Reaper's Vow by Sarah McCarty Page B

Isaiah’s hand. “Cole doesn’t need protecting, either. It drives him crazy not to know the way of things.”
    That was the truth.
    â€œWho wants to kill you?”
    â€œOther Reapers.”
    â€œThere are more of you? How many?”
    â€œWe don’t know.”
    â€œWhat do you mean ‘you don’t know’?”
    â€œTen, twenty, could be a thousand. We don’t know.”
    â€œThat’s one of the problems,” Addy said.
    â€œOne of what problems?”
    â€œIt’s not something Isaiah likes to talk about.”
    â€œTough.” If others were trying to kill Addy, Cole wanted to know about it.
    She sighed. “Cole. You don’t need to know everything tonight.”
    â€œI’ve been on your damn trail for two months, Addy. You think I want to wait one more minute for the answers to my questions?”
    â€œI think you need to,” Isaiah interrupted.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause we need to discuss it.”
    â€œYou and I?”
    â€œNo.” Isaiah stated calmly. “The council and I.”
    â€œDiscuss what?”
    â€œHow much to tell an outsider.”
    Son of a bitch. “I’ve got to wait on a bunch of Reapers to come to agreement?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œIs that as impossible as it sounds?”
    A smile quirked Isaiah’s lips. “Pretty much.”
    â€œThen someone better get me a drink.”

4
    He had to wait for the whiskey in the small cabin they’d assigned to him. It took only twenty strides to get from one end to the other. He knew because he’d done it seven times now. He was about to measure off the other directions when a knock on the door interrupted his plans. He opened the door.
    â€œThat’d better be my whiskey.”
    It was, though it was only half a bottle and was thrust at him with disgruntled charity by a scowling Gaelen.
    â€œYou’d damn well better savor that.”
    Cole took the bottle. Liquid sloshed inside the container. “I intend to.”
    Gaelen let it go reluctantly. Cole could understand. Sometimes the only thing standing between a man and pure loco was the balancing burn of whiskey. He stepped back and motioned to the dark interior. “Care for a shot?”
    Gaelen pushed past him, heading straight for the mantel. When he turned, he had two tin cups in his hand. Clearly, he’d been here before.
    â€œDamn nice of you to offer me my own whiskey.”
    The cups clanked together as he set them on the too short, wobbly table.
    Cole pulled the cork and poured a double measure in each cup. “I’m feeling downright charitable.”
    Gaelen tossed back the whiskey and slammed the cup on the table. “I don’t care how you feel as long as you don’t get comfortable.”
    Cole sipped his whiskey more slowly. And not only because it had the raw taste of liquor rushed to the bottle, but because Gaelen was a man who had the answers Cole wanted. It was just a matter of prying them out of him. Cole favored the philosophy that all he needed to get the right answers was the right prod. From the way Gaelen was guzzling that whiskey, Cole might have already found it.
    â€œNot much chance of that.”
    He poured the man another glass. Gaelen took it without a thanks. “I’ve heard you’re a stubborn son of a bitch.”
    â€œSo everyone keeps telling me.”
    Gaelen cocked an eyebrow at him. And Cole realized under the shaggy hair and beard the man wasn’t as old as he’d assumed.
    â€œWhat would you call it?” Gaelen prodded.
    â€œDoing right.”
    â€œYou think it’s right to chase down your cousin and drag her home whether she wants to go or not?”
    Cole placed his cup on the table and let his energy whip out. “Yes. Addy’s a Cameron.”
    Gaelen didn’t even flinch. “We just fought a war over that issue. One soul can’t own another.”
    Interesting phrasing.