Stone's Kiss (6 page)

From behind, Lillian wrapped her hands around his arm. Her fingers bit in, nails scratching at his bicep while she tried to tug him away from the door. He didn’t know what she thought she’d accomplish, he weighed three times as much as her. She jerked on his arm with greater panic. Her nails bit into his arm hard enough to break the skin. Surprised, he glanced down at the few scarlet drops beading up along the length of the scratches. Strange; a dryad didn’t have claws. Before he could study her nails, she dropped her hands to her sides.

Her nostrils flared and she locked eyes on his small wound. An unfathomable expression crossed her face. After a moment, she shook her head and mumbled an apology. She continued in a clearer voice. “Don’t hurt them. Get away from the door.” She renewed her tugging on his arm. “Please.”

He swung back to face the invaders.

“Wait, you said I am your mistress—I order you to stay here. I need to go talk to them first. It’s bad enough the gardens look like a war zone; they certainly won’t be expecting an eight–foot–tall gargoyle in the kitchen! Let. Me. Talk. To. Them. ”

In all other situations, he would respect her wishes, but not at the risk of her safety. While she might know and trust these people, he didn’t.

A series of soft creaks and metal groans came from the direction of the vehicle. He spun back to the strangers. The doors on either side of the carriage stood open, and with a slow caution, the occupants eased out. Two males emerged first. The older man had a crossbow gripped in one hand. He took the lead, while a younger brown–haired man followed close on his heels. The younger man reached into the metal carriage and withdrew a quarterstaff from between the seats. Behind the first two men, another male emerged, his white hair a startling contrast with his youthful features. He was empty–handed as far as Gregory could tell. Last, an old mother with many years of wisdom upon her exited the vehicle.

The old woman also carried a quarterstaff. Each staff was carved and painted with ruins which glowed to Gregory’s magic–enhanced sight. He eyed her quarterstaff more intently: perhaps it was more than a weapon.

The breeze carried their scents to him. And while there was no stink of evil, he wasn’t done studying these ones yet. They had power, and all power could be dangerous. He called the shadows for concealment.

After he faded out of sight, he paced forward until he stood in the threshold of the cottage. Lillian crowded him from behind, trying to squeeze past him and rush out the door. Winding his tail around her waist, he held her secure against his side for a moment, just enjoying having her close. When he looked down at her, she had her eyes closed and an intense look of concentration spread across her face. A moment more and her thoughts flooded his mind. Like a waking dream, images formed before his eyes. The first showed him releasing her so she could go join her family and explain. A second image formed—in this one he was waiting patiently for her to finish.

He called his own magic to dispel her visions, then lowered his muzzle and swiped his tongue across her face from chin to hairline. Hers eyes popped open and she flailed her arms, hollering and trying to push his muzzle away. Punishment complete, he shoved her behind him and stalked forward. Lillian grabbed at his tail, her fingers locking around it in a pinching grip. With a powerful flick, he slipped free of her grasp and darted through the ward blocking the door. She smacked into the solid ward.

An irate sound, part huff, part growl escaped her. “No. Damn it!” she shouted. “Stop, you great brute.”

Her actions caught the attention of those waiting below. Four sets of eyes gazed up with looks of suspicion and worry. Unable to see him, they stared through him to where Lillian stood. By their baffled expressions, they wondered why Lillian was pounding her fists against empty air.

He added a lay of sound–deadening magic to his ward, then inhaled another deep breath and began sorting the different scents. Ah, yes. One was familiar: a vague memory, the old woman from the night he’d first come to this realm. In the chaos, he’d not had time to learn the grandmother’s name, but this was her—a few years older certainly, but still the same woman who’d stood before him without fear, the one he’d trusted enough to raise the Sorceress while he slept and healed.

He couldn’t have asked for a better outcome under the circumstance. It was all rather too convenient. And once again, that worrisome thought crossed his mind. Could the Lady of Battles influence events even in this realm? Unlikely, but not impossible.

“Sis, are you okay?” The younger man with brown hair advanced one slow step at a time.

“Jason, stay back,” Lillian yelled from inside the house.

“It’s okay, Lil. Tell us what happened,” the one named Jason said as he continued forward. Gregory moved to intercept.

“No! Leave him alone. Please don’t hurt him.” Lillian’s voice mirrored the panic he felt growing in her mind. She’d seen too much today, and now he was forced to threaten her family.

“Jason, do as your sister says.”

Gregory swung his muzzle in the direction of the new speaker: the middle–aged human who moved silent as a predator. This one posed more danger than the younger, untrained one.

Growling low in his throat, Gregory warned off both humans. The older male and the grandmother tensed at the sound, alert and ready for battle. Their bravery earned them a mote of respect. He rumbled a second time, and the one called Jason tightened his grip on his weapon until his knuckles stood out white against the dark wood of the staff.

“Easy, don’t panic.” The older man’s voice exuded calm, and had the grandmother not stepped out around him and taken the defensive position, Gregory would have assumed this male was the leader. Not so, judging by the older woman’s body language. She held her quarterstaff horizontal before her, her arms relaxed.

“Gran, what’s going on?” Lillian sounded bewildered.

The old woman cleared her throat. “Lillian, it will be alright. I’ll explain everything.” All the while the old woman talked with Lillian, her sharp eyes searched the shadows where Gregory stood.

He scented her summoning magic, like wood smoke it tickled his nose with its pleasant warm odor. The runes on the staff faded for a moment as her eyes took on an unfocused look. After a moment her eyes focused and scanned the area to either side of him, then above his head. She smiled.

Interesting; she’d found him by seeking the void her magic couldn’t penetrate. Clever woman. His estimate of her crept up another notch.

“Lillian, I know this is very strange and you have a lot of questions,” the old woman didn’t look away from Gregory’s direction while she calmed Lillian, “but I need you to focus for me now.” The old woman put force behind her words. “I need you to tell me what happened. Are you aware there is another creature here?”

Lillian stopped worrying at his ward, her expression transforming from annoyance to uncertainty as she realized he might have tricked her in some way. He smelled her rising fear.

“I was cornered by strangers. They weren’t human. They hunted me.” She paused, her eyes unfocused, trapped in her recent memories. “I ran, hoping to lose them in the maze, but they found me by scent. Something there stopped them, a power in the stones. But the pale man named Alexander did something to the ring of stones and they erupted. Shrapnel flew in all directions. I was hit … there was so much pain. I was scared. I heard your voice telling me to get to the gargoyle. I tried, but I’d lost so much blood, and my tree was bleeding. I felt death coming.” The flood of words issuing from Lillian’s mouth chocked off. She drew a sobbing breath.

His wings unfurled with the urge to comfort. Lillian’s need almost swayed him from his mission. Instead he used the distraction to stalk the group.

“Lillian, it’s alright. Tell us the rest.” The old woman’s voice soothed like the night breeze, calming, reassuring. It nearly swayed Gregory into answering the woman himself. With a shake he broke away from the old woman’s subtle spell.

Lillian continued in a daze. “I was dying. All I could think was I must reach the gargoyle. And I did. He … he came alive. I felt the stone warm under my hand. I thought my soul was leaving my body.” Her voice shook. “I passed out the moment I touched him. Later, I awoke on the kitchen table.”

Following the long shadows cast by the tree trunks, Gregory circled the small group, and came up behind the grandmother. When he stood on two legs again, he exhaled across the back of her neck. She stiffened, but no other sign betrayed her fear. He grinned, his lips curling back from his muzzle with humor, pleased she’d not seem him move. The woman’s scent was clean, free of evil’s taint. Good. He would not need to kill her.

“I know it’s unnerving that only Lillian can see the gargoyle, but let him get your scent,” the old woman said, her words a blunt order. “Do nothing he will perceive as a threat to Lillian.”

Gregory moved on to the middle–aged man next. As he scented along the human’s arm, the man flinched. Gregory continued until he was certain he could detect no evil upon the man. The one called Jason chose that moment to shift his quarterstaff from one hand to the other in a nervous fashion.

“Shit. Are we going to stand here all afternoon until he decides to eat us?”

“Jason, hold your tongue,” Lillian’s grandmother said.

“This really bites—”

“Jason, be quiet.” Lillian shouted from her position on the porch. “And listen to Gran for once.”

Jason held his position next to the vehicle, but his sour express said he wasn’t happy about it. “I swear, if the invisible beastie sniffs my crotch, I’m—” The male bit off his sentence as Gregory exhaled a lungful of air across the human’s forehead, blowing his fine brown hair straight back. The human jumped back with a yelp. There was no darkness upon this one either, so Gregory left him to dance in place. The human whirled one way and then the other, flapping his arms like a startled goose.

Gregory dropped to all fours and started toward the last human who had backed some distance away from the vehicle. When pale blue eyes followed the motion of his strides, Gregory realized this man could see him. He mantled his wings and allowed the wind to catch at the membranes until they unfurled. Destructive magic bled between the membranes in a blue–white sheet in obvious threat. Still the blond–haired human showed no fear; instead, his features were frozen in a look of awed disbelieve. Slowly his look altered as it changed to belief, and then subtle hope.

The breeze shifted, carrying the stranger’s scent. Clean, like spring’s return after a long winter, a hint of loam and wild forests. This was no human.

He paced closer and studied this new creature while he circled. Ah, he recognized what the man was now. Another surprise in an unusual day, but he had greater concerns, like when the Riven would return to threaten his lady again.

Dismissing the other immortal, he turned back toward the old woman. The scent of crushed grass and the sounds of footfalls coming up behind him served as his only warning. Had the blond–haired male cared to tread more quietly, he might have succeeded in disguising his approach. Gregory turned to confront his opponent and the smaller male collided into his chest. The man’s ribs cracked at the impact.

Driven by his crazed need, the injury didn’t faze the smaller male. He smashed a fist into the scratch marks on Gregory’s upper arm. The smaller male grunted and cradled his fist against his chest, but whatever pain the injury caused was quickly forgotten when he spotted the dark smudge coating his damaged hand—gargoyle blood. The blond–haired male’s expression changed to one of rapture.

Gregory growled, more in annoyance than pain. He licked at his wound before any other magic–starved beast decided attacking a gargoyle was a good idea. A minor wave of weakness shivered down his wings as the other male began siphoning magic through the link of Gregory’s blood.

“I’m sorry,” the male said. “So many years surrounded by death. Death coming closer with each turning of the seasons. I couldn’t continue like this.”

“You might have asked.”

“And you might have said no.”

The gargoyle couldn’t fault him for his reasoning. In this magic–starved land, he might not have wished to waste magic on someone he didn’t know when Lillian might have need of it at any moment. But he couldn’t stop the other from feeding without killing him.

“How long have you been trapped in this form?”

“Centuries.”

Gregory had been about to award the other with a suitable punishment for the theft of his blood and magic, but anything he thought up would pale in comparison to what the other male had just done to himself. Besides, it might prove useful to have another immortal to help guard the Sorceress. There couldn’t be many other immortals he could trust in this strange land. “
It will hurt to shed this form. Your body won’t remember its true shape after all this time.”

“I don’t care,” the smaller male whispered between clenched teeth. “If I live, I shall never again allow a woman to bewitch me into another form.”

The gargoyle snorted. That promise wasn’t likely to live long, knowing what he did about this one’s kind.
“This is going to hurt. Perhaps more than you realize. Many lives ago, when my lady was born into a dragon body, I spent much of that life as a dragon since shapeshifting wasn’t one of her gifts. As I recall, when I periodically returned to my true form, it was exceedingly painful.”

“Thanks,” he hissed. “Might I learn the name of the gargoyle who is returning me to my true form?”

He remembered Lillian’s wicked smile, and hesitated a moment before answering the stranger. “My Mistress named me Gregory Livingstone.”

“Gregory … Livingstone? Seriously? That’s not a name, that’s a walking pun.” The other’s laugh was cut short by a grasp as a wave of pain rolled across his features. “Poor bastard, what did you do to piss her off?”

If the stranger would have said more, Gregory never knew. The body of the smaller male began to glow. A pale light hovered above his skin, like a thick mist. Then his bones began to grow and shift under his too–tight skin. It spilt and his moans turned to screams. In an act of mercy the fool probably didn’t deserve, Gregory placed his talons on the male’s forehead and commanded him to sleep. The smaller male lost consciousness a moment later. Quiet returned to the yard and he turned to seek his lady.