Stone's Kiss (7 page)

Lillian watched him with an expression of horror, like he’d expect to see if he’d eaten her beloved brother. He didn’t know what he’d done to earn such a look. He glanced over his shoulder to the body laying a few feet from where he stood. It continued its change, and was quiet hideous to behold. Surely not. She must realize this wasn’t his fault. The fool had stolen his blood. It was out of his hands.

Her look of horror changed to one of rage … or perhaps she did believe him responsible. Stupid magic–starved unicorns. Next time he crossed paths with a unicorn, he would dine upon roasted unicorn flesh. If building a fire was too much effort, he’d eat it raw. Unfortunately, eating this one would be a waste of magic so he let the equine continue to drink from the well of his power.

“Jason, no!” The old woman’s warning wasn’t necessary. Jason’s progress was reminiscent of a wounded deer crashing through thick undergrowth. Gregory whirled around, realizing as he did so the human could see him and was heading directly toward him. He was weaker than he thought if the unicorn had already drank enough of his magic that he couldn’t hide himself in shadow. The human was upon him, swinging a quarterstaff, and Gregory didn’t have time to worry.

Jason swept the quarterstaff at Gregory’s legs, forcing him to leap out of the way. While still in the air, he snapped his tail around the human’s quarterstaff. With an abrupt heave, he tugged the human off balance. Jason cursed. In an agile move, the human twisted in midair and landed a kick to Gregory’s ribs. Then the youngling released his hold of the quarterstaff and lunged away.

“There was no evil within him,” Jason cried. “He was my friend.” Drawing his knife, he continued to circle.

Gregory rubbed at his abused ribs and tracked the human with narrowed eyes. So far he’d been gentle on this human because the Sorceress would be angry if he damaged her brother, but he was starting to care less about niceties as his annoyance of this strange land and its people grew. First, he’d been attacked by the creatures of darkness, then by a crazed unicorn, and now a cocky human child challenged him. This was an odd realm.

Jason came at him again.

“Enough!” Gregory snarled. He grabbed the human by the shoulders and lifted him into the air. He jerked the dagger from Jason’s hand and flung it away. Then, uncaring if he clawed the fool of a human to shreds, Gregory roughly turned the human until he was suspended upside down above where the unicorn rested, exhausted from the change, but whole.

“
Not
—
my
—
doing
.” Gregory punctuated each word by shaking the human. “He stole my magic. He did this to himself. If you continue, I will damage you. Mortal, do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Jason moaned.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He sounded weaker. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Gregory deposited the human on the ground next to his unicorn friend. They were both crazy. It might be contagious. Turning, he ran into Lillian. She glanced beyond him to the unicorn, concern drawing her eyebrows together.

“What did you do to him, and why?”

“I did nothing. He stole my blood so he could return to his true from. Did you not know your brother’s friend was a unicorn?

She mouthed the words, and then shook her head, looking lost. Her skin was paler than before, and he worried shock was setting in. His suspicions were confirmed when she started to shiver. He pulled her closer until her smaller frame was a solid line against his side, then wrapped a wing around her shoulders. She leaned into his warmth and didn’t look up at her grandmother’s approach.

“Forgive my grandson and his friend, ancient one,” Lillian’s grandmother said. An elegant bow accompanied the words. “You may call me Vivian, and as you can guess by the evil you’ve already discovered, these have been trying years for everyone. But let there be peace between us, and let us share food and histories. There are dangers which must be explained.”

He didn’t miss how she glanced worriedly at Lillian, but he didn’t question her more. There would be time for inquiries later. For now, he was more concern about Lillian. Her mind felt fragile.

“Lillian needs rest,” he said.

“Of course.” Vivian made a sweeping gesture with her arm. “This way.”

He inclined his head to Vivian in thanks before urging his lady back in the direction of the house. Lillian allowed herself to be herded.

Inside, Gregory followed Lillian as she made her way through the kitchen and on into the living room. There she collapsed into a chair and held a pillow in her lap, her eyes glazing with recent memories. Her grandmother stood next to her and whispered words of comfort. Right now, Vivian was the one Lillian would find safe and familiar, while his presence would only lead to more questions and worry. So he faded, blending into the room around him until he was once again part of the shadows.

Chapter Seven

Distracted by her grandmother, Lillian missed when the gargoyle vanished. She leaned forward in her chair, her fingers biting into the armrests. He’d been standing right in front of her a moment ago and now he was gone. Nothing moved that fast. His magic must cloak him in some way she didn’t understand. A laugh bubbled up. She suppressed it with difficulty. What
did
she understand? Magic. Gargoyles. Unicorns. Her entire life was a lie.

When her mind threatened rebellion, she took several deep breaths and thought about the wind in her grove and the sound of bird song. Calmer, she approached the problem with a rational mind. What was she to do? A gargoyle followed her around like a lost dog. He must have a reason. And she needed to find out his motives. But how? Question after question whirled through her mind, but no reasonable explanations.

“You’ve had enough shocks for one day,” Gran whispered in her ear. “Come with me. The gargoyle is right: you need to rest. Everything will seem better after a good night’s sleep. Then I’ll explain everything I know in the morning.”

Lillian nodded at Gran, too tired to think.

Gran ushered her up the stairs, pushing on her shoulders to steer her in the right direction. After a few turns Lillian found herself in a room. Her grandmother handed her a bit of satin. Lillian blinked. Her favorite indigo chemise. And yes, that was her oversized bed. It had never looked so good. When the door’s click announced her grandmother’s departure, Lillian started shedding clothing as she crossed the floor.

The satin nightgown still a cold presence against her skin, she crawled across the bed and scrambled under the covers. Her eyes were already closed by the time her head hit the pillow. Before sleep claimed her, a worried thought flashed across her mind: where had her gargoyle gone?

****

Hearing was the first sense to awaken. A soft, slow whooshing teased the edge of her hearing, rhythmic like the ocean, almost like a purr. The soothing noise had a steady thump as its counter beat. Delicious warmth radiated throughout her body. A part of her mind wanted to embrace sleep, but other senses were sharpening. She inhaled a deep breath. Air perfumed with the scents of home baking filled her lungs—her grandmother’s pancakes and sausages if she was not mistaken. Her stomach growled, waking her farther. Still she didn’t open her eyes—there was something dancing at the edge of her consciousness, something she didn’t want to acknowledge or remember. She squeezed her eyes tight and wiggled closer to the heat, determined to recapture the mindless obviation of sleep. Another scent crawled across her senses and seeped into her mind like a drug, one reminiscent of wild places and the pleasant musky warmth of a purely male being—the scent of gargoyle.

She froze. Memories of the last day wouldn’t be denied and came crashing down upon her peaceful world. Muscles taunt with tension, she cautiously opened her eyes—to an expanse of dark skin stretched over a defined, muscular chest. A heavy weight slung across her shoulders prevented her from sitting up, and something else with the grace of a two–by–four, held her lower legs imprisoned. Five minutes worth of wiggling, and the gargoyle’s arm was down almost to her waist. Being careful not to shake the bed, she sat up.

The two–by–four turned out to be his tail. There was an eight–foot gargoyle occupying her bed. Tramping down rising panic, she did a quick survey of the bedroom. Her robe lay on the other side of the room, tossed over the back of her reading chair next to the antique oak dresser. With a new goal firmly in her sights, she held the panic at bay a little longer.

After several more minutes of slow cautious wiggling, she was out from under the gargoyle’s wings. A few more deep calming breaths, and she inched off the bed in slow motion. Her bare feet touched the floor. Her new bedmate hadn’t so much as stirred a talon. Fear made her breath shallow and rapid. She bolted for the robe in a mad dash. In under ten seconds flat she had the robe clutched in one hand and she’d reversed course for the door.

She reached the old walnut door, a gate to sanctuary, the way to freedom. But she did not turn the knob. Poised, frozen between moments, unable to decide which way to go.

Whatever was on the other side of the door was just as much the unknown as the big beastie sleeping in her bed. Worse perhaps. The gargoyle had never lied to her, which was more than she could say about her family. For years they had hidden all this from her. Magic. Of all things, magic existed.

She needed answers. Perhaps then the chaos of the last day would order into something resembling a normal life.

Ten feet away, sleeping soundly in her bed, was someone fully capable of answering her questions. All she had to do was confront him.

Determination flowing in her blood, she spun around and faced the bed. The great, lumpy mound under the comforter was still there; the whole mass rising and falling in the slow, relaxed rhythm of sleep. God … how long had she slept next to the big eight–foot monster, with his massive talons that could have torn her apart. She swallowed hard.

Indecision held her rooted in place for several more seconds. Then curiosity and that strange, fierce need to be near him reared its head and overruled wisdom. Instead of running away, she slid one foot ahead of the other until she stood at the end of the bed.

The opportunity was too tempting to resist. After a moment’s consideration about the foolhardiness of what she was about to do, she tugged the comforter off the bed in one slow pull and reached out with shaking fingers.

Her hands collided with solid heat. Keeping her touch light so he wouldn’t wake, she slid her fingertips along warm skin. The deep rise and fall of the chest confirmed he still slept deeply, too exhausted to have heard her get up or to notice the comforter’s lack. He was curled in a fetal position, his tail tucked around him like a cat—the biggest damned cat she’d ever encountered. It was nice studying him while he slept; he seemed less scary that way.

Even curled on his side, his eight–foot frame dwarfed the king–sized bed. One massive wing stretched out behind him while the other blanketed him like a cloak of shadows. His head rested pillowed on his bicep, and one arm still reached out to where she’d been tucked against him. His fingers, with their two–inch claws, were uncurled, relaxed in sleep. If he’d had a nightmare, he could have gutted her. Her eyes travelled the length of him again. While he wasn’t human, he was certainly male. Overprotective guardian non–withstanding, he’d be finding himself different sleeping arrangements very soon.

Without conscious thought, her fingers found his hand and touched the black, curving claws. She really should be running away, she reminded herself. Instead she sat on the edge of the bed and explored the gargoyle.

Oddly, she could deal with the strangeness of the gargoyle better than seeing her family in their new roles. Or seeing a man she’d known all her life turn into a unicorn. Like something out of a fevered dream. Abnormal. Surreal and completely creepy.

That the gargoyle seemed the most normal part of her life didn’t bode well at all.

She stroked his mane for several minutes. Calm returned, followed by clearer thoughts. With a confidence she didn’t know she possessed, she sat on the bed and investigated the spiky ridge of fur between his horns. If she thought she could get away with it, she would have tried to brush his mane for him, but the motion might wake him, and she rather liked watching the gargoyle sleep. She wasn’t sure why or how, but he was a natural part of her existence. Like air and food and water, her gargoyle had transformed into a component she needed to live.

From downstairs, the distant beep of the kitchen timer reached her ears. At the noise, the gargoyle made a huffing sound as he buried his muzzle under the edge of her robe until his entire head vanished beneath a fold of the dark–green fabric. His horns and ears stuck out and she started to laugh.

“No, I stand corrected. You’re not cat–like. You’re more dog–like.” His ears twitched at the sound of her voice, but he still didn’t wake up. Instead, he’d burrowed farther under her and threatened to push her off the side of the bed. “Definitely dog. I don’t suppose I can teach you to fetch breakfast? Oh, well. At least …”

Her next words froze, forgotten on her tongue. Angry voices drifted in her window. She tensed as they came closer. The gargoyle exhaled a grunted exclamation and in one beat of her pounding heart, he was fully awake. His powerful tail snaked out and reached around her shoulders. That heavy, unstoppable weight forced her forward and down until she was sprawled flat on the bed, the gargoyle poised over her. Then he leaped from the bed, tearing sheets and dislodging the top mattress with the strength of his lunge. The sudden jolt rolled her like a limp doll and she was facing the window in time to see him clear the distance in one bound. He landed on all fours, his tail lashing back and forth. He made no noise as he reared up onto two legs and braced his arms on either side of the window while he watched the goings on below. She inched closer to his side. Voices drifted up. Two strangers debated with her uncle.

“What are you hiding? We can smell it from out here.” A man’s voice echoed up from below.