Page 44 of Destined to the Reaper

He nodded. “As part of the binding ritual, yes.”

I jumped to my feet, shock and denial swelling through me. “Does that mean that he can bind him again since he still has his scythe?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, and what Cornelius intends to do.”

“Like hell he will!” I hissed, my hands fisting with anger. “We are going to kill him anyway to make him pay and to free my brother.”

“You cannot help him as a mortal,” Haroth said with a finality that took my breath away.

“As his mate—his bride as he calls me—”

“Youwilldie,” the Grim Reaper interrupted sharply. “You have two choices, stay behind or bond with him. I can see the threads of life. There is no question that you will die if you help him confront Cornelius without having given him your soul.”

I shuddered and hugged my waist, my eyes flicking from side to side as I assessed his words.

“And what of Pharos? What does his thread look like? Do Reapers even have one?” I asked, still struggling to come to terms with his words.

“He will likely die,” Haroth said in a factual manner.

“What?! How?”

“If Cornelius didn’t have his scythe, Pharos would easily crush him. But without it, and the other rituals the necromancer is plotting, it will be extremely challenging for him, and nearly impossible on his own.”

“You have your scythe. Can’t you help him?” I asked, my voice pleading.

“Unfortunately, I cannot,” he said in an apologetic tone.

I recoiled, anger instantly surging within me. “Why the hell not?! And don’t give me that covenant nonsense. Of your own admission, you’re a Grim Reaper, not an Angel of Death, which means you can kill at will. Plus Pharos is your blood brother. What greater bond to justify helping him?”

“Your statements are correct, but your interpretation is not. You will recall that I said that Grims can kill at will, but thereis a cost like when a human commits a murder. Gods, Ancients, and most demigods like me are not allowed to interfere in the affairs of mortals. We can only step in if the outcome of an action performed by a mortal threatens the balance.”

“But there is a direct threat against your brother! How is that the affairs of mortals?” I argued, baffled.

“Because the entire situation was created by a human seeking to elevate himself. Throughout your history, practitioners of the dark arts have devised clever ways to harness the powers of the netherworld or enslave beings from beyond the Veil for their own benefit. As upset as this makes us, we never interfere, as it is part of the path the mortals have chosen for themselves. It is unfortunate for those who got trapped, like my brother, but it is part of their own journey to fight their way back out of it.”

“Humans screw over demigods, angels, and demons, and a lot of you just sit back beating your chests and sending thoughts and prayers?!” I snapped angrily.

“While I wouldn’t have quite put it that way, that description is fairly accurate minus the beating our chest part,” he replied in a slightly mocking fashion before sobering. “We can help tip the scale, like I’m doing right now by trying to nudge you into assisting him. But I cannot interfere directly.”

“If that’s true, why didn’t Pharos tell me about any of this?” I challenged.

“First, probably because he didn’t have a chance to do so, thanks to the impromptu trip Cornelius took them on. Second, because he probably wanted to see if you both would even make it out of this first mission in one piece. And last, but not least, because he’s finding out just now from his mother about the diabolical plan the necromancer has in store for him.”

I opened my mouth to ask a question, but a ripple in the Veil stopped me. I jerked my head to the right, towards the large doors leading to a private terrace.

“Speaking of the little Angel…” Haroth said teasingly.

He made his way towards the patio doors. They parted open before him in response to a flick of his hand. Only then did I hear the flapping sound of wings. I instinctively hastened after him. I no sooner emerged on the impressively large balcony than Pharos entered my line of sight, flying from another balcony located near the main entrance.

The look of panic on his handsome face upon seeing his brother knotted my insides. Had Haroth lied to me? Was he in fact an enemy? I perceived no deception from him, and his words had all been aimed at benefiting Pharos.

But my man diving and landing in front of me in a protective stance put an end to my musings.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Pharos demanded angrily at his brother, his wings spread as a protective wall to shield me from him.

“Peace, Brother,” Haroth said in that same insufferable mocking tone.

“Her time is not now!” Pharos continued in the same harsh tone, seeming oblivious to the Grim Reaper’s comment. “I’ve seen her thread. And I marked her.”

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