Dark Alpha's Fury, page 8
Calmly, Berach said, “Perhaps you have gained so much power and magic from other Fae that you no longer feel when you take.”
“I still feel it,” she told him and began pacing again. “If Aisling is in the labyrinth then she somehow knows not to use her magic.” Lena jerked to a stop as she whipped her head around to Berach. “She is still in the maze, correct?”
“No one can get out. You’ve made sure of that.”
That didn’t answer her question. Lena had devised the trap to ensure that no one could get out unless they knew exactly where to go—and she was the only one who had that information. Fae wouldn’t spend the time looking for a door or some other way out. They would try to teleport, and if those in the labyrinth didn’t have the power to teleport, they would still use magic to escape. Either way, everyone ended up dead, and she with their magic.
“Aisling isn’t that intelligent. She’s a warrior,” Lena said, more to herself than to Berach. “She only knows how to fight. I expected her death within minutes, an hour at the very most. It’s been over fourteen hours and…nothing.”
“She’s in there. Your decoy led her straight to the manor, just as you predicted,” Berach said.
Lena turned her gaze to him. “Are you suggesting I should wait?”
“I’m suggesting the Reaper is already dead. Perhaps she didn’t have the power you think she did.”
Lena quirked a brow. “Is your magic more potent since becoming one of my soldiers?”
“Aye.”
“You match the Reapers in nearly every way. Are you now telling me that if I killed you and took back what I gave that I wouldn’t feel it?”
A muscle in Berach’s jaw jumped as he realized he had backed himself into a corner.
Lena waved away whatever words he might try to say. “She’s in there. Find her. I want to know where she is.” Just in case the Reaper had decided to walk the maze to get out.
“There’s another reason you’ve not thought of,” Berach said.
Anger bubbled within Lena. She could take this Dark’s life with a snap of her fingers. And she was seriously contemplating it. The only thing that made her hesitate was realizing it would behoove her to listen. Then, if she didn’t like what he said, she could kill him. “What’s that?”
“She saw someone use magic and perish, which is why she hasn’t. That has given her time to look around the labyrinth.”
As much as Lena hated to admit it, he had a point. “You think she’s trying to get out?”
“I think she realized it’s a trap. And that she wants to find you.”
That was something Lena hadn’t considered. No Fae had survived the maze yet. However, if Lena wanted to be victorious, then she shouldn’t underestimate anyone—especially not a Reaper.
“You may be correct.” She smiled at the soldier. “Send in the cú hound.”
Berach’s smile was slow as he turned on his heel and strode from the room to carry out her orders. Now that she had worked the problem plaguing her since Aisling’s arrival, Lena could relax and wait for the influx of magic from the Reaper.
Lena walked to the pale-yellow brocade settee that had been in her family for generations. Everything about the manor sickened her. She had hidden the truth of who she really was for so long—from her husband, her son, her brother, and his family. Even the Six who had ruled the Fae Others with her.
Until she hadn’t needed any of them anymore.
The manor had been her escape, the place she could go to be herself. Every other room in the home had been redecorated to match her dark side, but not this one. This sitting room had been left for the occasions when someone visited. But now, there wasn’t anyone to call on her. At least not anyone she was hiding her true nature from anymore.
She ran her fingers over the cloth of the lounger. With a thought, red and silver replaced the bright, happy colors around the room. First the settee turned to a deep red silk. The two tufted chairs faded from turquoise to a dark gray velvet. The Oriental-style rugs vanished, replaced by fringed, hand-knotted, red Turkish rugs.
“Much better,” Lena said with a smile as she sank onto the settee.
She reclined against the cushion and crossed one leg over the other. Her wide-legged black wool trousers, and a matching double-breasted blazer that contoured to her curves looked amazing against the red. She sucked in a breath as magic poured into her from the maze below. It wasn’t much, but every little bit counted.
And Fae were so easily led. It took next to nothing to get them to travel to the manor. Then, it was only a matter of getting them through the right door—again, entirely too easy—before they were in the labyrinth.
The more magic Lena took, the more powerful she became. She couldn’t believe that none of the other Six had thought to do as she had. Even the original Others hadn’t gone this route. It was ironic. Had they, she probably wouldn’t be here today—none of them would. Including the Dragon Kings. Not that she was worried. The Kings time on this realm was dwindling rapidly. And they didn’t even know it.
For the moment, however, her focus was on Death and the Reapers. Not to mention Xaneth. They had joined forces three times against her. The first hadn’t been planned. It was a good thing, too, because she hadn’t been prepared—not for them or Xaneth.
The second time, she had expected it, but it had only been days after the first skirmish, right after she had consumed her family’s magic. The rush of that had been unlike anything she could even try to describe. She had been so overcome by the sheer force of everything inside her without any time to try to wield it when Xaneth suddenly showed up. The second time she’d faced the royal Fae, she’d gotten in a good strike that had knocked him out.
She wished she could’ve killed him then and there, but Chevonne, her niece and the last member of her family, had attacked. Lena fingered her wounded ear, the top part missing. Magic hid that, but she knew what Chevonne had done.
Then came the Isle of Skye. That had been meant to be her crowning glory. Not just because she’d killed the other five who governed the Fae Others with her, but because she meant to wipe out Xaneth and the Reapers. That attempt, too, had been foiled. That time by Balladyn, the previous King of the Dark, who was now a Reaper with a Druid by his side. That defeat had come close to ending all her dreams.
Which was why she had taken the time to come up with a plan that would ensure her success in every way. And why Aisling not dying yet made her anxious. Lena didn’t care if she had to sacrifice every last soldier with her, she would end Aisling’s life. She could always make more soldiers, but she needed a Reaper’s power to get a taste of Death’s capabilities and understand her potency.
Lena was so close to being unstoppable. All she needed was one Reaper to fall to her. She suspected she could take on the goddess already, but she wanted to be sure. Needed to know positively that she could win against Death.
Another burst of magic entered her. Lena briefly closed her eyes and felt the tension melting from her body. How had no one thought to take magic from others to enrich theirs? If even one King of the Dark had tried it, the Light could’ve been wiped away long ago. No one would’ve had to listen to their sanctimonious shite, telling the Dark they were evil and wrong.
But Lena would show them all.
Including those working so hard to form a Fae council. In all the ages of the Fae, no one had attempted such a thing. That was because the Fae didn’t want it. Not then, and not now. They only thought they did. Once she removed all the obstacles in her path, she would show the Light and Dark that they only needed to bow to one person—her.
Lena stopped herself from thinking too far ahead. That was what had happened to her ancestors, the Muldowneys. They had allowed themselves to get too greedy, which had brought about their downfall. The family had changed their surname to Quinlan and walked the straight and narrow of the Light Fae for so many generations the past had almost been buried forever. Then, Lena uncovered the truth.
As soon as she learned who she was descended from and how the Muldowney family had been feared and respected as they wreaked havoc within all the Fae, she suddenly knew she wasn’t the different one in her family. It was everyone else. From that day on, Lena had silently plotted her way to power.
Her answer to it all? The Others.
If they had never come to Earth, if they had never set out to destroy the Dragon Kings, then she wouldn’t have found out about them. She wouldn’t have sought out the five like-minded Fae. Once they formed the Six, it was incredibly easy to lure other disillusioned Fae into their larger group.
It was Lena’s idea to take a small portion of those Fae. The others, the Six, split their magic after killing them. At first, Lena had feared the Six would realize that she’d stopped being a Light somewhere along the way and had turned Dark. Oddly enough, none of them had. Then, she’d killed them. Making her the one in charge. The only one.
And being on top felt wonderful. Right, even. As if she had been destined for this since before she was born. This was only the beginning. She had so much more planned for the Fae once she stood without enemies coming for her.
There were too many Fae. Her soldiers rooted out the weak ones and brought them to the manor, where they died in the maze, giving Lena their magic. The population was dwindling considerably, but there was still so much more to go.
It would come, though. She had no doubt. Then, she would let the Fae loose on the humans. The silly mortals thought they could do whatever they wanted. The Dragon Kings had given up the realm to them, but she wouldn’t. The humans needed to know their place. They were food for the Dark. And with their overpopulated cities, the Dark could feast as they’d never feasted before.
This magnificent realm the mortals had decimated would bounce back with her care—and the removal of those who thought only of themselves.
Lena leaned her head back against the settee. “Soon,” she whispered.
Chapter Twelve
Xaneth had made a promise to Aisling that he intended to keep. Not just for her but also for himself. He probably shouldn’t have said it, but he’d looked into her eyes, and the words had just fallen from his lips.
But that was how things were with Aisling.
Anytime he was around her, he said and did things he wouldn’t normally do. Like talking to her. He hadn’t meant to share so much of himself. Yet, at the same time, it had felt right. She hadn’t looked down her nose at him, hadn’t pitied him. She’d listened and accepted. Perhaps he should’ve realized she would do that, but it had still come as a surprise—a good one, but a surprise, nonetheless.
Now, they were walking again. He shortened his strides so they could walk together. He didn’t want to like her beside him, but he did. Too much, actually. There was no going back now, however. He’d crossed the line he’d tried so hard not to cross. He’d known speaking with Aisling would be easy. He’d known he would enjoy it.
It was one of the reasons he had pushed her away so determinedly. Not that it had gotten him anywhere but exactly where he’d attempted not to be. Yet, even then, he wasn’t angry about it. It was Aisling, after all. The way she looked at him with her crimson eyes, the way her lips curved into a smile. Her throaty voice that made him want to drag her into his arms and kiss her until they were both breathless and needy.
He wouldn’t. Of that, he was sure. He might not be able to send her away now, and he had caved with the conversing, but that was where things ended. He was sure he wouldn’t cross that line. Nothing and no one could make him do that.
Xaneth didn’t know how long they walked this time. He saw Aisling’s fatigue, felt his. The Fae were a hearty species but they still needed sustenance. It had been some time since he had eaten anything or even had water. He could only hope that after Aisling had woken in Kilbaha after the headache that she had gotten food. Otherwise…
He focused on putting one foot in front of the other. The tunnels were eerily quiet. The only sound that of their footsteps and the endless dripping water. He didn’t think anything was down here with them, but neither he nor Aisling wanted to test that theory.
When he next pulled himself out of his musings, he noticed that neither of them was walking with quite as much gusto as before. He touched Aisling’s arm to get her attention. Her head whipped to him, and surprise shone on her face, showing she had been lost in her thoughts.
“Let’s rest,” he said.
The fact that she didn’t object told him how weary she was. They sat across from each other once more. He planted his feet on the ground as he rested his arms over his knees. Aisling sighed when she leaned her head back.
“I think we might be lost,” she said.
He chuckled. “It’s a real possibility.”
“I confess, I’ve not been paying attention to which tunnels we’ve taken. And we don’t have breadcrumbs to leave to backtrack.”
Xaneth frowned. “I’ve not paid attention either.”
The only time they had turned around was when they’d come to a dead end. There had been a lot of those. It became frustrating.
“How much longer do you think we have?” she asked.
He held her gaze and shrugged. “I can’t say.”
“I won’t hold you to your promise to get us out. I never intended on it.”
“I don’t give vows lightly. I made it. I will keep it.”
Her smile was soft as she tucked her hair behind her ears. “Some things are out of our control.”
Not this. This was a maze. Something he could figure out—if only he could keep his mind on the task. “We just need to concentrate more on where we’re going.”
“Sure.”
“You’re not giving up, are you?”
She lifted a brow. “I don’t know the meaning of the word.”
But something flashed in her eyes. Something that looked suspiciously like capitulation. “I’ll carry you if I have to.”
“I’m fine.”
“Your eyes say differently.”
She released a long breath and looked at the floor. “I was thinking about the past. I gave up once.”
“There’s nothing wrong in acknowledging that.”
“There is.”
That’s it. Two words. Nothing else to explain what she meant. The tightness he saw on her face told him that whatever memories she had delved into were dark and perilous. He needed to pull her out of them quickly. “You might need to carry me.”
Her gaze lifted to his, and he saw in her red depths that she knew exactly what he was doing. “Are you afraid I can’t?”
“Oh, I’ve no doubt you could lug my arse anywhere you wanted.”
Her lips pulled into a hint of a smile. “I absolutely could.”
“I know.”
Her soft laugh made him grin. He loved the sound and wanted to hear more.
She tilted her head to the side as she regarded him. “Talking to me isn’t so bad, is it?”
“Nay.”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” she said, suddenly serious. “My life before I was a Reaper might have been questionable, but not now. Eoghan and the rest of the lads…we’ve accomplished things that have made me feel as if I’ve made up for some of my past actions. I’m not afraid of dying. I just don’t want Lena to take my magic.”
Xaneth’s chest tightened at her words of death. The image of her so still in his arms on Skye flashed in his mind, making his hands clench. “It isn’t your time to die.”
“I’m not saying it is. I’m merely stating things that you need to know if you have to decide to leave me behind.”
“Nay.” He said it more harshly than intended.
She gave him a flat look. “I’m a realist, remember? I’m pragmatic. I see the facts before me. It’s easy to identify the outcomes.”
“Stop.” He didn’t want to hear this. Not now. Not ever.
“Xaneth, I–”
Their heads snapped to the side at the fearsome howl of an animal that rang ominously through the tunnels. Aisling was on her feet first. Xaneth joined her and stared down the darkened tunnel in the direction they had come.
“You heard that, right?” Aisling whispered.
He nodded. “Aye.”
“Any ideas what it might be?”
“Nothing good.”
The next howl was long, the sound unnatural in the maze’s silence.
“Lena might have gotten tired of waiting on me to die.”
Xaneth turned his head to her. “We have two options. We fight or we run.”
“Three options,” she said, looking at him.
He quirked a brow in question.
“We know it’s coming. We set a little trap of our own.”
Xaneth couldn’t stop the smile. “It’s no wonder you’re a Reaper.”
She shrugged, but he saw by her smile that she was pleased with his words. “Thought you might like that.”
“What are you thinking?”
Aisling turned and pointed to two openings on either side of the tunnel. “We each take a side. That thing will have to choose which one of us it wants. Once it decides, the other joins in, and the two of us kill it.”
“You’re forgetting one thing.”
“That we can’t use magic? I’ve not forgotten,” she replied with a mischievous smile. “Have I told you how much I love hand-to-hand fighting? We Fae don’t do it too much because of our magic and all, but it does come in handy.”
When another bay filled the tunnel, Xaneth looked in that direction. “Whatever Lena is sending will be lethal. We don’t know the size or even what it is, but I doubt we can outrun it.”
“Exactly. Whatever it is, our best chance is making it choose. It’ll turn its back on one of us, giving us a slight advantage.”
“That’s assuming there is only one of them.”
“I only heard one howl.”
So had he, but he didn’t want to bet his—or Aisling’s—life on that. If there were two, well, they were fekked.
“We can do this. We have to,” Aisling said.
Xaneth nodded and turned to her. “Let’s get into position.”
