Reaper's Vow

by Sarah McCarty

  Isaiah came alongside Cole, leading a buckskin gelding. “Thank you, Dirk.”

  The two Reapers shared a glance before Dirk nodded and walked away.

  “She is by my side always,” Isaiah informed Cole.

  “And you’re heading which way?”

  Jones jerked his chin to the left.

  Cole nodded and looped the stirrup over the horn of Rage’s saddle before checking the cinch. “Then that’s where I’m going.”

  Isaiah paused, his hand on the horse’s opposite shoulder. “I can’t guarantee your safety.”

  Cole looked back at the bodies and pressed his palm over the bite on his forearm. There wasn’t any point worrying about it. He wouldn’t have much time if that wolf had been rabid. Cole lowered the stirrup. “I don’t recall asking you to.”

  Isaiah smiled. “Reapers don’t get rabies.”

  Only long practice allowed Cole to keep his surprise hidden. “You read minds as easily as you shed fur?”

  Isaiah swung up on his horse. “Your thoughts aren’t that complicated.”

  He nodded at Cole. Two men immediately rode up and flanked him. Dirk was one. There was something about that Reaper that commanded attention. Something that had nothing to do with his energy and everything to do with the way he carried himself. As if he expected death itself to step aside. He bore watching.

  Cole mounted his own horse. Rage tossed his head. Isaiah shook his. Another motion of Jones’s hands and Dirk bound Cole’s hands behind him before he could even react. Fuck, these Reapers were fast. He yanked at his hands. And thorough. He wasn’t going to be getting out of these any time soon. He snarled at Dirk. Dirk smiled back, an even white baring of teeth.

  “Scared?” Cole taunted.

  “Cautious,” Dirk countered calmly. “You have a reputation.” He glanced at Cole out of the corner of his eye. “Some have wondered.”

  “What?”

  “Whether Reaper blood flows in your veins.”

  The hell it did. “I’m not a fucking monster.”

  Dirk smiled and backed his bay up. “Well, whatever you are, you won’t be escaping any time soon.”

  “I wasn’t aware I was trying to.”

  Isaiah turned his gelding around, filling the space Dirk had just left with his presence and his energy. “It’s a precaution in case you go getting nervous.”

  “I’m not the nervous type.”

  “And we’re not monsters.”

  Cole remembered the moment when Jones had gone from beast to man. “In whose opinion?”

  With a twist of his lips that could have constituted a smile, Jones’s shot back, “Addy’s.”

  Shit. “My cousin sees what she wants.”

  Jones stared at him for a second and said with flat honesty, “She sees you.”

  Yes, she did. In a far more flattering way than he deserved.

  “And she’s anxiously awaiting your arrival,” Jones finished.

  “She knows I’m coming?”

  “I promised her I would bring you home if that’s what you wanted.”

  “It’s not my home.” The claim bounced harmlessly off Jones’s back as he started up the trail.

  “But it is Addy’s,” drifted back over the Reaper’s shoulder.

  Cole gritted his teeth. “Not for long.”

  There was a silence, and then an older man with a full beard and bushy hair said, “Addy will be happy to see you.”

  The grudging admission took Cole by surprise, especially coming from a man who looked like he wasn’t far from animal. A peace offering? Cole looked around at the stony-faced men and felt the radiating hostility. Probably not. Shifting deeper in the saddle, he smiled, taking satisfaction at the collective displeasure. If Addy was happy to see him, Cole thought, she’d be the only one. And the perverse part of him that always had her shaking her head . . . smiled.

  * * *

  An hour later Cole’s amusement over being an annoyance wore thin. As far as he could determine, they were heading due east. The only thing east was a cliff face. Maybe Jones was toying with the idea of throwing Cole off it?

  “Where is this place?” he asked Isaiah, leaning back in the saddle, signaling Rage to stop.

  The horse stopped immediately. The man didn’t give any response. From behind Cole came a growl. He looked over his shoulder, and Dirk jabbed him in the center of his back with a rifle. Cole clenched his fists. The rawhide bonds cut into his skin.

  “Do that again and I’ll kill you.”

  Dirk smiled a half smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Cole could see the intent in the man’s cold gaze even before he raised the muzzle of the gun. “You make it so easy.”

  “Enough!” Isaiah snapped.

  After a heartbeat, Dirk lowered the gun.

  Cole smiled at the man’s reluctance.

  “He would kill you, you know,” Isaiah informed him.

  “Maybe, maybe not.”

  Isaiah shook his head. “You don’t understand Reapers.”

  Cole wished his hands were freed to tip his hat down. Instead, he shrugged. “Maybe you just don’t understand me.”

  “Your arrogance is irritating.”

  What was irritating was being helpless amid these Reapers. “So I’m told.”

  Isaiah didn’t answer. The rhythmic sound of multiple hoofbeats was all that could be heard for a few minutes. The silence grated as much as being helpless did. “Where are you taking me?” he asked gruffly.

  “To Addy.”

  It wasn’t like Jones to be so obliging. “Why?”

  “Because she’d have my head if I didn’t.”

  That was interesting. “You’re afraid of Addy?”

  No response, but the energy coming off the other man was softer. Whatever Isaiah Jones was, Cole realized, the man cared about his cousin.

  “Is she all right?” he asked grudgingly.

  Isaiah didn’t turn around. “She could be better.”

  That snapped him to attention. “What do you mean?”

  With a wave of his hand Isaiah dismissed the question. He stopped in front of a sheer cliff base and half turned. “I’m going to release you now. I’d really appreciate it if you’d escape.”

  He wasn’t going anywhere without Addy.

  Isaiah gave a jerk of his chin. There was an immediate shift in the energy behind Cole. Before Cole could spin around, he felt a tug on his arms, and then his hands were free. He rubbed at his wrists. Dirk tucked his knife back in his boot.

  A smile ghosted Isaiah’s lips. “Now’s your chance to escape.”

  Cole looked around. As far as he could tell, the only option any of them had was to head back the way they’d come. As if reading his thoughts, Dirk stepped back. And following him, each of the ten other Reapers did the same, opening ranks in an open invitation. Cole tipped his hat down. He wasn’t making it that easy.

  “Yeah, I gathered that.”

  “But you’re not taking it.”

  It was a statement, not a question. “Nope. So what are we doing now?”

  Isaiah sighed. “We’re going up.”

  Up looked like a sheer rock wall.

  “Reapers have wings as well as fangs and claws?”

  Isaiah shook his head. “Nope.”

  Dismounting, Isaiah approached the wall. Without a word he reached for a spot above his right shoulder. His finger seemed to sink into the stone. Interesting. Cole dismounted and tossed Rage’s reins to Dirk. Two steps closer he could make out the subtle changes in the rock face.

  “You created a ladder.”

  “Of sorts.”

  The big man started climbing, before pausing and calling down. “Pay attention, and put your hands and feet where I do mine.”

  Cole looked up. The Reaper was already ten feet up. �
��What happens if I don’t?”

  “Just do as you’re told, and you won’t find out.”

  “Figures there’d be a hitch,” Cole muttered and started climbing. Halfway up, he couldn’t find the spot. He reached for what looked like an obvious ledge.

  Isaiah snapped, “No! I told you. Where I put mine.”

  Cole eyed the ledge. Was the ledge a trap? More interesting.

  “And where would that be?”

  “Six inches down and to the right.”

  He found the fingerhold. “Thanks.”

  He’d have to pay more attention.

  Jones grunted. “Addy’d cry for a week if I only brought her a body to bury.”

  Cole thought of about ten retorts, but he didn’t have the breath to spare to spit them out. The pace the Reaper set was brutal, and Cole wasn’t used to this kind of work. He settled for swearing under his breath. When he got to the top of the ridge, his legs and arms were burning, and his breath was soughing in and out of his lungs. To his disgust, Jones hadn’t even broken a sweat.

  “Hell of a path home you’ve got there.”

  “Keeps out the riffraff,” Isaiah said, motioning to a boulder for Cole to sit. “Usually.”

  Pride was the only thing that kept Cole standing. Isaiah did nothing but cock an eyebrow at him before taking a seat himself.

  From up on the top of the cliff the whole valley could be seen. Cole wasn’t surprised to see a sentry positioned strategically to the left. It’s what he would have ordered. Isaiah gave the sentry a nod. The sentry gave Cole a dirty look. Cole shot him one right back. He brushed his hands off on his pants and settled his hat back on his head. With a wave of his hand he motioned toward the stretch of rough land before them.

  “What are you waiting for?” he asked Isaiah.

  With that inquiry, the man’s lip twisted with a smile. “For you to catch your breath.”

  Cole hated to be considered weak. “It’s caught.”

  If he discounted his shaking legs.

  Isaiah smiled. “We’ll wait a bit longer.”

  Cole put his hands on his knees. “The hell we will.”

  With a cock of his eyebrow Isaiah asked, “You know where to go?”

  It took everything Cole had not to cast his energy out and find Addy, but there were some things he didn’t want this Reaper to know, and Cole had a feeling this man would know if he searched for Addy that way.

  “No.”

  “Then we’ll go on my time.”

  Cole had no choice but to let the Reaper be in charge. He sat on a convenient boulder. Dirk handed him a canteen. He was the type that would blend into the crowd except for that feral air about him, which was enhanced by those distinctive green eyes. He might look like any other to most, but Cole had a feeling Dirk had tricks up his sleeve. Cole took the canteen cautiously, sniffing the water.

  “The water’s not drugged,” Isaiah said. “Dirk can be trusted.”

  Not from where Cole sat. As if Dirk could read Cole’s mind, the blond man smiled before walking away.

  “I seem to be a source of amusement for your men,” Cole commented, watching Dirk and finding his utter lack of energy . . . interesting.

  Cole had never met a people so capable of controlling and flexing energy in his life as the Reapers.

  “It’s your attitude,” Isaiah said. “It’s a lot of bravado for one man to toss about.”

  Cole rolled his stiff shoulders. “It’s not bravado if you can back it up.”

  Isaiah shook his head. His tone was almost pitying. “Yeah.”

  Cole finished drinking and capped the canteen, but he didn’t contest the doubt. If the Reapers wanted to underestimate him, he could adjust. He wasn’t so winded now, though his arms and legs still ached. Climbing cliffs wasn’t something he did every day.

  With a jerk of his chin, Isaiah prodded Cole on. “Let’s go.”

  Cole memorized every step of the path. It wasn’t going to be easy to get Addy out of here, and he’d prefer any path to this one, but if he had to drag her kicking and screaming down the cliff, he was going to free her. The hold the Reaper had on Addy would be broken. In the center of a small clearing, Isaiah stopped. Cole stepped forward and saw the hole in the ground. Isaiah squatted beside it.

  Comprehension came quickly. Cole swore. Son of a bitch, he hated dark places.

  Isaiah looked up. “Not afraid of the dark, are you?”

  Cole smiled. “Not any more than you.”

  Isaiah grunted. “Then you’re not going to like this one bit.”

  With a start Cole realized the man had admitted to a weakness.

  “Shit, we’re going in there?”

  Isaiah nodded.

  The ranks of the waiting Reapers broke. The big, rough-looking man with shaggy brown hair and an equally shaggy beard stood at Isaiah’s shoulder.

  “I’ll go first.”

  Isaiah shook his head but didn’t look away from that hole. “It’s all right, Gaelen.”

  Gaelen sighed but didn’t budge. “I’m in a hurry to get home to my bed. Don’t feel like waiting for you to poke along.”

  The sound that came from Isaiah could only be described as a growl. The hairs on the back of Cole’s neck rose. Gaelen took a step back, but he still hovered.

  “Don’t tell me the big bad Reaper is afraid of the dark?” Cole needled.

  Isaiah’s mouth set in a hard line as he sat at the edge. “Bad times. Bad memories.” He slid his feet into the gap.

  Cole’s stomach twisted as the ground seemed to swallow the other man’s legs, memories of his own rising to choke him.

  Bad times. Bad memories. No shit. He watched as Isaiah disappeared into the hole, a shiver snaking up his spine as the other man’s hat disappeared. Cole had spent ten days in a Mexican jail, a structure that was nothing more than a hole in the ground with bars set over the top. Some experiences left their mark on a man.

  “Your turn,” Dirk ordered, coming up behind Cole.

  Cole’s fingers curled into a fist at the mockery in the other man’s tone, but he didn’t move.

  Dirk’s lips twitched at the corner. “What’s the matter?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “You’re not my type.”

  Cole stood and spun, rage driving his fist toward the other man’s smirk. Dirk caught Cole’s fist in his hand. Cole blinked at the strength it took to do that. He’d underestimated Dirk.

  Bravado.

  Fuck!

  “We don’t have time for this shit,” Gaelen muttered, forcing his shoulder through the opening and dropping into the hole. “The boss doesn’t like tunnels.”

  “He’s right,” Dirk said, releasing his fist. “So either start climbing, or I’m going to knock you out and drop you in.”

  “On my head?” Cole mocked. “That won’t make Addy happy.”

  “Head, ass, back, I don’t care. My job is just to get you there. No one gave me any specifics as to how you had to arrive.”

  The dead or alive was implied. Damn Reapers. Since he couldn’t help Addy dead, Cole set his jaw and stepped down, finding the ladder with his foot. Five rungs down the dank scent of the earth rose up to surround him, bringing out old memories, old fears. He fought them back.

  Ahead he could hear Isaiah’s breathing, tight and controlled, like that of someone battling demons. His own breath was taking on the same pattern, he knew. He didn’t want to have anything in common with the Reaper, but apparently they both had a dislike of being buried alive.

  A torch flared, and the scent of kerosene blended with the dankness. “Sorry, Isaiah,” Gaelen said from around the corner. “Someone forgot to refresh the torches.”

  Isaiah’s response was a snarl Cole wanted to echo. A torch now did little to dispel demons already wakened.

  S
hadows danced on the walls as Gaelen came around the corner. From farther back Cole could hear the other Reapers descending into the cave. Gaelen waved the torch. “We’ve got light now.”

  Isaiah nodded. “Good. Let’s go.”

  “How long do we travel this way?” Cole asked Isaiah.

  “Too fucking long.”

  After a minute Cole had to agree. The torch only gave off so much light, and the dark pressed in from the surging shadows. He concentrated on counting his footsteps, measuring the distance as they traveled. He figured they’d gone about three hundred yards before he could see a lessening in the darkness. Between the cliff, the tunnel, and whatever else Jones had set up as a deterrent, it really wasn’t going to be easy to get Addy out of here.

  The tension in his chest loosened the closer Cole got to daylight. Finally, the tunnel took a hard bend to the left, and the end was in sight. As they got closer to the opening, the tunnel widened until it was big enough that they could exit it four abreast. He looked out. Beneath them stretched a valley surrounded by ridges and cliffs, totally enclosed, or so it would appear. He could see a river meandering through the center. The valley was huge, miles and miles of forest and streams. In a nearby clearing, he could make out the gray-white of canvas tents. He looked at Isaiah.

  “How’d you find this place?”

  “I didn’t.”

  Which could mean anything. Cole was getting sick of word games.

  They set off to the right, taking the rocky footpath down. No effort had been made to hide this one. Hell, why would they? The chances of anyone getting this far were slim to none. As they got closer to the valley floor, Cole could hear the faint sounds of hammering and smell smoke. A world inside a world, hidden away from prying eyes.

  “I see being with Addy hasn’t loosened your tongue.”

  “Hasn’t loosened my brains, either.” Jones shot him a look. “You’ll be tolerated here, Cameron, not welcomed.”

  Cole hid a smile. Jones wasn’t as calm as he’d like Cole to believe. “Your hospitality needs work.”

  “Not to my way of thinking.”

  “But then, you’re not the best judge, are you?” There was another sentry posted at the foot of the path. Cole eyed the pistols slung low on the man’s hips, the rifle resting in the crook of his arm, and the pack at his feet, no doubt holding ammo and other necessities. The casualness of the man’s posture didn’t hide the hostility in his gaze. “He there to reinforce your hospitality?”