Sorceress Rising (A Gargoyle and Sorceress Tale Book 2)

by Lisa Blackwood

  “Good,” Darkness’s voice sounded strained, “for no parent should have to help their child find death.”

  Lillian didn’t delude herself into thinking she was as good at reading people as Gregory, but she was certain that was honest concern in their eyes.

  “You find yourself in a difficult situation,” her mother said with a sad nod. “One of our making. Your father and I didn’t know the Lady of Battles planned to trap one of the Avatars, or we never would have made it so easy for her to use us to beget a host body.”

  Lillian laughed. “I doubt willful agreement factors into any of the Battle Goddess’ plans. If you had known and protested, I’m certain she would simply have found other, less savory ways to get what she wanted.”

  Pacing away from her parents’ searching gazes helped her think. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as her little brother hunted something in the tall grasses, honing his newly discovered gargoyle reflexes. He leapt forward and nabbed a bit of brown fur in his jaws. A quick snap stopped its struggles. A rabbit, Lillian idly noted, her thoughts galvanizing around her newly made decision.

  She came back to the center of the meadow where her parents waited. “Tell me more about the slave collar.” There was no point calling the magical device anything other than what it was.

  “Once the final spells are in place, the wardstones prevent tampering and once activated, none but you will be able to command Gregory. You both must wear one for either to work.” River held out the chunk of metal and jewels. Reluctantly, Lillian accepted the command collar—it was almost as large as the slave collar. From a dream a few months ago that was not in fact a dream at all, but the Battle Goddess’s attempt to communicate with her, she remembered how immense the dark one was, like the mythological Titans of old, towering taller than a lofty tree. Lillian eyed the collar again. “A little small for a certain goddess, isn’t it?”

  Her father nodded. “The spells weren’t yet finalized and I was able to shape it into something more to our needs.”

  It hummed with power. She thought she detected a slight vibration, almost like the device possessed its own electrical power source.

  Well it did have a power source, after a fashion—layers upon layers of spells were woven into the metal and jewels. She could feel them, sense them with that wildness in her blood, her gargoyle heritage. But none of that told her what they were actually designed to do.

  “So they protect the wearer from outside magic?”

  “Yes,” her mother said, then elaborated, “The Lady wanted them designed so her brother couldn’t override their magic—not quickly at least. Of course, there are two sets and they are supposed to be worn together. You and Gregory were to have worn the slave collars and the Battle Goddess, the controlling bracelets. Used separately as we plan, some of their inherent strength might be compromised, but they should still prove enough to overcome Tethys’s enchantment. Neither set was finished, but we were only able to steal this pair as General Gryton was presently working on the other.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this to Gregory. Even if I trusted you implicitly, nothing you’ve said guarantees these things won’t just hand us over into the Battle Goddess’ keeping. You, yourself, can’t know that for certain.”

  Her father sniffed at the bracelet with distaste. “Then don’t trust us alone. When Gregory arrives, if he is lucid enough, have him examine the collars. He can verify I did not miss anything or have sinister intentions. He will not tolerate them near you if he thinks they are a danger to you.”

  Lillian’s ears perked up. She hadn’t thought of that possibility. And just before Gregory had tried to drag her back to Tethys, he’d been talking. If not himself, at least lucid. She just didn’t know if it would be enough to allow him to study the collars with any kind of accuracy.

  “Truthfully, I do not like this plan,” her father admitted, “but there is little else that will free Gregory from the siren now that her song has had time to dig deep into his spirit, and nothing we will be able to get our hands on before General Gryton learns this set is missing. He didn’t get his position by being slow of wit. He’ll know almost instantly what has happened. Once he alerts the Lady of Battles that she has been betrayed, nowhere within the Magic Realm will be safe for any of us.”

  Lillian’s ears perked forward. “You said ‘little else’ not ‘nothing else’. What else can break the siren’s spell?”

  “Dragon’s blood,” Lillian’s mother supplied. “It negates even the most powerful enchantments—perhaps even the spells upon the collars, given enough time. However, this siren is ancient, and would require blood from an equally ancient dragon. Fae grow stronger with age. We would need a dragon of equal strength to give its blood freely as it’s doubtful we could survive long enough to take it by force.”

  “I don’t suppose dragons are friendly?”

  “Dragons are not evil like human tales portray. They serve the light, but are not particularly hospitable or forgiving of those who once served the Battle Goddess, be it willingly or unwillingly.” Her father nodded at Lillian’s gargoyle form.

  “So they’d take one look at my female gargoyle heritage and what…?”

  Her father made a soft humming sound she’d come to associate with unhappiness. “They would likely try to purify you in fire. If this body dies, your hamadryad will as well, freeing your soul.”

  “Hmm, yet more death. Imagine that. Someone needs to give the good guys of the Magic Realm a new playbook.”

  Seeing her parents’ twin looks of bafflement, Lillian let that line of thought drop. “So we’re back to the collars. What hidden, dangerous surprises might the collars carry with them?”

  “Once Commander Gryton knows they are missing, I imagine he will try to track their whereabouts.”

  Her present location wasn’t a secret. Frowning down at her feet, her tail twitching in agitation, Lillian turned the massive collar in her hands. It reminded her of one of those Ancient Egyptian pieces the pharaohs wore.

  She was concerned this General might be able to do more than track his device. “What is the chance he might be able to control me through this?”

  “Less than slim. This was made for the Lady, don’t forget. You can imagine what she would do to Commander Gryton if she suspected he did something that would undermine her authority.”

  “She’s not much for independent thinking among her underlings, I take it?”

  “No,” came her father’s dry reply.

  She hadn’t really thought what her parents were risking to help her. She glanced over at her younger brother where he was finishing his meal. “If she catches you, she’d kill you both, and my little brother, too. Probably him first, just to watch you suffer.”

  It wasn’t a question and her parents didn’t need to answer. It was cold hard fact.

  “I’m going to bring that temple of hers down around her ears and make it her tomb, or die trying.” Lillian hissed more to herself than anyone in particular.

  She pinned her father with a fierce look. “So how is this going to work?”

  Lillian’s father tilted his head suddenly, taking in the surrounding meadow and scenting the breeze. He snorted with distaste.

  Then Lillian caught the scent as well. The undeniable stench of Riven, an unholy mix of death and dark magic.

  In another moment of clarity another piece of the greater puzzle fell into place. “Death and dark magic. The Lady of Battles dabbled in what was rightfully her twin’s dominion. She created the Riven, didn’t she?”

  “Indirectly, yes. The Lord of the Underworld would never create something so filled with mindless hate and destruction. In the past, when Lord Death attended to the balance, it was always with much deliberation and as much mercy as he could allow.”

  The vision of a giant chess board overseen by Lord Death wasn’t a comforting one. But better him in control of that horrifying power than allowing the Lady of Battles to defeat him and having her gain contro
l of his power.

  A stronger waft of Riven reached her nose. Just what she didn’t need. But fate was doing its usual thing.

  Lillian flexed her claws. If she had to kill a few Riven before dealing with Gregory, so be it. The exercise might help her work out some of the fear and frustration currently churning in her blood.

  “No,” her father ordered, “you will stay here and await Gregory. By now, he will have escaped the traps we placed to slow him down.”

  Her ears flattened against her mane, and her lips started to peel back in a snarl, protective instincts rising again.

  “Peace. They weren’t designed to harm, only to slow him. However, if we don’t put some distance between us, Gregory will do us some harm.”

  Shadowlight came bounding up to her. Surprisingly strong, he scooped her up. “I’ll miss you.” He rumbled rather too loudly in her ear.

  “Me, too.” Lillian countered, not wanting to hurt the young gargoyle’s feelings, but a touch confused.

  River stepped up and gave her a hug as well, though a much more sedate one. “Dryads pass on instinct, memories, and life experiences to our offspring. Shadowlight knows you through my memories, and gargoyles are naturally very clannish and loyal. He already loves his older sister.”

  Her mother moved off, allowing Darkness to embrace her. Before he broke away, she asked the one question that had been bothering her. “Even if Gregory looks at the collar and doesn’t blast it into next Tuesday and three realms over, what if the siren’s enchantment prevents him from putting it on? How am I supposed to get it on him then?” She pointed at the slave collar where her mother had left it. “Its appearance doesn’t inspire confidence.”

  Her father laughed, surprising her. She’d thought him much too dower and standoffish for humor. “Then offer him a reward as incentive. You’re the first full blooded female born to our race. It shouldn’t be too difficult to get him to remain in one spot long enough to put it on him.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Alone in the meadow, Lillian paced around the bejeweled enslavement tools, still hardily uncertain of her plan, but not knowing what other choice she had. She already despised their jeweled beauty, that overdone gaudiness which failed to hide their sinister purpose.

  And, Gregory, when he came back to himself, would he understand and forgive her?

  She feared he might not. But still she’d see her decision through—a few billion lives were in the balance. She wouldn’t sit by and do nothing, not if there was even the slimmest chance she could use the collars to shape a more positive outcome.

  God, she hated gambling.

  A sudden shift in the air currents and a tingling of magic against her skin caught her attention. She pushed away all her unhappy thoughts and prepared for what was likely inbound.

  Unlike the first two times she’d seen the magical portals earlier today, there was no slow gathering of power or swirling mists. From this side, the threshold just appeared fully formed in the air. A second later Gregory hurtled through it.

  His gaze locked on hers, and then it swept away a moment later to scan their surroundings. He sniffed the air, circling around the meadow’s perimeter as he searched for signs of danger or other traps.

  Gregory continued to circle, drawing closer with each pass until he was only ten feet away. He continued to sniff, emitting small huffs of anxiety or anger. The scents of other gargoyles and the much more distant scent of Riven would be as easy for him to read as it was for her.

  Lillian held her position next to the wardstone collars for a couple seconds longer, then decided it would look more natural if she went to him. With a gruff rumble as greeting, she dropped to all fours and made her way over to him, her wings and tail held in a natural, relaxed position.

  With a slight flaring of his wings, Gregory studied her with a determined look in his eye. Gone was the loving, and playful, if overly happy, gargoyle from earlier. In his place was one of Gregory’s darker aspects—The Gargoyle Protector. Her Hunting Darkness.

  His eyes narrowed and the powerful muscles in his thighs bunched.

  Ah, and it seemed she was today’s prey.

  Lillian leaped clear as Gregory landed in the place she’d been mere seconds ago. She circled him, her head tilted to the side, ears canted forward, tail flicking in challenge, her entire body saying come play if you can keep up. Another mad dash and a leap and she was crashing into the side of him, her momentum managing to shift him off his balance enough, he had to side step. While he was collecting himself, or more likely just stunned by her behavior, she darted away, using her gargoyle speed to bolt out of range of any retaliation.

  A glance over her shoulder showed she need not have worried. Gregory was sitting on his haunches, his wings tucked loosely against his back and his tail flicking slowly, his expression bemused. While he was still dumbfounded by her actions, she inched closer to where she’d left the collars in the grass.

  “Gregory, I need you to look at these for me and determine if they are safe.”

  He still hadn’t said one word to her, but Lillian saw a spark of intelligence in his gaze, buried underneath the many layers of the siren’s enchantment. Now, if she could only reach that one small part.

  Gregory tilted his head, sniffed and closed the distance between them until only a couple feet separated them. His gaze strayed to the collars for a moment and then slid back to land solidly on Lillian.

  Sidling up next to him, she gave his shoulder a playful nip. Gregory’s lightning fast response caught her by surprise and she found herself on her back, her wings trapped under her and the heavier bulk of a male in his prime, pinning her to the ground.

  Gregory watched her with something other than the earlier vacant look. No, the heat there was far from vacant. However, heated look and returning intelligence were not the same thing. But a little heat might make him more biddable and willing to listen to her. She really did need him to study the collars.

  He sniffed at her, and then ran the underside of his jaw along her shoulder, up her neck, and over her muzzle. He did the same strange routine on the other side. Poking around a bit with his muzzle, he found another spot, the inside of her lower forearm, and shimmied his muzzle along there as well.

  Ah, he was scent marking.

  “You smell the other gargoyles. They were my father and brother, nothing for you to get jealous over. They mean me no harm. At the moment, they are dealing with the Riven to give me the time I need to free you from Tethys.”

  A non-conversational grunt was her only answer. He worked his way lower, rubbing all along her side, hitting each and every rib, and then over her flat belly before moving back up the other side, the same path in reverse.

  She waited until he was back up by her collar bone again, then started placing gentle nips and kisses along his shoulders and throat. Gregory froze in place. Only his tail continued to sway, the movement somewhat jerking. Then he began to purr.

  Scent marking was one thing. What she was embarking on now was altogether something else, and far more dangerous. But Lillian saw no other way forward.

  “The siren is trying to claim you from me.”

  Gregory stopped his rumbling purr and narrowed his eyes at her.

  “It’s true. She wants your power, to use you like everyone else wants to use you. I won’t let either Tethys or the Lady of Battles have you.” She brought her hands up and clamped them around his forearms, her fingers digging into his biceps. “You’re mine, and no one else’s.”

  His rumbling purr started up again and he dipped his muzzle down to kiss her shoulder, then the hollow of her throat. She nearly started purring herself. Who would have thought that little dip between neck and shoulders could be such an erogenous zone? She lowered her muzzle to her chest, forcing Gregory to move from his designated target long enough so she could regain the ability to think.

  His scent had intensified, swamping her senses with his pheromones. Somehow his tail had found hers where it wa
s trapped under her body and he’d planted one knee between her thighs. Her jaws parted hoping for more air without the drugging influence of his pheromones, but it only made it worse, she could taste his essence. Each lungful of air drew it deeper into her body. She did purr then, surprising herself.

  Another species characteristic and not just a quirk of Gregory’s.

  That little bit of information seemed to stimulate her brain enough to get it functioning. Her plan had somehow derailed, rather more quickly than she wanted to admit, and it was her failing not Gregory’s.

  Touching him, she could feel what he was feeling. His deep love for her was still there, but what he was feeling at this exact moment was more physical than emotional. And that fact was a nice icy bucket of water on her own lust. Suddenly, what she was doing felt very, very wrong, too much like taking advantage of an emotionally vulnerable person while they were intoxicated out of their mind.

  The last tendril of lust wilted, and Lillian dug her heels in and tried to push out from underneath Gregory’s greater weight. His arms tightened around her and his purring changed into a growl. Her heart tripped into a pounding rhythm at the sound.

  Yet because he was also pressed against her, she could touch his mind and it opened to hers, his thoughts completely unguarded for the first time.

  And so many things became clear she wanted to cry. Not in fear. Even when he growled, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. It was the siren’s command to capture Lillian and bring her back getting mixed up with Gregory’s more physical instincts. When she stopped struggling, he immediately relaxed and returned to grooming her. The scent marking, licking, and gentle nips were all part of gargoyle courtship.

  Needing to know more about Gregory, she pushed her own body’s reactions to the back of her mind, ignoring them as much as possible to better focus on what her other half needed. There was something, just at the very edge of his thoughts, something buried that he didn’t want to face himself, a dark secret he wanted to remain hidden.

  She knew Gregory was packing a lot of blame and guilt about everything that had gone wrong in this lifetime, but the magnitude of that guilt became clear when his thoughts flowed over hers. He felt responsible. He was the protector and it was his duty to protect his Sorceress from all dangers. But he’d failed so many times recently. And now even his body betrayed him, craving an unwholesome relationship. He was unworthy of her.