Stone's Kiss (8 page)

Lillian nudged the gargoyle until he let her look out the window. Below, two men faced off against her uncle. One of them, the older man with the graying hair looked vaguely familiar. It took her a moment to realize why. When Gregory bunched his muscles, preparing to leap down, she put a restraining arm of his shoulder.

“Wait,” she hissed. “I know these people. Please don’t get all fierce on them. They’re friends of the family. The younger one’s name is Robert, and the older man is his grandfather, Jackson.”

Jackson tilted his head to the side, sniffing at the air. “Tell me what you’re hiding. It smells of power and aggression.”

“It’s a long story, but we have a new ally. Vivian will explain everything tonight when she meets with your leaders for the gathering. That’s all I can say for now,” her uncle said.

Robert took a step closer to her uncle. “You’ve got to give us more. We saw … I can’t believe I’m saying this … we saw a unicorn. What has the Coven been up to? Tell us now or the Hunt will appear at your doorstep some night not of your choosing.”

“Is that a threat?” Lillian’s uncle asked, voice sharp with annoyance.

Jackson put a restraining hand on his grandson’s shoulder. “No, not a threat—a warning. One friend to another. We don’t want to see anything happen to you or your family. But whatever the Hunt decides, it’s out of our hands.”

Her uncle’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you. Come, I’ll drive you back to your farm. And yes, you did see a unicorn.”

When the voices died away and the sound of retreating footsteps faded, Lillian turned from the window and pressed her back against the wall. The gargoyle—Gregory—stood looking down at her, his muzzle pointed in her direction, his expression unreadable. She wondered what the Hunt was—it didn’t sound good. But before she could voice her concerns, there was a disturbance outside in the hall. It came a second time. Closer now, she could make out the sounds—dishes rattling on a tray. Breakfast had come to her.

Gregory advanced on the door with grim interest just as it creaked open. Gran strolled in, then shoved the door shut with her hip. Gran eyed the disheveled bed with one eyebrow raised in question, then looked the gargoyle up and down as she detoured around him. When she passed, she waved the two trays close to his muzzle and continued forward with a knowing smile. The gargoyle padded after her, sniffing at the trays as he came.

“Did you sleep well?” Gran asked. Again the eyebrow rose in question.

“Yes, very well … considering a rather large
gargoyle
was sharing the bed. Know anything about that?”

Gran graced Lillian with a most innocent look. “Yours is the biggest bed in the house.”

“Ha! I knew it. You said you ordered the wrong size for the resort and didn’t want to pay to ship it back.”

“I couldn’t very well tell you it was for your gargoyle, now could I?”

Lillian huffed and turned to the gargoyle and speared him with a look. “You’re not a dog—you don’t get to sleep in my bed.”

Gregory seemed more interested in what Gran was carrying than in the conversation.

Gran cleared her throat. “Anyways, I image you both must be hungry, so I brought a little something to hold you over until lunch. Eat, and then we’ll talk.”

Lillian was about to tell her to talk now, but the mingled scent of real maple syrup, pancakes and sausages reached her nose. She tracked the trays as avidly as did the gargoyle. Deciding she could multitask, Lillian uncovered the first tray and snatched up one of the sausages. She was taking the first bite when the gargoyle leaned in close and sniffed at her food. “It’s not poisoned.” Too hungry to worry about manners, she ate it with her fingers. “Relax for five minutes.” She waved at the bounty. “Eat.”

He didn’t obey immediately, so she lifted a second finger–length sausage off the tray and held it out to him. One moment he was sniffing at it, then she blinked and it was gone. The only clue he hadn’t used magic to make it vanish was the slight movement as he swallowed. Gran handed him his own plate and motioned for him to eat. The gargoyle didn’t need more prompting, and folded a pancake in half and shoved it in his mouth whole. A second vanished as fast as the first one. Gran smiled and turned back to Lillian.

“I know you have questions. I’ll tell you all I know, and then we’ll see if we can get our new friend to tell us what he knows.” Gran graced the gargoyle with a calculating smile. He stopped eating long enough to bob his head in assent. She turned back to Lillian. “Good. First, no matter what you learn here, I want you to know you
are
my granddaughter in all ways that matter.”

Gran paused, closing her eyes like she sought a memory she’d buried long ago. “You came to me at a time of great tragedy. It was a January night twelve years ago when I heard Jason’s screams. He was strong and cocky for his age, and very, very sure of himself. I’d never heard him cry out like he did that night.

I had told him and his sister they could go play for a while as a break from unpacking. I should have gone with them … later your mother and I heard the cries for help. We ran. Your mother was faster and reached the lake first. By the time I caught up, she’d managed to rescue your sister from the water. There was no life left in her. Her young and vibrant spirit had already fled. Jason was still trapped on the ice, out of reach. I thought—” Gran broke off, the pain of old memories reflected in her pale face.

Shock descended on Lillian like a blow. She never knew she had an older sister.

Gran cleared her throat. “I thought I was seeing the death of both my grandchildren. Then the darkness shuddered and spat out a hulking shadow, a creature of immense berth and height—your gargoyle. He raced into the freezing water to save my grandson. But even the gargoyle could do nothing for my little Lily.”

Lily. Her dead sister was named Lily. Her lost memories, a sister she didn’t know she had, her mother’s resentment—everything clicked into place. The dead girl who shared her name wasn’t a sister at all. Somehow she’d stepped into the life of a dead girl and made it her own. Horror cramped her belly. Breath came in great desperate gasps. Her eyes burned, but no tears came. The horror was too great.

“My Lily was such a good girl.” Gran continued, too caught up in her memories to realized Lillian’s horror.

Good,
Lillian thought.
Gran doesn’t need more guilt. Whatever comes of all this, I’ll remain strong for her.

“In a way my little Lily saved her brother. For even after death claimed her, her spirit hovered nearby, and sensing the gargoyle, she sought him out and asked him to aid her family. The gargoyle saved Jason. He …” she paused, swallowing rapidly, like she was having to conquer her grief anew. “The gargoyle granted us another miracle. He gave us one more night with Lily, and made it so we could say goodbye. In return, he had one request. He ran off into the shadowy tree line and retrieved something. When he returned, he had another dark–haired child bundled in his arms—so like my little Lily, I thought it was her at first. Then he laid you in my arms. You were such a small thing for your age, just like Lily. He asked me to guide and protect you like one of my own. Giving my word was no hardship.”

A numb, seeping cold held Lillian in its grasp. Her world was built on a hundred thousand lies.
Who am I?
She remembered the blood running down her tree, and the sensation of her life force weakening as blood leached from the wounds.
What am I?

“You called me Lillian after a dead girl—why? No wonder mother was so cold to me.”

“My daughter–in–law never got over that night. It broke something within her. Don’t blame yourself. Perhaps it’s for the best she’s with Lily now.”

“But why name me after her? Surely it created painful reminders.”

“Pain, yes, but sweet too. It was my way of honoring her for leading the gargoyle to us and saving her brother.” Gran sighed and looked at the gargoyle where he crouched next to the bed. His empty plate lay on the floor next to him. “We were new to this place. No one knew Lily. They wouldn’t know you were not the same girl. So you became Lillian.” She sighed. “I have kept my promise to the gargoyle as best I could, but now there is an enemy beyond my ability to defeat. Yesterday they came here to destroy my coven, and found you here alone. I am sorry. We had no idea they were ready to move on our territory.”

“Who are they?” Lillian asked. “And why don’t I know any of this? Why keep the truth of me?”

“Forgive me for the lie, but the gargoyle told me to say nothing of magic. So I thought it best if you believed you were Lily. Your uncle came up with the idea about losing your memories in a near drowning—a half truth is easier to accept than outright lies. And brain damage explained why you would need to learn our language and details about our world.” Gran paused again, and looked down at her hands. When she looked up, she gave the gargoyle an intense look. “I’m interested to hear the reasons why the gargoyle wanted you to know nothing about magic. That was a curious stipulation.”

Lillian followed her grandmother’s gaze. Gregory balanced on his haunches, one hand braced against his bent knee, muzzle bowed until it touched his chest, eyes focused unseeing on the ground. At the moment, he looked about as talkative as a stone.

“Right. Better luck next time.” A cold sweat broke out along Lillian’s back. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the gargoyle’s reasoning—her gut told her there was more amiss then just bad guys trying to kill her. She returned her attention to Gran. “What do you know about the creatures who attacked me?”

“Not enough. They call themselves the Riven. We don’t know their agenda, but they are a gathering of outcast magic wielders. Before, we speculated they were led by vampires. Now after your attack, we know that to be true.”

“Why attack me? Why now?”

Gran broke eye contact and glanced out the window. “This isn’t the first time they’ve made a move against us,” she said, her voice strained. She took two deep breaths and when she spoke again, her voice had smoothed out. “Six years ago we were caught unawares. There had been rumors of a dark underground movement, one which could unbalance our community and expose us to the humans, but no evidence was found to backup our theories. Then the disappearances started. At first we thought a blood feud had broken out between the Clan and the Coven.”

“Wait,” Lillian interrupted. “So the Coven is made up of your people—the witches. But this Clan, who are they?”

“We of the Coven are descendants of the few ancient human bloodlines gifted with magic. The Clan is a mix of the other magical races, many of which were once enemies. But our diverse peoples banded together for one simple reason: survival. The Clan’s numbers were always less than ours, but now they are many, many fewer. While they may not age, the dwindling magic has killed many of them. If they don’t find a way back to the Magic Realm, all the Clan will perish in time.”

Lillian rubbed at her temples. “So the unicorn is Clan, and my brother is Coven. And Clan and Coven are allies?”

“Now we are, but that wasn’t always the case. At the thought of another blood feud, members of both Clan and Coven became paranoid and defensive. The Council gathered to put a stop to this, for a blood feud would expose us to the humans. The last time such a thing happened was long ago and ended with members on both sides burning at the stake. The Council ordered an investigation. The order was barely three hours old when we were attacked. The Riven showed us how woeful our defenses were against them. We lost eighty percent of the Council in one night.”

Lillian waited while her grandmother gathered herself.

Both grief and anger glinted in Gran’s eyes, the two emotions melding into a steel–hard resolve. “Nothing like this had ever happened before. Individually, we didn’t know what to do against such a powerful new enemy. For the first time in recorded history, the entire membership of the Clan and the Coven came together, like a herd seeking safety in greater numbers. When we did, we saw how many were missing. At first we thought those absent were dead, hunted down by the Riven. But later we learned the truth. Better had they been dead.

Some old and trusted friends, ones we never thought had a speck of darkness within them, were serving these Riven. It became clear later what the Riven’s true motives were: they shall consume all the magic of this realm and rule over what remains. I fear some of the traitors may not have had a choice. We caught one of the traitors, a dire wolf. He seemed relieved when we put him to death. It was as if he was at last freed from intolerable servitude.” Gran shook her head. “I don’t know what was done to that poor creature, but granting him death was the kindest gift he’d received in many years.”

“What is a dire wolf?” Lillian’s head was full of cotton.

“Ah,” Gran cleared her throat. “You’ve heard the legends of werewolves, no doubt.”

“Yes. You’re saying a dire wolf is a werewolf.”

“No, and don’t ever call a dire wolf a werewolf,” Gran started to chuckle, “That’ll make them cranky. Like many of the fae–bloods, dire wolves are shapeshifters, but their natural shape is that of a large wolf. Instead of a human changing into a wolf, it’s the other way around. The fae–blood wolf learned to shapeshift into a man.”

“Oh.” There was so much Lillian didn’t know, and by the set of her grandmother’s shoulders there was more to come. “Tell me the rest. My parents,” she stopped and chewed her lower lip. “The two I thought were my parents … they didn’t die in a car accident, did they?

Gran spun her wedding band around her finger in slow measured turns. “My son and daughter–in–law were on the Council, members representing the Northern branch of the Coven. They were at council when it was attacked.”

Lillian glanced down. The glossy hardwood floor reflected the morning light. Her gaze tracked the stream of sunlight back to the window, and beyond to the beauty of the world outside. The sight of her favorite tree usually brought a sense of peace, but today it couldn’t fill the hollow ache in her heart. So much of her life was a lie, and much of what was real felt like fantasy. She glanced at the gargoyle. At least he hadn’t vanished into the shadows. “Why bring me here?”