until this business was finished. He returned his attention to Bran and walked toward him.

  “This is a trick,” Bran exclaimed.

  Cael held out his arms. “No trick. This is me.”

  “Your eyes.”

  “That’s not the only thing changed.”

  Purple flames leapt from his palms with just a thought. The astonishment on Bran’s face was worth every minute of suffering Cael had endured.

  Cael sent a wave of magic at Bran. It landed square in his chest and sent him tumbling backwards. But Bran was never one to go down easy. In a blink, he was back on his feet and sending more orbs at Cael.

  Despite Cael’s attempt to avoid them, one landed on him. The pain he expected didn’t come. In fact, he felt . . . stronger. He looked down at his thigh where the orb had landed and watched his body heal instantly.

  “What did she do to you?” Bran demanded to know.

  But Cael knew the answer. Death hadn’t done anything. He had. Or rather his love for her had altered his body to accept the poison and turn it into something good, something powerful.

  Bran shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. All I need is for her to die.”

  Cael’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll never get to her.”

  “Won’t I?” Bran asked with a confident smile right before he whispered something.

  There was another explosion, one of wood and brick. Cael’s head whipped to the side to see a form rush from what was left of the building that had been his prison. Running straight for Erith was none other than Seamus.

  “You didn’t really think I’d let him just die, did you?” Bran taunted. “You keep forgetting that I have her magic. I can’t believe she’s had such abilities and not used them. I can share my power with the living, and I can make my own Reapers. But I don’t give them a choice. I make them return.”

  Cael watched as the movement of Erith’s blade hesitated when she spotted Seamus. Every instinct told Cael to go to her, then he remembered that she was Death, she was Mistress of War. She didn’t need his help.

  He slid his gaze to Bran. “Your mistake is forgetting who she is.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m counting on,” Bran boasted.

  “The beast within her was dormant. You woke it. What’s worse for you is that no matter how much power you took from her, it was never enough to defeat her.”

  Bran cocked his head to the side. “You talk as if you love her.”

  “I serve her. That’s the difference between you and me. I never coveted her power.”

  “Because you had her favor!”

  “Enough,” Cael stated calmly. “You wanted to fight me, well, here I am. Come and get me.”

  “Gladly.”

  The two circled each other while Erith made her way through the Dark with the Reapers, Cat, and Balladyn lending their help. Cael wasn’t worried about Erith anymore. He’d felt the force within the sword, and with every life she took, she was regaining everything that Bran had stolen.

  Bran was the first to make a move. He rushed Cael, their bodies meeting in a bone-crushing collision. Cael knocked Bran’s hands away, but not before two knives found their way into Cael’s gut. Bran stepped back and threw two more that landed in Cael’s chest.

  * * *

  Erith’s first thought was that she was seeing things, but there was no denying that it was Cael she saw fighting Bran. Elation—and a little worry—consumed her. She wanted to be there with Cael, but there were so many Dark. And the more she killed, the more the odds turned in her favor.

  She used another blast of magic to wipe out those around her. It was a good, easy way to take out several at a time, but it also drained her. Since she had no idea whether Bran could still take her magic, she needed to be cautious and save everything for her coming battle with him.

  That is if Cael didn’t kill him first.

  Each time she glanced their way, it looked as if Cael were winning. As strong a warrior as he was, he couldn’t equal the magic that now ran through Bran. Erith frowned as she saw the two Fae locked in combat. Or at least Cael shouldn’t be able to hold his own with Bran. Yet, somehow her lover was doing just that.

  A board slammed into Erith from behind an instant after she heard a loud explosion. She turned and saw something—or someone—running straight for her. Instinct had her readying herself, her sword on a downward arc.

  Then, she saw the face. Her arm halted as she recognized what was left of Seamus. His face and body bore the same types of marks that Cael’s had, and she realized quickly that the kindhearted Dark she had come to trust was no longer there.

  Seamus crashed into her, knocking her breath from her as he slammed her into the ground. His fist came at her face, and Erith managed to turn her head at the last minute.

  The ground shook from the hit. She calmly slammed her knee into him, sending Seamus over her head. But he grabbed hold of her and flipped her with him. Now, she was on top and able to land a few blows to his face.

  “Seamus, stop!” she ordered.

  But the creature she battled was something other than Seamus. Whatever thoughts she had of trying to save him vanished. The only way to stop him was to kill him.

  Erith flipped her sword in the air and caught it by the pommel as she plunged it downward. Instead of landing in Seamus’s chest, it sank into the ground.

  That fact barely registered before she was yanked backwards by her hair. The sword dropped from her hand, and when a Dark tried to pick it up, the weapon vanished.

  Erith would’ve smiled if she didn’t have Seamus pummeling her in the side of the face with his fist. She reached back and latched on to his calf where she poured magic into him, splintering his bones.

  His cry of pain loosened his hold, which gave her the chance she needed to get free. She called for her sword and spun before she lunged, pushing her blade into the spot where Seamus’s heart was.

  She winced as her sword found its mark. The life drained from Seamus, and she saw a spark of the Dark she’d known. He smiled at her, relief clear on his face before he fell over.

  Her heart hurt for what she’d just had to do. She slowly pulled her sword from him and watched the blood drip from the end onto the grass. Erith looked at her allies, who each still battled the Dark. Not once did they stop, not once did they give up. As many times as the Fae came at them, they fought back.

  Balladyn gripped a Dark’s head and yanked it clean off before tossing it away. He wasn’t the only one. Fintan kept close to Cat, but with her magic, the Dark couldn’t get near her to do any damage.

  And Death’s Reapers . . . they were a fighting force that should terrify anyone who thought to go up against them. She’d never been prouder of the Fae she had asked to join her.

  Erith swung her head toward Bran just as Cael pulled one of the four knives from his body. It was time to take down the one who had begun it all.

  Chapter Thirty

  Cael’s gaze moved from the blade in his hand to Bran. He felt his wound heal, the
skin and muscle meshing together without so much as a mark to show that anything had marred him.

  “That should’ve killed you,” Bran said, backing up a step.

  Cael merely smiled and withdrew another of the knives. “You mistake me for what I was. I’m something . . . more . . . now.”

  Bran was so intent on Cael that he never noticed that Erith was now behind him. Cael wanted to look at her, to peer into her lavender eyes and tell her that he’d returned for her, but he kept his gaze on Bran. No matter what he wanted, no matter how badly he hungered for Erith, Bran’s reign of terror would end, now.

  “No,” Bran said with a shake of his head. “This can’t be happening. I planned this out perfectly.”

  Cael pulled the third and fourth knives from himself, dropping them to the ground as he advanced on Bran. He had no need of the weapons. The magic within him had always been potent—even before he became a Reaper—but now, now it was a hundred times stronger.

  And he wanted to unleash it on Bran.

  Yet he held off. This was Erith’s kill. She needed to extinguish Bran so that it could erase what she believed were her past mistakes.

  “Did you honestly believe you could triumph over Death?” Cael asked.

  Bran’s nostrils flared as his shock morphed to anger regarding Erith. “She had the ability to rule the universe, and she didn’t take it.”

  “Everyone has a role. Hers is more important than subjecting every being to a regime. You’d know that had you understood her at all. Instead, you were too wrapped up in the power being a Reaper gave you.”

  “Power?” Bran replied with a bark of laughter. “There was no power in our position. She told us what to do, and you, like Eoghan and Theo, hurried to carry out all her little duties, simply because she didn’t want to dirty her hands.”

  Cael watched Erith in his peripheral and found her smiling, her gaze on him. It was everything he could do not to shove Bran aside and yank her against him, devour her mouth in a kiss that showed her exactly how much he loved her.

  “You could’ve been the best of us,” Cael told Bran. “You could’ve done so much. Instead, you sought to take advantage of your influence over others. You coveted what wasn’t yours. And you betrayed your family.”