The Keepers: Declan. Rae Rivers

Declan turned his Harley Davidson toward Rapid Falls.

      A town where people were friendly, sociable and determined to maintain their traditions. A peaceful village surrounded by mountains, rivers and grape vineyards.

       Peaceful, my ass.

      Frustration chewing at the last of his patience, he slowed the bike to a crawl and made his way through the main road. The street was lined with ancient trees, immaculate gardens, quaint stores, and old thatched buildings meticulously restored by the townsfolk. Everything was shrouded in snow.

      It was quite a contrast to the hustle and bustle of New Orleans.

      He parked his bike outside his brother’s restaurant, abandoned his helmet on the seat and went inside, waving at old friends standing further down the sidewalk. He should have gone over to greet them. They’d all be combing the Bennett vineyards soon to assist with the annual harvest, but his mood was beyond idle chit chat.

      He stood in the doorway, willing away the gloom that always came over him whenever he walked into the restaurant.

      Sarah’s restaurant.

      Raw brick walls, a wooden bar, and low lighting. It was modern, but warm and comforting. Although still unfinished, the old pub had been converted into a dining experience his sister would’ve been proud of.

      Her dream – gone in a flash of violence.

      The memory reared its head before Declan could stop it and he slammed the door so hard that the hinges groaned in protest.

      “Whoa, look what the cat dragged in,” Ethan said, walking into the room. He unloaded a box of alcohol onto the bar counter, his easy smile fading as he took in his brother’s harsh frown. Without saying a word, he reached under the counter and produced a bottle of bourbon.

      Declan discarded his gloves and jacket on a nearby table. The drink was needed, the warm liquid offering the comfort he sought. He held out the glass for a refill.

      Ethan’s narrowed eyes scrutinized Declan as he judged his brother’s mood. His own short dark hair arranged to perfection, freshly shaven, and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, Ethan looked a far cry from Declan’s ragged appearance.

      Not that Declan cared. He glanced around the room and gave a nod of approval. “You’ve made progress.”

      “No thanks to you.”

      “Hey, I told you that this was your baby. Besides, I’ve had my hands full.”

      “With bourbon and women apparently.”

      Declan held the glass to his lips, pausing, and flashed his brother a smirk. “Careful, brother, you’re starting to sound like Archer.”

      “He’s worried, Declan.”

      “He should back off. I’m not about to lose the plot again.”

      Once had been enough; he’d almost drowned himself in alcohol and grief.

      Sienna walked through the swinging door, a slender vision of red hair and pale skin, carrying a box of wine.

      His witch.

      The woman he was duty bound to defend and did so without resentment or regret. A devotion few others could understand. But they fought the same war, carried the same weight that came with their responsibilities, and shared the same grief over the ones they’d lost.

      She was his best friend, his ally, and one of the few people who could maintain a stand-off with him. They’d often butted heads, but she was like a sister to him and he adored her.

      “Declan!” she gasped, her pensive expression shifting to pure delight. “You’re back!”

      He went to her, removing the box from her arms and setting it on the floor. When he turned around, she pounced, throwing her arms around him.

      He kissed her head, breathing in her familiar smell that always reminded him of home. “Hey, witchy.”

      She pulled back to flash him a smile but it was quick to vanish when she took in his messy appearance. “You look … ”

      “Gorgeous? Handsome?”

      “Tired.”

      His teasing smile faded and he gave a quick nod. “It’s been a crap few days. Is Archer here?”

      “He’s at Lora’s store,” she replied. “She needed help shifting a few boxes.”

      Lora’s clothing boutique was situated across the street. She was an old friend of Rose’s and a witch, but had given up magic many years ago when her daughter had fled town. Even though Lora had refused the protection of a Keeper, they were equally protective of her. “Is she okay?”

      “Lora’s fine. You just missed Tara. You should call her.”

      “The harvest?”

      “She has everything under control but I don’t think she’s itching to speak to you about work.”

      Declan frowned, not up for a chat about his relationship with Tara. Their attractive estate manager had a great smile and an even better personality. She’d been a fitting distraction but that’s all it had been. “Don’t tell her you saw me.”

      Sienna shot him a look of disgust. “You’re such an ass to her.”

      “I’ve only ever been honest with her. She knows where we stand.”

      “I don’t know why she still wants anything to do with you.”

      “Of course you wouldn’t know,” Declan retorted, cracking a smirk. “You’ve never had sex with me.”

      Her face scrunched in horror and she punched his arm. “Declan! Ew!”

      He laughed and finished his drink, nudging the empty glass at his brother.

      Raising a brow, Ethan refilled the glass and slid it toward him. “Where’s the girl?”

      Declan exhaled noisily and sank onto a vacant bar stool. “She’s gone.”

      Sienna’s shocked gasp nipped at his words. “As in Harper has her or killed her?”

      “She’s still alive.”

      “Where is she?”

      Declan rolled his eyes. “If I knew, she’d be here, not off with the damn warlock.”

      “You lost her?” they asked in perfect unison and he almost flinched at their incredulous tones.

      Almost.

      But flinching would reveal his disgust.

      “How could you let that happen?” Ethan asked, irritation lining his words.

      “The wildcat drugged me this morning.” Declan took another sip of whiskey which did nothing to ease the growing frustration. “Long story.”

      “She sounds feisty.”

      “Feisty’s going to get her killed.”

      “You know what this means, right?”

      “Trust me, brother. I’ve had all day to process what this means.”

      And it only fuelled his anger every time he did.

      “Why did they take her? They could’ve killed her right there, absorbed her powers, and got on with it. Why go to the trouble of taking her?”

      Exactly.

      But Harper hadn’t killed her, which meant he needed her for something else. What that was worried him more than he cared to admit.

      “Maybe they’re hoping she’ll side with them,” Sienna suggested. “She’d be more powerful than Harper could ever be as the magic originated with her.”

      “She’d never side with them.”

      “You