“Wait,” Lillian interrupted. “I gather the Coven is made up of your people—the witches. But this Clan, who are they?”
“Yes, you are correct about the Coven. We are the 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, 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 the 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.”
Grief and anger glinted in Gran’s eyes, the two emotions melding into a steel-hard resolve. “Nothing like that attack 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.” Gran sighed bitterly.
“Some old and trusted friends we never thought had a speck of darkness within them were serving these Riven. It soon became clear the Riven plan to consume all the magic of this realm and rule over what is left. I fear some of the Clan and Coven 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, 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 found herself asking with genuine curiosity.
“Ah.” Gran cleared her throat. “You’ve heard the legends of werewolves, no doubt.”
“You’re saying a dire wolf is a werewolf?”
“Nope. And don’t ever call a dire wolf that in one’s hearing.” 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 human.”
“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... I mean Lily’s parents.” She frowned. “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 present when the council was attacked.”
Lillian glanced down, assimilating her grandmother’s story. 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 surrounded by the large maze 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 a fantasy.
She glanced at the gargoyle. At least he hadn’t vanished into the shadows. “Why bring me here? Where am I really from?”
He remained silent.
“Even fed, you’re still not much of a talker.” Lillian crossed her arms over her chest and glowered.
Gran patted her shoulder. “I think he wants me to tell you the rest.”
“There’s more?”
“Lillian, by now you must realize you’re not what you thought. You’re Clan, not Coven. You’re not human.”
Lillian wanted to deny her grandmother’s words, but after all that had happened, she knew there was something different about her. She inclined her head to her grandmother and asked as calmly as she could, “If not human, what am I?”
“I, too, wondered that at first. Your gargoyle was injured, as were you. I think he used a lot of his power to heal you and didn’t have enough left over for healing his own injuries. His time was limited. He was already turning to stone, and he couldn’t tell me much about you beyond the fact he didn’t want you familiar with magic. I didn’t even know what species you were at first.”
Lillian held herself perfectly still, her muscles tensing as if for battle. “Go on. I can handle this.”
“I found my first clue clenched in your hand—a small cutting from a tree, its leaves still fresh like it was newly picked. I put it in water. Within a day, it had sprouted roots. That it rooted at all would have been enough to signal that this was no ordinary cutting, but there was also a trace of magic in its leaves. You are a dryad. The cutting was from your hamadryad, your spirit tree. You are a guardian of the forests. I didn’t know enough about dryads to know how to look after one, but I knew a sick child when I saw one. There was an unhealthy look about your skin I didn’t like. Your little tree sickened until just a few needles remained. Fearing I’d lose you, I contacted the Sisterhood of the Dryads and told them about you, your tree, and your gargoyle. They were here in less than a day. You’re alive because of them. I don’t think I would have thought about giving your tree gargoyle blood.”
Lillian absorbed what her grandmother said. She couldn’t accept everything now. It was too much. Later, when she was alone, she’d replay this conversation in her head and maybe then it would make sense.
Trapped in her own memories, Gran continued like she was unaware Lillian was there with her. “The first night he arrived, he’d been injured, and his blood was splattered across the snow. That magic-laced substance shimmered under the moonlight—I remember seeing it, and in my state of shock I’d thought it beautiful like the stars in a cold, winter sky. The next morning, my senses returned, and knowing the power locked in an immortal’s blood, I gathered up all I could find and kept it frozen.”
The gargoyle stood, his sudden movement interrupting Gran’s story. He made a short, coughing bark as he glanced out the window. His tail lashed and his ears snapped forward. Someone was coming, judging by his body language.
Lillian eased off her bed and came up behind the gargoyle. Her viewpoint was all wings, mane, and flicking tail. A small thrill of gratitude flowed through her veins when he shifted a wing out of the way and made room for her to stand next to him.
Through the open window, she heard a vehicle coming up the lane. The boulevard trees blocked her line of sight and obscured the vehicle until it turned up the main driveway. Her brother’s truck came into view.
The gargoyle’s lips pulled back from his muzzle. Jaws parted slightly and nostrils quivering, he sniffed at the air. She touched his arm—and his thoughts came to her. No, not smelling the air—tasting it to search for magic.
“Ah, the Sisterhood’s representatives have arrived,” Gran said. “I sent Jason to pick them up from the airport.”
“Other dryads?”
“Yes. They’re the closest biological family you have in this world, but don’t be fooled for a moment. They are a dying race and have an agenda of their own. They saved your life, but I think they did it more to curry favor with the gargoyle than out of actual concern for you.”
“You think they’re dangerous.” Lillian meant it as a statement, but Gran answered anyway.
“No,” Gran said, then paused as if sel
ecting her next words with care. “I don’t mean to poison you against them. They serve the Light, not the Shadow, but they are not human. They don’t think like us. And as much as you’re biologically like them, you were raised as a human, with a human’s view of the world and our moral concepts ingrained in you from a young age. You may not like what they have come seeking.”
“I’ll deal. Our biggest problem is with the Riven.”
“Indeed.”
Lillian glanced at the gargoyle. He was now silent, unmoving. Only his eyes showed any life in them. They glittered like black ice, a predator’s stare directed down at the women exiting the truck.
Both strangers had the tall, lean grace of swans. They looked like they belonged on a Paris runway. “I thought you said these women were the same species as me. I fail to see the resemblance.” Apparently, nature had given her the curvy and slightly plump gene.
“Oh, they’re just half-starved. Their trees didn’t have the nutrition of nice gargoyle blood to make them big and strong.” Gran chuckled. “Don’t worry, dear. They’d blow over in a storm. Do you still regret you’re not like them?”
“Nope. Not when you put it like that.”
“Well, we can’t hide up here all afternoon. Shall we introduce you and your gargoyle to the dryads?”
“Sure.” Lillian couldn’t muster much enthusiasm. She didn’t want to meet them, not when she was feeling like the poor, uneducated cousin.
Gregory remained silent as he padded to the door. He held it open for them.
Not seeing any other choice, Lillian followed Gran out.
The gargoyle vanished into the shadows, but he trailed along behind, his heat and magic a reassuring presence. Up until the moment he’d awakened and saved her, she’d always felt alone and hadn’t known why. Now she knew the reason. Her gargoyle belonged at her back. She smiled and reached out behind her as she descended the stairs. The warmth of a muzzle bumped under her fingers. A moment later, a tongue licked at her palm. She smiled as contentment warmed her heart.
Chapter 10
LILLIAN TOOK THE CURVING stairs in a slow, measured step to allow herself time to study the two strangers. Their backs were to her, but her brother was below, attentive as a servant, which told her enough about these women. Her poor, beguiled brother. While she wasn’t familiar with dryads, these two looked capable of eating her brother alive.
Ahead, her grandmother sailed down the steps, showing no signs of weakness or age, her floral-print summer dress billowing out behind her. She moved as a queen or matriarch would, quietly assured of her right to rule her domain.
Gran tilted her head in Jason’s direction. “Be a dear and finish cleansing the gardens.”
A smile tugged at Lillian’s lips as she took in her brother’s look of disgruntlement. But Jason only grumbled something as he left.
At Gran’s approach, the paler of the two dryads stood. The newcomer made the simple motion one of slow grace.
“Vivian, we thank you for contacting us.” A long-fingered hand swept sable-colored hair off her shoulder as she spoke. The sleek locks looked like they had never seen the abuse of a blow dryer or flat iron. But otherwise she looked normal, human in appearance.
Lillian wondered if the dryad used magic to disguise her fae heritage in some way.
Sable-hair’s lady-in-waiting, as Lillian decided to call the other woman, bowed to Vivian and then stepped back.
Like two queens meeting to negotiate a treaty, Gran and Sable-hair regarded each other with hard gazes.
“The gargoyle is awake and remains in this realm? He hasn’t returned to his own yet?” Sable-hair’s voice tightened with worry on the second question.
Her jaw tightening at the dryad’s words, Lillian glanced over her shoulder to confirm the gargoyle was still invisible.
He was.
She could still feel him but not so much as a ripple of shadows betrayed his presence to the naked eye.
Handy trick that.
With a frown, she returned her attention to the two newcomers.
What did these dryads want with her gargoyle? What was so important they couldn’t take the time to exchange names first? She didn’t like the implications already.
Gran nodded at the dryad’s words. “He is here, and he will remain here as long as my granddaughter does. He shadows her every step. Whatever his purpose, if you wish to speak with him about your problem, you’ll need to communicate through Lillian. The gargoyle is shy, reclusive, and disinclined to speak to us folk of lesser magic.”
Lillian’s jaw tightened. Gregory wasn’t like that. Sure, he didn’t have much to say, but he’d never done anything to make her think he regarded the rest of them as lesser beings. Gran caught her eye and shook her head the slightest bit. That one motion told Lillian all she needed to know.
If her grandmother wanted to keep these strangers guessing, she would play along. The gargoyle remained silent, hidden in the shadows. Apparently, he agreed with Gran’s plan.
The second dryad, the brown-haired lady-in-waiting as Lillian had decided to call her, turned her attention fully upon Lillian. “This gargoyle is your servant?” Her sculpted brows rose in question. “Does he await your command?”
Lillian’s stomach soured. Her grandmother’s plan suddenly didn’t look so appealing. This new sense of authority, where others looked to her for answers, was not something she wanted. Reluctantly, but seeing no other choice, she answered.
“If anyone is in the other’s debt, I am in his. He saved my life twice. First from the monsters who attacked me, and then later when he used his own strength to heal me. I was dying.” Her words drifted to silence as she remembered those moments of horror.
“But he does remain at your side?” Sable-hair interrupted.
“I’m not his master.” True. But he had said, ‘I am yours,’ and called her ‘mistress’ whatever that might mean. She didn’t think she’d share that piece of information.
Sable-hair gritted her teeth, a noticeable change compared to her earlier serene expression. “Tell me how you came to be in this realm in the company of a gargoyle.”
Gran cleared her throat. “Perhaps introductions are in order.” She glanced in Lillian’s direction. “The dryads, like many of the fae races, don’t give their true names freely. This is a dryad Elder of the North American Sisterhood. You may call her Sable.”
How creative, Lillian thought to herself as she smiled at the dryad in an attempt to seem friendly. When she held her hand out to the Elder, Sable hesitated.
Gran gave the dryad a frosty smile. “Elder Sable, this is my granddaughter. As you have said, she is in the good graces of a gargoyle.”
After a brief pause, Sable returned the handshake, the dryad’s soft, unblemished skin completely different than Lillian’s own garden-roughened hands.
Lillian grinned at Gran’s implied “play nice or else.”
While the Elder returned Gran’s frosty smile, Lillian peered at the other dryad.
The lady-in-waiting took a step forward and made eye contact. “May I ask what is your relationship with this gargoyle? Is he blood relative or future mate?”
“What the hell?” Lillian’s jaw dropped. Blood relative or future mate? She hadn’t known what to expect, but that wasn’t it.
“But surely you know that much?”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t see how...” Heck, she saw zero family resemblance between dryads and gargoyles. There were a few genetic differences, for starters.
“How long has he been awake? A day? Two? Even if you honestly don’t remember your past, that’s still long enough to experience the draw between our races.”
Lillian didn’t even know how to formulate an answer to that odd line of questioning. Shaking her head, she denied the woman’s words. But as she took a step back, she remembered that just an hour ago, she’d been running her hands over the gargoyle while he’d slept. Was magic why she kept wanting to touch him? That comp
licated things.
Gran sent Lillian a look of sympathy. Then, her expression darkening, she transferred her gaze to Sable. “Did you read any of the reports I sent you? Lillian knows nothing—absolutely nothing—about her history. She only found out this morning she wasn’t human.”
“Her lack of education is hardly my fault.”
With a snort of disgust, Gran flung her hands up and muttered to herself.
Sable cleared her throat. “Perhaps we should return to the reason we came.”
“Yes,” Gran smiled coldly. “Tell Lillian what you seek.”
“We seek the same as you. To learn why and how the gargoyle came here.”
Suspicion started growing in Lillian’s mind. “And once you have your answers, what will you do with that knowledge?”
Sable tilted her head to the side to study Lillian in turn. “Leave this world. We’re a dying race and can’t remain here. There isn’t enough magic to beget healthy children. We must flee back to the realm of magic if we can.”
Lillian was trying to listen and make sense of everything they’d said, but her mind kept going back to when the dryad asked what relation the gargoyle was to her. Damn it all to hell! She had to know. “Explain what you said earlier about gargoyles and dryads... being related.” She locked gazes with Sable.
The dryad folded her hands and composed herself as if preparing for a long tale. “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.” Sable’s eyes unfocused, her thoughts turning inward.
A ghost of a smile hovered on her lips. “Long and long 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 between 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.” Sable paused a moment, as if gathering her thoughts before continuing.
The Complete Gargoyle and Sorceress Boxset (Books 1-9) Page 8
