Stone's Kiss (10 page)

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’d warmed to her story. A ghost of a smile hovered on her lips. “Many centuries 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.

“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.

“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.

“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.

“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.

“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.”

“You’re 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 … 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 take 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.

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 hand–me–down clothes. While Kayla is a young hothead, I expected better of you, Lillian.”

“Sorry,” Lillian muttered.

Kayla, clearly still affronted by Gran’s words, crossed her legs and sat back against the sofa and stared off into one corner without an apology.

“Kayla, Vivian is correct. We must not speak callously about the gargoyle,” Sable soothed. “If Lillian is near, so too is the gargoyle. Just watch what you say in the future. I’m sure he isn’t angry.”

Kayla sent Lillian one more scathing look and then calmed her expression into a serene mask.

“So have any of you actually seen a gargoyle up close?” Lillian asked.

The third dryad, the one Lillian thought of as Brownie, cleared her throat and quietly introduced herself as Russet. “Kayla is too young,” she continued in her soft–spoken way. “But I have, once long ago. While they are fierce in their true forms, they are also capable of great compassion and gentleness.”

“True forms?”

“Lillian,” Gran cut off Russet. “We’ll talk more about the gargoyle later, but now Sable and I need to discuss business. Why don’t you make some tea?”

Lillian winced at the dismissal, but got up from her chair and went to the kitchen. She couldn’t sense her gargoyle anywhere near. Like Gran said, he must have disappeared at some point during the conversation about kinky sex. Smart fellow.

Alone in the kitchen, she put the tea kettle on to boil while she thought over the last conversation. It was best the gargoyle wasn’t around. It would be beyond awkward to ask him outright if he expected fringe benefits for saving her from the bad guys, and the stress of the last day had obliterated the filter between her brain and her mouth. No telling what would come out if she talked to him now.

She gathered her grandmother’s fancy cups and saucers from the cupboard by the back window. While placing them on a tray next to the teapot, she glanced out. Her uncle and brother were cleaning the garden. Her uncle lugged an oversized gasoline jug.

It hadn’t occurred to her what “cleaning up” would entail. Now she witnessed the gruesome details as he poured a generous amount of fuel on one dark spot. Of course they’d need to burn away the blood and remains. If a gargoyle’s blood could heal, there was no telling what evil–tainted blood might do. A match ignited the spot.

Mesmerized by the flames, she watched until the kettle’s shrill whistle broke her concentration. She shook herself and made the tea. Earl Grey, her grandmother’s favorite. Maybe it would put Gran in a talkative mood. With each new piece of knowledge Lillian gained, more questions surfaced, like “who was she?” and “why was she here?” And what did the gargoyle want? That a gargoyle, one of the Light’s Assassin’s, was glued to her side couldn’t bode well for a peaceful future.

Well, the kitchen tiles weren’t going to give her any information. She scooped up the tray of cups in one hand and the teapot in the other. Armed with tea and cookies, she went to find more answers.

Back in the living room, Gran and the dryads had turned the coffee table into a combat command center. Maps with topographical overlays showed rivers and land elevations. One looked like a modern road map, except instead of the familiar towns and cities, there were a strange lot of squiggles and foreign names around boundaries she didn’t understand, like some alien civilization had taken over the world she knew.

“They violated Clan territory to get here.” Gran frowned down at the map. “I want to know how they escaped the Clan’s notice.”

“What if they
didn’t
escape the Clan’s notice?” Sable asked.

“No. I don’t believe it. The Clan wouldn’t sell us out.”

“Not even to save their own pack members? A dire wolf is loyal to its pack.”

“They suffered as much as we did in the attacks six years ago.”

“Perhaps the alphas don’t have as much control as they once did?”

“You’re guessing.”

“No more than you,” Sable countered.

Gran grunted. “Fine, we’ll be on guard. The alphas are coming here tomorrow after the Hunt. I will question them then. And if they are deceitful, the gargoyle may beat me to them.”

“Why not bring Lillian and the gargoyle to tonight’s Hunt. If they are hiding anything, the gargoyle will smell their deception.”

“Yes, I plan to talk to the gargoyle about that.” Gran looked up and motioned for Lillian to serve the tea. “Ah, lovely.”

Lillian let her mind go blank as she filled teacups, politely asking what everyone wanted in theirs. She was pouring her grandmother a cup when movement on the stairs caught Lillian’s attention.

A tall man with sun–browned skin glided down the stairs with an athlete’s grace—a nearly naked man, she amended. A rather handsome, nearly naked man. His knee–length beaded loincloth, gold torque, and gem–encrusted arm bands were suspiciously like her gargoyle’s. A silky black mane reached passed his shoulders and was tied at the back with a piece of hide. His bare, human feet made no noise as he descended.

“I think that’s enough tea, Lillian,” Gran said.

Lillian glanced down. She’d overfilled the teacup and flooded its saucer. A pool of steaming tea spread across the walnut table. “Sorry,” she mumbled and snatched some napkins to sop up the mess.

Kayla looked at Lillian with a superior expression on her face. “You don’t know much about your gargoyle.” She smiled coyly, and continued to whisper in a conspirator voice, “Regret saying I can have him? I’m inclined to hold you to your word. Actually, this should work nicely. Vivian said he takes commands from you, yes?” She paused, her smile becoming a grin. “If that is true, your word is his law.”

What if Kayla was right? A cold, unreasoning rage built within Lillian. Her words, uttered in a moment’s thoughtlessness, might have more weight than she intended. And whatever happened because of her senseless words, it was her fault. No, she would not let the gargoyle get caught in some political game thought up by some oversexed tree spirit. She tightened her grip on the teapot. With a great deal of will, she banished the thought of flinging it at Kayla.

While Gran and Sable, trailed by Russet, went forward to meet the gargoyle, Lillian leaned closer to Kayla. “It doesn’t matter what I say or think. Gregory is a living creature with the same rights as the rest of us. He’s free to do whatever he wants, and it’s none of our business. Nothing I have said in the past or will say in the future will change that. If you try to use this to circumvent his free will, I will hunt you down and do nasty, nasty things to that pretty face of yours. Then I’ll knit myself some gloves out of your shiny tresses.”

Kayla paled, and came to her feet. She held her position, facing Lillian for a whole five seconds, then bolted for the safety of the other dryads. Lillian grimaced at the back of the retreating woman. Looking farther, she met the coffee–dark eyes of the gargoyle. His flashed with humor.

Oh shit, he’d heard.

“Darling,” Gran said, disrupting Lillian’s thoughts, “Now that we’ve told you all we can about your kind, I think Gregory wants to tell you a little about your history.”

Gran’s shit–eating grin, told Lillian her grandmother’s sharp ears had picked up on the little bit of drama. Lillian envied her grandmother’s ability to multitask. It was criminal. The gargoyle didn’t give her long to worry about what everyone had overheard. He gestured for them to take a seat.

Lillian sat and noted a problem. There weren’t enough chairs. Before she could go retrieve one, the human–form gargoyle walked to her side and stood at her right shoulder. His one hand rested on the arm of the wingback chair. Up close, it was hard to miss a few anomalies. His nails were a proper human length, but it looked like they’d been painted with black nail polish, and their shape was off—too pointed, both at the tips and the nail base. He flexed his hand, and the nails lengthen a half inch. When he relaxed his hand, the nails returned to their original length.

Oh boy.

His little demonstration let her know he was aware of being studied. Since she’d been found out, she studied him frankly, following the hand up the wrist to the smooth, hairless arm. Ah, that’s what caused the slight hint of foreignness that had nagged at the back of her mind when she’d first looked upon him. Like his gargoyle form, the only hair was on his head, and his skin had a slight sheen to it like a faint oil had been smoothed over it. Wide, dark eyes fringed with a generous amount of lashes looked back. They were his only soft feature. A strong jaw and nose, combine with a wide forehead gave him a rugged looked. Certainly not pretty–boy handsome, but still striking—if a woman could actually tear her eyes away from his perfectly proportioned body to take note of the face. Damn, but he was built like a master sculptor had a hand in his shaping.

Brushing back a few strands of his hair, she tucked them behind his pointed ears. He smiled, his lips stretching back from white teeth. He had two large canines on both upper and lower jaw which would put a vampire to shame.

Heat mounted her cheeks. She looked away only to find everyone else in the room had watched her while she ogled the gargoyle’s altered form. Great. The wave of heat spread down her neck, but she raised her head and pretended she was a queen and these were her subjects. It lasted until her brother entered the living room from the kitchen followed by her uncle. The two men glanced at the gargoyle and then at Lillian’s face.

Her brother tried to say something, but he started laughing and couldn’t get it out.