Sorceress Awakening (9 page)

The gargoyle stood, his sudden movement
interrupting Gran’s story. He made a short coughing bark as he glanced out the
window. His tail lashed, and his ears snapped forward. Someone was coming, judging
by his body language.

Lillian eased off her bed and came up
behind the gargoyle. Her viewpoint was all wings, mane, and flicking tail. A
small thrill of gratitude flowed through her veins when he shifted a wing out of
the way and made room for her to stand next to him.

Through the open window she heard a vehicle
coming up the lane. The boulevard trees blocked her line of sight and obscured
the vehicle until it turned up the main driveway. Her brother’s car came into
view.

The gargoyle’s lips pulled back from his
muzzle. Jaws parted slightly and nostrils quivering, he sniffed at the air. She
touched his arm—and his thoughts came to her. No, not sniffing the air—tasting
it to search for magic.

“Ah, the Sisterhood has arrived.” Gran
said. “I sent Jason to pick them up from the airport.”

“The other dryads?”

“Yes. They’re the closest biological family
you have in this world, but don’t be fooled for a moment. They are a dying race
and have an agenda of their own. They saved your life, but I think they did it
more to curry favor with the gargoyle than out of actual concern for you.”

“You think they’re dangerous.” Lillian
meant it as a statement but Gran answered anyway.

“No,” Gran said, then paused as if
selecting her words with care. “I don’t mean to poison you against them. They
serve the Light, not the Shadow, but they are not human. They don’t think like
us. And as much as you’re biologically like them, you were raised as a human,
with a human’s view of the world and our moral concepts ingrained in you from a
young age. You may not like what they have come seeking.”

“Well, if you’re sure they’re not evil, I
can tolerant whatever else they might be after for the sake of peace. By the
sound of it, our biggest problem is with the Riven.”

“Yes, I’m certain. Do you think your
gargoyle would stand there watching them if they were?”

“No,” Lillian replied with a glance at the
gargoyle. He was now silent, unmoving. Only his eyes showed any life in them.
They glittered like black ice, a predator’s stare directed down at the women
exiting the car.

All three strangers had the tall thin grace
of swans. Each wore a sleek, elegant dress, had smooth, waist-length hair, and
long legs that ended in delicate, old-fashioned slippers. “That’s so not fair.
I thought you said these women were the same species as me. I fail to see the
resemblance.” Apparently, not all dryads were so lucky as to get the chic gene.
Instead, nature had given her the curvy, but slightly plump gene.

“Oh, they’re just half-starved. Their trees
didn’t have the nutrition of nice gargoyle blood to make them big and strong.”
Gran chuckled. “Don’t worry, dear. They’d blow over in a storm. Do you still
regret you’re not like them?”

“If you put it that way, no, not really.”

“Well, we can’t hide up here all afternoon.
Shall we introduce you and your gargoyle to the dryads?”

“Sure.” Lillian couldn’t muster much
enthusiasm. She didn’t want to meet them, not when she was feeling like the
poor, uneducated cousin.

Gregory remained silent as he padded to the
door. He held it open for them. Not seeing any other choice, Lillian followed
Gran out.

The gargoyle vanished into the shadows, but
he trailed along behind, his heat and magic a reassuring presence. Up until the
moment he’d awakened and saved her, she’d always felt alone and hadn’t known
why. Now she knew the reason. Her gargoyle belonged at her back. She smiled and
reached a hand out behind her as she descended the stairs. The warmth of a
muzzle bumped under her hand. A moment later, a tongue licked at her fingers.
She smiled as contentment warmed her heart.

Lillian took the curving stairs in a slow,
measured step. More to make sure she didn’t trip than to make an entrance. The
living room stretched out below her. She craned her neck for a better view of
the three strangers, but their backs were to her. Her brother was already
below, attentive as a servant. Poor, beguiled fool. While she wasn’t familiar
with dryads, these ones looked capable of eating her brother alive.

Her grandmother sailed past Lillian on the
stairway, showing no signs of weakness or age as she flowed down the steps, her
floral-print dress billowing out behind her. She moved as a queen or matriarch
would, quietly assured of her right to rule her domain.

Gran tilted her head in Jason’s direction.
“Be a dear and go help your uncle. The gardens are a mess.”

A smile tugged at Lillian’s lips as she
took in her brother’s look of disgruntlement. Jason grumbled something as he
left.

At Gran’s approach, the palest of the
dryads stood. The newcomer made the simple motion one of slow grace. A
long-fingered hand swept sable-colored hair off her shoulder. The sleek locks
looked like they had never seen the abuse of a blow dryer or flat iron.

Sable-hair’s ladies-in-waiting, as Lillian
decided to call the two flanking women, bowed to Vivian and then stepped back.

Like two queens meeting to negotiate a
treaty, Gran and Sable-hair regarded each other with hard gazes.

“The gargoyle is awake and remains in this
realm? He hasn’t returned to his own yet?” Sable-hair’s voice tightened with
worry on the second question.

Lillian’s jaw tensed. What did these dryads
want with her gargoyle? What was so important they couldn’t take the time to
exchange names first? She didn’t like the implications already.

Gran nodded at the dryad’s words. “He is
here, and he will remain here as long as my granddaughter does. He shadows her
every step, awaiting her command. Whatever his purpose, if you wish to speak
with him about your problem, you’ll need to communicate through Lillian. The
gargoyle is shy, reclusive, and disinclined to speak to us folk of lesser
magic.”

Lillian’s jaw tightened. Gregory wasn’t
like that. Sure, he didn’t have much to say, but he’d never done anything to
make her think he regarded the rest of them as lesser beings. Gran caught her eye
and shook her head the slightest bit. That one motion told Lillian all she
needed to know. If her grandmother wanted to keep these strangers guessing, she
would play along. The gargoyle remained silent, hidden in the shadows.
Apparently he agreed with Gran’s plan.

The soft-spoken, brown-haired
lady-in-waiting turned her attention to Lillian. “This gargoyle is your
servant?” Her sculpted brows rose in question. “He awaits your commands?”

Lillian’s stomach soured. Her grandmother’s
plan suddenly didn’t look so appealing. This new sense of authority, where
others looked to her for answers, was not something she wanted. Reluctantly,
but seeing no other choice, she answered. “If anyone is in the other’s debt, I
am in his. He saved my life twice. First from the monsters who attacked me, and
then later he used his own strength to heal me. I was dying.” Her words drifted
to silence as she remembered those moments of horror.

“But he
does
remain at your side?”
Sable-hair interrupted.

“I’m not his master.” True. But he had said,
‘I am yours,’ whatever that might mean. She didn’t think she’d share that piece
of information.

Sable-hair gritted her teeth, a noticeable change
compared to her earlier serene expression. “Tell me how you came to be in this
realm in the company of a gargoyle.”

Gran cleared her throat. “Perhaps
introductions are in order.” She glanced in Lillian’s direction. “The dryads,
like many of the fae races, don’t give their true names freely. This is a dryad
Elder of the North American sisterhood. You may call her Sable.”

How creative,
Lillian thought to herself as she smiled at the dryad in an attempt
to seem friendly. When she held her hand out to the Elder, Sable hesitated.

Gran gave the dryad a frosty smile. “Elder
Sable, this is my granddaughter. As you have said, she is in the good graces of
a gargoyle.”

After a brief pause, Sable returned the
handshake, the dryad’s soft, unblemished skin completely different than
Lillian’s own garden-roughened hands.

Lillian grinned at the implied “play nice
or else.” While the Elder returned Gran’s frosty smile, Lillian peered at the
dryad to Sable’s right. With her waves of golden hair and pixie face, she
wouldn’t have been surprised if this one called herself Goldilocks. Lillian
rolled her eyes at her own folly.

Goldilocks, the lady-in-waiting, took a
step forward and made eye contact. Her face pinched with impatience. “What is
your relationship with this gargoyle? Is he blood relative or mate?”

“What the hell?” Lillian’s jaw dropped.
Blood
relative or mate?
She hadn’t know what to expect, but that wasn’t it.

“Don’t play coy, just tell us.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. I
don’t see how. . . .” Heck, she saw zero family resemblance between dryads and
gargoyles. There were a few genetic differences, for starters.

“Oh, come. How long has he been awake? A
day? Two? Even if you honestly don’t remember your past, that’s still long
enough to experience the draw between our races.”

Lillian didn’t even know how to formulate
an answer to that odd line of questioning. Shaking her head, she denied what
they said. But as she took a step back, she remembered that just an hour ago,
she’d been running her hands over the gargoyle while he’d slept. Oh . . . so
that’s why she kept wanting to touch him. Another complication she didn’t need.

Gran sent Lillian a look of sympathy. Then,
her expression darkening, she transferred her gaze to the woman who had spoken
out of turn. “Did you read any of the reports I sent you? Lillian knows
nothing—absolutely nothing—about her history. She only found out this morning
she wasn’t human.”

“Her lack of education is hardly my fault.”

With a snort of disgust, Gran flung her
hands in the air. “Stupid child! Seal your mouth while you think things through
in the future, lest foolishness escape!”

Elder Sable looked like she wanted to
throttle Goldilocks, too. But instead she said, “Kayla is young, not yet
mature. You are too hard on her.”

“Bah! Fine, it’s you I should gripe at.
She’s your responsibility. Any harm she causes in the future is your fault.”

“Fair enough.” Sable nodded. “Now let us
get back to the reason we came.”

“Fine,” Gran growled, clearly at the end of
her patience dealing with these three superior individuals. “What do you want
besides the obvious?”

“Same as you. Too learn why and how the
gargoyle came here.”

Suspicion started growing in Lillian’s
mind. “And once you have your answers, what will you do with that knowledge?”

Sable tilted her head to the side to study
Lillian in turn. “Leave this world. We’re a dying race and can’t remain here.
There isn’t enough magic to beget healthy children. We must flee back to the
realm of magic if we can.”

Lillian was trying to listen and make sense
of everything they’d said, but her mind kept going back to when Kayla asked
what relation the gargoyle was to her. Damn it all to hell. She had to know.
“Explain what you said earlier about gargoyles and dryads . . . being related.”
She locked gazes with Kayla.

Kayla flinched, her fingers fluttering
against the hem of her dress in agitation.

“Talk,” Lillian demanded.

The other girl swallowed and darted glances
between Lillian and Sable.

“I have a gargoyle who shadows my every
step. Who do you think is more dangerous right now, me or Elder Sable?”

Kayla folded her hands and composed
herself. “You are aware there are no male dryads?”

“No, but Gran did call you the
‘Sisterhood.’ Go on.”

“Long ago, when we wanted a child or
companionship, we’d seek out males from the other magic races. Sometimes even a
human male would do. But over time, we grew weaker. The oldest of our
bloodlines were failing to produce viable strong girl children to continue our
race.” Kayla’s eyes unfocused, her thoughts turned inward as she warmed to her
story. A ghost of a smile hovered on her lips. “Long and long ago, when we still
lived within the Magic Realm, a dryad queen grieved over her barren state. Her
tree had taken to blight, and she was dying without an heir. She feared for all
her people. On the border of life and death, she first saw the gargoyle. All of
the magic races have their legends about those demon killers, Light’s
Assassins, but she’d never met one in all her years.” The younger dryad paused
a moment before continuing.

“He had frequented her forest for many
centuries and found the peaceful glade where she took root soothed his soul.
He’d watched her from the shadows for a very long time without revealing
himself. It wasn’t until he found her dying, as she prayed for another to take
her mantle of power before she passed on, that he realized he loved her noble spirit
and the kindness of her heart. He showed himself and told her he knew what
would help her tree, save her life and make her fertile, but he had a request
of his own. He sought a mate. Now this wasn’t the usual type of bargain. He
told the dryad he’d heal her regardless of her decision. He was lonely, and
wished to experience the joy of raising a child—which for every other creature
upon the earth, in the seas and flying through the air, is a normal occurrence.
But gargoyles are different. The first gargoyles were created to serve and
protect the Lord of the Underworld, and like him, they normally dwell alone.
There are no female gargoyles.”

Lillian frowned thoughtfully. Gregory
hadn’t said much about their relationship, but she didn’t think he was looking
for a mate.

“So they served the Lord of the Underworld
and destroyed evil in his name. Though it wasn’t forbidden, no gargoyle had
sought a mate or tried to sire a child, content to continue their silent battle
with evil among the shadows,” Kayla said, lost in her tale. “But this gargoyle
had found and lost his heart in the peaceful forest glade. Laying his talons
upon his flesh, he slashed open his own hide. Then he mixed his blood with
water and poured it upon the ground under the dryad’s tree. Her tree drank,
healing and growing stronger as she watched. When the gargoyle came up behind
her and placed one of his talon-tipped hands on her shoulder, she shied away,
unable to hide her fear at his touch. It was only after she saw what he held
that she calmed: grasped in one clawed-hand was a stone bowl, filled to
brimming with his potent blood. He instructed her to mix a few drops in water
and feed her tree each day. She took the bowl, and while she was distracted,
the gargoyle vanished back into the shadows of the forest.”

Interesting and disturbing. Hadn’t Gran
used Gregory’s blood to save her hamadryad tree? Just what did her gargoyle
think of that?

“With the dawn, the gargoyle still hadn’t
returned. Days passed and she waited, both dreading and hoping he would come
back. The seasons changed and another year matured and died. One early spring
day, while the mist still shrouded the land, a shadow darker than the
surrounding forest crashed into her quiet glade and collapsed under her tree.
The dryad woke and left her tree to find the gargoyle wounded, bleeding upon
her ground anew. Uncertain what else to do, she took the strength she gained
from his blood and used it to heal his many wounds. Under her care, the
gargoyle recovered from the demon-inflicted injuries, which would have killed
most other creatures.”

Again Lillian frowned, thinking she knew
where this story was going.

“When he was strong once more, he made to
leave, but she persuaded him to stay and make his home in her glade. He gave
her many dryad daughters and she gave him his gargoyle son. And that was the
beginning of dryad and gargoyle life pairings.” Kayla ended with a wistful
sigh.

Lillian started to laugh. She couldn’t help
it. The younger girl was smitten at the thought of a legend. “That story sounds
a little like a Greek legend, like the bull from the sea and how the Minotaur
was sired. Kinky sex, anyone? Have you
actually
ever seen a gargoyle?
No, I didn’t think so.”

“Your thoughts are polluted by a human’s
outlook. We are not human.” Kayla’s response dripped with disdain.

“But you’re human-sized and human-shaped!
And he’s not. I don’t see how. . . .” She let the sentence die while she still
had a wee bit of dignity left.

“I’ll have him, if you won’t.”

“You’re welcome to him,” Lillian blurted. A
moment after she’d uttered the words, she already regretted them. Gregory
deserved better from her. He was his own thinking, intelligent being, worthy of
respect.

Gran cleared her throat. “Maybe this
gargoyle doesn’t want to be fought over like a prize. I think you’ll find he
left as soon as you started talking about him as if he were a pair of hand-me-down
jeans. While Kayla has already showed her…youth, I expected better of you,
Lillian.”