Sorceress Rising (A Gargoyle and Sorceress Tale Book 2) (2 page)

“In the last
three months,” Gran’s voice soured. “Gods, I can’t believe it has only been
three months—what must be half the membership of the RCMP, the OPP, CSIS, and a
whole multitude of military acronyms, have trampled through every fen, stream,
bog, glen, marsh, and game trail, all in the name of collecting evidence. With,
I might add, a total disregard for the delicate balance in some of those
places.” Gran snapped her teeth together. “And don’t get me started on the more
recent addition of the media hounds—they’re worse than Death Hounds!”

The memory of a
Death Hound, its steel grey teeth exposed to rent and tear flashed through her
mind’s eye. Somehow, she doubted simple reporters could compare to those deadly,
destructive, unnatural creatures, but she remained silent, levelling Gran with
a probing look instead.

Gregory bolted
to his full height and bumped the table hard enough to rattle dishes. “What
form of creature is this Media Hound? I sensed no immediate danger to Lillian
when I first woke.”

She laid a
restraining hand on Gregory’s arm. “They…” Lillian frowned, trying to explain
in a way that wouldn’t end with innocent humans being hunted by her gargoyle.
“They’re…harmless truth gatherers.”

“Harmless truth gatherers?
Really
?” Gran rolled her eyes. “Gregory, don’t believe one word of the
rubbish that just exited my granddaughter’s lips. The media is far from
harmless. The local human population saw something in the sky the night the
Riven nearly sacrificed Lillian—a bright swirling power dancing in the sky. It
was snapped, filmed, tweeted, Facebooked and YouTubed to every corner of the
internet before we even had a hope of containing the damage.”

Gran stopped to
pour herself some tea. Once she’d stirred in the perfect amount of milk, she
glanced back up. “If that was the worst of it, we could have mesmerized
scientists and officials into believing the event was nothing more sinister
than the northern lights fluctuating in response to a solar flare, or some such
web of lies. That would have been within the Coven’s power. But no,” Gran said
with an uncharacteristic snarl, waving her tea spoon for emphasis. “Human
authorities reached the site first. They found bodies. The bodies of cottagers
and campers the Riven had fed upon and discarded.”

Lillian shivered
as a boy’s image surfaced from the morass of her chaotic memories—a beautiful
boy, his expression cherubic and sweet. Her stomach soured. She might never
know if the Riven’s host body was a child he’d possessed or merely shape
shifted to appear as one. He and his fellows were the cause of so many deaths,
she doubted if the demon would have spared a child.

“We tried to
slow the humans.” Gran took a sip of her tea and then continued, “The remaining
dryads, with the help of Greenborrow, Whitethorn, and the dire wolves, laid
false trails, but the humans were persistent. They found some of the Rivens’
remains, even in death those misbegotten monstrosities manage to threaten our
people. And science—ever the nemesis of magic—may yet be our undoing. Two weeks
ago, some of those images leaked onto the internet.”

“Now, every
alien and monster hunter this side of the equator has been roaming through our
forests. Even our spa is full of government types…yes, we had to reopen the spa
for fear our cover story of ‘renovations’ would be investigated. No small
business would willingly be closed during the cash cow this episode has
become.”

Gran sighed and
ran a hand through her long hair, which strangely wasn’t in her customary braid.
It appeared a touch windblown, as if she hadn’t had time to attend to it yet.
Maybe she hadn’t. Lillian wondered what else had happened while she and Gregory
slept three months away. There had to be more. It wasn’t like Gran to be phased
by government types snooping around. In all their combined history, the Clan
and the Coven must have run into a similar event in the past.

Gregory’s
thoughts brushed hers, and Lillian knew he had come to the same conclusion. He
stepped closer and prodded her in the shoulder with his muzzle when she didn’t
immediately ask Gran what she was hiding.

“Something else
has happened to rattle you, hasn’t it?” Lillian kept her voice gentle, for
whatever could disturb her grandmother had to be something truly fierce in
nature.

Gran dragged in
a deep breath and let it out slowly. “While you both were sleeping and healing,
the Lady of Battles sent two of her servants to investigate why her plan hadn’t
come to fruition as she expected.”

Outwardly, only
the slight twitch of his blade-tipped tail told of Gregory’s agitation. But
tied so closely to him, both physically and spiritually, Lillian sensed the
cold fear slicing through him, the tension in his wings, the lengthening of his
dagger-like claws. She could feel his battle readiness so clearly it could have
been her own body undergoing the changes.

“Whom did our
enemy send?” Gregory’s deep voice startled Lillian back to the present, and she
distanced herself from his thoughts and emotions to better focus on the problem
at hand. Later, she would dwell upon her deep connection with the gargoyle.

“The Lady of
Battles sent Lillian’s parents.” Gran fidgeted with her teacup before finally
looking Gregory in the eye. “Lillian’s mother we could have handled. A mere
dryad, even strengthened by dark magic, shouldn’t have been too much of a
challenge for the defenses the Clan and the Coven erected to keep you and
Lillian safe. But the dark lady didn’t just send a dryad, she sent her pet
gargoyle, too.”

“Lillian’s
father was here?” Gregory voiced it as more statement than question. Lillian
sensed he was mulling something over in his thoughts, something he wasn’t
willing to express just yet.

“Yes,” Gran
answered the gargoyle anyway. “He examined you at length though we couldn’t
detect if he weaved some spell upon you or not. We feared he had. Then he moved
on to Lillian’s hamadryad and spent even longer with her. Lillian’s mother did
the same. They couldn’t have missed the fact the hamadryad was healing her and
killing the demon seed the Lady of Battles had implanted within her. They must
have realized when Lillian emerged from her tree, healed and whole, she would
no longer be the Lady of Battles’ tool. Strangely, they both seemed pleased
with what they found.”

“Lillian’s
mother uttered one sentence. ‘We mean no harm, and will return at the turning
of the leaves for our daughter and her mate.’ Then they left as quickly as they
came. There was no fighting or bloodshed. They simply vanished as Gregory is
able to do.” Gran shook her head in remembered disbelief. “Knowing whom they
serve, I didn’t believe the ‘no harm’ for a second, and I fully expected them
to return with an army at their heels. Days came and went, but no army
appeared. Though I still doubt the wholesomeness of their words. Their version
of ‘harm’ is likely very different than mine.”

“And mine,”
Gregory rumbled in answer. “Though, if they had indeed meant us harm, I should
have awoken whether I was healed or not. That I did not, and was not even aware
of the visit, worries me.”

Lillian glanced
between her gargoyle and her grandmother. “We’re both healed and awake. It’s
mid-August, probably a good six weeks before the leaves start to change.
However, I wouldn’t put much trust in their words either—we might see my
parents long before the first shades of autumn.”

“I fear that,
too.” Gran frowned down at her plate.

A strange,
conflicting mix of excitement and apprehension swamped Lillian—though she
wasn’t sure which one she wanted to win. From the few scraps Gregory had
revealed to her about the time before she’d come into Gran’s keeping as an
eight-year-old child, Lillian sensed both her parents had loved her, but more
troubling was the fact she also thought her mother worshipped the Lady of
Battles without question. She didn’t trust the mother and daughter relationship
to outrank that of sovereign and servant.

“I will not sit
idle and await Lillian’s parents return.” Gregory stretched to his full height,
his horns once again brushing the ceiling, tail flicking in a slow measured
pace. No doubt a reflection of his present mental state. “We prepare for war.”

Gregory spun on
his heels and headed for the kitchen’s back door, already expanding his power
out before him, seeking both enemies and friends. As he saw it, his enemies had
a three month’s head start, a possible fatal advantage he planned to void,
starting today.

He ducked and
turned to ease his shoulders through the back door, forcing his wings tight to
his back until he was through. The scraping of chairs and hurried footsteps followed
him across the kitchen and outside.

“Gregory, wait,”
Lillian hissed, barely above a whisper. “Did you hear what Gran said about the
authorities crawling all over the place? They might even have the eye in the
sky trained on us!”

Gregory
continued without slowing. He didn’t know what an ‘eye in the sky’ was, though
to judge by the mental images he gleaned from Lillian’s mind, he guessed it was
probably some strange piece of metal and motors the humans used to spy upon
their enemies. Presently, he had greater worries to attend to and wasn’t
concerned about the humans. If they became a nuisance, he’d show them what an
Avatar of the Divine Ones could bring down upon their mortal heads.

“Gregory.”
Lillian’s hiss had grown in strength. Her thoughts showed she worried humans
would find him and somehow capture him. Inwardly, he smiled over her
protectiveness. For whatever reason, in this life his lady was always trying to
protect him. It was cute.

Behind him,
Lillian started to jog, attempting to match his longer strides. “Stop!” her
voice came out strained. “Someone’s going to see you. You’re just remaining
visible to vex me, aren’t you?”

Gregory
chuckled. Even angry, Lillian was adorable. Hmm, she sounded out of shape.
Three months in the heart of a tree, cocooned in hamadryad magic had healed
Lillian’s wounds, but he’d have to work on getting her fit again, especially if
her gargoyle bloodline was going to assert itself within the coming days. She’d
need to be strong, both emotionally and physically.

He turned
sharply at a fork in the garden path, taking the left branch. Within a few
strides, he dropped to all fours and broke into a ground eating lope. He
continued down the manicured gravel path, beyond the great cedar maze, and
farther still, to where a long, narrow meadow was hemmed in on three sides by
forest.

This area had
changed since he’d last seen it. A fence now enclosed the meadow and the grass
had been clipped by grazing. On the far side of the newly made paddocks, two
shapes, one dark obsidian and the other dappled grey, grazed in the peaceful
manner of horses. Though if these two were horses, he was a deer. Gregory
snorted with humor and the two equines trotted over to his side.

Neither showed
the slightest hesitation at the fence and sailed over it, not bothering to hide
their competitive natures. Upon landing, the dappled grey kicked out at his
obsidian companion.
Make that combative natures
, Gregory acknowledged.
At least not everything had changed while he’d slept in stone—the unicorn and
the pooka still barely tolerated each other.

Gregory frowned
at the two thoughtfully. It wasn’t like them to live in a pasture, and
certainly not in line of sight of each other. “Is there a particular reason
you’re living on this small parcel of land?” He paused then added, “Together.
Pretending to be mortal horses?” The last he found to be the more perplexing
question.

The unicorn
tossed his forelock out of his eyes as he trotted closer. He halted a stride
away and arched his neck until he could butt Gregory in the chest. While the
unicorn nuzzled him for a scratch, he felt a slight tug on his magic—which was
the real reason for the affectionate greeting. With a sigh and another chuckle,
Gregory complied with both requests, both physical and magical, giving a good
rub along the unicorn’s neck and withers while allowing a small trickle of his
magic to flow into the unicorn.

A quirk of fate
had allowed the unicorn, who had been trapped in the form of a man at the time,
to steal a small portion of Gregory’s blood when they had first met. Just the
tiniest sip, mere drops really, had allowed the unicorn to partake of his vast
power. The unicorn, cocky beast that he was, had taken a great risk with his
life when he gambled Gregory wouldn’t command the same power to incinerate him
on the spot.

He hadn’t killed
the one-horned fool, and now had a trusted friend in this foreign land for
which he was secretly pleased. Very few of the Fae were pure of heart, but he’d
yet to witness a unicorn serve the dark.

Gregory glanced up
at the pooka who, unlike many of his brethren, served the light. Sometimes.
When it suited his agenda.

The pooka
snorted and rolled an eye in his direction. Gregory took it as an invitation to
groom the smaller black equine, and nearly lost fingers to the surly creature.
With a grunt, he slapped his tail along the pooka’s flank and was rewarded by
an indignant squeal.

“Serves you
right, you disloyal beast. We’re still going to have a long talk about why you
delivered Lillian into the hands of my enemies last spring.”

The pooka
pranced out of reach, while the unicorn, in counterpoint, circled closer, each
revolution bringing him nearer until he squared up and faced him.
“At the
time, Lillian was even more fearsome than you,”
the unicorn offered with an
equine squeal of delight. “
P
erhaps the little black pony feared her.”

The pooka curled
his lip, flashing very unhorse-like fangs.
“It was not fear. She saw to my
obedience. I could not match her power.”

“Liar,” Gregory
huffed half-heartedly. “You were a willing victim. You wanted what she
offered.”

“Yes. I
wanted to return to the Magic Realm.”
The pooka
shook his mane and arched his tail, dancing around Gregory at a swift trot.
“This
mortal world will be the death of us all. Her bargain was one I couldn’t turn
down. I would do the same if asked a second time. So I lied to you, but I
wouldn’t be much of a pooka if I told the truth all the time.”
The pooka
edged close enough to reach out and nip at the edge of Gregory’s one wing.
“While
we speak of personal weaknesses, as I recall, you were Lillian’s most devoted
victim. I can read weaknesses in all beings, their darkest fears, needs, and
desires. In you I saw a readiness to surrender all you were to save her, even
if it meant serving the dark.”

The pooka leaped
into the air, bouncing away faster than Gregory’s tail could land a blow. With
a whinny of triumph, the black pony trotted back into range, taunting clear in
his body language.
“Deny it if you wish, gargoyle. But we both know the
truth, how close you came to betraying all you stand for, all you have ever
served. How an Avatar nearly betrayed his God.”

“You just spoke
another truth, Pooka. We are both in danger of betraying our natures.”

The pooka jerked
his head high.
“You acknowledge your guilt? You surprise me.”

“Good.” Gregory
laughed openly. “The day I fail to surprise you will be the day a pooka has
defeated me.” Of all the Fae, the pooka was perhaps the most honest about his
nature. But as interesting as this was, he was wasting valuable time. “And why are
you both playing at horse?”

Gregory turned
his attention back to the unicorn, wanting an answer that didn’t require having
to see through ten veils of deception just to get one simple bit of truth.

“Gran’s
orders. She doesn’t want any of us to be seen in our true forms by the humans.
She said horses wandering in the forests and fields would be more easily
explained. And Gran is almost as fearsome as you, Master Gargoyle.”

“We will all
need to become fiercer in the coming days,” Gregory said, conviction he did not
want strong in his voice. “War is coming. We must prepare.”

“Warfare?”
The pooka’s ears perked up.
“I have not rolled in the blood of
my enemies in an age.”

The unicorn
shuddered and made a series of distressed snorts. He edged away from the black
pony until he was safely behind the shelter of Gregory’s slightly mantled
wings, only then did he scrounge up enough bravery to arch his neck to peer at
the pooka.
“And you call yourself an herbivore?”

A pale glow
gleamed deep in the pooka’s eyes, just a hint of yellow, as if he thought about
shedding his pony disguise.

Gregory was just
drawing breath to defuse the situation, when the sound of feet on gravel
reached his ears. He swiveled one ear in the direction of the sound, judging
distance. Lillian was coming fast, kicking up gravel as she ran. “Don’t start
fighting.” He glowered at the pooka for good measure. “I have something of
importance I wish to ask before Lillian arrives. Gran told me of Lillian’s
parents. Were either of you near when they came?”

The unicorn
bobbed his head in assent, and then to Gregory’s surprise, the pooka followed a
moment later. He’d expected the pooka would have been nearby. Of all the Fae,
he most wanted to return to the Magic Realm, and Lillian was his best chance to
accomplish his goal. But Gregory was surprised by how readily he was getting
answers from the ornery beast. While he was getting answers, he might as well
see what else he could glean from his new allies. “Later, when Lillian is
distracted by Gran or others, I want you two to seek me out and divulge all you
know of her birthparents and their possible intentions.” For the pooka’s
benefit, he added, “I will be in your debt.”

The yellow
shimmer in the pooka’s gaze intensified, and he stepped closer to Gregory. His
warm breath puffed along Gregory’s skin as soft whiskers brushed over his arm
and up along his shoulder to stop at the junction of neck and collar bone.
Mobile equine lips nipped softly at an artery before pulling away.
“We have
a deal, Gregory. I imagine your blood is rich.”