by Donna Grant
Carrie tried to bite Searlas’s hand when it drew too close to her mouth. “Right. That’s because you told this bumbling oaf that I was his afterward. I’ll be sure to mention that to Ettie.”
“Oh, my dear,” Bran said as he squatted down before her. “Do you really think I’ll allow you to talk?”
He laughed as her face paled. Bran got to his feet and looked at the sisters. This was all almost too easy. Though it didn’t hurt that he was taking a jab at the Reapers.
It infuriated him that they’d somehow managed to learn where he was and tried to interfere once more. But he’d stopped them quickly enough. It was almost laughable how effortless it was to turn someone against another.
With just a little magic in the shield and a few words to Ettie, she would never trust the Reapers again. Not that the Reapers would ever break through the dome. He’d almost hated to leave them. It had been quite entertaining to watch as they struggled to make a dent in his magic.
Maybe now they’d realize that it didn’t matter how much power and magic they had, they didn’t stand a chance against him.
“Ettie isn’t going to give you a damn thing,” Jamie said.
Bran raised a brow as he met her gaze. “Are you so sure of that? To save the two of you?”
“We have nothing,” Carrie announced.
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
Jamie frowned as she snorted. “Trust me. We don’t have anything you want.”
“The very land you live on, the cottage that’s been handed down through generations of O’Byrnes. Why do you think it hasn’t left your family since they acquired it? Generations upon generations of your ancestors have been born and died there, while the rest of the world left behind their family homes.”
It irritated Bran that he’d accepted the lie Ettie told him about the land being split between the three sisters. If he hadn’t done a bit of searching on his own at the county offices, he wouldn’t know of her falsehood. But that had been rectified easily enough.
Carrie began laughing, softly at first, but it grew until her shoulders shook with it.
“Something amusing?” Bran inquired, irritation swirling within him. He hated being laughed at.
She nodded, her smile wide. “I’m imagining your face when Ettie signs over everything and you realize there’s nothing there.”
Bran glanced at the ceiling as he put his hands behind his back. Then he moved to stand between the two girls and bent at the waist so he was even with their faces. He looked from one to the other.
“If anyone is going to look the fool, it’s you. I wonder if anyone in your family even knew what it was they had. I don’t think they did, because if so, Ettie would never let it go. Not even to save you.”
He smiled when their faces paled.
* * *
Erith lay beneath the sun as she watched the clouds move overhead. Except she didn’t see them. Instead, she saw Cael’s face before he’d left her realm the last time.
There had been hurt and anger in his words. She’d stepped away from the window in case he looked for her, but he hadn’t so much as given the tower a glance. The image of him stalking away with clenched fists and a rigid back was seared into her mind.
It had been difficult not to go to Cael and find out what he wanted. He never came to her for trivial matters, but her decision was for the best. Besides, Cael was the leader of the Reapers because he was more than capable of figuring out things on his own. He didn’t need her. He’d never needed her.
She sighed. It was bad enough that Seamus was there to see her decline when she’d much rather die alone.
That wasn’t true.
No one wanted to die alone. She’d seen enough beings suffer through various kinds of deaths on their own, and it was always better with others around. Dying was something every living entity eventually did.
And that included her.
Though she hadn’t expected it for many more years. Now that it was upon her, she found herself doing what all others did—looking back on her life. There was much she regretted, much more she didn’t. Things she wished she could change, and some she was glad had happened as they did.
Her musings were interrupted by the sound of Seamus approaching. He came to stand beside her before he sat and looked out over the cliff to the sea below.
“You’re making a mistake,” he said.
She linked her fingers over her stomach. “I know you think so.”
“Hurting Cael isn’t the answer.”
“I’m protecting him.”
Seamus turned his head to look at her. “No. You’re protecting yourself.”
“So what if I am?”
He ruefully shook his head. “I don’t care if you turn back into the Mistress of War. I’d rather you be that than no longer alive.”
She sat up, never taking her gaze from his. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew what I was.”
“I do.” With that, he tossed down a book.
Erith stared at the tome, her heart skipping a beat. She’d forgotten that was in the library. She’d tried to put her past behind her.
“I know all about you,” Seamus continued. “I know the wars you caused, the devastation you left in your wake, and the lives taken. But through it all, you were still Death.”
She pulled her gaze from the book to look back at Seamus. “Yes, I’m Death. I claim the Fae whose time it is to die. But it’s so much more than that.”
“I don’t care, and neither would any of the Reapers. You formed them to fight for you. Why not fight alongside them?”
“Because if I did, they would die, too.”
Seamus leaned his head to the side, his lips twisting. “You chose each of the Reapers because of their battle skills and their integrity, loyalty, and persistence. They’re the best of the best. Trust them.”
“It’s hard to do that when I know what happens to those around me when I go into battle.”
“But you’d be fighting for yourself, for everything you’ve built. You’d be fighting for your Reapers, the men and women who vowed to serve you. This isn’t about liking war and wanting to see death. This is about delivering justice. Which is what you do.”
He had a point, much as she wished he didn’t. “It may be too late. I’m weak.”
“I’ve been thinking about that.” Seamus ran a hand over his mouth and along his jaw. “Let me leave. I’ll make it so that Bran finds me. He’ll let me get close since I helped to free him. That way, I can find out how he’s stealing your magic and stop him.”
“You’re asking me to trust that you won’t betray me.”
He gave a nod of his head. “I am.”
“Each of my Reapers was betrayed. It doesn’t matter how minor, those treacheries are horrid, even to those who only witnessed them.”
“I’m on your side. I won’t betray you.”
Erith looked back over the sea. She was probably too drained to be much good in a fight against Bran, even if she gave in to to the need for war within her. So, if Seamus betrayed her, it would only quicken her death.
Which might be a kindness.
“Find Cael first,” she ordered. “Tell him what you’re doing, and tell him I’ve sealed this realm so no one can enter.”
“Erith, you should tell Cael everything.”
She sighed. “I won’t, and neither will you. I still have strength enough to strike you down, no matter if you’re with Bran or not.”
“I won’t let you down,” Seamus vowed softly.
Her head turned to him when he lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. He knew she didn’t like being touched, but she allowed it. His red gaze met hers then.
“May the sun shine upon you and light your way through the darkness,” she said.
With one last grin, the Dark got to his feet and departed.
Now, she was truly alone.
Chapter Eighteen
Chaos could be a beautiful thing. That’s exactly how Ettie saw
the state of her home and the Reapers—chaos. Everyone moved in different directions in various ways, but all of it was in harmony.
Because they’d come together for a common goal.
The problem was that after hours of searching, they had nothing to show for it. Ettie blew a strand of hair out of her eyes and slapped her hands on her thighs as she sat back on her haunches after looking beneath her bed.
“Nothing. There’s nothing,” she grumbled.
“I wish that were true,” Cael said as he walked into the room with Daire. “Bran wouldn’t be so adamant if he thought for a moment whatever he looked for was somewhere else.”
Daire shoved his long hair back from his face. “Cael’s right.”
“Well, it’d be helpful if we knew what it was.” She climbed to her feet and faced them.
“Every room has been thoroughly searched,” Daire said.
Cael shut a drawer of the bureau. “As has the shed. It could be buried.”
“Bran mentioned the house, so I just assumed it was in here, but you could be right,” Ettie replied. “It could be buried. Why then ask for the house and the land.”
“In case it’s hidden beneath the house,” Daire replied.
She plopped down on the bed. “The object could be absolutely anything. We have thirteen acres of land. There’s no way we can search all of it before sunset.”
“Have you ever seen a black sword?”
Daire’s question took her aback. “A black sword? Never. If that were around here, my father would’ve likely hung it up. Why?”
“Just curious,” he said.
But it was the look Cael gave Daire that led her to believe it was much more than that. Cael slipped away, leaving them alone. It was just the opportunity she needed.
She caught Daire’s gaze. “Tell me about the sword.”
“It’s probably nothing.”
“Or it could be something.”
He took her hand as he sat beside her. The contact reminded her of their lovemaking and how she craved his touch.
“This morning while you slept, I looked over to find you holding a black sword,” Daire said.
“I think I would’ve known if something like that were in my hand.”
“As soon as you woke, it disappeared.”
She jumped up in surprise and fear. Her gaze went to the bed and then her hands. “That’s . . . what is it?”
“I believe it’s a Fae sword.”
When he didn’t elaborate more, she raised her brows and asked, “Annnnd?”
“Remember when I called that weapon for you? I do the same with my sword. When I no longer need it, I put it back.”
“Put it where?”
“It’s magic, Ettie. I can’t really explain where it goes, other than to say it’s my space. No one else can get to the things I have there.”
A laugh bubbled up in her at the hilarity of thinking she had such a thing. “Trust me, if I had such a space, I’d tell you.”
“I don’t think you know about it.”
“A secret magical space I don’t know about.” She gave a frustrated shake of her head. “So what do I do?”
He rose and came to stand before her. As she looked into his eyes, she began to relax. He placed his hands on either side of her face, gently holding her as he leaned down and kissed her.
They’d been discussing swords and secret magical places, so the kiss wasn’t just unexpected, it was greatly needed. She melted against him, her arms wrapping around his middle.
Just being held by Daire changed her entire attitude. The stress that had been building eased, and the tension slowly evaporated until there was nothing but blinding, consuming desire.
The kiss deepened as a moan rumbled in his chest. His sounds made her hot and achy, but it was his hands, mouth, and body that brought her ecstasy.
He broke the kiss and gazed down at her. “It’s all I can do not to throw you onto that bed and make love to you.”
“That sounds like heaven.”
But it wasn’t time for such things. With longing in their eyes, they reluctantly set aside their hunger for each other. Once Bran was defeated, they would have all the time they wanted. At least, she hoped they would.
Daire placed his hands on her shoulders. “Close your eyes and put your hands by your sides.”
She did as he asked, taking a deep breath in the process.
“The Fae are born with this ability, but some Halflings are able to do it with practice.”
That wasn’t exactly comforting, but she didn’t tell him that. Instead, she concentrated on her breathing.
Daire moved behind her and put his mouth by her ear. “Picture a black sword in your mind.”
“What size and shape? What abo—”
“It doesn’t matter,” he interrupted. “Concentrate. It’s important. Do you have a mental picture?”
She nodded.
“Good. Now, I need you to imagine holding it in your hand. It could take several tries, but don’t stop your focus.”
Ettie had no problem envisioning the sword in her hand. She did it again and again, but felt nothing in her palm. After a few minutes, she glanced at her hand to find it empty.
“This is pointless,” she said and turned to Daire.
There was a deep frown on his face. “It should’ve worked.”
“Maybe you just thought you saw the sword.”
“I saw it,” he insisted. “You don’t forget something like that.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling like a failure. “I’m sorry.”
“This isn’t your fault.” He held her face between his hands and looked deep into her eyes. “If it’s meant to happen, then it will. And if it doesn’t, then that’s fine, too.”
His words did much to bolster her. She put her hands on his arms and smiled up at him. But she could tell that he’d really counted on her retrieving the sword.
What was the deal with her and Fae weapons? Why couldn’t she hold one? And why had Daire seen her holding a black sword? It was all just too much.
The door to the cottage swung open as Cael strode in. The rest of the Reapers filed in behind him. She and Daire dropped their arms and walked into the living room.
“We need to prepare for Bran,” Cael said.
Daire nodded, his face tight with concentration. “I’ve been thinking about that. He went to a lot of trouble to make Ettie believe she couldn’t trust us.”
“You want to use that,” Kyran said.
Daire flashed a grin. “I do. We need to put the dome back into place.”
Ettie jerked her head to him. “Tell me you’ll be inside this time.”
“Some of us will.” Daire looked to the others. “Cael, Bran needs to see you outside.”
Cael’s hands clenched at his sides. “I’ll give him a show.”
“And the rest of us?” Neve asked.
Daire pointed to Cael, Baylon, Talin, and Neve. “You four remain where he can see you. I, Fintan, and Kyran will be within the dome.”
“Until you find out what it is Bran wants,” Ettie said as comprehension dawned.
“Exactly. Once we have that, the shield will come down, and the others will be there.”
Ettie loved the idea, but she hesitated. “You said you couldn’t kill him.”
“But you can,” Cael said.
She blinked before swinging her eyes to Daire. “It takes a Fae weapon to kill Bran. Need I remind you that I can’t hold one of those? How am I supposed to kill him without one?”
“She’ll be slaughtered without the proper weapons,” Neve said.
Daire rubbed the back of his neck. “There has to be a way.”
Ettie watched as he called forth the same spear as before. He held it out to her, and she paused before reaching for it. As soon as her fingers closed around it, the weapon vanished like before.
“Let me,” Talin said.
She stood as first Talin, then Baylon, and then Fintan all t
ried to give her a weapon. Next was Neve and Kyran, to no avail.
Finally, Cael stood before her. His silver gaze looked her over before he held a sword out for her. “Take it,” he urged. “Believe that it’s yours.”
She took a deep breath, letting his words sink in. The sword could end all her troubles—as well as the Reapers’. She was skilled enough to get in a killing blow. The only hang-up was that she needed a Fae weapon.
The weapon is mine. The weapon is mine. The weapon is mine.
Over and over she repeated those words to herself. Then she clasped her hand on the sword. She felt the metal of the hilt in her palm. Just as she began to lift it, the sword disappeared.
“She had it,” Daire said.
Cael crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. “That she did.”
“So why can’t I keep it?” she asked.
Cael’s lips flattened briefly. “That’s a damn good question.”
“We need Death,” Neve said.
But Cael dismissed her words outright. “We do this on our own.
“Cael,” Fintan said. “This could be what ends Bran. Death should be here to help us.”
“We do this on our own!” Cael bellowed.
Ettie swallowed hard after his outburst. The looks of confusion and shock on the Reapers’ faces told her that the outburst was out of the ordinary for Cael.
Talin stepped close to Cael. “What’s going on?”
“Death is taking care of other business. She won’t be here to help us,” Cael explained.
Ettie didn’t know whether to be disappointed that she wouldn’t meet Death or glad. Perhaps it was the latter. After all, she was Death.
“This plan sounds solid,” Ettie said. “All except for the fact that I can’t harm Bran.”
Daire blew out a breath. “We need to come up with a different plan then. I’m not putting you near Bran.”
“You don’t have a choice,” she told him. “I have to meet with him to sign over my property.”
Neve snorted loudly. “Which is shit, I must say.”
“I agree, but what choice do I have? He has Jamie and Carrie.”
“He won’t turn them over to you,” Fintan said.
Baylon’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “Or if he does, his men will return later for them.”
