Sorceress Rising (A Gargoyle and Sorceress Tale Book 2)

by Lisa Blackwood

  Gregory turned his back on her and mantled his wings. Less than ten seconds later she felt him call magic. Whirls and eddies of cool air swirled around her ankles, raising more gooseflesh along her legs to match what was already gracing her arms. She held her position with her denim-covered butt firmly parked against the tree’s trunk. If Gregory was going to cavalierly dismiss her concerns, she’d show him she could be just as stubborn.

  It didn’t matter what he was doing.

  She wasn’t curious in the least.

  Not one bit.

  A deep rumbling laugh filled the night. “You’re a terrible liar, beloved. However, you are more than welcome to watch, pretend extreme indifference, or take a nap if you wish, but just stay close.” Gregory gave her one of his wicked, toothy gargoyle grins over his shoulder before he turned his attention back to his spell.

  Lillian pursed her lips.

  He was correct on all counts.

  Damn.

  But she wasn’t about to take a nap on his command like some naughty child.

  She pushed off from the tree and walked around Gregory until she could peer around his half mantled wings.

  He’d burned a magic symbol into the very air—she couldn’t think what else to call the glowing, tightly knotted flecks of light hanging suspended at about waist height. A second was forming next to the first. On the original’s opposite side, a soft glow soon formed into a third pale green symbol, this one shot through with silver spots of brighter intensity.

  Gregory shifted from his hunched position to stand upright, his wings stretching farther until they were fully extended.

  Anticipating his next move, Lillian ducked under the outer edge of his wing and sank down into a cross legged position. Safely out of the way, she leaned back against his legs and watched him work.

  As she half expected, he pushed the glowing symbols with a gentle sweep of one broad wing. The misty lights flashed brighter as they floated away from each other with increasing speed.

  Wanting an explanation, she craned her neck to look up at Gregory. He stood with his head bowed, eyes closed, expression relaxed. His arms rested at his sides, and his tail laid curled around his ankles, the picture of peaceful contentment.

  Why shouldn’t her gargoyle be happy? He was working powerful magic from the Spirit Realm, doing what he was designed to do. She swallowed back her questions to simply allow him this moment.

  Only his wings held any tension as they fanned the air slowly, stirring up a slight breeze as he called more magic and shaped it into more of the fire-bright symbols. After each was made, they hovered in a group a few feet away. When he had another half dozen of them, he fanned his wings with more power and sent the new spells out into the surrounding forest in pursuit of the first round.

  She leaned back against his shins and closed her eyes, wanting to feel the magic he worked, to understand its makeup and purpose. Touching him, she felt the leashed power at his command, his ironclad discipline and infinite patience. He continued to work his spell, but acknowledged her presence in his mind with a flick of warmth and humor.

  A solid weight landed in her lap. She gasped as her eyes snapped open and riveted on the object in question. Recognition came a moment later. She chuckled in relief and patted his tail companionably. Then jerked her hands away with a startled exclamation. His normally warm skin was cold, so chilled she’d thought her fingers frostbitten. She blew on the tips to warm them even as her thoughts sought out her gargoyle’s.

  The answer to her unasked question came to her in a flood of emotions and sensations—in tune with her own, and yet not hers—for these were Gregory’s, and her perception changed to his view point.

  Invigorating magic swept from the Spirit Realm, filling the forest around him with its bounty. Its pureness and strength unmatched by anything found in either Mortal or Magic Realms. It tasted of comfort and home—of the infinite.

  And, yet, it was unnaturally cold, not compatible with any living body, even one as adaptable as his own.

  But there was a pleasant warmth near at hand. His thoughts turned in another direction. His beloved. His lady. Even though she was trapped in a mortal form weaker than his own, he still took comfort in her living warmth against his legs. They had had so few opportunities to merge in this way, their two separate consciousnesses together in one body. It was not the same as existing as one being in the Spirit Realm, but here, clothed in mortal flesh, it was as close as they could come. And how he had missed this intimacy.

  Her presence also grounded him and reminded him of his purpose, which he’d nearly forgotten with the first flush of power from the Spirit Realm, and its seductive soul call. A distraction of such magnitude could have had dire consequences if the magic had slipped his control.

  With regret he turned his attention away from his other half, for grounding and locking the magic into a stable defensive spell was of the utmost importance. Stray magic of the strength he was summoning could do extreme damage in the Mortal Realm. A silent thread of understanding reverberated between them. And then with a silent apology to Lillian, he turned his attention back to the task at hand, and continued weaving the spell. “Beloved, I must finish what I’ve started. You may stay and watch or return to your own body when you wish.”

  Lillian gave the equivalent of a mental nod. “I will return to my own body and be another set of eyes to guard us while you work.”

  With Gregory’s consciousness tied up with the complexities of the spell craft, Lillian found her own mind still lodged firmly in his body. Her perception shifted again, her field of vision skewed strangely. This time, she was looking down upon herself, where she slumped against Gregory’s legs, her body still and seemingly unconscious.

  Surprise, bordering on sickening panic, kicked her heart into gear.

  Moments later her brain caught up with her panicked instincts. Her body wasn’t dead. She could still see her chest rising and falling in a slow, deep rhythm. And this strange mind link with her gargoyle, while intense, wasn’t a first. She’d merged with Gregory like this once before. This time was just a little deeper, and he seemed to be leaving her in control of his body. It was a great act of trust. One she didn’t want him to regret.

  Last time, no harm had befallen her physical body. There was no reason this time would be any different. She’d merely have to figure out how to get back to her own body without his help. Closing her eyes, in part to help her concentrate, but also to block out the strange orientation of Gregory’s gargoyle vision, she drew in a steadying breath.

  She focused on calming her abnormal heartbeat—make that Gregory’s abnormal heartbeat. When she’d persuaded it into a more normal rhythm, she turned her attention toward disengaging her mind from Gregory’s body.

  With another deep breath, she opened her eyes and looked up. Seeing through Gregory’s eyes wasn’t quite so odd the second time. He merely saw in greater detail and a more panoramic manner, a gift of his large and slightly side-set eyes.

  A bit of movement to her left had her glancing over her shoulder. She tracked an owl making its not so silent way through the forest. The slight change in stance shifted her weight in ways she hadn’t expected. The small move almost pulled her over backwards, and she realized belatedly just how much mass was contained in Gregory’s wings.

  Some less than elegant arm windmilling saved her from a nasty fall. Balance restored, she glanced back down at her own body where it was slumping to the side, but still in contact with Gregory’s left leg.

  It reminded her of the last time they’d been merged like this, the link had been severed when the physical connection was broken. Reaching down, she gave her shoulder a gentle shove.

  And with a slight feeling of vertigo, which made her stomach lurch, she was suddenly back in her own body. Otherwise it was a physically easy transition, though there was a growing pang of loss. It was as Gregory had once said. One soul now in two bodies left a definite feeling of incompleteness.

 
Lillian shivered from both physical and emotional cold.

  She was still recovering when the excited baying of a hound reached her ears.

  Chapter Seven

  Lillian lunged to her feet. A wave of dizziness struck her hard, sending her stumbling sideways until she slammed into a tree trunk. She shook her head and blinked rapidly until her vision cleared. More barking pierced the air, closer this time. Too close.

  When she could trust her legs to keep her upright, she returned to Gregory’s side. She ran a gentle hand down his dark mane.

  “Gregory, I think those are sniffer dogs. We’re about to get uniformed visitors.” Lillian forced herself to take one step away, not liking how she was about to leave him at what could be a very vulnerable time, but seeing no other choice. “Stay, take the time you need to finish the spell. I’ll delay our company.”

  Magic brushed against her skin and in the touch she felt Gregory, his thoughts sharp with alertness, but not undo concern. “Be careful, my love. I scent no evil in the humans coming near, but I sense they are well schooled in the weapons of this world and smell of anticipation and a touch of fear. Never a good combination.”

  “Guess I better be careful not to surprise them then.”

  After one last glance in Gregory’s direction, she started back the way they had come. The dogs were closer now, the tone of their cries fiercer. In the distance lights flickered through the dense undergrowth. Lillian began to run, wanting as much distance between the newcomers and her gargoyle as possible.

  As her long-legged strides closed the distance, Lillian realized she had reacted with her usual rashness and absolutely no plan. Out this deep in the forest, with darkness falling, she needed an ironclad explanation, and she imagined anything as mundane as a simple walk would be sure to flag whatever investigator would be accompanying the dogs. No one was stupid enough to wander the forest at night, at least not without good reason, a strong flashlight, and a backpack—or a campsite nearby.

  “I have none of the above. And no wits to save myself, either,” Lillian muttered to herself in disgust.

  “No great lady, you may not have yet gained wisdom in this life. But that is why you have allies.” A dower voice invaded her thoughts. And accompanying it, the pooka trotted out of the darkness between two trees. “You have two groups of humans converging on your location.”

  “Which one of the Fates did I piss off to warrant so many?”

  The pooka snorted as he came alongside her shoulder. A sunny yellow halter encircled the pony’s head, the color a near match for his bright yellow otherworldly eyes—though there was nothing sunny in his expression. A lead was clicked to the halter. The pooka held the excess clamped firmly in his teeth. With a shake of his head, he tossed the lead at her. “Take it. And try to look like you know how to lead a horse. When the humans arrive you will say a predator spooked your horses and you followed our trail into the forest.”

  “Would a horse bolt into a dark forest where who knows what predator could be waiting in the shadows for its next snack?”

  The pooka chuckled. “No, but when they find us and assume their dogs have been trailing me and the One-Horned Fool over all this distance, they will be so disgusted with themselves and the dogs, they will call off the hunt.”

  Being within touching distance of the pooka was not always the best place to be, but once again she found herself grateful to the evil-tempered beast. Following his instructions, she took the lead he offered and looped it around her hand, then glanced in the direction of the lights.

  “What part of ‘look like you know what you’re doing’ didn’t you understand? Don’t loop it around your hand—do you want me to drag you around? And stand on my left.”

  Lillian juggled the lead rope, and then situated herself at the pooka’s shoulder, still fighting to untangle the rope.

  “Left! My other left. Hurry!”

  Lillian grumbled and switched sides. She didn’t have long to wait. Two excited dogs, their handlers only a few feet behind them, burst from between the trees. Retina-searing light flashed directly into her face, blinding her for several vital seconds. She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the bright light.

  One of the dogs, a wiry haired terrier and the smaller of the two, jerked away from its handler and streaked pass both Lillian and the pooka with barely a glance. Nose to the ground, it leaped over an old rotted stump and vanished down the path leading toward Gregory. The last Lillian saw was its short tail wagging hard enough to snap off.

  Its handler cursed, flexed his fingers like he was checking to see if they were all accounted for, righted his jacket, and then glared at Lillian as he stomped past like it was all her fault.

  “Gregory,” Lillian reached for his thoughts, “there’s a small dog coming up your trail, and his handler will be not long behind him. Watch yourself.”

  A mental chuckle was his only reply. Lillian didn’t have time to interpret his mood, the other dog was alternately sniffing, barking, and lunging at the pooka in a way that had Lillian worrying for its little doggie life.

  For his part, the pooka was playing the role of spooked pony too well. He bolted in a half circle, dragging Lillian along for the trip. He slammed his shoulder into a large, bearded man with a really big gun pointed at the ground. His fatigues registered on her senses a moment later. Next to the soldier, the surprised dog handler fell backwards with an astonished expression. Lillian spotted RCMP on the shoulder patch of his dark jacket. The pooka spun around, pinned his ears, lowered his head, and kicked out at the next closest human.

  With a yell, the man dodged to the side. He stumbled into the man next to him before finally coming to a painful-looking stop by slamming into a conveniently located tree. While the newcomers fell like dominos, she felt the itch of the pooka’s magic, confirming the source behind all the chaos.

  Swearing, Lillian turned to the pooka in time to see him strike the police dog. The blow glanced off the dog’s flank, leaving a mark in the fur and probably a nice bruise come morning, but it wasn’t a killing strike, which told Lillian the pooka was playing nice. The dog rolled away with a yelp but circled around, coming at the pooka from a different direction. The pony swung his neck to face the still barking dog. A wash of the Fae’s power slid along Lillian’s skin, then on past her, to where the dog continued his mad barking.

  Lillian knew the exact moment the pooka’s magic impacted the dog. It jerked its head to the side, tucked its tail so far between its back legs it was a wonder she didn’t see the tip between the front two, and loosed a mournful whimper before belly crawling back to its handler where he was picking himself up off the ground.

  The pooka snorted, shook his mane out and then trotted back over to Lillian’s side, entirely too pleased with himself. Belatedly, Lillian’s shocked mind realized several sets of eyes, both human and canine, were focused on her.

  “I’m so sorry!” She rushed the words together as she pulled the pooka over to a tree where she proceeded to tie him up. He snorted with displeasure, but she didn’t care and tightened the knot.

  “You should have used a quick release knot.”

  “Shut up! You’ve done enough damage. I’ll be lucky not to get charged for assaulting a police officer with the stunt you just pulled.” Lillian ignored the pooka’s angry snort and faced the humans. Her cheeks burned with heat, and her body was bathed in nervous sweat. She would have preferred to face one of the Riven—at least they would not make her fill out paperwork.

  “Hi,” Lillian ventured into the silence. “Sorry about the fuss. Your dogs frightened my pony. He’s worked up over getting loose and losing his way in the forest. He can be a touch reactive on a good day. Is everyone okay?”

  Grumbles and cursing echoed in the forest. A gruff cough was quickly followed by a clipped, “Miss, this is a quarantined area. You don’t have authorization to be here.”

  Lillian glanced at the speaker. It was the big guy with the beard, the one the pooka had slammed w
ith a shoulder, and the human didn’t look happy.

  “Oh! Sorry,” she didn’t have to fake the nervous, fearful squeak in her voice. It quivered quite naturally all on its own. “As I said, something spooked my horses and they both bolted into the forest. I’ve been trailing them for the last four hours. I just found one—well actually he found me. But the grey is still missing. I was about to go back and get my brother, some flashlights, snacks, and a couple bottles of water before resuming the search.”

  “You’ll have to come back with us, ma’am. I’ll radio about the other missing horse.” The soldier didn’t break eye contact as he pulled a radio from one of many pockets, and raised it closer to his face. “You can stand down. The dogs were tracking a horse. We found the owner and one of the animals.” The soldier continued to give a description of Lillian’s appearance, including her hair color, height, weight, and clothing.

  His fine attention to details registered on Lillian’s mind and worry flashed to life. He had no reason to relate her description with such detail. It occurred to her they might be looking for someone fitting her description. And if they were interested in someone fitting her description, then they must know something more than Gran had suspected. And it didn’t bode well for either Clan or Coven.

  “You’re Vivian’s granddaughter, aren’t you?

  “Yes, may I ask how you know that?”

  He smiled, but it wasn’t the type to put one at ease. “She has pictures of you and your brother on her mantle. When I was there, I noticed them. I never forget a face.”

  “Oh,” Lillian laughed, but didn’t relax. “Gran always plasters our pictures on just about every surface she can find. It’s embarrassing.”