Sorceress Awakening (21 page)

“We need time.” He squeezed her fingers and
then turned to the others sitting at the tables. “If I am given time, I think I
can heal whatever was done to my Mistress. In a way, being trapped in this
realm was a blessing. The Lady of Battles cannot reach into this realm from her
prison, and likely has no idea what happened to the Sorceress. As long as we
stay here, I think Lillian will be safe. At least for a little while.” He
paused with a long look for the silver-skinned leader of the sidhe. “For the
first time in many, many years, I find myself in need of allies. I cannot
defeat the Riven if I’m too busy protecting Lillian from both the Clan and the
Coven. I must put my trust in you here today. Know I will fight your enemies
alongside you if you agree to continue to shelter Lillian.”

Another silence stretched by, longer this
time than the last, until the banshee pushed back her chair and stood. “Why
should we help you? For all we know, when you breeched the Veil between the
Realms, you opened a way for these evil creatures to enter our world. For that
matter, it might have been your precious mistress who opened the way for them.
You claim you don’t know what happened to her. How can you ask us to protect
her when you don’t even know if she’s the one who betrayed us all?”

Greenborrow rapped on the table. “I say we
give the gargoyle what aid he needs and then we accept his aid in turn. We grow
fewer with each year. How much longer can we go on if we will not work
together?”

With a nod, Whitethorn stood. “You both
have good arguments. I say we give the gargoyle our aid, but make certain this
Sorceress is no threat.”

The banshee’s gray eyes turned stormy. “How
will you be certain of her innocence? If this was as easy as you make it sound,
I’m sure the gargoyle would already have done this. Yet he, one of the greatest
spellweavers in the Magic Realm, has not done this. Why?”

Greenborrow chuckled. “Because the poor
fellow hasn’t been given two free minutes to rub together, methinks. That, and
it’s not a task he’ll be looking forward to performing.”

The gargoyle grunted in way of answer; his
“yes” to all things nasty.

Lillian swallowed hard as nervous sweat
made its way down her back. That she might be evil scared her, but the thought
of losing Gregory because of that evil was far worse. She needed to know. “I’ll
agree to this if it will prove I’m not a threat.” Her rushed statement turned several
heads. Before they’d talked about her like she wasn’t there, but now each eyed
her like a snake studying its next meal.

Not an improvement.

Whitethorn nodded, his lips forming a stiff
line. “Then, with the gargoyle’s aid, we shall bind your power and read what
resides within your soul.”

“No,” Gran cried, “She’s too young, and she
doesn’t have the mental discipline needed to survive without being damaged.
She’ll go into shock. She could die. Let the gargoyle and I give her the
training she needs to prepare.”

“We can’t risk the wait,” Whitethorn said.
He looked to the gargoyle. “We do this tonight if you want us to shelter her
while you deal with the evil ones.”

Gregory glanced down at her, his dark eyes
turbulent.

Surprisingly, Lillian’s own soul was serene,
fear a distant thing. She didn’t fear death. This was a battle, and she never
ran from a challenge. Her only concern was for Gregory and her family. She
rested her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “It’s okay. We need to do this. I
need to know. I couldn’t live with myself if there was something evil
slumbering within me and it harmed those I love because I didn’t do anything to
stop it.”

The unfamiliar feeling of worry gnawed at
Gregory’s stomach all the way back to the house. If Lillian knew what binding
her power and reading her soul involved, she wouldn’t have agreed so readily.
After a quick discussion, the Council decided the house would be the best location,
familiar and more defendable. Gregory pinned his ears against his mane. By that
the Council members meant they would have a better chance at containing Lillian
if something went wrong. A low growl built in his throat; he clamped his teeth
to prevent its escape.

Some other sign must have given him away
because Lillian stepped closer until her arm brushed his. “It’s alright,
Gregory. You said I lived in our enemy’s territory for years. If it’s as nasty
as you implied and I survived it, I must be tougher than you think.” She
skimmed her fingers down his arm until she laced them with his. “And I
understand why you had to take my memories: you had no choice. I was a little
taken aback at first.”

“You lived because the Lady of Battles
wanted you for some purpose. That is why you survived.” Even as he said the
words, they lacked the harsh edge he’d strived for, and his ears relaxed. He
whispered a prayer to the Divine Ones, thanking them that Lillian had forgiven
him for stealing her memories.

“Then I am tough because I survived
whatever she did to me. Can you deny I stand before you with my mind intact and
my heart beating?”

He sighed with exasperation even as a grin
tugged at his lips. “Yes, you are a tough little dryad. But it doesn’t stop me
from worrying.”

“I know.” She squeezed his hand.

While they talked, they had entered the
house and arrived in the living room. Lillian looked around at the other fae.
“Now what?”

Vivian stormed into the room, the older
woman’s fierce expression focused on Whitethorn. “You can’t toss me out of my
own house. If we’re going ahead with this foolery, then I’ll be at my
granddaughter’s side.”

“The ceremony’s rules are clear. There will
be no family present.” Whitethorn’s tone was as unforgiving as Vivian’s
stubborn streak.

“Fine,” Vivian replied. “She isn’t related
by blood. I’m staying.”

Whitethorn
did
look ready to toss
Vivian out of her own home, Gregory decided, but the fae kept his composure.

“No. You are bound by the rules the same as
we all are. We cannot change them just to suit our own needs. Go. I will keep
you advised as to the gargoyle’s progress and our findings.”

“Gran,” Lillian said. “I must do this. It
will be easier if you’re not present.” She stepped away from Gregory, her hand
sliding from his. Immediately, he missed the contact. With an act of will, he
focused on the tension in the room.

Vivian’s knuckles whitened against her
staff. After a count of ten seconds, she relaxed her fingers. “Fine. But I will
be near if you have need of me.”

“Thank you.” Lillian hugged her
grandmother. Gregory had a surprising urge to embrace the older woman for her
protective streak, too.

Vivian released Lillian, then caught
Gregory’s eye. Her look told him to kill anyone who attempted to harm her
granddaughter.

Sable came up next to Gregory. “I’ll help
Lillian get ready.”

“Thank you,” Lillian replied.

He touched Lillian’s shoulder and sent
thoughts of peace and comfort. She smiled, broadcasting love back at him before
she broke contact and followed Sable.

Gregory called the shadows to him and
vanished to make his own preparations. He would need more power if it became
necessary to overwhelm Lillian’s shields. No matter how much he didn’t want to
face the possibility, she could be a host to dark magic.

Closing his eyes, he began summoning magic,
drawing chilled power directly from the Spirit Realm until his skin took on a
patina of frost.

* * *

So far, the ceremony had been pleasant
enough. It began with a purifying bath, the hot steam scented with lavender oil
and sage. When Lillian finally exited the bathroom, she found Sable had lit
candles in the four corners of the bedroom. A small fire burned in the
fireplace. The air was heavy with sage, sweet grass, and cedar. The heat, low
light, and fragrances helped Lillian relax. At least she’d gotten over her
initial fears—mostly. Some still fluttered annoyingly at the edge of her
consciousness—like what she would do if there was darkness inside her.

Might it not turn Gregory against you?
The small internal voice of her consciousness nagged at her like it
had since Gregory first told her why he’d taken her memories. She pushed that
worry away. She’d already covered every possible disastrous outcome a hundred
times.

While there was the possibility of losing
him and everything she cared about, she imagined it was a slim chance. Gregory
loved her too much to give her up; or at least, he loved his
Sorceress
too much to allow the Lady of Battles to win.

A breeze flowed in through an open window.
The singing of frogs and the scent of night filled her bedroom and relaxed her
further. With nothing else to do but wait, she stretched out on top of her
comforter and worried at the drawstring of her satin pajamas. When she caught
herself fidgeting, she folded her hands across her midriff and stared at the ceiling.
While her present attire wasn’t something she would have chosen for herself,
she’d not been given much of a choice: satin pajamas or a silky, thigh-length
nightgown which hadn’t been much more than a slip. Pajamas had won, no contest.
A shy smile touched her lips; Gregory might have preferred the slip.

A soft knock at the door startled her from
thoughts of Gregory in his human form. She sat up and tucked her legs
underneath her. “Come in.”

The door pushed open and Gregory entered,
as human as he had been in her thoughts. He paused when he caught sight of her
on the bed. His look traveled the length of her, lingering in some places
longer than others.

Warmth suffused her, and tension fluttered in
her belly. The door opened farther and the pooka trotted in after Gregory,
followed by Greenborrow, Sable, and Hyrand. Heat died and the nervous
fluttering in her stomach turned into a rock

All Lillian knew about the ceremony was
that Gregory would peel her shields away like the layers of an onion and lay
her soul bare, so the others would be able to read her thoughts. Sable had made
it sound like the binding of the magic would be done with only Gregory present.
Which didn’t sound so awful. But magical binding sounded a whole lot less
appealing with an audience.

With her best impression of a serene mask,
she continued to watch Gregory. It was a better alternative than looking at the
others where they’d lined up at one end of her bedroom. The gargoyle sat on the
edge of the bed, and after glancing down the length of her satin-covered legs
to her bare ankles, he looked back up. His eyes settled on the plunging
neckline of her camisole a moment longer than polite. Now she wished the little
satin cami was less revealing and that one of the stupid straps hadn’t slipped
down off her shoulder.

His one eyebrow arched up in question and a
mischievous grin lifted the corners of his lips. Humor glinted in his dark
eyes. He leaned closer and touched a lock of her brown hair for a moment, then
brushed it out of his way and slid his hand over the curve of her shoulder in
pursuit of her camisole’s fallen strap. Catching the errant bit of satin, he
hooked a finger under it and drew it back up into position, the pad of his
thumb stroking along her skin the whole time. “As if I needed more
distractions. I took this human form because it’s almost nose-dead, and
thinking is easier when I’m not half-drugged by your scent. But I didn’t
anticipate increased visual temptation from my demure little dryad.”

“I swear I didn’t have much of a choice.
Blame Sable.”

“I must remember to thank her.” Merriment
glinted in his eyes as he fought a grin. Then he lost the battle and started
chuckling in earnest.

“Oh . . .” She swallowed back a retort. Her
face burned with heat and she was surprised the room hadn’t taken on a pinkish
hue.

“We will continue this conversation later.”
He leaned in closer and tucked the blanket from the foot of the bed
around her. Warm breath washed along her neck and his lips brushed her ear.

A throat being cleared alerted Lillian that
the others were no longer conversing among themselves. Whitethorn was standing
off to one side, his lips pursed and brows furrowed. Apparently, he wasn’t
overly patient.

“Why did you have to interrupt them?”
Greenborrow grumbled. “I haven’t seen any action in a long while.”

Sable muttered something about men and old
idiots, and left the sidhe and the leshii behind as she came to the end of the
bed. “Ignore them. Vivian is a very good judge of character. If she trusts you,
so do I. Is there anything I can do?”

Kick the audience out?
“No, but thank you. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Can we get this
over with?”

“Of course, dear. I’ll keep the others in
line. There will be no more distractions from us.”

Gregory nodded and Lillian tried to relax
while she waited for the gargoyle to do his thing.

The thought had barely crossed her mind
when a chilled magic blanketed her. “Ah! Cold. What the . . . ?”

“Magic from the Spirit Realm. The strongest
weapon I can call upon.”

“Well, it’s damn cold. I thought I was
supposed to relax. How can I do that with my knees whacking together and my
teeth trying to rattle loose from my jaws?”

“Try,” he rumbled.

“Right—oh,” she broke off as his fingers
settled on her temples and massaged the tension away with a firm touch. He
moved back into her hairline, massaging her scalp. Caught up in the mild
pleasure, she missed when he started filling her with that cold power. Its
chill lessened as she adjusted to the invasion. “Okay, this isn’t so bad.”

The words had barely left her mouth when
the chill intensified and his magic reached into her mind and tried to claw the
first layer of tissue from her brain. She screamed. Her eyes flew open as her
heart jumped into gear. She batted at the gargoyle, but she could have been
slapping a statue for all the reaction he showed. Screaming had no effect on
him, but she didn’t care and drew another breath.

Warm lips closed upon hers, capturing her
yell. The pain in her mind vanished, the cold replaced by heat.

“I’m sorry.”
He broke away, and his breath came in pants.
“I’m sorry, love. Forgive me.
Do not fight me.”

“What the hell? I—”

The pain engulfed her in another flow of
lava. A whimper was all that emerged. His talons of magic and power slashed
across her mind. She arched off the bed, struggling with everything in her. She
punched him under the jaw and clawed at his bare shoulders. He took the abuse as
if he didn’t feel it. Leaning his weight against her, he pinned her to the bed
so she couldn’t fight him. With a tearing sensation in her mind, another
barrier shredded under his attack. Pain receded into numbness. She floated
above the pain, praying she would not fall back into her body lying upon the
bed. Surely that was death. Where the hell was her magic when she needed it?

“Lillian, don’t call your magic. Please
don’t fight me; it will make it worse.” His voice shook. “If you call your
magic, it will repair your shields . . . please . . . I cannot do this again.”

The agony in his dark timbre pulled her
back into her body. To her surprise, there was no blinding-sharp pain eating
away at her brain. She looked beyond the barrier of her mind, out into the
world. Gregory hunched next to her. Pain etched across his face, a tattoo of
his horror. Dampness streaked his cheeks. Shocked, she reached out and gathered
a tear on her fingertip.

“Oh, Gregory, that hurt you as much as it
did me, didn’t it?” she asked as she fought to get her breathing under control.
“I knew this wouldn’t be pleasant from your reluctance. I’m sorry I was such a
wimp. I’ll do better.” She laid her hand along his cheek.
“I love you.”

“I know.”
He
covered her hand with his own and curled his fingers around hers. When he
turned her hand so the palm faced up, he leaned down and placed a kiss upon it.
Then drawing her hand to his chest, he rested it against his heart. The steady
beat of his pulse surged under the skin and bone.
“The rest of this will be
easier.”

“If something happens and you find I am one
of darkness, do what you must, but know I’ll love you regardless. You are a
part of me.”

He touched his forehead to hers. “We are
one, always.”

With his words, she felt his magic flood
over her, sweeping thoughts and worries away. He went deep into her mind,
pulling at her memories as he hunted. To her surprise, his presence in her mind
wasn’t an invasion. He belonged there. A half-smile curled her lips as he
delicately leafed through her thoughts.

Minutes eased by, one after another until
she lost track of time, and still he did not find what he sought. The sensation
of his mental hunting stilled and he pulled away. She was about to ask what was
wrong when a wave of darkness reared up and rolled across her consciousness.
She blinked and yawned, but was unable to fight off the intense compulsion to
sleep.