The Complete Gargoyle and Sorceress Boxset (Books 1-9)

by Lisa Blackwood

  Lillian’s nerve broke. She whirled back to the stairs, ready to flee, but Gregory in his gargoyle form materialized on the stairs a step above her. He stopped her with ease, his wings blocking escape. A muscular arm wrapped around her shoulders and turned her to face the crowd. Silence claimed the room.

  Shock replaced fear on many faces. They weren’t looking at her. They stared at the gargoyle overshadowing her with his greater bulk. A memory flashed across her mind, of the unicorn in human form when he’d first beheld the gargoyle: a look of shock and wonder, followed by desperate hunger.

  She prayed they weren’t about to get torn apart by a mob desperate for magic.

  “We must fix what we broke,” Gregory whispered into her mind through the touch of his hands on her arms. “This was a ceremony of sharing. Had I known what we were walking into, I might have approached this differently.”

  “I screwed up, didn’t I?” She glanced over her shoulder. Looking at him was better than facing the mob.

  “How could you know the magic would try to gather some of your power and share it with this world?” He pushed her from behind, guiding her back toward the crowd. “Now we shall fix what went wrong and make the magic stronger than it was before.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “Follow my lead and embrace your instincts. They are there, buried under layers of my protection. Look and you will find them.”

  Mmm-hmm. Right. “What if I screw this up like I did with the stone ring around my tree?”

  “I will keep you safe.”

  She doubted herself but trusted him, so when the crowd parted down the middle to let him pass, she followed close at his heels. He took a long and twisting way to the center of the room, herding the crowd back into motion. They moved for him, with him, following his subtle gestures.

  He spun in a circle, the motion unfurling his wings. The glow of power spread out around him, flaring in the breeze created by his wings. Stomping his feet in a slow sideways motion, he began to move. His tail lashed in time to some unheard rhythm and drums took up the beat as magic pulsed in the air.

  Lillian swayed, uncertain. But Gregory gestured and called to her with power. Entranced, she took a half-step toward him, then another. The magic in the room gathered, starting to spin into a vortex once more. Order slowly defeated chaos, and both crowd and magic moved to Gregory’s silent commands.

  Unable to help herself, she followed as willingly as the others. She closed her eyes and guided by sound and the magic pulsing in her blood, she began to dance a softer counterpoint to his rhythm. Swaying and whirling around him in loose circles, moving in the opposite direction to him, she summoned a second larger ring of magic around the vortex. He increased the pace of his dance as the inner ring shrunk down upon itself. She danced just beyond the outer expanse of his wings. All the women in the room, beast and human-shaped, echoed her motion.

  Then the males took up Gregory’s rhythm and followed his lead. Moving in opposite directions, the alternate rings of dancers spun past each other, driven beyond exhaustion or reason by the rising current of magic.

  She danced so close, she could feel the heat of Gregory’s body, but they never quite touched. He danced in the same manner, echoing her courtship, following her every movement until the rhythm of the drums carried him away from her again, only to return that much closer with each turn. Like a pair of binary stars, they orbited each other—glowing brighter as they expended magic.

  When the rhythm of the dance brushed their bodies together, she reached out to him, learning his thoughts, communicating like he did. A sense of purpose, pride in her abilities, and that she trusted him flowed from his mind to hers. There was heat as well. She accepted it. Desire simply became part of the dance.

  Magic reached a fever pitch within her. Unable to resist any longer, she stroked the warm silk of his wing membranes, delighting in the way his wings quivered. When he turned to her, she thought she saw an answering heat in his gaze.

  She trailed her fingertips across his chest, over firm muscle and the slight ridge of his ribs. He caught her hand, stopping its exploration.

  “Naughty dryad,” he scolded, but his accompanying thoughts lacked anger. “That is not part of this dance.”

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled as heat flooded her cheeks, suddenly deeply embarrassed by her actions.

  “Never be sorry for showing me affection, my Sorceress,” he whispered for her alone. Then he tossed his head back, his wings stretching toward the ceiling.

  The magic above him shuddered. A strange humming doused all other sounds for several heartbeats until her eardrums sorted the noise out. With a low whine, the magic revved up. Teetering, it hovered on the brink of losing control, then the magic exploded out, colliding with her circle of magic. When the two powers merged, a retina-searing flash of light blinded her, followed by a clash of sound louder than thunder. Energy raced away like shooting stars. Most of the magic vanished through the walls and ceiling of the room. What remained fell like big, wet flakes of snow, except they sparkled like tiny fireworks.

  A tall, elegantly boned man raised a horn above his head. He met her eyes across the distance and gave first her and then Gregory a nod of respect. She’d never seen such old eyes in such a young face. One slightly pointed ear peeked out between strands of his long hair.

  “We Hunt for honor.” He gave the horn a little shake. “We Hunt for duty. We Hunt for life.”

  “We Hunt!” the crowd screamed back.

  “Ride until dawn grays the sky.”

  “We Hunt!”

  “Let the Wild Hunt ride until the moon has long vanished.” He raised the horn to his lips.

  With the first blast, a haunting note sounded through Lillian’s soul. The crowd roared.

  “We ride!” Lillian screamed the words out along with them. Then again, a final time, hard enough to hurt her throat.

  The brown-furred hounds bayed madly, yipping and barking as they darted through the crowd and headed for the loading bay doors. Outside, magic pooled in little eddies, hanging above the ground like fog. It hadn’t vanished as she’d thought.

  It was waiting for the Hunt. Like a moonlit path paved with white stone, magic gathered, forming into a silver road. She held her breath as people vaulted upon the backs of ponies, wolves, and elk.

  Gran approached and held out a bag. “I brought these for you. Thought they’d be more sensible than what the dryads made. There’s a small office through that door where you can change.” She pointed at the door. “Now hurry.”

  Lillian took the bag, glanced at Gregory, and then with a shrug, hurried into the office and slammed the door before her gargoyle decided to come and ‘guard’ her. Inside, she upended the bag on a desk and got a look at what Gran had packed.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  WHEN LILLIAN RETURNED from swiftly changing her clothing, she found Gran already astride a white elk, her quarterstaff balanced across her lap.

  Lillian pointed at her leather pants and then plucked at the black blouse and leather corset. “All I need is a crop or wicked-looking whip and I’m ready for Halloween or a new career direction.”

  Gran huffed. “That’s not a costume. That’s real leather warded with spells. It will give you some protection from brambles and whatever other nastiness we might encounter out on the trail. But by all means, if you prefer the dress...”

  “The dress with the slits up the sides? Let me think about it. Hmmm? Yeah, that’s a no.”

  “Shall we Hunt?” Gran asked.

  “Yes,” Lillian replied. “Though I don’t know what I’ll be hunting. Or what I’ll be riding.” Nerves fluttered in her stomach. She glanced around. Most everyone else had already exited through the loading doors.

  “We Hunt and gather the magic we summoned from the Magic Realm. And never in my lifetime have I seen such bounty as what you and the gargoyle summoned as you danced together.”

  Lillian didn’t reply, still to
o embarrassed by her forwardness with the gargoyle during the dance and that her grandmother and everyone else had seen her socially awkward attempt at seduction get shot down by Gregory.

  “Mount, so we can catch up with the others,” Gran said with a note of impatience.

  “On what?” Lillian asked at last.

  “The gargoyle will make a fine steed.” Gran looked at Gregory and raised an eyebrow. “And I imagine he’ll enjoy having you ride him.”

  While Lillian was still choking on her grandmother’s innuendo loaded words, Gran urged the elk into a trot, forestalling questions.

  Chapter 16

  WHEN THE BUILDING EMPTIED of everyone else, Lillian turned to Gregory in time to catch a blur of shadows and light as he resumed his true form. After he dropped to all fours, he came to her side and nudged her hand with his muzzle. She held her breath, frozen in place, uncertain. At her sign of reluctance, he moved forward until her fingers rested in his mane. Then, shifting his wings away from his sides, he exposed his back so she could sling her leg over, just like mounting a horse.

  She frowned at the invitation.

  One week of misery, which her grandmother had called riding lessons, had been enough to convince Lillian horsemanship wasn’t one of her skills, and riding gargoyle-back probably wasn’t one, either. She most definitely preferred her own two feet on the ground. The horse had liked it better that way, too.

  But here she was, eyeing her gargoyle’s broad back with mild curiosity.

  Riding bareback. At night. On a gargoyle. What fun.

  Apparently tired of waiting, Gregory wrapped his tail around her waist and dragged her closer. The nervous fluttering in her stomach revved up another notch.

  No other alternatives presented themselves, so she swung a leg over his back and settled in place. She gripped his sides with her thighs and knees to hold herself on. It still felt like she would fall off with his first step. To hide her trepidation, she pretended nothing was wrong as she leaned forward to circle her arms around his neck. When she stretched out along his spine, he folded his wings back into place.

  His flight muscles made a nice cushion, and his back wasn’t bony like she’d half-expected. Perhaps riding gargoyle-back wouldn’t be as uncomfortable as she’d imagined. The heat of his body sank into her bones, and the subtle scent of gargoyle surrounded her. Her jaw unclenched, and the nervous fluttering in her stomach eased. She rested her head against his mane—it was easier than straining to look up and around. Inhaling his forest-and-musky-male scent relaxed her another degree.

  “Try to find your balance,” Gregory rumbled. “I’ll start slow. You might remember the way of it. I used to carry you on my back when you were born into a form lacking wings.” His gait changed as he moved sideways and then in circles, shifting his weight from side to side as he switched directions and speeds.

  “Okay,” she mumbled into his mane, “I still haven’t fallen off, so I suppose that’s a good sign.”

  Gregory changed directions sharply. She squeaked in alarm when she slid sideways. His wings steadied her while she regained her balance.

  “Not funny. Warn me next time you do that.” She swatted his shoulder without much force.

  He chuckled, shaking her insides with the movement.

  “You’re enjoying this,” she accused.

  “Perhaps a little.”

  “How noble of you,” Lillian drawled.

  “I try to be.”

  She laughed. It was impossible to remain angry at him.

  He lengthened his stride into a lope. She tightened her grip on his neck, not knowing what else to hold. Her death grip didn’t seem to bother him, and he took off at a bone-jarring run as he zigzagged his way across the vast floor space. She curled the toes of her boots under his belly. After a few moments, her muscles grew used to his rolling strides, and she started to flow with the motion. Her lips curled up at the corners. She might get so she liked riding on the back of a gargoyle.

  The gaping maw of the loading doors loomed up ahead of her. Beyond them, the strange and wild night waited. Almost clear of the building, Gregory flexed his muscular hindquarters and launched himself off the edge of the loading bay, out into the night. She’d thought he’d run fast before. She’d been wrong.

  Her stomach plummeted each time his talons struck the ground. Such power. It felt like he floated in the air a brief moment between each stride. Nothing like riding a horse, more like harnessing the power of one of the big cats. Laughter bubbled up, followed by intense joy.

  Gregory’s long strides ate up the ground between them and the distant Wild Hunt. The night was soon filled with the baying of hounds and the cadence of Gregory’s rapid footfalls.

  They caught up with the rest of the Hunt on the outskirts of the forest. Spreading his wings, the gargoyle soared across the expanse of gravel road in one leap. A cry of surprise broke from her lips. Coming to the ground again, he resumed his rapid pace. She was about to beg him to fly again, but he’d already overtaken the Hunt and slowed his pace to come alongside Gran, her elk, and three silent dire wolves.

  “What took you so long? Lillian give you a hard time?” Gran asked the gargoyle.

  Gregory grunted in response.

  “I figured she’d be more agreeable to riding if no one else was around to watch her first attempt,” Gran said with a grin, then saluted the gargoyle with her staff. “Sorry I couldn’t teach her more of what she needed, but she’s progressing well regardless, don’t you agree?”

  “Yes,” Gregory said as he continued to pace the elk. “Thank you for guiding and protecting her when I could not.”

  “I’m right here under your nose, so to speak, you can stop talking like I’m not here,” Lillian grumbled. “And since I haven’t yet fallen from Gregory’s back and broken my fool neck, what am I supposed to be doing, exactly?”

  Gran cast Lillian a sidelong look and nodded her head. “In times past, the Wild Hunt had many purposes, but now need drives us. Tonight, we’ll ride the borders of our domain, guiding the magic we raised into a defense against the invaders.”

  Lillian nodded and glanced around. She frowned, taking note of the thinning herd of riders for the first time. “Are there fewer strange creatures—uh, strangers here than started out at the warehouse?”

  “Oh, young one, you forget you’re one of those ‘strange creatures’ now.”

  With a twist of her lips, Lillian acknowledged her grandmother had a point. Her new view of the world and her place in it would take some getting used to. Besides, she still felt human, didn’t she?

  “The Hunt separated to cover more ground,” her grandmother continued. “The wards and other traps must be reset to maintain the security of the Coven and Clan lands.”

  “Why? What happened to the defenses?” Lillian asked, a suspicion growing in her mind.

  “The amount of power you and your gargoyle summoned washed away the wards we had in place like a storm’s tidal surge erodes a beach. Such bounty we had not expected, and we did not prepare for it.”

  “So, I screwed up again.”

  “No, dear. You shared a great gift with us. Do not regret it. Look there...” Gran pointed at an oak directly ahead of them, where its wide branches overhung the game trail, “...and watch.”

  Lillian raised her head out of the gargoyle’s mane and peered through the space between his horns. Gregory and the elk came to a stop when Gran raised her quarterstaff.

  With her eyes closed, Gran chanted in a low, guttural tone for a full minute before shaping it into a droning melody. Her head tilted back, and she pointed her staff at the tree. Then she uttered one final word.

  The world exploded with light. Lillian jerked like she’d been shot. Even the gargoyle jumped at the bright flash and turned his head away. When Lillian could see again, she focused on the tree. It still stood, but it now glowed.

  “Good God! What was that?” Even as Lillian asked her question, the glow coating the tree seeped into it and
vanished until only a very slight afterglow remained. It looked like moonlight shone brighter on that one tree than it did its closest neighbor. Interesting.

  “That is a ward,” Gran replied as the elk began to trot again. “It will prevent lesser evil from entering our lands and warn us should something nastier come our way. Now that the magic is strong again, we will know if the ward is broken or breached. Yesterday morning, when you were attacked, the wards were weakening. I believe that’s why the Riven struck when they did. They would have known tonight was the Wild Hunt, and they wished to strike us a blow before we could reestablish our protections.”

  “Can you teach me?” Lillian asked.

  An eerie cry similar to a wolf’s broke through the night’s calm, but it was higher in pitch and undulated strangely. The gargoyle skidded to a halt. Twisting his head to the right, he looked off into the direction of the yowl. More of the Hunt came to a halt. Heads turned toward the unnerving call and ears tilted, listening for the faintest sound on the night wind.

  A human scream rose above the sounds of heavy breathing and the wind. The gargoyle spun back around to face Gran so fast, Lillian nearly slipped off his back with the force of his turn—she would have, had his wings not caught her.

  “Take my lady to safety,” Gregory ordered. “Those are death hounds—beasts which don’t belong here. I must kill them before they report back to their masters.”

  “No,” Lillian protested as a growing sense of dread settled in her middle at the thought of her gargoyle going into battle without her. The flash of a remembered dream stood out fresh in Lillian’s thoughts, of her grandmother swinging her staff at shadows. “Gregory, I’m not letting you battle them alone.”

  “You’re not going into battle with me. It’s too dangerous and you’re not ready. I might not be able to kill them and protect you at the same time.”