“Then I am tough because I survived whatever she did to me. Can you deny I stand before you with my mind intact and my heart beating?”
He sighed with exasperation even as a grin tugged at his lips. “Yes, you are a tough little dryad. But it doesn’t stop me from worrying.”
“I know.” She squeezed his hand.
While they talked, they had entered the house and arrived in the living room. Lillian looked around at the other fae. “Now what?”
Vivian stormed into the room, the older woman’s fierce expression focused on Whitethorn. “You can’t toss me out of my own house. If we’re going ahead with this foolery, then I’ll be at my granddaughter’s side.”
“The ceremony’s rules are clear. There will be no family present.” Whitethorn’s tone was as unforgiving as Vivian’s stubborn streak.
“Fine,” Vivian replied. “She isn’t related by blood. I’m staying.”
Whitethorn did look ready to toss Vivian out of her own home, Gregory decided, but the fae kept his composure.
“No. You are bound by the rules the same as we all are. We cannot change them just to suit our own needs. Go. I will keep you advised as to the gargoyle’s progress and our findings.”
“Gran,” Lillian said. “I must do this. It will be easier if you’re not present.” She stepped away from Gregory, her hand sliding from his. Immediately, he missed the contact. With an act of will, he focused on the tension in the room.
Vivian’s knuckles whitened against her staff. After a count of ten seconds, she relaxed her fingers. “Fine. But I will be near if you require me.”
“Thank you.” Lillian hugged her grandmother. Gregory had a surprising urge to embrace the older woman for her protective streak, too.
Vivian released Lillian, then caught Gregory’s eye. Her look told him to kill anyone who attempted to harm her granddaughter. He nodded in silent acknowledgment.
Sable came up next to Gregory. “I’ll help Lillian get ready.”
“Thank you,” Lillian replied.
He touched Lillian’s shoulder and sent thoughts of peace and comfort. She smiled, broadcasting love back at him before she broke contact and followed Sable.
Gregory called the shadows to him and vanished to make his own preparations. He would need more power if it became necessary to overwhelm Lillian’s shields. No matter how much he didn’t want to face the possibility, the evidence pointed to the fact that she was a host to dark magic.
Closing his eyes, he began summoning magic, drawing chilled power directly from the Spirit Realm until his skin took on a patina of frost.
Chapter 29
SO FAR, THE CEREMONY had been pleasant enough. It began with a purifying bath, the hot steam scented with lavender oil and sage. When Lillian finally exited the bathroom, she found Sable had lit candles in the four corners of the bedroom. A small fire burned in the fireplace. The air was heavy with sage, sweet grass, and cedar. The heat, low light, and fragrances helped Lillian relax. At least she’d gotten over her initial fears—mostly. Some still fluttered annoyingly at the edge of her consciousness—like what she would do if there were darkness inside her.
Might it not turn Gregory against you? The small internal voice of her conscience nagged at her like it had since Gregory first told her why he’d taken her memories. She pushed that worry away. She’d already covered every possible disastrous outcome a hundred times.
While there was the possibility of losing him and everything she cared about, she imagined it was a slim chance. Gregory loved her too much to give her up. Or at least, he loved his Sorceress too much to allow the Lady of Battles to win.
A breeze flowed in through an open window. The singing of frogs and the scent of night filled her bedroom and relaxed her further. With nothing else to do but wait, she stretched out on top of her comforter and worried at the drawstring of her pajamas. When she caught herself fidgeting, she folded her hands across her midriff and stared at the ceiling.
A soft knock at the door startled her from her worries. She sat up and tucked her legs underneath her. “Come in.”
The door pushed open, and Gregory entered. He paused when he caught sight of her on the bed. His look traveled the length of her, lingering in some places longer than others.
Warmth suffused her and tension fluttered in her belly. The door opened more and the pooka trotted in after Gregory, followed by Greenborrow, Sable, and Hyrand. Heat died and the nervous fluttering in her stomach turned into a rock
All Lillian knew about the ceremony was that Gregory would peel her shields away like the layers of an onion until her soul was bare to him, so the others would be able to read her thoughts. Sable had made it sound like the binding of the magic would be done with only Gregory present, which didn’t sound so awful. But magical binding sounded a whole lot less appealing with an audience.
With her best impression of a serene mask, she continued to watch Gregory. It was a better alternative than looking at the others where they’d lined up at one end of her bedroom. The gargoyle sat on the edge of the bed, and after glancing down, he leaned in closer and tucked the blanket from the foot of the bed around her.
A throat being cleared alerted Lillian that the others were no longer conversing among themselves. Whitethorn was standing off to one side, his lips pursed, and brows furrowed. Apparently, he wasn’t overly patient.
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s get this over with,” she told Gregory.
Gregory nodded, and Lillian tried to relax while she waited for the gargoyle to do his thing.
The thought had barely crossed her mind when chilled magic blanketed her. “Ah! Cold. What the...?”
“Magic from the Spirit Realm. The strongest weapon I can call upon.”
“Well, it’s damn cold. I thought I was supposed to relax. How can I do that with my knees whacking together and my teeth trying to rattle loose from my jaws?”
“Try,” he rumbled.
“Right—oh.” She broke off as his fingers settled on her temples and massaged the tension away with a firm touch. He moved back into her hairline, massaging her scalp. Caught up in the mild pleasure, she missed when he started filling her with that cold power. Its chill lessened as she adjusted to the invasion. “Okay, this isn’t so bad.”
The words had barely left her mouth when the chill intensified, and his magic reached into her mind and tried to claw the first layer of tissue from her brain. She screamed. Her eyes flew open as her heart jumped into gear. She batted at the gargoyle, but she could have been slapping a statue for all the reaction he showed. Screaming had no effect on him, but she didn’t care and drew another breath.
Warmth caressed her ear. “I’m sorry.” He leaned back, his breath coming in pants. “I’m sorry, beloved. Forgive me. Do not fight me.”
“What the hell? I—”
The pain engulfed her in another flow of icy lava. A whimper was all that emerged. His talons of magic and power slashed across her mind. She arched off the bed, struggling with everything in her. She punched him under the jaw and clawed at his bare shoulders. He took the abuse as if he didn’t feel it. Leaning his weight against her, he pinned her to the bed so she couldn’t fight him. With a tearing sensation in her mind, another barrier shredded under his attack. The pain receded into numbness. She floated above the pain, praying she would not fall back into her body lying upon the bed. Surely that was death. Where the hell was her magic when she needed it?
“Lillian, don’t call your magic. Please don’t fight me.” His voice shook. “If you call your magic, it will repair your shields... please... I cannot do this to you again.”
The agony in his dark timbre pulled her back into her body. To her surprise, there was no blinding-sharp pain eating away at her brain. She looked beyond the barrier of her mind, out into the world. Gregory hunched next to her. Pain etched across his face, a tattoo of his horror. Dampness streaked his cheeks. Shocked, she reached out and gathered a tear on her fingertip.
“I know.” He covered her hand with his own and curled his fingers around hers. When he turned her hand, so the palm faced up, he leaned down and placed a kiss upon it. Then drawing her hand to his chest, he rested it against his heart. The steady beat of his pulse surged under the skin and bone. “The rest of this will be easier.”
“If something happens and you find I am one of darkness, do what you must, but know I’ll love you regardless. You are a part of me.”
He touched his forehead to hers. “We are one, always.”
With his words, she felt his magic flood over her, sweeping thoughts and worries away. He went deep into her mind, pulling at her memories as he hunted. To her surprise, his presence in her mind wasn’t an invasion. He belonged there. A half-smile curled her lips as he delicately leafed through her thoughts.
Minutes eased by, one after another until she lost track of time, and still, he did not find what he sought. The sensation of his mental hunting stilled, and he pulled away. She was about to ask what was wrong when a wave of darkness reared up and rolled across her consciousness. She blinked and yawned but was unable to fight off the intense compulsion to sleep.
“Surrender, my lady. Know what peace you can find in sleep.”
She blinked sleep-heavy lids. The last thing she remembered was Gregory’s troubled expression.
Chapter 30
GREGORY WATCHED THE rise and fall of her chest and prayed she would be all right. He’d put her to sleep as soon as he’d sensed the trap. When she was deeply under, he summoned his magic and flowed back into her mind. He had no idea what form the trap would take, so he slid his consciousness into her body a bit at a time, fearing to trigger something until a part of his soul was with hers, where he could help her fight it.
He sifted through her recent memories, mildly surprised how much she already trusted him, even though she did not know him. Further back, he encountered the night of the Wild Hunt—the awe and sense of rapture when they danced together and summoned power from the Magic Realm. Then her joy turned to horror as he fought the Riven. The glint of a knife in the moonlight descending toward her gargoyle.
His first clue came with the wash of her raw emotional reactions. He turned them over in his mind, examining them. He’d felt her possessiveness toward him before, and a small part of him took pleasure in her reaction, but now he witnessed a different side to it—ownership, not love.
That was not how his lady thought of him. He moved to the next emotion, her rage. He’d been hurt in battle before. Once the Sorceress had sent a mountain crashing down into a valley where a demon army was amassing.
But the rage she’d felt on the night he’d been stabbed was fueled by a love twisted up with possession. She’d raged that someone had dared to harm her gargoyle, and she’d wanted to cause equal pain upon the enemy, to rip and tear into them and shred what remained of their dark souls. She’d grown talons, and with a strength she shouldn’t have possessed, she’d smashed the Riven’s ribcage and destroyed its heart. Then the demon blade had recognized a darkness greater than itself and obeyed her wishes and released her gargoyle.
Gregory shook free of her thoughts, and with a sinking feeling realized when he was in danger, she surrendered to a new dark and bestial part of her soul—a part he’d never known in all their lifetimes together and a part that clearly thought of him as hers. This was the Battle Goddess’s work. But what could it mean? Lillian had killed evil to protect him many times in the past. What was the purpose behind making her more protective of him than she already was? The Lady of Battles had plans layered upon plans, and Gregory needed to dig deeper to find the root of this.
He sought a childhood memory. One before she came to this world...
A child of seven, she stood on a battlement, looking up at the teal-colored sky with its weak sun casting meager light upon the forests below. Small demons and lost spirits wandered among the trees.
She debated attempting to sneak into her father’s prison, but Mother would be angry if she did. Besides, she was due at her next lesson. This one was to learn the weaving of invisibility like her father could summon. And that would be a handy ability, especially if she was going to sneak out of this place before her gargoyle matured and came looking for her. She wouldn’t let the Lady of Battles have him. The gargoyle was hers, after all, and no one else had the right to command or enslave him. Only she had that right. She was Mistress.
Gregory broke away from the memory.
Even as a young child, Lillian had known what the Lady of Battles had planned. But by trying to twist the Sorceress’s love of him into something evil, the Lady had created a fatal flaw in her plan. Lillian would allow no one else to use him. Lillian’s childhood memory had made that clear.
Darkness had corrupted the foundation of what they were. While this news was unwelcome, it was still something within his power to heal, if given time. But there must be more—the Lady of Battles was thorough, intelligent, and completely competent. Twisting Lillian into something of darkness would only be the tip of her plan.
Gregory returned to the memory where Lillian had ripped out the heart of the Riven. She’d done it with talons. Another clue. The Sorceress wasn’t gifted with shapeshifting, yet she’d grown claws.
Since he and the Sorceress were so closely linked, if the Sorceress learned to shapeshift, she might naturally take another shape he’d find even more appealing than a dryad. He envisioned Lillian with a thick mane, long tail, and graceful wings.
His blood surged at the image.
With a mental curse, he halted his line of thought. There was one excellent reason why the Mother had made it so the Sorceress could never shapeshift. Best not to even think about how his Mistress would look given a gargoyle form. Death waited down that path.
Surely that wasn’t the Battle Goddess’s plan. There were easier ways to kill him and his Sorceress than inciting the Divine Ones to a rage and having them burn their Avatars to ash. Once roused, there was no stopping or hiding from the God and Goddess.
Gregory’s skin shivered with cold even as his heart raced. No, the Lady of Battles would gain nothing by stirring her parents’ ire and having them seek out the cause of all the trouble. And then the Lady of Battles would have a greater problem than being caged in her prison.
Gregory slid deeper into Lillian’s mind, merging with her soul. He needed to find what else the dark goddess had done to her, but her thoughts and memories pressed upon him from all sides, warm and peaceful, distracting him from his purpose. This felt like home—that vaguely remembered time in the Spirit Realm when they were one soul.
With some regret, he turned his attention back to the internal dangers lying dormant upon her magic and soul. After sifting through her younger memories, he encountered a tight knot of something foreign. He poked at the mass, and it quivered and slid sideways away from him, seeking shelter in other memories.
At last, an anomaly that did not belong. It tasted of a foreign power, of blood magic, and something else. A second spirit. Gregory examined his find with growing horror. The Lady of Battles had enslaved another soul and embedded it within Lillian. It grew within his lady like a parasite.
He swam after it and chased it down a second time. The foreign consciousness tossed another barrier between them.
He wove a net of magic and cast it around the second spirit. Focusing, he stripped a layer of its protective magic away, only to reveal another layer underneath. Evil hit his senses with its unclean taste. This was no regular soul, but a demon soul—an evil seed that would grow into one of the powerful, higher-level demons.
If he’d fought it within their home Realm, Gregory had no doubt he would win. But here in the Mortal Realm,
his options were limited, and the demon was protected within Lillian’s body. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was feeding on her power, growing stronger with each passing day.
Lillian shivered as a wave of unease coursed through her. Her heart rate spiked, her breath becoming labored. She thrashed like in a nightmare. If she physically flung him off and broke the link between them now...
Cursing, he disengaged from Lillian’s mind to control her body. Dryad scent, the silk-soft warmth of skin, and his own heady desire swamped his senses. Grunting, he admitted that sometimes he hated having a flesh and blood body.
Fighting for control, he mentally shook himself, then took a firmer hold on Lillian. At least the umbilical of magic between them remained strong, unharmed by her brief fit of wakefulness or his break in concentration.
He poured his consciousness back into her body and met with resistance. The demon soul had been busy the few moments Gregory had been distracted.
The darkness uncoiled within Lillian, expanding and building defenses as it fed on her magic. Gregory attacked her link to the Magic Realm, hoping to starve the demon into defeat.
Magic surged and Gregory realized he was already too late. A dam broke within Lillian, unleashing a river of magic upon him. Helplessly, he was thrown back into his own body by the torrent.
The demon soul continued to call power as it expanded its spell outside Lillian’s body.
Chapter 31
GREGORY RAISED HIS head from the pillow of Lillian’s hair and inhaled a steadying breath, hoping to calm his racing heart and gather his thoughts. It had the opposite effect. He brushed the back of one hand against her cheek. Her eyelashes fluttered but didn’t open. As a precaution, he whispered a spell so she would slip deeper into slumber. Then he forced his attention away from Lillian long enough to glance around.
The Complete Gargoyle and Sorceress Boxset (Books 1-9) Page 19
