Sorceress Rising (A Gargoyle and Sorceress Tale Book 2) (7 page)

It felt like the
longest walk of her life. In reality, she’d only been walking in the company of
the tight-lipped soldiers for less than an hour, but worrying Gregory would get
captured or have to fight his way free made it feel much, much longer.

Gran was
correct. Gregory needed to take human form—she knew he could do it. He had for
short times before, when he felt like it. Right now, his best non-lethal
defense was to play human. Now she’d just have to convince him, which would be
no easy task. They were nearing their destination. She could see flood lights
through the trees. Her internal compass told her they would emerge from the
forest at the north end of town, near the arena.

It made sense.
The arena was the only space clear of trees and large enough for a field
command.

They walked out
of the forest and onto a paved road. She sensed when Gregory stopped at the
edge of the forest, still in the shadow of the trees. On the other side of the
road was the arena—though it looked vastly different than she remembered. The
entire parking area had been fenced off. Within the new compound, trailers and
other kinds of mobile buildings took up most of the space. What was left was
occupied by military vehicles. There was even a heavy-bodied helicopter off to
one side.

Lillian was
brought up short by the lead attached to the pooka. He’d planted all four
hooves like he didn’t plan to move one step farther. Squinting against the
bright flood lights, she understood the pooka’s reluctance.
“Will your
glamour hold up to scrutiny under their lights?”

“I would prefer
not to test it.” He tugged on the lead a second time, nearly pulling her off
her feet. The pooka continued his ‘spooky pony’ routine, lunging to the side
and trotting a nervous circle around Lillian. Soldiers scattered out of the
pooka’s path, cursing the black pony.

Only Captain
Andrews, the woman who had led the second unit, laughed at the pooka’s antics.
She cooed to the pony in a gentle voice, approaching him with a calm manner.
She pulled a carrot from one back pocket and after glancing at Lillian for
permission, offered it to the pooka.

Where the
heck had the soldier pulled a carrot from
, Lillian
wondered?

The pooka pinned
his ears and glared at the offering disdainfully.

“Oh, come on. I
know you want it deep down in your little black heart.”

The pooka
sniffed for a moment and then snaked his head toward her. Lillian thought he
was going for fingers, but he surprised her by only snapping up the carrot.

“Well,” Captain
Andrews chuckled, not put off by the show of bad manners, “I see your big grey
companion is the nicer of the duo.”

Lillian realized
she must be talking about the unicorn—who had taken on the glamour of a dappled
grey gelding. “You found my grandmother’s other escape artist?”

“Yes, he’s a
sweet boy. I wondered whom he belonged to. Your grandmother—she’s the owner of
the spa?”

“Yes.” Lillian
wasn’t in the most talkative mood. She was tired, dirty, bug-eaten, and hungry,
but even so, she liked the woman. Anyone who liked a pooka must have a big,
compassionate heart.

“I saw him
running loose at the edge of the forest near the crossroads about two kilometers
down. A group of us herded him down this way where others had constructed a
temporary pen to hold him. It’s just around the bend, butted up against the
forest. I acquired some carrots from the market to entice my new friend into
the enclosure. Thought he might be more relaxed away from all the lights and
noise of HQ.”

“Thank you.”

“I grew up with
horses. Parents have a ranch just north of Calgary.”

The other
soldiers parted company with Lillian and Captain Andrews, heading toward the
main gate. Lillian, with a bit more than a mote of surprise, realized she
wasn’t going to get detained for ‘trespassing’ on her own property like she’d
half expected.

“I’ll help you
get your boys past the barricades and checkpoints.” Perhaps seeing Lillian’s
surprise, the woman laughed openly, then clarified. “I’m not aiding and
abetting. Major Resnick’s orders were to get you to civilization and then set
you on your way.”

“Thanks,”
Lillian said, not knowing what else to say, so stayed with the truth. “I could
use the help with the horses. They belong to Gran. I just help out from time to
time.”

“No problem.
Come on,” she jerked her chin in the direction she wanted Lillian to go.

Lillian led the
pooka down the mostly deserted road. Gregory kept pace in the forest running
alongside. She was more than happy he hadn’t decided to pad down the center of
the road, certain her constant staring would give him away.

They retrieved
the unicorn without incident, and made it through all the barricades and
checkpoints. When Lillian parted company with the other woman, she released a
loud sigh, not quite believing they’d made it out of enemy territory. As she
continued home, leading the two horses and Gregory trailing behind, she half
expected to hear shouts of alarm and sounds of pursuit. She still didn’t relax
until she walked up the long lane to her cottage. Never had its rough stone
walls looked so welcoming.

Then Lillian
noticed Gran on the porch. Pacing.

“I’ve been
worried sick. Why didn’t you send word?”

Dammit, Lillian
cursed in the safety of her own mind.

By her
grandmother’s tone, she hadn’t avoided an interrogation after all.

Several body
lengths above the siren’s head, a small boat, its metal hull silhouetted
against the sky, rocked gently upon the waves. A small anchor held it in place.

She eyed it.
Debating whether she should drag the boat out into deeper water or risk
capturing the humans this close to shore. The pod still circled, watching to
see what she would do. They’d led her to this spot, a little cove frequented by
curious humans. From what she’d gathered from the dolphin’s minds, these humans
were researchers, and as such cared for the oceans and what went on in them.

If it was true,
how could they stand by and do nothing to prevent an abomination like the metal
Not-Island from coming into existence in the first place?

Perhaps these
humans were little more than peasants, unable to dictate change to the ruling
nobility. The dolphins couldn’t give her insight into this—such rigid structure
wasn’t the dolphin way, and they did not understand the ultimate rule of a
king.

Frowning up at
the boat hull, she saw shadows moving as the humans went about their mysterious
purpose. With a flurry of activity, a large cage was dropped over the side.
Other objects were dropped in next, things suspended on long lines.

The dolphins had
positioned themselves a short distance away at the first sign of activity, but
with a series of questioning chirps, the young male was back at her side.
Reaching out, she brushed a hand along his side and he calmed, floating
contentedly at her side.

Something
splashed against the surface. Blood scent coiled through the water as bright
red clouds trailed along the ocean surface, carried away by the current. Fish
blood. Fish bodies. The scent reminded the siren it had been a few hours since
she’d last fed. Magic sustained her throughout her long sleep, but upon waking,
she needed to feed often for the first few days. Though dead fish didn’t tempt
her, she preferred hers fresh.

The dolphin matriarch
rejoined her.
“Fish slurry for sharks.”

“The humans
want to bring a predator to them? Whatever for?”
she asked in genuine confusion.
“To hunt the shark? With their nets and
boats, the humans could easily hunt other, less dangerous prey.”

“Not to hunt.
Study.”
The young dolphin’s excited clicks
intensified.

“You have
seen this behavior before?”

“Yes. They
study and protect. Track numbers and movement.”

A very passive
form of protection, the siren decided. Another splash at the surface regained
her attention. A human had plunged into the open top of the cage. While she
watched, a second human joined the first. They wore sleek black second skins
and each had a large cylinder strapped to their backs. She studied them while
they were organizing supplies.

The strange
objects strapped to their backs supplied them with air. Whatever was held in
their mouths issued a small storm of bubbles every other heartbeat.

So the land-bound
ones had found a way to live within her domain, at least for short expanses of
time.

She narrowed her
eyes.

A very short
time.

Lillian rinsed
off the last plate and placed it in the dishwasher. The mundane routine of
after dinner chores helped dispel the residual nervous energy from earlier.
Gran had drilled her for every little detail during her exchange with Major
Resnick. Gregory hadn’t escaped Gran’s tongue lashing either. She’d merely
finished with him sooner and then sent him up to have Jason show him the inner
workings of human clothing. Looking mildly contrite, Gregory had slunk off in
the general direction Gran had indicated. Lillian had only stood and watched,
absolutely gob smacked. That had been a half an hour ago. Now all she wanted
was to do a face plant in her bed.

“Would you like
some chamomile tea? It’s good for the nerves.” Gran gestured at the big,
battered old pot sitting in the middle of the table.

“Thanks, but I’d
probably fall asleep and...”

A loud crash
echoed from the floor above followed by a window-shaking roar. “On second
thought.” Lillian scooped up a cup, poured herself some, and took a sip.

“Told you so.”
Gran smiled into her cup. “Better hurry before Gregory kills your brother. I
know he can be a brat, but I still love my grandson.”

“I’ll send Jason
down for a cup once I find which wall Gregory just put him through.”

Lillian made her
way from the kitchen and into the living room as she sipped from her cup.
Before she reached the stairs, there was another loud thump. Moments later, she
heard Jason cursing, which was a good sign. At least he was conscious, she
mused as she took the stairs two at a time. She turned right at the top of the
stairs and headed down the hall leading to her room.

Her bedroom door
opened suddenly and Jason bolted out. He didn’t make it three feet before a
long, muscular arm shot out of the billowing darkness and latched onto her brother’s
shoulder.

“Hey! I know
you’re pissed, but I warned you about zippers!” Jason screamed as he was
dragged backward into the room. The door slammed in Lillian’s face. She sipped
from her tea. There was another loud thump, then what sounded like a minor
scuffle. Something heavy landed against the door and she heard her brother
curse before it was cut off. He continued to make noise, but it was muffled.

Lillian reached
for the handle, but the door sprang open of its own accord. She backed out of
the way just in time as her brother was propelled out with a good deal of
force. He stumbled into the opposite wall.

She arched a
brow at the sight her brother made—only to realize he couldn’t see it with a
pair of boxer shorts over his head. Taking her time, she circled her brother
and then pulled the boxers off his head.

She placed her
teacup down on a side table. “I assume it didn’t go so well?”

He glared at her
when she smiled. He couldn’t do much else, not with the sock jammed in his
mouth like a gag and his arms trapped under what looked to be at least three
layers of polo shirts over top of his own clothes.

She pulled the
gag from his mouth. “You okay?”

“Your gargoyle
has anger management issues.”

Lillian grabbed
the bottom of one shirt and pulled it up over his head while he disentangled
himself from the others. When he was standing in front of her with the clothes
he’d started with, she laughed.

Her brother
glowered, obviously not finding the situation particularly funny.

Between bouts of
laughter, she finally managed, “What happened?”

“Gregory isn’t a
fan of modern fashion. Zippers in particular. I warned him to be careful with
the jeans zipper….guess he understands why now.” Jason made a grab at his
crotch as his face screwed up in mock pain.

“You didn’t…”

“Laugh? You bet.
In sympathy of course. Though it was his fault for going commando.” Jason
shrugged. “Unfortunately, I then might also have mentioned something about
sending you up to kiss it all better.”

Another ominous
growl rolled out of the darkness behind her bedroom door.

“Ah!” Jason
darted around behind Lillian, putting her firmly between him and the black mist
boiling out of her bedroom. “Think I’ve overstayed my welcome. Bye Sis.”

Without so much
as a glance behind, Jason bolted for the stairs. His mop of unruly brown hair
stood straight up in a near gravity-defying way as he vaulted off the top
stair. He dropped out of sight and landed with a heavy thump before stampeding
down the rest of the flight.

Gran yelled
something at Jason before the kitchen door slammed with its usual creak.
Lillian waited a moment more and then turned back to her room, boxer shorts and
shirts in hand.

“Gregory?”

Nothing.

Bumping a hip
against the partially open door, she eased into the dark room and tried the
light switch on the wall. She flicked it a couple times—still nothing. Great.

Her gargoyle was
beyond ‘pissed’ if his concealment spells had dampened the lights.

“Gregory, love.
I know you can see in the dark, but I can’t.”

A rumbling huff
echoed from three feet in front of her. Her searching fingers collided with
warm leathery skin, so soft it was suede like. A wing membrane? Then it pulled
out of her grasp as if he was turning away.

The sound of
tearing cloth was loud in the silence. Equally noticeable was the pounding
pressure of Gregory’s magic against her skin. It hummed in her blood with each
lungful of air.

“Hmm,” Lillian
wasn’t too concerned. She liked the wild essence pressing against her skin. And
it was Gregory with her, after all. However, it would still be nice to see what
was going on. “Light, please?”

He huffed again,
more growl this time, but his magic retreated and the lights flickered back
into existence.

“Thanks.” She
blinked against the suddenly bright room. When she could see again, her gaze sought
out Gregory. He stood with his back to her, in gargoyle form—though by the
shredded clothing clinging to him, he’d been in human form until recently.

She came up
behind him and plucked a mangled patch of what was once a nice oatmeal-colored
knit sweater from the clawed joint of his right wing. Another larger swath of
tangled yarn was draped over his other wing joint. Unwinding it, she brushed
the rest away without comment.

The remaining
portions of the sweater were draped loosely across his broad shoulders and
chest. A glance down confirmed a pair of blue jeans hadn’t fared any better.
The seams had burst over his powerful thighs and calve muscles. And his tail
hadn’t done the back of the jeans any good either.

One large hand
came up and gripped the material at his right shoulder. With an interesting
ripple of muscles along his back, he tore off a good half of the offending
sweater.

“I probably
shouldn’t be enjoying this.”

Lillian touched
the back of one arm, keeping the contact light as she stepped around in front
of him. When she was squarely before him, she transferred her fingers to his
chest, gliding them under the torn sweater. Continuing up and over his
shoulder, she pushed the knitted material away from his body and down his arm.

Gregory didn’t move,
not as much as a twitch, but she could feel his intense gaze locked onto her.
Perhaps it was the decision of a coward, she mused, but she kept her eyes level
with his well-muscled chest, neither looking up nor allowing her eyes to drift
down below his abdomen. She pulled another scrap of material from around his
waist and watched as it hit the floor. She pushed it off to the side with her
toe, the soft rustle of fabric unnaturally loud in the silence.

The weight of a
long-fingered, talon-tipped hand coming to rest on her shoulder startled
Lillian into looking back up until she was eye level with his chest again. She
only then realized she’d been staring at the floor because her confidence had
fled.

His fingers
began to knead her tense shoulder in a gentle rhythmic manner.

Forcing her eyes
higher, because she
would
overcome her personal cowardice and be the
partner Gregory needed, she finally met his intense gaze. Her throat tight with
nerves, she swallowed past the lump. “No permanent damage?” she asked, her
voice soft and unsteady even to her own ears.

“Just to my
pride.” His warm breath washed across her one ear and on down her neck.
“Nothing that won’t heal.”

So he had done
himself some harm. In a spur-of-the-moment,
she-wasn’t-really-thinking-about-what-she-was-doing move, she glanced down and
started to reach for the split and sagging material of his jeans.

Gregory moved at
the same time and Lillian jerked back. Her face heated in a fiery blush,
thinking he was going to push her hands away from a place they had no business
being in the first place.

“Sorry,” She rushed
on, “I don’t know what I was…it’s not like I still have any healing powers…it
was some knee-jerk instinct….”

“It comes
naturally to us,” Gregory’s voice was deeper than normal, velvet and sinful.
“We would commonly inspect and heal each other’s smallest injuries. It was one
way we could show our love and passion without breaking our oaths to the Divine
Ones.” Gregory enfolded her hands in his and drew them back to his body,
curling them gently around the slight protrusion of his hip bones. “There is no
shame in this.”

He tucked his
muzzle against his chest and closed his eyes, but made no other move. Clearly,
he was leaving the next move to her. Even motionless, he was still an imposing
wall of muscle and sinew. His bulk of wings, horns that brushed the ceiling,
and broad shoulders that dwarfed her smaller frame, all added to his overall
air of menace.

Yet, as
different as they might be in body, they were one soul.

And right now,
her other half needed her. Touching him, she could feel what he felt, his bone
deep terror she would fear him and turn away, that she would not be, could not
be, what he needed.

She took one
step into him, pressing her cheek to his chest as she sealed the length of
their bodies together. “No shame,” she whispered against his chest. “None ever
between us.”

Gregory released
a deep rumbling sigh as all tension melted out of his body. His arms encircled
her shoulders and his tail wrapped possessively around her lower legs. They
stood there not moving for several moments. Gregory seemed willing to simply
stay like that, but Lillian knew she had a little more to do in order to be
what he needed.

She unwound her
arms from around his waist and hooked her fingers in the top of his ruined
jeans. It was easy enough to push the torn denim down his hips. Gregory shifted
his weight for her, making it easier to shove the pant legs on down. When it
was low enough, he kicked free of the shredded material and then went still
once more.

Almost done, she
thought. Giving herself silent orders seemed to be the only thing holding her
confidence in place. If she was standing in front of anyone other than Gregory
doing this…

“I would do them
serious injury.” Gregory’s voice rumbled over her head.

“There is no one
else I would do this for.” Her voice had steadied, but when she reached out and
pushed against one hip to urge him to turn toward the light flooding from the
bathroom, she couldn’t hide the trembling of her fingers.

It wasn’t the
first time she’d seen Gregory completely bare. He had little concept of human
modesty. The other two times had been when he’d been in the shower. Both those
times she’d adverted her gaze within seconds, but had still been left with the
knowledge Gregory was impressive in every aspect. He was completely hairless,
but had the correct number of parts to be mostly human-shaped, which wasn’t so
strange, since gargoyles and dryads did interbreed upon occasion.

She arched an
eyebrow in thought. If Gregory was an average example of his species, dryads
were made of sterner stuff than she’d credited them with. Lillian might be of
dryad blood, but she wasn’t sure if she possessed the courage to tackle a
gargoyle. Even at rest, he was larger than what a similarly proportioned man
would have possessed.

Gregory’s body
language was still relaxed, but his thoughts hinted at an underlying sense of
anticipation. She moved the hand that had been resting on his hip and stroked
her fingertips across his belly, and was rewarded by the subtle flexing of his
abdominal muscles. He shifted his stance as he grew semi-hard at her touch. It
was one of the sexiest things she’d seen. She had to remind herself this was
supposed to be an inspection not a seduction. Though, she imagined, she was the
one getting seduced by Gregory’s undeniable virile nature.

Inspection.

“It’s just an
inspection.”

Gregory laughed,
his voice a dark caress along her overheated body. “Then by all means, inspect
me, my Sorceress.”

His baiting had
her blood rushing to answer his challenge, and she made herself take a
lingering look. “Everything looks…in order. You have fully healed?”