“It’s not poisoned.” Too hungry to worry
about manners, she ate with her fingers. “Relax for five minutes.” She waved at
the bounty. “Eat.”
He didn’t obey immediately, so she lifted a
second finger-length sausage off the tray and held it out to him. One moment he
was sniffing at it, then she blinked and it was gone. The only clue he hadn’t
used magic to make it vanish was the slight movement as he swallowed.
Gran handed him his own plate and motioned
for him to eat. The gargoyle didn’t need more prompting, and folded a pancake
in half and shoved it in his mouth whole. A second vanished as fast as the
first one. Gran smiled and turned back to Lillian.
“I know you have questions. I’ll tell you
all I know, and then we’ll see if we can get our new friend to tell us what he
knows.” Gran graced the gargoyle with a calculating smile. He stopped eating
long enough to bob his head in assent. She turned back to Lillian. “Good.
First, no matter what you learn here, I want you to know you
are
my
granddaughter in all ways that matter.”
Gran paused, closing her eyes like she
sought a memory she’d buried long ago. “You came to me at a time of great
tragedy. It was a January night twelve years ago when I heard Jason’s screams.
He was strong and cocky for his age, and very, very sure of himself. I’d never
heard him cry out like he did that night.
I had told him and his sister they could go
play for a while as a break from unpacking. I should have gone with them . . .
later your mother and I heard the cries for help. Your mother was faster and
reached the lake first. By the time I caught up, she’d managed to rescue your
sister from the water. There was no life left in her. Her young and vibrant
spirit had already fled. Jason was still trapped on the ice, out of reach. I
thought—” Gran broke off, the pain of old memories reflected in her pale
complexion.
Shock descended on Lillian like a blow. She’d
never known she’d had an older sister.
Gran cleared her throat. “I thought I was
seeing the death of both my grandchildren. Then the darkness shuddered and spat
out a hulking shadow, a creature of immense berth and height—your gargoyle. He
raced into the freezing water to save my grandson. But even the gargoyle could
do nothing for my little Lily.”
Lily. Her dead sister was named Lily. Her
lost memories, a sister she didn’t know she had, her mother’s
resentment—everything clicked into place. The dead girl who shared her name
wasn’t a sister at all. Somehow she’d stepped into the life of a dead girl and
made it her own. Horror cramped her belly. Her eyes burned, but no tears came.
The horror was too great.
“My Lily was such a good girl.” Gran
continued, too caught up in her memories to realize Lillian’s horror.
Good,
Lillian thought.
Gran doesn’t need more guilt. Whatever comes of all this,
I’ll remain strong for her.
“In a way my little Lily saved her brother.
For even after death claimed her, her spirit hovered nearby, and sensing the
gargoyle, she sought him out and asked him to aid her family. The gargoyle
saved Jason. He . . .” she paused, swallowing rapidly, like she was having to
conquer her grief anew. “The gargoyle granted us another miracle. He gave us
one more night with Lily, and made it so we could say goodbye. In return, he
had one request. He ran off into the shadowy tree line and retrieved something.
When he returned, he had another dark-haired child bundled in his arms—so like
my little Lily, I thought it was her at first. Then he laid you in my arms. You
were such a small thing for your age, just like Lily. He asked me to guide and
protect you like one of my own. Giving my word was no hardship.”
A numb, seeping cold held Lillian in its
grasp. Her world was built on a hundred thousand lies.
Who am I?
She
remembered the blood running down her tree, and the sensation of her life force
weakening as blood leached from the wounds.
What am I?
“You called me Lillian after a dead girl—why?
No wonder Mother was so cold to me.”
“My daughter-in-law never got over that
night. It broke something within her. Don’t blame yourself. Perhaps it’s for
the best she’s with Lily now.”
“But why name me after her? Surely it
created painful reminders.”
“Pain, yes, but sweet, too. It was my way
of honoring her for leading the gargoyle to us and saving her brother.” Gran
sighed and looked at the gargoyle where he crouched next to the bed. His empty
plate lay on the floor next to him. “We were new to this place. No one knew
Lily. They wouldn’t know you were not the same girl. So you became Lillian.”
She sighed. “I have kept my promise to the gargoyle as best I could, but now
there is an enemy beyond my ability to defeat. Yesterday they came here to
destroy my coven, and found you here alone. I am sorry. We had no idea they
were ready to move on our territory.”
“Who are they?” Lillian asked. “And why
don’t I know any of this? Why keep the truth from me?”
“Forgive me for the lie, but the gargoyle
told me to say nothing of magic. So I thought it best if you believed you were
Lily. Your uncle came up with the idea about losing your memories in a near
drowning—a half truth is easier to accept than outright lies. And brain damage
explained why you would need to learn our language and details about our world.”
Gran paused again, and looked down at her hands. When she looked up, she gave
the gargoyle an intense look. “I’m interested to hear the reasons why the
gargoyle wanted you to know nothing about magic. That was a curious
stipulation.”
Lillian followed her grandmother’s gaze.
Gregory balanced on his haunches, one hand braced against his bent knee, muzzle
bowed until it touched his chest, eyes focused unseeing on the ground. At the
moment, he looked about as talkative as a stone.
“Right. Better luck next time.” A cold
sweat broke out along Lillian’s back. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the
gargoyle’s reasoning—her gut told her there was more amiss then just bad guys
trying to kill her. She returned her attention to Gran. “What do you know about
the creatures who attacked me?”
“Not enough. They call themselves the
Riven. We don’t know their agenda, but they are a gathering of evil-tainted
magic wielders. Before, we speculated they were led by vampires. Now after your
attack, we know that to be true.”
“Why attack me? Why now?”
Gran broke eye contact and glanced out the
window. “This isn’t the first time they’ve made a move against us,” she said,
her voice strained. She took two deep breaths and when she spoke again, her
voice had smoothed out. “Six years ago, we were caught unawares. There had been
rumors of a dark underground movement, one that could unbalance our community
and expose us to the humans, but no evidence was found to back up our theories.
Then the disappearances started. At first, we thought a blood feud had broken
out between the Clan and the Coven.”
“Wait,” Lillian interrupted. “So the Coven
is made up of your people—the witches. But this Clan, who are they?”
“We of the Coven are descendants of the few
ancient human bloodlines gifted with magic. The Clan is a mix of the other
magical races, many of which were once enemies. But our diverse peoples banded
together for one simple reason: survival. The Clan’s numbers were always less
than ours, but now they are many, many fewer. While they may not age, the
dwindling magic has killed many of them. If they don’t find a way back to the
Magic Realm, all the Clan will perish in time.”
Lillian rubbed at her temples. “So the
unicorn is Clan, and my brother is Coven. And the Clan and Coven are allies?”
“Now we are, but that wasn’t always the
case. At the thought of another blood feud, members of both Clan and Coven
became paranoid and defensive. The Council gathered to put a stop to this, for
a blood feud would expose us to the humans. The last time such a thing happened
was long ago and ended with members on both sides burning at the stake. The
Council ordered an investigation. The order was barely three hours old when we
were attacked. The Riven showed us how woeful our defenses were against them.
We lost eighty percent of the Council in one night.”
Lillian waited while her grandmother
gathered herself.
Both grief and anger glinted in Gran’s
eyes, the two emotions melding into a steel-hard resolve. “Nothing like this
had ever happened before. Individually, we didn’t know what to do against such
a powerful new enemy. For the first time in recorded history, the entire
membership of the Clan and the Coven came together, like a herd seeking safety
in greater numbers. When we did, we saw how many were missing. At first we
thought those absent were dead, hunted down by the Riven. But later we learned
the truth. Better had they been dead.” Gran sighed bitterly.
“Some old and trusted friends, ones we
never thought had a speck of darkness within them, were serving these Riven. It
became clear later what the Riven’s true motives were: to consume all the magic
of this realm and rule over what remains. I fear some of the traitors may not
have had a choice. We caught one of the traitors, a dire wolf. He seemed
relieved when we put him to death. It was as if he was at last freed from
intolerable servitude.” Gran shook her head. “I don’t know what was done to
that poor creature, but granting him death was the kindest gift he’d received
in many years.”
“What is a dire wolf?” Lillian’s head was
full of cotton.
“Ah,” Gran cleared her throat. “You’ve
heard the legends of werewolves, no doubt.”
“Yes. You’re saying a dire wolf is a
werewolf.”
“No, and don’t ever call a dire wolf one.”
Gran started to chuckle. “That’ll make them cranky. Like many of the
fae-bloods, dire wolves are shapeshifters, but their natural shape is that of a
large wolf. Instead of a human changing into a wolf, it’s the other way around.
The fae-blood wolf learned to shapeshift into a man.”
“Oh.” There was so much Lillian didn’t
know, and by the set of her grandmother’s shoulders there was more to come.
“Tell me the rest. My parents…” She stopped and chewed her lower lip. “They
didn’t die in a car accident, did they?
Gran spun her wedding band around her
finger in slow, measured turns. “My son and daughter-in-law were on the
Council, members representing the Northern branch of the Coven. They were at
council when it was attacked.”
Lillian glanced down. The glossy hardwood
floor reflected the morning light. Her gaze tracked the stream of sunlight back
to the window, and beyond to the beauty of the world outside. The sight of her favorite
tree usually brought a sense of peace, but today it couldn’t fill the hollow
ache in her heart. So much of her life was a lie, and much of what was real
felt like fantasy. She glanced at the gargoyle. At least he hadn’t vanished
into the shadows. “Why bring me here?”
He remained silent.
“Even fed, you’re still not much of a
talker.” Lillian crossed her arms over her chest and glowered.
Gran patted her shoulder. “I think he wants
me to tell you the rest.”
“There’s more?”
“Lillian, by now you must realize you’re
not what you thought. You’re Clan, not Coven. You’re not human.”
Lillian wanted to deny her grandmother’s
words, but after all that had happened, she knew there was something different
about her. She inclined her head to her grandmother and asked as calmly as she
could, “If not human, what am I?”
“I, too, wondered that at first. Your
gargoyle was injured, as were you. I think he used a lot of his power to heal
you, and didn’t have enough left over for healing his own injuries. His time
was limited. He was already turning to stone, and he couldn’t tell me much
about you beyond the fact he didn’t want you familiar with magic. I didn’t even
know what race you were at first.”
Lillian nodded her head. “Go on. I can
handle this.”
“I found a clue clenched in your hand—a
small cutting from a tree, its leaves still fresh like it was newly picked. I
put it in water and within a day it had sprouted roots. That it rooted at all
would have been enough to signal that this was no ordinary cutting, but there
was also a trace of magic in its leaves. You are a dryad. A tree spirit.
Guardian of the forests. I didn’t know enough about dryads to know how to look
after one, but I knew a sick child when I saw one. There was an unhealthy look
about your skin I didn’t like. Your little tree sickened until just a few
needles remained. Fearing I’d lose you, I contacted the sisterhood of the
dryads and told them about you, your tree, and your gargoyle. They were here in
less than a day. You’re alive because of them. I don’t think I would have
thought about giving your tree gargoyle blood.”
Lillian absorbed what her grandmother said.
She couldn’t accept everything now. It was too much. Later, when she was alone,
she’d replay this conversation in her head and maybe then it would make sense.
Trapped in her memories, Gran continued
like she was unaware Lillian was there with her. “The first night he came to us
at the edge of the lake, he’d been injured, and his blood was splattered across
the grass and leaves. That magic-laced substance shimmered under the
moonlight—I remember seeing it, and in my state of shock I’d thought it
beautiful like the stars in a cold winter sky. The next morning, my senses
returned, and knowing the power locked in an immortal’s blood, I gathered up
all I could find and kept it safe.”