That darkness wanted Lillian.
He’d never let that happen.
Gregory flexed his talons, digging deeper into his opponent, searching for a weakness.
The Riven heaved up from the ground and Gregory fought for a stronger grip on the foul creature. More were closing in on him. He could hear the baying of death hounds as another pack approached from the west. Precious time was slipping by. He should have been able to kill this creature with ease, but demonic-aided shields wrapped the Riven in layers of protection he couldn’t breach quickly.
Two more of the Riven rushed out of the forest and landed on Gregory’s back. He speared one with his tail blade. At least the two new arrivals weren’t as strong as Alexander. Flexing his wings, Gregory dislodged the other but couldn’t release Alexander to kill him. The beast continued to circle him, nipping at him like a mad little dog.
When the Riven came too close, he snapped his head up and caught him under the chin with one of his horns. Blood momentarily blinded him. Alexander continued to twist, managing to dislodge Gregory’s talons every time he almost had a firm grip.
Minutes ticked by as they fought until the Riven’s shields were frayed and blackened. Sluggish blood now oozed from hundreds of wounds, tinting his opponent’s pale skin bruise-dark, but Alexander showed no signs of weakening.
Gregory heard at least three more Riven crashing through the forest, shattering the undergrowth in their frenzied madness. When they emerged into the clearing, the Riven didn’t slow, only changing their headlong course to run at him. The first hit Gregory hard enough to knock him from Alexander. While he dispatched that one, a second grabbed a wing, its claws shredding the membrane. Gregory yowled and wacked the monster in the temple. It didn’t slow the creature, and the male came at him again. He caught the beast, then wrapped his hand around its skull, and flexed his fingers.
The skull cracked and his talons sunk into soft tissue. Twitching death throes took it. He was turning to deal with its third companion when Alexander landed on his back. The vampire raised his hand to strike.
Something darker than the shadows of the night glimmered in his hand, eating all the light. Gregory blocked Alexander’s strike just as Lillian burst into the meadow, a pack of death hounds snapping at her heels.
Her expression was one of rage. Blinded by her fear for him, she wasn’t using her other senses. His lady didn’t see the death hounds.
“Lillian! Behind you!”
Alexander struck with the blade a second time. The dagger found an opening and sunk into the flesh just below where his wings grew from his back. Shocking pain crippled one wing and then the wound turned ice-cold as the blade started feeding.
Chapter 20
FOUR MASSIVE HOUND-like beasts crashed through the forest in pursuit of Lillian, but she didn’t fear them. The death hounds fell in beside her. She knew them from a blurred and long-ago memory. They were hers to command. A gift from the Lady of Battles. How they had come to be enslaved by the Riven was a question for another time. She touched their minds and sent them to intercept another group of enemies approaching from the north. The beasts surged forward to do her bidding. With the new threat handled, all her focus was for the two Riven still attacking her gargoyle.
Instinct told her Alexander was the real threat—the first of his kind created here in this realm. She sprinted toward him, but before she could reach him, he raised his hand and plunged a blade into Gregory’s back. Her gargoyle bellowed, twisting and clawing, unable to reach the knife. In his struggle, Gregory knocked the Riven from his back. Alexander flipped through the air, hit the ground, and rolled once. Then he lay still, face down.
Unmoving.
Easy prey. Her savage, rage-filled magic whispered into her mind. Whatever demonic power had given Alexander incredible strength was exhausted. Kill him now, her Otherself urged.
But greater need drew Lillian’s senses to her gargoyle. Through their link, she sensed his waning power. He was dying, his life force draining away through the blade.
Alexander rose to his feet, his usual grace hampered by his injuries.
Rage uncoiled in her stomach, and two-inch-long claws emerged from her fingertips. A ruthless need flooded Lillian’s mind. The monster would die for what he’d done to her gargoyle.
Power continued to expand like a long-dormant flower unfurling its petals. Her forehead burned, as did the area between her shoulder blades. But a sweet, musky scent filled her nose, distracting her from the pressure building beneath her skin.
She advanced toward Gregory and the Riven, and then studied the undead monster.
“I remember you.” Her voice came out in a harsh, grating tone. “You were called Alexander.”
She returned his cold smile and rushed him. His haughty expression changed to one of shock as she sank her claws into his gut. She shoved with all her newfound strength, and her hand jammed up into his chest cavity, claws digging until she found his heart. The shriveled organ pulsed with murky magic, anchoring the tainted soul in the world of the living long past its natural time.
With the sharp sound of cracking ribs, she pulled the heart from his chest. She then called a small trickle of magic and closed her hand upon the heart. After a moment, dust poured between her fingers. Alexander slumped to the ground, shock frozen on his face even in final death.
Energy coursed within her, accompanied by a newly born strength. Delicious joy spread through her veins like the finest wine as the power built. Here was immense magic fit to slay all her enemies. She would make certain her gargoyle and family were safe.
Starting with the Riven, she would demonstrate what happened to those who stood against her.
“My lady, you must fight it.” Gregory’s voice shook with exhaustion, but he continued. “Do not give in to mindless rage. Fight the evil in your own soul, or you will become what you plan to hunt down and destroy.”
His words cut through her intoxicating magic. The rage that had fueled it melted away.
Scattered thoughts rallied around the sound of Gregory’s voice, and the fog surrounding her mind cleared. She blinked and shook her head, trying to remember what had occurred. How had she gotten here? Then she focused on the gargoyle and nothing else mattered.
Moving impossibly fast, she glided over the earth and knelt by his side. She cradled his head while she surveyed the damage. A wing, shredded and collapsed over his side, hid what she sought. Gently, she pushed his injured wing out of her way and exposed the offending object. Though she must be causing him immense pain, Gregory remained docile under her hands.
Now she could see the wound clearly. A ridge of stone spread out around the dagger. After she urged Gregory onto his stomach, she laid two fingers on either side of the blade. Even without touching the metal, its evil burned cold against her skin. With her free hand, she stroked Gregory’s muzzle and whispered nonsense to him.
His skin quivered at her touch.
“Easy,” she whispered as she closed her eyes and rested her cheek against his back.
Breath still hissed between his lips, rapid and panting. The throb of his great heart slowed. Touching him, his thoughts flowed to her.
He would turn to stone, try to heal, but it was doubtful if he would ever wake again in this Realm. He couldn’t heal in time to save her. The ones of darkness would hunt her down and either kill her or use her.
The gargoyle’s despair swamped Lillian.
“Easy, big fellow. You’re not dead yet, nor am I.” She grasped the dagger’s hilt and pulled. The blade didn’t come free. She applied more pressure while she braced a hand against his back. Gregory grunted, but the blade refused to shift.
Magic uncurled within her blood and flowed into her mind. She paused at the foreign sensation of her magic whispering knowledge into her mind, and then, after a moment of hesitation, she listened without question.
Narrowing her eyes, she turned her thoughts to the blade. There was a sense of presence, a self-awareness to
it.
“I know what you are. If you don’t stop feeding and release my gargoyle, I will consume you.” She pushed her thoughts ahead of her as she leaned down to glare at the blade, forcing it to listen and become aware of her and the danger she represented. “If my gargoyle dies, I’ll destroy you. I’ll take you apart until your soul is bare before me. Then I will torture you. When I am finished, I shall remake you and drive you into the hearts of your masters. This I promise.”
The demon blade shivered and leaped free of Gregory’s flesh. It embedded its tip three inches into the ground next to her. The dagger vibrated for several seconds before it stilled.
She paid the blade no more mind. Instead, she pressed her hand against the wound. For now, there was nothing she could do for his physical injuries, but she sensed the greatest danger was his lack of magic. He’d been bled out magically. She hadn’t a clue what she was doing, but her magic stirred again, calming and guiding her panicked thoughts as it sorted through her memories.
Clear as if she heard the tale anew, she remembered the story of how the dryad queen had saved the gargoyle after he’d been wounded by demons. The queen had healed the gargoyle by sharing her magic through blood. And after Lillian and her hamadryad had been injured that day in the grove, Gregory had healed her, but he hadn’t said how at the time. Now she thought she knew. He’d shared blood with her. If Gregory’s blood could heal her, then it stood to reason hers might restore him. And tonight, she was full to brimming with magic. It still churned below her skin, calling for her to release it.
“You can save him,” it whispered.
If her magic-laced blood were the best chance she had to save her gargoyle, she would give as much as required.
Dabbing at her bloody wound, she winced. Her fingers came away bright red. When she held them up to his mouth, his nostrils quivered, but he didn’t go for the bait. Instead, he turned his muzzle away as he curled tighter into himself.
“We can’t. It’s forbidden,” he said into her mind, his mental touch feeling much weaker to her.
“Forbidden?” She snorted. “I don’t care as long as it will heal you.” Rocking back and forth with his head in her lap, she tightened her grip on his muzzle and guided his nose to the wound on her arm. He was too weak to fight her, but he wouldn’t lick at the blood running down her arm either. Well, she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. She stuck her fingers in his mouth. “Take a little taste. That’s it. Just a bit more.”
As she’d hoped, he wasn’t able to resist, and his tongue lapped at her bloody fingers. Growing stronger, he sucked on them and then sniffed his way up her arm. He pushed the torn fabric of her sleeve aside and licked at her wound to clean it. Her magic rushed from her into him, draining her. But she didn’t care. She’d do anything to save her gargoyle.
As more and more of her power spilled into him, her mind became foggy. She drifted for a time.
Gran and the other surviving members of the Hunt found her there, holding the gargoyle’s head in her lap as she fed him her magic. Gran’s expression was a strange mix of fear and relief. Instinct told Lillian to keep what had happened a secret until she understood what was going on. So, she didn’t tell them about the death hounds... or other things.
What other things? She asked herself as she scrambled a moment for an answer. None came. Her memories were unclear, chaotic, and sprinkled with holes.
The Riven’s blade still glittered darkly beside her. There was something important she should remember about that, too. As with her other memories, it was like someone had come in and stolen them while she’d healed her gargoyle.
More of the Hunt arrived as the minutes slid past. Sable and Russet entered the clearing. Seeing the downed gargoyle, they hurried to Lillian’s side. Sable offered to share some blood with the gargoyle to help him heal. Lillian nodded, and let each of the dryads share blood and magic with Gregory.
When he started to stir awake, she leaned down and made a show of kissing him on his broad forehead, and then made eye contact with each of the dryads in case they didn’t understand her claim.
Chapter 21
THE WAIT FOR GRAN’S pickup was worse than Lillian imagined. Sitting helpless and cursing the Riven did nothing for Gregory, but at least it made her feel better knowing she was going to do them harm. The power which had reared up within her soul was receding, but it wasn’t gone. She could still feel the potential as it simmered below the surface.
Gregory reclined on his haunches, his legs folded under him and his wings limp at his sides. Even though he lay quiet, with his head resting on her lap and his eyes closed, he wasn’t asleep. His ears twitched at every sound, on the alert for danger even in his weakened state.
Lillian blamed herself for his injuries. Had she not distracted the gargoyle, he might have defeated Alexander without getting injured himself. She looked up while she continued to stroke Gregory’s mane. More members of the Hunt had arrived and now stood guard at the edge of the clearing.
Gregory huffed out a loud expulsion of air in a very horse-like fashion. He lifted his head, and his ears swiveled forward.
The rumble of her grandmother’s truck reached her ears a moment before its headlights cut through the clearing. Blinded, Lillian shielded her eyes with one hand until her vision adjusted. Stiff muscles complained about the cold, damp ground when she stood.
The truck skidded to a halt next to her. Lillian lowered the tailgate, and then turned to help Gregory. He was already on his feet and making his way to the truck. He moved like a joint-sore old man on a rainy day, but he doggedly limped his way over and heaved himself into the truck bed. Lillian winced at how much that leap had to have hurt him. She climbed up after, being as careful as possible so as not to jar him any more than could be helped.
There was precious little spare room in the back of the truck, and Lillian settled cross-legged in one corner, braced her back against the cab, then patted her lap. Gregory lowered his head, cautious of his horns. With a sigh, he closed his eyes again.
The ride back took twice as long, but thanks to Gran’s driving, they were saved from the worst of the potholes. Lillian thought she might cry from happiness when the truck turned into their driveway. Soon she and Gran could tend Gregory’s wounds. While the deep knife wound was the most worrisome, she didn’t like the raw-hamburger look of his shredded wing. God, he might never fly again.
As the truck rolled to a stop, Jason appeared and opened the tailgate. Gregory sighed and gathered himself. His legs shook with each step, and she wanted to help, but there was nothing she could do for him. Instead, she shadowed him, encouraging him along as best she could.
Gran hurried ahead of them and vanished into the house. Lillian stayed by Gregory’s side while he made his painful way up the back steps, through the kitchen, and into the living room. She would have stopped there, but the gargoyle limped on up the stairs. Lillian followed him until he collapsed next to her bed.
An array of first aid supplies were already laid out in orderly rows at the foot of her bed. Gran held a plastic squeeze-bottle of sterile saline in one hand and was reaching for a roll of cotton when Lillian came alongside. “How can I help?”
“Blankets to keep him warm and something to rest his head on.”
Lillian nodded and hurried to grab a pillow off the bed. She placed it under his head with gentle care and then went in search of clean blankets. When she came back, Gran was already cleaning some of Gregory’s wounds.
The older woman mumbled to herself as she probed the wound at the base of his wing joint and then examined the rips in his wing. “I think our gargoyle got banged up right and good, but he should recover.” She patted Gregory on his shoulder and smiled. “Besides, you’re too stubborn to stay wounded for long. Too much evil out there that needs killing, if I know you.”
Gregory snorted, but his laugh turned into a grunt of pain.
“Easy there,” Gran said. “Cleaning your wounds will hurt. A lot. And I don’t w
ant to risk giving you something for the pain that might cause a reaction. You ready?”
Gregory nodded in agreement while Lillian shook her head. No, she wasn’t ready to see her gargoyle in pain again. She still couldn’t banish the image of him twisting, writhing in agony, unable to reach the dagger embedded in his back. Nausea rolled through her stomach in a hot wave. She ignored it and placed her hands on either side of his head.
At the contact of skin on skin, she linked with him like he had when she was showing him her language that first day. Pain. He ached everywhere. But his lady’s small, cool hands soothed his throbbing headache, and her scent calmed him. If he had to be injured, this was the best he could ask for. Though he shouldn’t have allowed himself to be beaten so severely. Embarrassment tainted the link.
Lillian broke away from their mental link. “Oh, Gregory. It’s not your fault. I didn’t listen to you. My foolish wish to fight by your side could have cost you your life. I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault,” he whispered. His words were cut short by a hiss of pain when Gran syringed saline into the knife wound.
Lillian held him and shared in his pain as Gran worked. Time dragged by.
When finished, Gran ordered one of the hovering dryads to bring water and then make broth for Gregory. Lillian’s world narrowed down to her injured gargoyle. She didn’t know what to call him. Friend. Ally. Protector. He was everything to her, and that scared her.
When Sable came with the bowl of water, Lillian took it from her and tipped it to Gregory’s muzzle so he could drink without straining himself. He lapped thirstily. She worried he would make himself sick, but he finished the bowl, rolled onto his side, and fell asleep on her carpet without any ill effects. She knew so little about him. That would change as soon as he was well.
The Complete Gargoyle and Sorceress Boxset (Books 1-9) Page 14
