“Surrender, my lady. Know what peace you
can find in sleep.”
She blinked sleep heavy lids. The last
thing she remembered was Gregory’s troubled expression.
* * *
Gregory watched the rise and fall of her
chest and prayed she would be alright. He’d put her to sleep as soon as he’d
sensed the trap. When she was deeply under, he summoned his magic and flowed
back into her mind. He had no idea what form the trap would take, so he slid
his consciousness into her body a bit at a time, fearing to trigger something
until a part of his soul was with hers, where he could help her fight it.
He shifted through her recent memories,
mildly surprised how much she already loved and trusted him even though she did
not know him. Further back, he encountered the night of the Wild Hunt—
the
awe and sense of rapture when they danced together and summoned power from the
Magic Realm. Then her joy turned to horror as he fought the vampire. The glint
of a knife in the moonlight descending toward her gargoyle.
His first clue came with the wash of her
raw emotional reactions. He turned them over in his mind, examining them. He’d
felt her possessiveness toward him before, and a small part of him took
pleasure in her reaction, but now he witnessed a different side to it:
ownership, not love.
That was not how his lady thought of him.
He moved to the next emotion: her rage. He’d been hurt in battle before. Once
the Sorceress had sent a mountain crashing down into a valley where a demon
army was amassing. She did it not just to protect him, but to save a village in
the path of the invading army.
But the rage she felt on the night he’d
been stabbed was fueled by a love twisted up with possession. She raged that
someone had dared to harm
her
gargoyle, and she wanted to cause equal
pain upon the enemy, to rip and tear into them and shred what remained of their
dark souls. She’d grown talons, and with a strength she shouldn’t have
possessed, she’d smashed the vampire’s ribcage and destroyed its heart. Then
the demon blade had recognized a darkness greater than itself and obeyed her
wishes and released
her
gargoyle.
Gregory shook free of her thoughts, and
with a sinking feeling realized when he was in danger, she surrendered to a new
dark and bestial part of her soul—a part he’d never known in all their lifetimes
together, and a part that clearly thought of him as hers. This was the Lady of
Battles’ work. But what could it mean? Lillian had killed evil to protect him.
What was the purpose behind making her more protective of him than she already
was? The Lady of Battles had plans layered upon plans, and Gregory needed to
dig deeper to find the root of this.
He sought a childhood memory. One before
she came to this world . . .
A child of eight, she stood on a
battlement, looking up at the jade-colored sky with its weak sun casting meager
light upon the forests below. Small demons and lost spirits wandered among the
trees.
She debated visiting her father in his
prison there, but mother would be angry if she didn’t show up for lessons. This
one was to learn the weaving of invisibility like her father could summon. And
that would be a handy ability, especially if she was going to sneak out of this
place before her gargoyle matured and came looking for her. She wouldn’t let
the Lady of Battles have him. The gargoyle was hers, after all, and no one else
had the right to command or enslave him. Only she had that right. She was
Mistress.
Gregory broke away from the memory.
Even as a young child, Lillian had known
what the Lady of Battles had planned. But by trying to twist the Sorceress’s
love of him into something evil, the Lady had created a fatal flaw in her plan.
Lillian would allow no one else to use him. Lillian’s eight-year-old memories
had made that clear.
Darkness had corrupted the foundation of
what they were. While this news was unwelcome, it was still something within
his power to heal, if given time. But there must be more—the Lady of Battles
was thorough, intelligent and completely competent. Twisting Lillian into
something of darkness would only be the tip of her plan.
Gregory returned to the memory where
Lillian had ripped out the heart of the vampire. She’d done it with talons.
Another clue. The Sorceress wasn’t gifted with shapeshifting, yet she’d grown
claws. Since he and the Sorceress were so closely linked, if the Sorceress
learned to shapeshift, she might naturally take another shape he’d find even
more appealing than a dryad. He envisioned Lillian with a long, dark mane and
graceful wings.
His blood surged at the image.
With a mental curse, he halted his line of
thought. There was one very good reason why the Mother had made it so the
Sorceress could never shapeshift. Best not to even think about how his Mistress
would look given a gargoyle form. Death lay down that road.
Surely that wasn’t the Lady of Battles’
plan. There were easier ways to kill him and his Sorceress than to have the
Divine Ones burn them to ash. Once roused, there was no stopping or hiding from
the God and Goddess. Gregory’s skin shivered with cold even as his heart raced.
No, the Lady of Battles would gain nothing by stirring her parents’ ire. If
anything, they might seek out the cause of all the trouble. And then the Lady
of Battles would have a greater problem than being caged in her prison.
Gregory slid deeper into Lillian’s mind,
merging with her soul. He needed to find what else the dark goddess had done to
her, but her thoughts and memories pressed upon him from all sides, warm and
peaceful, distracting him from his purpose. Home—like the vaguely remembered
time in the Spirit Realm when they were one soul.
With some regret, he turned his attention
back to the internal dangers lying dormant upon her magic and soul. After
sifting through her younger memories, he encountered a tight knot of blocked memories.
He poked at the mass and it quivered and slid sideways away from him, seeking
shelter in other memories.
Now, here was an anomaly that did not
belong.
It tasted of a foreign magic, and something
else. A second spirit. Gregory examined his find with growing horror. The Lady
of Battles had enslaved another soul and imbedded it within Lillian. It grew
within his lady like a parasite.
He swam after it and chased it down a
second time. The foreign consciousness tossed another barrier between them.
He wove a net of magic and cast it around
the second spirit. Focusing, he stripped a layer of its protective magic away,
only to reveal another layer underneath. Evil hit his senses with its unclean
taste. This was no regular soul, but a demon soul—an evil seed which would grow
into one of the powerful, higher-level demons. If he’d fought it within their
home Realm, Gregory had no doubt he would win. But here in the Mortal Realm,
his options were limited and the demon was protected within Lillian’s body. If
he wasn’t mistaken, it was feeding on her power, growing stronger with each
passing day.
Lillian shivered as a wave of unease
coursed through her. Her heart rate spiked, her breath becoming labored. She
thrashed like in a nightmare. If she physically flung him off and broke the
link between them now . . .
Cursing, he disengaged from Lillian’s mind
to control her body. Dryad scent, the silk-soft warmth of skin, and his own
heady desire swamped his senses. Fighting for control, he mentally shook
himself, then took a firmer hold on Lillian. At least the umbilical of magic
between them remained strong, unharmed by her brief fit of wakefulness or his
break in concentration.
As he poured his consciousness back into
her body, he met with resistance. The demon soul had escaped its prison and had
been busy the few moments Gregory had been distracted.
The darkness uncoiled within Lillian,
expanding and building defenses as it fed on her magic. Gregory attacked her
link to the Magic Realm, hoping to starve the demon into defeat.
Magic surged and Gregory realized he was
already too late. A dam broke within Lillian, unleashing a river of magic upon
him. Helplessly, he was thrown back into his own body by the torrent.
The demon soul continued to call power as
it expanded its spell outside Lillian’s body.
Gregory raised his head from the pillow of
Lillian’s hair and inhaled a steadying breath, hoping to calm his racing heart
and gather his thoughts. It had the opposite effect. Even in his nose-dead,
wingless hybrid form, she still smelled good to him. He brushed the back of one
hand against her cheek. Her eyelashes fluttered but didn’t open. As a
precaution, he whispered a spell so she would slip deeper into slumber. Then he
forced his attention away from Lillian long enough to glance around.
A pale nebulous power dripped down the
sides of the bed and gathered in an ever-spreading pool on the floor. After a
moment, the shimmer intensified and began a purposeful crawl up the north wall
of Lillian’s bedroom. What he’d first thought was a spell to loosen his hold on
her mind was something of greater concern.
His own magic answered his call with a
skin-tingling rush and he reverted back to gargoyle form. All his senses were riveted
on the foreign spell and claws extended from his fingertips, poised to rend
anything the hostile magic might summon. The silver flames crawling up the wall
now flickered with the look of true fire. The mass seethed and heaved like
wind-blown grass, and then with a bright flash, a window opened into another
place.
The teal-colored light of the Magic Realm
illuminated a circular room with a raised dais at the center. Occupying the
dais, two thrones, carved of a dark rock and polished until they resembled
black glass, overlooked the rest of the room. Instead of a back wall, a series
of stone arches allowed in light and provided a majestic view of white-capped
mountains set against the backdrop of a cloudless, green-tinted sky. Presently,
the thrones were as empty as the sky, yet by the shimmer of the polished stone
floors, this room was well cared for.
From the corner of his eye, Gregory caught
movement. He’d forgotten the fae council members were still in the room with
him. Whitethorn approached the magic window. He had a sword in one hand, point
forward. With a blur of motion, he slashed at the image. The blade bit into the
unseen wall behind, raining chips of plaster and white dust down across the
floor.
The reflection to the other world rippled
like a stone had been tossed into a still pond.
Blessedly, it was an image and not a real
gateway. When Whitethorn eased back to his original position a few steps in
front of the other Councilors, Gregory caught his eye. “Get out of the line of
sight. The less this new enemy knows about our alliance, the better. Let them
think Lillian and I are alone.”
Whitethorn’s expression darkened, but he
nodded and signaled the other immortals out of sight. The sidhe bowed in
Gregory’s direction, then vanished as quickly as the rest. Gregory stared at
the door Whitethorn had used a moment more. At least he had some allies, even
if they were reluctant ones.
Lillian thrashed upon the bed, fighting his
compulsion to sleep. She made a soft exclamation and sat up next to him as she
shrugged off the last of his sleep spell. After she took in her surroundings,
including the new wall, she focused on him again. Her expression remained
serene. A faint smile played across her lips. “Durnathyne, my Hunting Shadow,
let me handle this.”
The use of his old name startled him enough
that she slipped by him, and was half off the bed before he’d realized she was
moving. He leapt into motion and repositioned himself to keep her fenced in
between his outstretched wings. He held her in place with his tail for good
measure. “Stay. Your protection is my duty.”
“For once let me protect you. You’ll find
these enemies don’t play by your rules, my old friend,” Lillian said. She
didn’t fight him, but remained behind him with her one hand resting on his
back. “The demon soul the Lady of Battles grafted upon me thought it was under
attack. It tried to summon help, but it exhausted itself. Now I am in control,
and I remember everything. Let me deal with this. Please.”
“But I must—”
“Protect your Mistress?” she asked,
sounding sad. Then she pressed a kiss to the muscle of his shoulder as if in
apology. “Always the noble protector. I think we’ve taken our disguises too far
and you have forgotten we are equals in power.”
The click of boots on stone tiles drew
Gregory’s attention back to the image still rippling against the wall. Two
columns of heavily armored guards marched into the room from opposite sides,
converging upon the center dais with its raised thrones. Tall spears bristled
above their heads, and they wore helms shaped in the image of horned demons and
snarling beasts. If he’d had doubts about their allegiance, their surcoats with
the black dragon against a red field quickly banished his doubts. These were
the Lady of Battles’ creatures.
The black-clad guards positioned themselves
in a semicircle directly in front of the viewing window, then froze in place.
Silence, thick and heavy, pressed all around Gregory. He strained his ears. At
first he heard nothing, and then a soft scuffing sound teased his senses.
A ripple went through the line of soldiers
as they raised their spears and thumped the staves of dark wood against
breastplates. Again, Gregory heard the sound. Louder now. Boot heels striking
stone.
A man of middle height stopped a few paces
in front of the viewing mirror, his black armor polished until it glistened
like wet shadows. At his side, a small, graceful woman waited with her head
bowed. A delicate chain peeked out from the flowing sleeve of her gown. The
silver links glittered in the dim light but abruptly vanished into gloom a few
paces behind the woman, like they had been severed with an axe.
Something about the shadows caught
Gregory’s eye, diverting his attention from the leader to the small woman. It
hit him then, a shock so profound he recoiled back a step. Lillian moved behind
him and smoothed a hand across his shoulder in a subtle caress.
“Easy, my gargoyle,” she said, pitching her
words to carry, like she intended for the new arrivals to hear. “When you
rescued me, you were not the only gargoyle there. They needed to practice
capturing and holding one of your kind before they attempted to capture you, my
pet.”
At the mention of another gargoyle, the
small woman with the manacled wrist gave the chain a tug. The shadows parted
and a gargoyle materialized on the opposite side of the viewing mirror. He
sidled up next to the woman and licked at her hands before bowing his head low.
Then he lay down at her feet. Like a loyal dog.
Gregory’s stomach heaved. He looked over
his shoulder at Lillian.
“Is this to be my future?”
“
Not if I can help it, my love.”
Lillian’s voice filled his head.
“Play along with me if you do not want to
become their slave for real. As long as they think I’m winning you over to
their side, they will not go to the trouble of coming here. And since they will
have the way back to the Magic Realm guarded, we are trapped here with nowhere
to go. They’ll assume I’ll bring you home to them once I’ve had my fun.
Gregory, please play along no matter what I do. I promise not to shame you in
front of the others. You have my word.”
Lillian’s thoughts were as shocking as her
hands sliding under the obstacle of his wings and around his sides in a gliding
caress. Her fingers traced along the ridge of his tensed muscles.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,”
he cautioned.
“I like danger,”
Lillian said, her breath disturbing his mane and tickling his neck.
Her tone, so like the Sorceress of old,
warmed him. Then her hands shifted lower, her thumbs hooking under the top edge
of his loincloth. And
that
wasn’t anything like his old Mistress.
“Greetings, Commander Gryton,” Lillian said
while she draped herself along Gregory’s back.
“Sorceress.” The man in the black armor
raised his visor and nodded in her direction, though he didn’t take his eyes
off Gregory for long. “Our Lady will be pleased you’ve decided to return home.”
The face looking out of the shadows of the
helmet was human enough. Though, that meant little. A number of creatures could
pass for human at a distance. Considering this one’s location, Gregory doubted
he had any human blood. A rumble of threat built in his chest and when the
armor-clad man took a step forward, Gregory released a glass-shaking growl.
Lillian laughed, then with surprising speed
she stepped around him and pushed him back until he collided with the edge of
the bed.
“Easy, Gregory. They’re no threat to me.”
Lillian turned her attention back to Gryton. “My gargoyle has always been
protective, but now he’s added handsome males to the list of things he doesn’t
like me near.”
“So he’s fully matured and already yours?”
Gryton questioned, doubt clear in his raised eyebrow.
“He was too young when I called him the
first time, but after he was injured and rested in stone, I continued to work
on his conditioning.”
“Good, you’ll have no problem bringing him
home now.”
“He’ll follow me anywhere. However, I’m not
coming home yet.”
“Do not make me retrieve you.”
“You won’t have to. But why do you think I
called him early and fled with him to this Realm?”
Gryton sighed. “Because you were a
rebellious young fool. I blame your dryad mother for allowing you too much
freedom.”
Gregory studied the woman. So this was
Lillian’s mother. He glanced between the woman and the chained gargoyle,
wondering.
“Perhaps you have cause to think me
rebellious. I’m not coming home until Gregory is completely mine. Once he is,
I’ll return and serve the Lady of Battles as she wishes. But Gregory is mine,
and he’ll take orders from no one but me. I don’t share.”
“That is the talk of a traitor.”
“No, this agreement is between the Lady and
I. If she has a problem with how I choose to serve, let her judge me.”
Gryton tapped a finger along one armor-clad
thigh. “Why did you contact us, if not to say you were returning home?”
“Two things. Have you checked your armory
lately? You’ll find you’re missing a demon blade—and no, I didn’t steal one as
I ran. But if there is more than one missing, I’d like to know how many, since
a Riven tried to kill my gargoyle with one, and in this magicless realm, he
came closer to death than I wish ever to see again.”
Gryton swore and gestured to the two
closest guards. They sprinted off the way they’d come. He looked back at
Lillian with a scowl on his face. “You’re not doing a good job of convincing me
why I should leave you and your gargoyle in the Mortal Realm.”
“Are you actually saying the Lady’s domain
is safer?”
He grunted. “No, but I prefer my assets
where I can protect them. Until you and the gargoyle merge powers, you are both
vulnerable. The Lady of Battles will be angry if you’re foolish enough to get
killed. She doesn’t like having to start over. And I don’t like having to deal
with an angry goddess. It’s not good for one’s immortality.”
“I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself
and my gargoyle. The Lady made certain of that. Now, back to my requests . . .”
“Fine. Your other request?”
“I’d like my mother and father to come
here. It wouldn’t hurt to have another gargoyle around to deal with the
vampires while I finish taming mine. And no doubt, my mother has advice to help
tame a gargoyle.”
“I thought you said he was already yours?”
Gryton paused and narrowed his eyes at Gregory before returning his attention
to Lillian. “You don’t sound as confident now.”
To anyone watching, Gregory hoped he looked
appropriately tamed by Lillian’s power, his body language docile—the willing
victim. While lying wasn’t one of his strongest talents, he’d certainly been
honing that skill a great deal of late.
“Oh, he is mine. I just wanted to know some
of my mother’s secrets.” Lillian trailed her fingers down Gregory’s chest in a
slow, leisurely descent. At the caress of her fingertips against his sensitive
skin, his pulse picked up until it thundered in his ears, and he no longer had
to fake the “willing victim” part.
“Fine, I don’t need to know more about
dryad mating habits. I’ll send your parents to you within a moon’s cycle, then
I want you back within the season. You
will
report your progress once
every fortnight.”
“As you wish.” Lillian bowed her head in
the stranger’s direction. “I will expect mother’s arrival soon. But until then,
I have other plans.” She pushed Gregory back on the bed, and he felt her touch
his magic, and before he knew what was happening he was shapeshifting into his
human form.
Gregory allowed Lillian to press him into
the bed. She trapped him with her slight weight more surely than a rockslide.
Her lips caressed his and he closed his eyes, concentrating on boring
things—like mending harnesses and polishing swords—while standing in ice-cold
water. Lillian chuckled and nipped at his lips.
Nice try. Let me know how that works for
you.
She broke off the kiss and looked over her
shoulder at the enemy. “Goodbye Gryton.”