Eoghan reared back his hand and lobbed the orb of magic at the barrier. It slammed against it, sparks flying. Again and again, he threw magic, each strike mightier than the last. Because one of his Reapers was inside.
Because a family member needed help.
Rordan glanced around for any sign of his brethren. His apprehension doubled when they didn’t appear. Something was very, very wrong. He glanced at the Others. He wasn’t afraid of taking them on himself. He was a Reaper, after all.
Even if fighting them cost him his life, he would gain some knowledge of the Others. Hopefully, he would stay alive long enough to either pass on that information to the Reapers or give them time to arrive.
Rordan was about to jump to the ground when he spotted someone walking through the forest toward them. It wasn’t Dorcha, but something about the person was familiar. He only saw the top of them, and no matter which way he leaned, he couldn’t get a view of their face.
“Well, well, well,” Borgar said when he spotted the Fae. “Who do we have here?”
Both Hemming and Fearghal looked to see what Borgar meant. It was Hemming who smiled and replied, “Ignore my associate. What can we do for you?”
Their attitude was so different from what it had been with Dorcha that Rordan was taken aback. But it was nothing compared to what he felt when the visitor spoke.
“I’ve come for you.”
Rordan’s mouth dropped open. He knew that voice. Xaneth. He started to call for Eoghan again, then decided against it. If Xaneth was here, then the two of them could battle the Others.
Borgar laughed. “Have you now? Then come and get me.”
Rordan lowered his veil and leapt from the tree to land beside Xaneth. The royal Fae didn’t even look his way.
“Who the fek are you?” Borgar asked.
Rordan smiled. “Someone very interested in you and your friend.”
Borgar widened his stance. “What are you waiting for?”
Hemming held out a hand toward Fearghal and formed a ball of magic. Then, without looking at the elder O’Hannon, he pushed it into the back of Fearghal’s head. The Fae didn’t even have time to give a cry of pain before he was dead. Hemming made his way to Rordan and Xaneth before Fearghal had disintegrated to ash.
Out of the corner of his eye, Rordan watched as Xaneth and Borgar clashed. Rordan focused on Hemming as the Fae pulled back his hands before releasing two orbs of magic. Rordan rolled to the side to dodge them before coming up on one knee and releasing his own blast of magic. He climbed to his feet and threw a ball low. Hemming never saw it as he was too intent on the one coming at his head.
The Light dodged the first orb, but the second hit him on the left shin. It knocked Hemming’s foot back, causing him to fall flat on his face. He rolled onto his back and did a kick-up to his feet. As he turned, he sent three quick shots of magic at Rordan.
Rordan weaved to dodge the blasts, though one came entirely too close for comfort. He was more than surprised that the wound on Hemming’s leg didn’t seem to pain him. The Light hadn’t slowed or even limped. Had he not gone down, Rordan would have wondered if he had even struck the Other.
He moved closer to Hemming, alternating throwing magic and his knives. Most Fae only battled with magic, but not him—or any of the Reapers. Getting closer to an opponent meant that it became more difficult to dodge magic for both of them. It was a price Rordan was willing to pay. He landed two more volleys of magic—and three knives. And still, the Light didn’t show any signs of stopping.
Rordan winced as one of Hemming’s orbs hit his left hip. The magic burned through his clothes and skin into the muscle and cartilage, all the way down to the bone. The pain was excruciating. He ignored it and took the final step as he threw another ball of magic that would bring him close enough for hand-to-hand combat.
He got the chance when Hemming ducked the orb aimed at his face. When he straightened, Rordan punched him in the jaw and did a twisting flip over Hemming to land behind him and then punched him in the kidney. Just as Rordan was getting ready to send a volley of magic, the Light spun away.
They clashed again in a flurry of fists and elbows, each landing several hits. In between punches, balls of magic were thrown until both of them were covered in wounds. Rordan’s healed quickly thanks to him being a Reaper. But to his shock, Hemming healed even faster.
Rordan deflected a punch from Hemming, then grabbed Hemming’s arm with his left hand and twisted as he smashed his elbow into the Light’s face. The crack of bone, followed by a spray of blood, caused Hemming to howl with anger. He used Rordan’s move against him and flipped behind Rordan. Before Rordan had a chance to move away, agony radiated from the middle of his back outward. He tried to stay on his feet, to keep fighting, but the magic was already affecting his spine. He fell forward, landing heavily. He gritted his teeth against the stinging pain and rolled onto his side. He got a glimpse of Xaneth and Borgar off to the side. The royal didn’t have a single wound on him, while the Dark Other had several.
Hemming came to stand before Rordan, blocking his view of the fight.
“Ready to die?” the Light asked.
Rordan smiled through the agony and the healing of his wound. “I won’t be the one dying tonight.”
“You’re state of lying on the ground in discomfort says otherwise,” Hemming stated.
Rordan didn’t reply. He was giving his body all the time it needed to heal. He wanted Hemming to think he was dying, that he was weak.
Hemming dropped to one knee and raised an arm up and back as a ball of magic formed. “Only the infamous Reapers could have held their own with us. I thought you would be more of a challenge. I can’t wait to tell those in my organization. Now that we know we can best you, we’ll wipe you all out in a blink.”
Questions flooded Rordan’s mind. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, but I do,” Hemming replied with a smile.
As the Light thrust his hand down to deal a killing blow, Rordan raised his hand with his own bubble of magic and slammed it into the side of Hemming’s face. The Light bellowed in pain and rolled away.
Rordan jumped to his feet, ignoring the lingering pain of his wounds. “You’re going to tell me everything I want to know.”
Hemming held the side of his face, now burned, as he looked up at Rordan. He shook his head, then a frown formed. Rordan grabbed him by the back of the neck, unable to hold back his smile as he pressed the blade of one of his knives against the Fae’s throat.
“Did you just try to teleport?” Rordan tsked. “That’s not very nice. We aren’t finished here.”
“You’re going to die, Reaper.”
Movement out of the corner of his eye caught Rordan’s attention. The sight of his father with shock and pride in his eyes caused Rordan to lose his train of thought.
“Is it true?” Renault asked.
Rordan knew what his father was asking, but he couldn’t answer. Even if he wanted to.
Renault swallowed, his lips turning up in a smile. “It’s all right. You don’t need to say. I just wa—”
His father’s words were cut off as a blast of magic from Hemming hit him square in the chest. Rordan pulled back his lips in a bellow before his fingers sank into the Light’s skin all the way to his spinal column. The moment Rordan felt bone, he yanked out the Other’s spine. Hemming disintegrated instantly.