Sorceress Awakening (27 page)

The Lady of Battles slammed her chains
against the stone of her temple. “You don’t have to watch her die. Share your
blood!”

“It will only prolong her pain,” Gregory
growled at the goddess. How he wished he had the power to destroy this
creature. “There is no magic in this Realm strong enough to fix what is broken.
I can feel the wound to her soul. Even on the border of the Spirit Realm, with
the full complement of our power at our call, this would be taxing to heal. If
you possessed even a little mercy, you would leave me in peace for this.”

“Fool. Do you think I would make one of my
creatures so easy to kill? She is my pride, my greatest weapon. I made her
harder to kill, not easier. Give—Her—Your—Blood. Unless you want to watch her
die. Choose.” The Lady of Battles crossed her arms and sat down to wait.

Gregory glanced down at his Mistress, so
close to death. Could it be that simple to save her? Did he care if he was
playing into the Lady’s hands? No.

He exhaled sharply as he slashed his talons
across his chest, then forced her limp body to rest against his. She turned her
head, sniffing. When she laid a quivering hand on his chest and skimmed her
lips along his skin, he shuddered. Her warm tongue slid over the wound and her
throat worked as she drank his life-giving blood. After he forced his breathing
to slow and his mind to focus, he looked for changes in Lillian. At first he sensed
no difference in her condition, and then she gasped in pain as spasms shook her
body.

Before he could react, she grasped both his
shoulders and pushed him back against the altar. She straddled him, her body
pressed against him as her lips sealed over the wound. Her throat worked as she
swallowed. He grunted as passion stirred in his blood. He’d forgotten how sweet
it felt to share blood with Lillian.

Magic from the Spirit Realm thrummed
through his veins and he released it into her. He continued to pour more and
more into her, as much as she would take. Her breathing eased and her color
improved with each passing moment. Recovery was swift. The wound on her
shoulder was gone and only pale white lines marked the skin of her belly. He
stroked his fingers over the area to reassure himself.

After several moments Lillian stirred in
his arms, pushing at his chest and putting a little space between them so she
could lap at the blood making its way toward his abdomen. Lillian’s fingers
skimmed lower, making him shiver. He savored her shocking caress a few moments
before he tightened his arms around her shoulders to prevent her from following
the trail of blood. Lillian made a soft sound of protest, which he did his best
to ignore. When she was still again, he rested his chin on her hair and watched
his enemy. Thanking the Lady of Battles wasn’t something he’d ever thought he’d
contemplate in his life.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome, Protector. You might
return the favor by serving me. . . .”

Gregory gently placed Lillian on the ground,
then stood to face the Lady of Battles. “My allegiance cannot be bought or
sold.”

“Perhaps you’ll come to think differently.
What would you be willing to do to save your beloved Sorceress when she’s
carrying your youngling?” The Lady straightened from her crouch. “I think
you’ll come to serve me to protect them from Divine wrath. You’ll have no
choice. What a splendid addition to my army you will make, both of you.”

“I will not serve you.”

“Fight me if you wish, but I’ll still get
what I want in the end. Wouldn’t it be better to come to me willingly? You
could fulfill your deepest and oldest wish—to be with your Sorceress and
reciprocate the deep love you share.”

Gregory shook his head. “I won’t serve the
Dark.”

“We’ll see how long you last.” The Lady of
Battles chuckled. “I think you’ll find my daughter has an aggressive side. One
of the traits I instilled in her. Oh, she’s overly protective of her gargoyle,
too.” Chains rattled against each other as she leaned forward suddenly and
gestured at something behind Gregory’s shoulder. “Beware!”

Distracted by Lillian’s feeding and the
Lady of Battles’ startling admission, he hadn’t heard the creature coming up
behind him until too late. A cold sucking pain lodged itself in his back as the
demon blade sunk deep. He twisted, lashing out at his attacker. A second dagger
buried itself in his chest. He dropped to his knees, shock sapping his
strength. He tugged at the second dagger, but he lacked strength and it
wouldn’t release its grip.

“Now that was foolish, little demon,” the
Lady of Battles said. “You have angered my daughter.”

“Gregory?” Lillian cried. She called to him
again, her voice changing, becoming deeper, more menacing.

Her gargoyle was hurt.

Her beloved needed her.

No one harmed her gargoyle and lived.

Lillian screamed Gregory’s name even as the
fraying coil of memories unraveled within her. New strength flooded her body.
She burned and itched as her body began shifting into a new form. With a wet
sound, the skin of her back parted and wings erupted from her shoulder blades.
The new weight altered her balance and she dropped to all fours. Talons
lengthened her fingers even as horns sprouted on her forehead. She shook
herself from muzzle to tail tip, stretching and testing new muscles. Then as
silent as death on a cold winter night, she stalked her prey.

The demon boy remained hunched over
Gregory, one hand braced against the gargoyle’s shoulder while the other
gripped the hilt of a demon blade, the boy’s complete attention focused on
killing her mate. Ecstasy radiated off the demon’s features as he fed, the look
of pleasure made all the worse by the innocence of his softly curved lips,
rounded cheeks, and thick lashes dark against his pale skin.

A soft growl escaped her as she lunged at
the unclean creature. The boy jerked his gaze in her direction, shock clear on
his cherub-like face. At the last moment, her opponent twisted with inhuman
speed. Her jaws closed upon empty air.

With each beat of her heart, her gargoyle
instincts sharpened. The breath-stealing stink of demon, a fluttering
heartbeat, footfalls crunching through leaves—nothing escaped her heightened
senses. Her second lunge landed her half on his back and she sank her teeth
deep into the meat of his shoulder. But this demon was strong, fed additional
strength from several of his brethren, and he bucked her off. She crashed to
the ground with a grunt of pain. Even before she caught her breath, she rolled
to her feet and took up a protective stance next to Gregory.

Anger surged through her veins, pulsing in
time to her heartbeat. She charged the demon again, snapping at it in a fit of
fury. A vampire darted into the fight. It slashed at her flank. Its claws dug
four shallow grooves across her skin. Snarling, she chased it. It wasn’t fast
enough to get clear of her leap. She landed on its back and drove it into the
ground. One bite to the back of its neck and she severed its spine. With a
twist of powerful neck muscles, she beheaded the creature. The sharp odor of
tainted blood and rot overwhelmed her sense of smell. Shaking her head, she
sprang away from the demons, then returned to Gregory’s side.

At the sight of the demon blades, rage
flared to life again. She straddled Gregory, sheltering him from further attack
with her own body while she shared magic with him.

“Release him,” she ordered the demon
blades. Neither was the one she’d remade, but they sensed darkness greater than
themselves and leaped to obey. When the second had fallen to the ground, she
nosed Gregory.

Touching him bought her a moment of
tranquility, the forgotten key to her innermost self, and the floodgate holding
the magic of the Spirit Realm at bay opened.

Power filled her as she stretched her wings
toward the sky.

The forest spat out three new demons. They
circled her with caution as more of their brethren returned now that the Lady
of Battles was gone. Her lips pulled back in a snarl while she waited.

Come closer,
she thought,
and meet the Lady’s daughter.

Her wings quivered with the strain of
holding back. Blood pounded through her veins. She closed her eyes and waited.

Demon. Dire wolf and Fae-blood slaves. They
all returned, drawing nearer.

Just a little more. Almost close enough.

Her ears swung forward. There. The last of
them stepped within range.

She snapped her wings down and released the
power, directing it as it surged from her body. Like the shockwave from a bomb,
the power flew out in an ever-enlarging circle. Wind blasted between the tree
branches and howled like a winter’s gale. A wild ecstasy filled her.

She fed more and more power into the
destroying wave.

It should’ve been enough to level the
forest for a kilometer in all directions, killing every last Riven—but a few of
them were escaping her.

Something else fed upon her power.

Fury engulfed her.
How dare it feed upon
her?

She turned toward the great sword at the
north end of the meadow, and raised her hand to call defensive magic down upon
it. Before she could attack the sword, it tapped into her strength, tearing
control of her power from her. Ropes of fire spiraled up from the ground and
covered the blade completely. The sword continued sucking air and magic toward
it, until a tornado of fire towered above the trees. With earth-shaking
violence, the sword opened the Veil.

The bright flash blinded Lillian. While she
was disoriented, the earth shivered with greater violence. It swayed and
pitched under her feet. She rolled and crashed into Gregory.

When the wildly fluctuating powers
dissipated, the magic-driven winds calmed. The sword was gone by the time she
dragged herself to her feet. Likely returned to its master to report all it had
learned. Lillian flicked her tail in annoyance, but there was nothing she could
do now to secure the weapon for the Lady of Battles.

Ash drifted down, and soft flakes coated
her and Gregory. The meadow was quiet again. She nuzzled Gregory in the
shoulder, and he loosed a pained moan. After sniffing at his wounds, she licked
them until they sealed over. He’d have more scars. She narrowed her eyes and
growled, angry at herself. In the future, she needed to be more careful of her
mate. He had a knack for gathering stab wounds.

The wind picked up again, flowing through
the forest from the Northwest. The stench of evil invaded her nose. She sneezed
and pawed at her muzzle, but nothing cleared the magma of darkness that clung
to her skin and mane, and coated the lining of her throat and lungs. Several of
the Riven had escaped, thanks to the Lord of the Underworld’s sword.

Had Gregory been stronger, they would have
hunted together and destroyed the last of the Riven. She glanced to the
Northwest, uncertain. To let the Riven escape was dangerous. She still had one
weakness—her hamadryad. And if the Riven knew about her tree, they would attack
her again. But the Riven’s territory was far from her tree, and she’d killed
enough of the demons to weaken them. With their decreased numbers, the Riven
couldn’t gather the power required to travel by magical means. It should take
them at least a day to cover the distance.

So the Riven would survive for a little
longer; there was nothing she could do about that now.

Clouds gathering on the horizon, and the
damp smell of rain upon the wind helped her decide. Her mate needed healing and
rest. And they both needed a better place to shelter until they were stronger.
When Gregory could fly, they would return to her hamadryad and create
impenetrable protections. Once that was done, she and her mate would hunt down
the remaining Riven. She prodded Gregory in the shoulder again, shoving her
head and shoulders under his chest to get him to his feet.

“Get up, we need to find shelter.”

Gregory stood on shaking legs, his eyes
half-closed and his head hanging. Sweat slicked his sides in a way she didn’t
like. Seeing him so weak tightened her stomach. She didn’t think he was even
aware of her new form. Brushing his thoughts, she found he was still in shock
and mostly unaware of what was going on around him, but when she started
forward, he followed. They made their way clear of what had once been a meadow
but now looked more like a burnt-out crater. They walked for a few minutes and
came upon the log cabin. It still stood. Only the back of the cabin showed
damage, like a flash fire had scorched it. She bypassed the cabin, not wanting
a shelter so close to the Riven’s territory.

After walking for an hour, she found a
small pond skirted with trees and a wealth of underbrush. Deer and rabbits
moved among the trees, unaware predators walked among the shadows. Here Gregory
could rest while she hunted.

He still hadn’t snapped out of shock. Her
protective instincts roused at the thought of leaving him, even to hunt, but he
needed food to grow strong again.

The breeze carried a whiff of fawn. Her
stomach rumbled.

Gregory collapsed among the undergrowth,
his eyes closed. He rested, but she knew he hadn’t fallen asleep. She waited,
hoping sleep would claim him. Fifteen minutes passed and she rose on silent
feet. She’d only taken three steps when he grunted and sat up.

“I’ll hunt for us. Stay,” she ordered. She
returned to his side and rubbed her muzzle alongside his. His scent called to
her. It was hard to think when they were so close.

He returned her gesture of affection with a
contented sigh. His thoughts were still drowsy, blurred by equal parts magical exhaustion
and shock from blood loss. Obedient to her tone, he laid back down to wait.

* * *

The weight of the buck strained the muscles
in her neck, but she tightened her jaws and continued to drag the deer along
the pond’s muddy shore. Two more powerful heaves and the carcass landed next to
Gregory.

His nose quivered, but he didn’t stir, and
she noticed his skin had taken on the seeming of stone. If she didn’t get food
into him soon, he’d turn to stone to heal. And this location was still too close
to where the Riven had established their territory for him to do that safely.

She butted him with her muzzle. When that
tactic failed, she slapped her tail across his flank.

An ear swiveled forward and he cracked an
eye open. Pushing her kill under his nose, she growled, then slashed her claws
along the deer’s soft underbelly. Gregory sat up and sniffed at her gift. Then
with a vigor which pleased her, he tore into the still-warm beast.

Coppery scent filled the clearing and her
stomach growled a second time. Licking at his muzzle, she persuaded him to
share. When they were both well fed and drowsy, she lay against him and
stretched a wing over him for warmth. His thoughts were of love, contentment,
and mild desire. He thought her lovely. She smiled at his simple thoughts. He
still wasn’t thinking in complex sentences. It would be easy to get him to give
her what the Lady of Battles wanted: a child of their union, a new deity with
strength enough to slay the Lady’s own twin.

The Lady hadn’t specified when, so Lillian
waited. Besides, she’d rather have her beloved be in full command of himself
when they mated. And she looked forward to the hunt, the slow seduction.

Well, there was nothing to say she couldn’t
start now.

She intertwined her tail with his, and
licked at his shoulder while he slept. When they woke, she’d see how long he
could resist temptation. He’d barely maintained his distance when she’d worn
the hide of a mere dryad.