“Drake? Why, he and my dad both worked at the same Protectorate warehouse in New York. My dad got transferred there earlier this year after the battle at the North Carolina academy.” Lance grinned. “My dad and Drake really hit it off. Did you know that it was Drake’s idea to start stealing weapons and artifacts from the warehouse and sell them to Sisyphus and the rest of Drake’s Reaper friends?”
Ian’s hands balled into fists again, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. Zoe winced in sympathy. Yeah, me too. It was one thing to know that your brother was a Reaper. It was another to have someone rub your face in it the way Lance was doing.
“But of course the Protectorate found out what they were doing, and my dad was killed in that raid.” Lance’s face darkened again. “But they say that when one door closes, a window opens. In this case, my dad died, but I made a new friend.”
“What do you mean?” Ian snapped.
Instead of answering him, Lance gestured at the Reaper who was still holding that dagger on Ian. The Reaper lowered the dagger, slid the weapon into a holster on his belt, and strode over to where Lance was leaning against the desk.
The Reaper turned to face everyone. He pulled off his black gloves and threw them on top of the desk, then reached up and pushed back the hood of his black cloak, revealing his golden hair.
“Oh, no,” Zoe whispered.
I glanced at her, wondering what she meant, but her horrified gaze was focused on the Reaper. So was Ian’s.
The Reaper grabbed his black harlequin mask and drew it up and over his head, revealing his face. He was in his early twenties, a couple of years older than the rest of us. His eyes were a sharp, piercing blue, but the rest of his handsome features were shockingly familiar. Great cheekbones, straight nose, strong jaw. Even though I had never seen him before, I still knew exactly who he was.
Drake Hunter—Ian’s older brother.
Chapter Fourteen
Contrary to what the Protectorate and everyone else thought, Drake Hunter was very much alive.
At the sight of his older brother, all the color drained from Ian’s face, and he swayed on his feet, as though he were about to topple over and pass out from the complete and utter shock.
I glanced at Zoe, but she was still staring at Drake with wide eyes, so I concentrated on what I could hear through my earbud. Takeda and Mateo had made it from the van up to the mansion, although they were stuck somewhere downstairs, yelling at the kids to get out of their way. They didn’t realize what was happening yet.
Well, I didn’t know Drake, and I wasn’t as shocked as Ian and Zoe, so I did the smart thing and started sizing him up as a warrior. As a Viking, he would be strong, probably even stronger than Ian, given that he was two inches taller and much more heavily muscled than his younger brother. A long sword was belted to his waist, along with that dagger he’d brandished at Ian.
A large ruby flashed in the sword’s hilt, catching my eye, and I noticed a blood-red spark in the center of the gem. The longer I stared at that spark, the brighter it burned, like it was about to ignite into a raging fire. I didn’t know what that ruby was, but it was obvious that it was much more than a pretty decoration. I shivered and looked away from it.
“You—you—you’re here. How did you get here?” Ian sputtered, his face still white with shock. “I saw you die, Drake. I—I killed you.”
Drake raised his golden eyebrows. “You mean when you stabbed me in the chest and left me to be buried under tons of falling rubble when the warehouse exploded?”
Ian grimaced.
“Well, lucky for me, Sisyphus was there. He pulled me to safety, which is more than I can say for you,” Drake said. “You know, I never thought my own brother would leave me for dead. But you did, Ian. Just like that.”
He snapped his fingers. Ian flinched at the harsh sound and swayed on his feet again. Two of the Reapers stepped up beside him and latched onto his arms. Not so much to guard him as simply to hold him upright.
Drake walked over and stopped right in front of his brother. “You could have been a part of this. You could have been a part of our victory against the Protectorate. You could have fought alongside me the way you always did before. But you chose the Protectorate over me, your own brother. You’re a fool, Ian. Such a sad, stupid, shortsighted fool.”
That last insult roused Ian out of his shocked daze. His face hardened, his chin lifted, and his entire body straightened. Once again, he was the proud Viking warrior I’d come to know.
“You’re a Reaper, Drake,” Ian snarled. “You didn’t give me a choice. You told me to either join the Reapers or die. And then, when I refused, you attacked me. You say that I stabbed you in the chest? Well, at least I did it to your face. You killed Protectorate guards—innocent men and women you’d fought alongside. Who believed in you. Who trusted you. And how did you repay their trust? By stabbing them in the back in cold-blooded murder. And for what? A few lousy artifacts?”
“More than a few artifacts,” Drake replied. “As you’ll soon see for yourself.”
Ian glared at his brother again, but Drake smiled back at him.
“Although I have to admit that I was touched by how much you cried at my funeral. I stood in the shadows at the cemetery and watched the whole thing. I didn’t expect so many tears from you, but I supposed you felt guilty about leaving me to die.” Drake shook his head. “You always were a sentimental fool that way.”
Anger and embarrassment stained Ian’s cheeks a dark red, but it didn’t hide the deep, agonizing hurt that filled his eyes at his brother’s cruel words. My heart ached for the Viking. At this moment, Ian’s pain was even greater than my own. At least I’d never had to confront my parents about their being Reapers the way he was hearing his own brother gloat about it right now.
Drake kept smirking at Ian, who raised his fists and surged forward again. But the two Reapers held him in place and lifted their swords in warning, stopping Ian from attacking his brother.
Lance cleared his throat. “As touching as this little reunion is, we do have a schedule to keep. You know as well as I do that Sisyphus doesn’t like to be kept waiting. We need to get what he wants and get out of here.”
Drake opened his mouth like he was going to snipe at the younger guy, but he closed his lips, apparently thinking better of it. After a moment, he nodded his agreement.
My eyes narrowed. So Lance and Drake were both working for the mysterious Sisyphus, and Lance had stolen the chimera scepter on Sisyphus’s orders. Lance and Drake had to realize that Protectorate warriors were on their way to the mansion right now, so why didn’t they go ahead, kill us, and leave? What were they waiting for? What else did Sisyphus want besides the chimera scepter?
“You’re not going to get away with this.” Ian spat out the words. “Neither one of you. I’ll make sure of it.”
Lance laughed. “Get away with it? We’ve already gotten away with it.” He looked at Drake. “You didn’t tell me that your brother was such a clueless idiot.”
Drake shrugged.