Sorceress Awakening (28 page)

Sleep slowly fell away, and Gregory
realized he was awake. Warmth pressed along his side as the soft, living silk
of bare skin brushed his wings. A sweet, musky scent engulfed him. Snorting, he
shook his head in confusion. His memories of the last hours were hazy, but
thoughts slowly ordered into something he could understand. And he feared to
look where Lillian lay next to him. Who had won, his Sorceress or the demon
soul?

A gentle brush of his mind against hers
told him she still slept. Thanks be to the Divine Ones for small blessings.
Slowly, he folded his wings against his back and levered himself up. He barely
noticed the twinge of stiff muscles. The sight of his lady in gargoyle form
held him enthralled. She rested with her head on her front legs, her mane a
wild wave of crimson against ebony skin. Black horns spiraled up from her
forehead, lightening to a wine color at their tips. Silky black ears twitched
in her sleep, and her tail quivered, rubbing against his. She’d coiled her tail
around his in a possessive grip. The strange friction sent his heart pumping.
His wings unfurled, trembling as blood rushed to fill them.

Just as quickly as the friction had come,
it was gone, her tail relaxing to curl around her flanks. He immediately missed
the contact. Though at the same time, he was grateful she still slept. If she’d
been awake, she’d probably have been making the situation worse, given her
purpose was to beget a child with him. He remembered the Lady of Battles saying
she could be aggressive.

He needed to get away, clear his thoughts
so he could think. There must be a way out of this mess. He just had to find
it. Perhaps he could force her back into her dryad form and trap the demon soul
by laying the wards upon Lillian’s mind again?

Wings twitching, Lillian whimpered in the
grip of a nightmare. A second low moan of terror tugged at his heart. He
hesitated, hovering over her, uncertain. It could be a ploy, the demon soul’s
attempt to manipulate him.

Another helpless sound escaped her. In that
moment he realized he couldn’t abandon her—Lillian was in there somewhere,
trapped, possibly fighting the demon soul even now. Leaning down, he nuzzled
her shoulder. She calmed at his touch. The sap-sweet fragrance of dryad and the
warm, fertile scent of gargoyle lost the musky tang of fear.

As he sniffed at her skin, he shifted
closer. He braced his arms on either side of her body, then buried his muzzle
in her mane, pushing the strands of hair out of the way until he’d exposed her
neck. Unable to help himself, he closed his jaws in the gentlest of love bites.
A rumble formed in his chest. She tasted as good as she smelled. Lillian jerked
awake under him, tensed for a fight.

Purring reassurances, he mantled his wings
around her so she could catch his scent, then gave her a little shake. She
tilted her head to look up at him. Intense, obsidian-colored eyes met his and
after a moment’s study, she relaxed and uttered her own deep, rumbling purr.

He growled, and took a firmer hold on her
neck.

What was he doing? This was wrong,
forbidden, a small part of his mind warned. Another part of his soul, far older
and more firmly bound to the Sorceress, rejoiced at her response to him. That
part scared him more than the newfound heat of desire. He froze, shocked he’d
so willingly forsake his duty to the Divine Ones.

This was wrong, he reaffirmed, repeating
the words until they were a chant in his head. And still a part of him didn’t
agree. This was Lillian, his lady. Their hearts had always remained loyal. How
could their love be a mistake? Did they not deserve a little happiness after
all these years?

Yes, but this was not how he wanted it
between them.

Reluctantly, he released her and eased away
before his baser instincts won out.

Lillian didn’t seem upset by his rejection.
On the contrary, she looked completely relaxed as she folded her wings against
her back and rolled onto her side, her tail curled along her hips. The pose
gave him tantalizing flashes of her body. One arm rested on the cushion of her
plump breasts, paler than the darker skin of her flat belly. Swirls of crimson
formed a pattern on the curve of her hips, drawing his eye to her navel and
then lower. A coil of her tail hid where the crimson spirals led. She flicked
the spaded-tip of her tail gently and watched him through thick lashes.

Time to go. Now. He turned his back to her
and prepared to flee.

“Gregory, wait.” Her mellow voice slid up
his spine, like fingers caressing his skin.

As easily as that, he was enslaved. The
sound of her wings unfurling, the soft rasp of skin on skin, betrayed her
movements. Unable to flee or turn and face her, he froze, awaiting her next
move. Small, warm hands encircled his waist, drawing a surprised grunt from his
throat.

“Easy. I’m not your enemy. The Lady of
Battles doesn’t control me to the extent she would like.” Her hands slid up to
caress the tense muscles of his chest. “I just want to talk, to get to know you
better.”

“And are you not able to talk without
touching me?”

She chuckled. “Yes, of course I can. But
it’s more fun to watch you twitch.”

Her words confirmed his fears. His Lillian wouldn’t
belittle his feelings. “My emotions are not something to be toyed with for your
personal entertainment, demon.”

“I’m so much more than that. I’ll not harm
you, physically or emotionally. The Lady of Battles couldn’t change what I feel
for you.”

Slowly, an image took form and substance in
his mind’s eye. Lillian as a dryad, her skin pale against his darkness, eyes
bright with passion, body coated with the luster of sweat. “Even as a mere
dryad, this is what you dreamed of. I can give you that.”

A spike of desire shivered down his spine.
Worse, he couldn’t hide his reaction from her.

“Liked that, didn’t you?” She chuckled
again, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. “I haven’t even started to court
you yet. How long do you think you can resist?”

Her flippant tone dampened his ardor. “Long
enough to find a way to get my Sorceress back. Whatever you think you are, you
are not her.”

“I hear your doubt. You don’t believe your
own words. Why should I? I know exactly who I was, where I came from, who I am and
what I will become.” She hugged him, pressing her breasts against his back. Her
warm fingers stroked down his chest until she came in contact with his
loincloth. Rage flared again, and with it, a plan started to form. He would not
let a demon soil the love he and his beloved shared.

A shiver of disgust crawled down his spine.
Hopefully, she interpreted it as desire. His plan required she believe that
lie. He disengaged her clinging hands and twisted around until he held her
trapped in his arms. Once he had her in a firm grip, he shifted her until her
back was to his front. Using his tail to trip her up, he forced the smaller
gargoyle onto all fours. Thrashing and bucking, she tried to shove him off
balance. Before she had the chance to dislodge him, he closed his jaws around
her neck.

At the soft prick of his teeth, all
resistance melted away and she went limp under him. He loosened his hold on her
neck and then licked at her shoulder. She made a small sound of appreciation.

Forcing her to take more of his weight, he
leaned over her and licked a trail along her spine, then up onto one shoulder.
One quick nip and the heady tang of her blood coated his tongue.

The courtship ritual had begun.

He didn’t wait for her to recover from her
shock before he bolted into motion. If she wanted to court him, he’d let her do
the chasing. But he would decide the direction of the pursuit; a direction that
would lead her back to Clan and Coven lands, where he hoped to get aid from
Gran, Greenborrow, Silverthorne and the other fae to help trap Lillian. Once
she was imprisoned, he’d have time to worry about what to do with the demon.

Gregory bolted across the clearing and into
the tree line. He glanced back once to be certain she followed and caught a
glimpse of black body and burgundy mane as she raced a hundred paces behind
him. Good. She’d fallen for the bait. He slowed his pace to allow her to get
closer, then when she was nearly upon him, he lengthened his stride and gained
ground.

The sun trekked westward as Gregory continued
the game. His plan was working; they’d traveled a goodly distance. However, he
detected a problem with his plan. While Lillian-the-gargoyle had healed all his
injuries, he still lacked one important thing. Stamina.

It was well into late afternoon when his
strength failed.

* * *

Gregory was leaning against a tree for a
short rest when she caught up.

“I thought you’d let me catch you much
sooner than this. Perhaps I was a touch too aggressive with my courtship.”
Lillian’s voice drifted to him from the shadows to his left. “Would you be more
comfortable with a familiar face?”

By the time he turned, she was already
engulfed in an intense glow of power. When spots no longer flashed before his
eyes, he found Lillian standing before him, naked, all pale skin and beautiful dark
hair. His lady. The dryad he’d fallen in love with all over again in this life.
But, as much as this alluring creature looked like his love, he knew her
allegiance was to the Lady of Battles.

“Gregory, I offer what you’ve always
wanted.”

“And what I can never have. I’d be killing
Lillian myself if I did. The Lord of the Underworld is nothing like his sister.
He has never failed to carry out an edict of the Divine Ones. If I got Lillian
with child, he would send every last gargoyle to hunt us down. Demon, think
beyond what the Lady of Battles wishes you to be. Can’t you see the truth? You
won’t live long enough to carry the child to term.”

Her lips curved into a smile that spoke of
assured knowledge. “The Lord of the Underworld isn’t infallible. He has
weaknesses we can use to our advantage.”

“Perhaps you honestly can’t grasp what I
truly want.”

“Your Sorceress.” She tilted her head to
the side, no longer looking so haughty. “Perhaps the Lady of Battles made a
mistake when she created me. A gentler being, one who needed your protection,
might have had an easier time seducing you.”

He laughed, the sound cold and humorless.
“A gentler demon?”

“You’ll find I’m very adaptive . . . and I
already know your greatest weakness.”

“You don’t know me.” He turned and loped
away from her.

“Gregory, once I have fulfilled my duty, I
will return to the battle goddess and this body will revert to the personality
you know and fell in love with: your beloved dryad.”

“Nothing you say will change my mind.” He
whirled back around to face her, angry enough to challenge her.

“Ah, it was a mild hope. But I see you’re
not interested in the easy path.” She smiled as she combed her fingers through
her hair. The dark strands fanned out across her shoulders and drifted down over
her breasts. She toyed with her hair a moment more, then caressed the upper
swell of one breast. The fingers of her other hand trailed leisurely down her
abdomen. “That suits me well enough. I like the hunt. And perhaps you will…”

The creature controlling Lillian’s body
stiffened. Color drained from her skin. She sucked in a ragged breath, one of
pain, not pleasure. When he glanced up to her face, he saw her eyes held the
unfocused look of deep concentration.

“Lillian?” he whispered. A small spark of
hope kindled in his chest. “Lillian, can you hear me?”

Lillian opened her mouth and screamed, a
sound of horror and despair. She grasped at her side and doubled over. She
swayed, then slowly collapsed to her knees.

“Lillian.” Gregory called her name as he
leapt forward. Catching her in his arms, he gathered her close to his chest.
When he touched her, he felt the demon soul within her seeking the spirit link
to Lillian’s hamadryad. The great tree shuddered under another blow as metal
bit into her bark.

An axe. Someone had taken an axe to
Lillian’s tree. The demon soul released control of Lillian’s body and focused
all its attention upon sending strength to the tree in a frantic attempt to
heal it.

Nothing the demon soul did could protect
the hamadryad over such a great distance.

“Gregory?” Lillian stiffened in his arms. She
shuddered. “What’s happening?”

A cold lump of dread, like a frost-chilled
stone in winter, weighed heavy in his stomach. He tightened his arms around
her. “Lillian, don’t give up. Fight. I’ll carry you back to your tree. I’ll
heal you.”

“My hamadryad . . . she’s dying.” She
sucked in another short, pain-filled breath. “Let me go. The demon dies with
me.”

“No.” With that one word he denied the
Divine Ones, the Lord of the Underworld—death itself. He would not serve, not
this time. He would not stand by and watch Lillian die.

Cold reason slid over his emotions like a
calming blanket. He focused his mind. “What kind of battle are we about to land
in the middle of? Can you tell how many are in your glade?”

“Not sure. Only one, I think.” Her answers
came in short, pain-filled bursts.

Gregory ached just hearing her soft gasps.
But what she said made no sense. It would take at least ten powerful demons working
for an hour to break the new stone circle. But it didn’t matter how many
enemies were awaiting him in the glade; he’d fight a thousand Riven for the
chance to save Lillian.

“Easy now,” he whispered and lifted her
into his arms. She weighed so little, as if the loss of her magic was leaching
her of substance. “I’ll keep you safe.”

He leapt into motion, and spread his wings
while he ran. With the thunder of wing beats, he left the ground and flew
toward her dying hamadryad.

* * *

He circled the hamadryad’s canopy, scanning
the ground below as he flew lower. The tree shook with each new blow, but he
couldn’t see who was wielding the axe. The foliage was too thick, the branches
too wide near the base. The rest of the clearing looked empty, free of other
visible enemies. There was no scent of Riven. And the stone circle still stood,
untouched. It didn’t make sense.

Four feet from the ground, he folded his
wings tight to his body and dropped down onto his hind feet. He deposited
Lillian behind him and whirled on his prey.

Partially obscured by the redwood’s branches,
a slim figure wielded the axe.

As the axe connected with bark in another
powerful blow, Lillian cried out. Reason fled before the all-powerful need to
protect his lady. He lunged, talons of one hand poised for a killing strike.
Sable turned to him, the axe lowering, and his blow caught her across the
throat.

Blood drenched her pale dress.

The axe slipped from her fingers and she
stumbled back against the redwood’s trunk. Instinctively, she reached to cover
the deep gash across her throat, trying to stem the flow of life blood. She
locked gazes with him and attempted to speak. Blood flowed from her mouth
instead of words. Panic shone in her eyes, but something else, too: deep
sorrow.

“Please,”
she whispered into his thoughts.
“I have an unborn child. The Riven know the
location of my tree. If I don’t kill Lillian’s hamadryad, they’ll kill my
daughter. Please. Save my little girl.”

He couldn’t lie to the dryad and tell her
he’d save her child—he wasn’t sure if he had the strength to save Lillian and
himself. “Lillian killed most of the Riven. Those still living are on the run.
They’ll not have time to hunt down your child before the Clan and the Coven
dispatch them.” Perhaps she could take comfort in that.

Sable slid sideways and collapsed to the
ground. Even in death, the dryad Elder retained her grace.

“May peace find you,” he whispered.

He returned to Lillian and gathered her up
in his arms. She was unconscious. Naked, she looked small and fragile. He
didn’t like the sickly pallor of her skin. He was running out of time. Fear dug
icy talons into his stomach. Everywhere their bodies touched, he sent healing
magic into her. After a few minutes she regained consciousness, a look of
confusion on her features. She touched his cheek. “What’s happening?”

“Don’t worry. Everything will be all
right.”

“I feel strange,” she said, her voice
groggy and slurred. “Am I drunk? No? Dammit, I’m dying again, aren’t I?”

He leaned forward and nuzzled her, feeding
her more strength as he did so. She returned his caress with shaking fingers,
her touch a brand against his shoulder. Her thoughts whispered of her love. He
pressed their bodies together and began weaving between the ground-sweeping
branches of her tree.

The feathery needles brushed at his arms,
and then swept out of the way, making room for him and his burden. They
continued to spread until there was a space for him to stand close to the
buttressed trunk. Bark pulled back like a seam unraveling, and a fissure opened
in the redwood’s trunk.

A touch here and a slight push there, and
he guided her closer to where he wanted her.

“Relax,” he whispered into her hair. “This
will come naturally to you. Simply give yourself over to your tree. When you
are healed, come back to me. Do you understand?

“Um . . . I’ll come back,” she said,
sounding like she was on the edge of sleep. “You’ll be waiting?”

“Always.”
In this life or the next.

“Goodbye, my gargoyle.” She closed her eyes
and gave in to a dryad’s instincts, her face becoming tranquil. As if a gale
blew through the meadow, the redwood shuddered, shaking its branches as the
fissure in its trunk widened. Blood-red fibrous vessels, fine as a spider’s
web, enveloped his lady’s shoulders and crawled across her lower body. Then the
cavernous maw swallowed Lillian, pulling her into the tree’s embrace. Her arms
fell away from him. He held her hand in his for a moment more, a final caress,
before he let her go completely.

He stared at the tree for a long time after
the bark had smoothed over. His heart ached. Dread held him in place. His
reassuring words to Lillian did nothing to sooth the chaos of grief and fear in
his own soul.

She could still die. Her hamadryad had
sustained near-fatal wounds, greater than even what dryad and demon together
could heal.

There was one final thing he could do for
the tree. Bowing his head, he began reciting a blessing in a deep chant.
Drifting into a light trance, he slashed both wrists and allowed his blood and
magic to drip down upon the ground. He continued to chant as he walked the
tree’s perimeter. His powerful heart began to labor as more and more of his
blood splashed upon the grass and dirt at the redwood’s base.

“Drink,” he whispered feebly to the
hamadryad. “Feed. Grow strong. Then one day return my beloved to me.”

Lightheaded and shivering with cold, he
leaned against the trunk to rest. His thoughts blurred as his mind began to
shut down.

His heart faltered. The little blood he
still possessed retreated from his outer extremities and his skin grew hard and
cold. He stumbled toward his old pedestal and half-collapsed upon the
sun-warmed stone. His dying mind noted the random details. Pitted gray stone. A
few patches of fuzzy moss. He ran his fingers along the greenery.

As he settled upon the pedestal, his thoughts
strayed back to Lillian. He brushed her sleeping mind one more time, sending a
wave of love and reassurance to her.

“Live,”
he
whispered into her mind.
“Even if I do not.”

And then the last of his heat bled from
him, hardening his skin to stone. Darkness claimed him.