Chapter 27
LILLIAN ARRIVED AT the table as the pooka leaned over the box. He tilted his head and one bright, yellow eye fixed on the mystery item within the toolbox. His lips curled back from his teeth, and after a quick sniff, he jerked his muzzle away with a snort and a shake of his head. His glossy, black skin shivered like he was being attacked by invisible flies.
Unable to stand the mystery, Lillian leaned forward until she could see inside the box.
The knife lay within.
The knife that had tried to kill her gargoyle.
“You,” she hissed and snatched it out of the box. Her grandmother shouted, and Whitethorn made a motion to knock it out of her hand, but the gargoyle blocked them with his wings. She glanced first at Gregory and then back at the knife. She turned it over in her hand. A dark, reddish-brown stain soiled the smooth mirror surface of the blade. Gregory’s blood.
Rage tensed her muscles, and her pulse pounded in her ears. This was the thing that had tried to take her gargoyle’s life. Power bubbled up from within Lillian, fed by the wrath until it simmered in her blood, lending her muscles strength. She laid the knife flat on the table and pressed her hand over it until the table creaked with the strain. She held her power back, letting it build. When it spiked, she channeled it upon the knife. Destroy it, she whispered to her magic.
A bright flash like a bolt of lightning blinded her. Sparks danced across her vision. She blinked. When her sight returned, she looked down where the blade had been.
It was still there. Perfect. Untouched by her magic.
A growl tore up from her chest.
The amount of power she’d summoned should have reduced the knife to ash. Yet there it lay. She leaned closer. No, it was not wholly untouched—the blood was gone.
Without the visual reminder of Gregory’s near-mortal injury, Lillian’s turbulent power and consuming wrath slowly dissipated. Taking measured deep breaths, she calmed, her heart resuming a reasonable pace.
With her power’s abandonment, she collapsed back onto a chair and rubbed at her temples to ease the tension. Weakness descended upon her body a layer at a time as the seconds flew past. A clawed hand settled on her shoulder. Before she could look up at Gregory, he began to share power with her.
“I’m sorry. I know I promised I wouldn’t use my power, but I wanted that thing destroyed for what it did to you.” Lillian rested her cheek against the back of Gregory’s hand.
“Shh... I know,” he whispered into her mind through his touch.
“Well, that was fascinating,” Greenborrow stated. The leshii leaned closer and waved his hand over the blade.
A good six inches of empty air stretched between the steel blade and his flesh. And Lillian could still feel how the blade sucked the magic through the air, weakening the old fae.
Greenborrow retracted his hand. “Interesting how a lowly dryad can hold a demon blade and not have it consume her, and yet all I have to do is stand close enough to the thing to feel it draining me,” he said, his tone offhanded like he was commenting on the weather.
His remarks stirred the others at the table out of their shock. Multiple conversations erupted at once. The hum of discussion buzzed around the table for several chaotic minutes. Gregory flicked his wings in annoyance, then issued a deep, barking challenge in his own language. The verbal debates dwindled to silence.
The sprite, Hyrand, was the first to gather her courage. She inclined her head in Gregory’s direction. The gargoyle nodded.
Hyrand bowed her head in thanks, then looked to the leshii. “Greenborrow, are you accusing Lillian of carrying darkness in her soul?”
“Nothing so serious, my dear.” He glanced at Gregory. “Just saying it’s interesting is all.”
Hyrand didn’t seem convinced, and she studied Lillian from under her lashes until Lillian became uncomfortable. The sprite cleared her throat and continued as if she chose her words with care. “I would hear how you stopped this blade from destroying your gargoyle.”
“Gregory was injured by the Riven. It was my fault the monster got in a lucky shot. My magic reacted to save Gregory’s life.”
“And the Riven, he just stood aside and let you do this?”
“No, of course not. He was already dead by the time I reached Gregory’s side.”
“Yet you said you distracted the gargoyle and the Riven got close enough to stab him. You did not say Gregory killed it. So, the gargoyle dropped before he killed the Riven?”
“Yes,” Lillian blurted before she could stop and think.
“What happened to the Riven?”
“I don’t know, everything happened so fast. It was all chaos and death. Gregory was injured. I panicked. I think I ran at the Riven. I must have had a weapon with me because the next thing I knew, I was at Gregory’s side and Alexander was dead.”
Greenborrow interrupted. “The Riven was torn to shreds. Gutted. His heart missing and half his ribcage spread out across the grass. Tell me, what kind of bladed weapon does that?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head, more to deny the existence of a void in her own memories than in response to Greenborrow’s question. Gregory leaned down and rested his chin against her hair, saying in his silent way not to worry. It didn’t work. She trembled, and her hands shook like she’d been in a car accident. “Why does it matter? He was evil, and now he’s dead.”
“Exactly. He’s dead. A dryad has no hope of killing a Riven in a one-on-one fight. But if that dryad is something rarer than her sisters, and she could draw magic directly from the Magic Realm, well then—that is one sorry Riven.”
Silence thickened like fog on a crisp autumn morning.
“I have magic. I don’t really know anything about it. Heck, I didn’t even know about it until a couple of days ago. I certainly don’t know how to use it. That I have magic is no secret. You all saw the gargoyle and me raise magic for the Hunt. So maybe I did use that power to kill a Riven. So what?”
“But,” Greenborrow continued, “that’s my point. We saw the remains of the Riven and felt the echo of the magic used to do the damage. That was not dryad magic.”
Lillian fisted her hands against her thighs. “First, I am a human, and then I’m not a human. Next, I’m a dryad, and now I’m not a dryad. What do you think I am?”
“I didn’t say you weren’t a dryad, only that the magic used wasn’t dryad magic.”
“My gargoyle can string together better sentences. Say what you mean or leave me alone.”
Gregory tightened his hold on her shoulders. “The leshii is older than the others, and his memories run deeper. He recognizes what we are or has—as you would say—put two and two together.”
“Huh?”
Greenborrow clapped his hands together. “Ah, I’m right! How delightful! I’ve been dying for an adventure.”
Gregory’s tail lashed; a sign he was faced with something he’d rather leave untouched.
“The time for secrets is over. I have tested everyone here; there is no new darkness on any of your souls.” Though he had paused and looked at the pooka and the banshee when he’d said ‘new’ darkness. “I will share a truth with you.” Gregory’s voice rumbled over her head, darker and more sinister than she’d ever recalled hearing. “If you want the truth, stay. But you shall never repeat this to anyone outside of this meadow—you will not be able to, for my weaving will steal your words. After you’ve heard what I have to say, if any of you try to harm my lady, I will steal more than your words. I will escort the betrayer to the Spirit Realm myself. Stay or go, the choice is yours. I will give you a few minutes to decide among yourselves.”
Even immortals could be shocked into silence. Lillian didn’t take comfort in that fact, though.
After his ultimatum, Gregory turned and marched over to her tree. He merged with the shadows to await the council’s decision. When Lillian realized all the faces had switched from following the gargoyle to staring at her, she lost her nerve and bolted aft
er the gargoyle.
She probed the shadows until she caught him, then locked her fingers around his arm. “What are you doing?”
“Giving the truth.”
“Like the stuff you told me last night about our history?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t make me swear some kind of death oath.”
“No. Why would I?”
She clenched her jaw. His clipped answers were scaring her. “If we’re going to trust each other, you need to fill in some details.”
“What I reveal will be more than I’ve told you.” He sighed. “While I have not lied to you, I have not told you the full truth. I hope you can forgive me.”
Gran came over to them before Lillian could ask what he was talking about.
“The others are in agreement,” Gran said with a glance over her shoulder at the other tense-faced individuals waiting at the picnic tables. She frowned and Lillian wondered if Gran was annoyed that Gregory hadn’t told her everything up front. If so, Gran wasn’t the only one.
After a moment, Gran schooled her expression and continued. “We agree to Gregory’s terms. If there is a secondary danger to us beyond the Riven, then we need to know what it is and how to protect ourselves.”
The gargoyle bowed his head in acknowledgment and followed Gran back to the table. Lillian trailed after, unsure if she wanted to hear what he’d kept secret.
Gregory didn’t sit. He seldom did, but now he stood unmoving like he’d grown roots.
“As Greenborrow already guessed, I am not just a gargoyle and Lillian is not just a dryad. She is the Mother’s Sorceress, and I am the Father’s Gargoyle Protector. We are the Avatars of the Divine Ones, born to fulfill their purpose, to maintain the balance and hunt down evil intent on upsetting that balance.”
The silence was so complete, Lillian would have heard a hummingbird if one flew across the glade at that moment. She stepped up next to Gregory and placed her hand in his. He glanced sideways at her and nodded his head. “Lillian does not remember who she is because I stole her memories.”
Lillian’s mind blanked at his words, too stunned to function. White noise filled her ears. It took her a few seconds to realize it was the buzz of conversation she heard. The other fae creatures at the table were shouting questions. She shouted louder than the others. “What? You... you stole my memories?” She jerked away from Gregory. Horror opened a hollow in her gut, which betrayal quickly filled with bitterness. “Why?”
She had trusted him. All this time he’d been responsible for the void in her mind where her childhood memories should have been.
Everyone at the table fell silent.
“I could not trust you because of where I found you,” he admitted.
“Yesterday, you told me you rescued me from my abductor, the Lady of Battles. You saved me from whatever she had planned.”
“I said I had rescued you from her, not that she had abducted you. And I’m not even sure if I’ve thwarted her plans.”
“What are you talking about?”
“A gargoyle stays in his mother’s tree for ten years before he is birthed fully mature. A dryad carries her daughters for only three. When we were both eight, I emerged from my mother’s tree early, so I could rescue you from the Battle Goddess’s domain, the place where you had been conceived, born, and lived for eight years.”
Conceived. Born. Not kidnapped. His word shook her soul like felled trees crashing to the ground.
He continued, unaware he was trampling her fragile sense of truth. “From the time of your birth, and perhaps while you were still within your mother’s tree, you were shaped to become a tool for the Lady of Battles, training with her captains to one day lead her army. I escaped with you and then, too weak to escape her hunters in the Magic Realm, I came here.”
“Oh my God. You couldn’t trust me,” Lillian said as she thought of something worse. “You were afraid of me, of what the Lady could make me do.”
He didn’t answer her right away, and that was enough to start a chill crawling up her spine.
“The Lady of Battles might have been using you as bait to lure me to her. Once she had us both, she may have planned to make us serve her by threatening the other. I don’t sense any evil upon you now. When first I found you, there was a dark taint, but here in this place, far from the demigoddess’s influence, you may have managed to purify yourself.”
She heard the doubt in his voice. “But you still haven’t given me my memories back. You’re afraid.”
“I can’t risk this world until I know for certain what she did to you. Please understand.”
Lillian grabbed the edge of the table to stop her hands from trembling while she calmed the churning in her soul. It made sense now. Gregory hadn’t betrayed her. He’d done what he could to protect her. But not just her—everyone else, too. If she weren’t such a fool, she’d have seen that sooner. They were two halves of one soul—she could only imagine what keeping this secret had cost Gregory. Placing her hand in his, she touched his thoughts and projected her understanding and thanks, and then intertwined their fingers.
“How will you find out if I’m a threat, and how will you deal with it if I am?”
“We need time.” He squeezed her fingers and then turned to the others sitting at the tables. “If I am given time, I think I can heal whatever was done to my Mistress. In a way, being trapped in this realm was a blessing. The Lady of Battles cannot reach into this realm from her prison and likely has no idea what happened to the Sorceress. As long as we stay here, I think Lillian will be safe. At least for a little while.”
He paused with a long look directed at the silver-skinned leader of the sidhe. “For the first time in many, many lifetimes, I find myself in need of allies. I cannot defeat the Riven if I’m too busy protecting Lillian from both the Clan and the Coven. I must put my trust in you here today. Know I will fight your enemies alongside you if you agree to continue to shelter Lillian.”
Another silence stretched by, longer this time than the last until the banshee pushed back her chair and stood. “Why should we help you? For all we know, you too have been corrupted. For that matter, your precious mistress might even now be corrupting you. You claim you don’t know what happened to her. How can you ask us to protect her when you don’t even know how dangerous she is?”
“We’d already be enslaved if the gargoyle was corrupted.” Greenborrow rapped on the table. “I say we give the gargoyle what aid he needs, and then we accept his aid in turn. We grow fewer with each year. How much longer can we go on if we will not work together?”
With a nod, Whitethorn stood. “You both have good arguments. I say we give the gargoyle our aid but make certain the Sorceress is no threat.”
The banshee’s gray eyes turned stormy. “How will you be certain of her innocence? If this was as easy as you make it sound, I’m sure the gargoyle would already have done this. Yet he, one of the greatest spellweavers in all three realms, has not done this. Why?”
Greenborrow chuckled. “Because the poor fellow hasn’t been given two free minutes to rub together, methinks. That, and it’s not a task he’ll be looking forward to performing.”
The gargoyle grunted in way of answer; his “yes” to all things nasty.
Lillian swallowed hard as nervous sweat made its way down her back. That she might be evil scared her, but the thought of losing Gregory because of that evil was far worse. She needed to know.
“I’ll agree to this if it will prove I’m not a threat.” Her rushed statement turned several heads. Before they’d talked about her like she wasn’t there, but now each eyed her like a snake studying its next meal.
Not an improvement.
Whitethorn nodded, his lips forming a hard line. “Then, with the gargoyle’s aid, we shall bind your power and read what resides within your soul.”
“No!” Gran cried. “She’s too young, and she doesn’t have the mental discipline needed to survive without being damaged. She’ll go
into shock. She could die. Let the gargoyle and me give her the training she needs to prepare.”
“We can’t risk the wait,” Whitethorn said. He looked to the gargoyle. “We do this tonight if you want us to shelter her while you deal with the Riven.”
Gregory glanced down at her, his dark eyes turbulent.
Surprisingly, Lillian’s own soul was suddenly serene, fear a distant thing. She didn’t fear death. This was a battle, and she never ran from a challenge. Her only concern was for Gregory and her family.
She rested her hand on his shoulder and squeezed.
“It’s okay. We need to do this. I need to know. I couldn’t live with myself if there was something evil slumbering within me and it harmed those I love because I didn’t do anything to stop it.”
Chapter 28
THE UNFAMILIAR FEELING of worry gnawed at Gregory’s stomach all the way back to the house. If Lillian knew what binding her power and reading her soul involved, she wouldn’t have agreed so readily. After a quick discussion, the council decided the house would be the best location. It was familiar and more defendable. Gregory pinned his ears against his mane. By that, the council members meant they would have a better chance at containing Lillian if something went wrong. A low growl built in his throat; he clamped his teeth to prevent its escape.
Some other sign must have given him away because Lillian stepped closer until her arm brushed his. “It’s all right, Gregory. You said I lived in our enemy’s territory for years. If it’s as nasty as you implied and I survived it, I must be tougher than you think.” She skimmed her fingers down his arm until she laced them with his. “And I understand why you had to take my memories—you had no choice. I was just a little taken aback at first, but now I understand why you did what you did.”
“You lived because the Lady of Battles wanted you for some purpose. That is why you survived.” Even as he said the words, they lacked the harsh edge he’d strived for, and his ears relaxed. He whispered a prayer to the Divine Ones, thanking them that Lillian had forgiven him for stealing her memories.
The Complete Gargoyle and Sorceress Boxset (Books 1-9) Page 18
