and drew it into her lap while covertly observing Kyran.
He had an easygoing attitude now. One that hadn’t been there before, and by the way the others were acting, one they’d never seen.
Kyran looked up and met her gaze. “Ready?”
“Ready,” she said and settled back in her chair.
River was ready—for whatever came her way, regardless if it was Dark Fae, Bran, or anything else. She had strength she hadn’t had before.
Because of Kyran.
Chapter Thirteen
Bran was impatient. He should’ve killed Cael already. But it was enough that he slayed Baylon’s woman. Bran smiled, thinking about how Baylon’s bellow echoed around the flat that day.
How shaken Talin, Kyran, and Fintan had looked. The murderous expression on Eoghan’s face. The best part had been Cael. He’d been shocked and enraged.
Those images were what kept Bran focused. Thousands of half-Fae had already been killed—and he was just getting started.
Searlas strode toward him, his boot heels resonating throughout the empty room. It hadn’t taken much for Bran to convince the occupants of the manor to leave—and never return.
He stared out the window toward the North Sea and watched a storm rolling inland. By the way Searlas strode with heavy footfalls, Bran’s good mood would soon disappear.
As his lieutenant approached, Bran turned to face him. The occupants hadn’t just left the house, they also took all the furniture.
With a snap of his fingers, the study was filled with furniture, down to pictures on the walls and a roaring fire in the hearth.
Bran walked to the sofa before the fire and sat. A moment later, Searlas halted next to the hearth. “Spit it out,” Bran demanded.
“The men we sent out for the books never returned.”
What were the odds that the Reapers had been at the library? Next to none. Bran leaned back and spread his arms along the back of the sofa. “And the books?”
“It’s magic making them appear to be there, but they’ve been taken.”
Bran raised a brow as he turned his head to Searlas. “All of them?”
“The ones that you asked for, aye.”
His men dead and the books gone. Coincidence? Not likely. “Bring me the librarian. She’ll know something.”
“I looked for her. She’s missing.”
“Cael,” Bran said through clenched teeth.
How had the Reapers learned of the books? If they had them, then that put things in a new perspective. “Find Seamus. If anyone can locate these books, it’s him.”
“He’s not returned to his home. I told you he disappeared.”
“You told me he couldn’t be found.”
Searlas shrugged. “I went looking for him again.”
It took every effort Bran had to keep his calm. The element of surprise he had was now gone. The Reapers—and Death—knew he was after them.
But he still had something they didn’t—the need for vengeance.
Death obliterated the woman he loved. Bran was going to make Erith pay for such a transgression. Cael and Eoghan would experience their own special kind of torture Bran had thought of while he was in the Netherworld.
As for the rest of the Reapers, he would allow his army of Dark to kill them—while Death, Cael, and Eoghan watched.
Bran imagined how Baylon felt losing his woman. He would be nothing but trouble for Cael as Baylon struggled with the loss, anger, and helplessness.
“You’re smiling?” Searlas asked in confusion.
Bran nodded. “I killed Baylon’s woman. I know what he’s going through right now, and that pain trumps anything the Reapers might gain.”
“What’s the plan then?”
“No one else could’ve gotten those books or killed my men. Check on the other books on that list. There are thirty of them, but I can guess they’re all missing.”
“Which means the Reapers have them,” Searlas interjected.
“Precisely.”
Searlas crossed his arms over his chest. “How does the librarian factor into this? They wouldn’t need her.”
“You spoke with her?”
“No. She was helping someone
He had an easygoing attitude now. One that hadn’t been there before, and by the way the others were acting, one they’d never seen.
Kyran looked up and met her gaze. “Ready?”
“Ready,” she said and settled back in her chair.
River was ready—for whatever came her way, regardless if it was Dark Fae, Bran, or anything else. She had strength she hadn’t had before.
Because of Kyran.
Chapter Thirteen
Bran was impatient. He should’ve killed Cael already. But it was enough that he slayed Baylon’s woman. Bran smiled, thinking about how Baylon’s bellow echoed around the flat that day.
How shaken Talin, Kyran, and Fintan had looked. The murderous expression on Eoghan’s face. The best part had been Cael. He’d been shocked and enraged.
Those images were what kept Bran focused. Thousands of half-Fae had already been killed—and he was just getting started.
Searlas strode toward him, his boot heels resonating throughout the empty room. It hadn’t taken much for Bran to convince the occupants of the manor to leave—and never return.
He stared out the window toward the North Sea and watched a storm rolling inland. By the way Searlas strode with heavy footfalls, Bran’s good mood would soon disappear.
As his lieutenant approached, Bran turned to face him. The occupants hadn’t just left the house, they also took all the furniture.
With a snap of his fingers, the study was filled with furniture, down to pictures on the walls and a roaring fire in the hearth.
Bran walked to the sofa before the fire and sat. A moment later, Searlas halted next to the hearth. “Spit it out,” Bran demanded.
“The men we sent out for the books never returned.”
What were the odds that the Reapers had been at the library? Next to none. Bran leaned back and spread his arms along the back of the sofa. “And the books?”
“It’s magic making them appear to be there, but they’ve been taken.”
Bran raised a brow as he turned his head to Searlas. “All of them?”
“The ones that you asked for, aye.”
His men dead and the books gone. Coincidence? Not likely. “Bring me the librarian. She’ll know something.”
“I looked for her. She’s missing.”
“Cael,” Bran said through clenched teeth.
How had the Reapers learned of the books? If they had them, then that put things in a new perspective. “Find Seamus. If anyone can locate these books, it’s him.”
“He’s not returned to his home. I told you he disappeared.”
“You told me he couldn’t be found.”
Searlas shrugged. “I went looking for him again.”
It took every effort Bran had to keep his calm. The element of surprise he had was now gone. The Reapers—and Death—knew he was after them.
But he still had something they didn’t—the need for vengeance.
Death obliterated the woman he loved. Bran was going to make Erith pay for such a transgression. Cael and Eoghan would experience their own special kind of torture Bran had thought of while he was in the Netherworld.
As for the rest of the Reapers, he would allow his army of Dark to kill them—while Death, Cael, and Eoghan watched.
Bran imagined how Baylon felt losing his woman. He would be nothing but trouble for Cael as Baylon struggled with the loss, anger, and helplessness.
“You’re smiling?” Searlas asked in confusion.
Bran nodded. “I killed Baylon’s woman. I know what he’s going through right now, and that pain trumps anything the Reapers might gain.”
“What’s the plan then?”
“No one else could’ve gotten those books or killed my men. Check on the other books on that list. There are thirty of them, but I can guess they’re all missing.”
“Which means the Reapers have them,” Searlas interjected.
“Precisely.”
Searlas crossed his arms over his chest. “How does the librarian factor into this? They wouldn’t need her.”
“You spoke with her?”
“No. She was helping someone
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