Stone's Kiss

by Lisa Blackwood

  “The way you say ‘lady’ makes it sound intimate, yet she isn’t your lover, is she? Don’t try to lie to me; I’ve seen how she looks at you, and it isn’t lover–like.”

  “We’ve know each other a very long time. I use it as a mark of respect. I don’t suppose you know anything about that.”

  Kayla had been studying the Redwood, but snapped her head in his direction. “I’ve insulted you.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or perhaps ‘upset’ is a better word.” She leaned forward, eager as a hound to the hunt. “She might not desire you, but you desire her, don’t you?”

  Gregory squashed the urge to groan. Once again he’d revealed more than he wanted. There was no point lying to her. Perhaps she’d leave him alone if she thought he had already made his choice of mate. “Yes, what gargoyle would not?” He hoped she’d believe the simple truth and deem there was nothing else to it.

  She studied him an instant more and then turned back to watch what was unraveling at Lillian’s tree.

  “Do you feel it?” Sable asked her student.

  Lillian nodded her head. “Yes, it’s … it’s so much, such strength. Why did I not know of this before?”

  “I’d ask your gargoyle that question, were I you. Perhaps because you didn’t know your true nature, you had no idea this was even possible, so didn’t try.” Sable gestured at the hamadryad. “Now direct some of the power you feel into the Redwood. Visualize the wounds. Imagine all signs of dirt and disease pushed from those wounds. Good. Now envision the wound knitting together, the edges closing, the bark intact once again.” Sable patted Lillian on the shoulder. “Excellent, young one. It comes so naturally to you. It will not be long until you are truly a dryad in all ways—what are you doing?”

  The startled edge to Sable’s tone jolted Gregory into action. Power raised the hair at the back of his neck and tingled in his lungs as he drew another hasty breath. This was not a dryad’s weaving. This was energy drawn from the Magic Realm—an act of power as the Sorceress, not just a dryad. He rushed to Lillian’s side and placed a hand on her shoulder. When she turned to him with power bright in her eyes, he knew how dangerous the situation had grown while he’d been distracted by Kayla’s probing. Power bled from Lillian. It bubbled up from the Magic Realm, flowing across the land like a spring–fed brook, Lillian its headwater. The current caught at his wings, tugging at them.

  “What are you doing, my lady? You have healed your hamadryad and using more magic now might be too taxing.” He spun another web of half–truths, not caring if she figured out later she had been lied to. If he didn’t stop this now, she might draw power directly from the Spirit Realm.

  “I don’t feel tired at all. This is wonderful … I can feel the evil shriveling and dying all around the meadow. It’s magnificent. Look,” she said as she point toward where the stone circle lay shattered. Magic shimmered along her arms, barely visible, like heat waves in the desert. “I can fix it and make it stronger, watch.”

  Sable took one look at Lillian’s arms and took several steps back. With shock replacing her normally serene expression, the older dryad’s gaze followed where Lillian pointed. Gregory held his breath.

  Fragments of stone rose up from the grass as Lillian returned the shattered stones back to their proper places. Stone pillars formed out of the rubble. Not a stone ring or piece of gravel was out of place or showed even a hint of damage where her magic touched. Power continued building. She’d said she could make it stronger. No doubt she could, but not with the supplies she had at her call here. She needed additional materials and better–quality stone if she wanted to create a more powerful ward.

  Small tremors under his feet warned him he needed to stop this now. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, subtly absorbing the power she’d summoned before it could cause an unbalance in the natural world. “Enough. Listen to me. You’re not yet ready for this.”

  “But I’m doing it. Look, it’s wonderful.”

  “You don’t have what you need to make the circle stronger—if you try to force extra power into those stones, the circle will erupt like it did when the Riven attacked you.”

  “I can control this. I know I can.”

  He shook her. “Do you want to be responsible for the deaths of Sable and Kayla?”

  His meaning must have penetrated her power–drugged mind. She froze, and then paled. “I wouldn’t harm you or the others. I’d stop before the stones became stressed.”

  “How would you know when they reached that point?”

  “I …” Her shoulders hunched and the vast flow of magic dwindled. “You’re right. What am I doing?”

  He held her until the trickle of power died away. Magic strained under his skin, filling him to the point of pain. A neigh from behind him had never been so welcome. A moment later the unicorn started siphoning power. When the magic was a more manageable presence, Gregory looked over his shoulder and inclined his head in thanks. The unicorn echoed the motion, and then with a spray of grass and clumps of mud, the stallion bound off into the shadows of the grove.

  “I’m sorry.” Lillian’s voice broke. She swallowed and tried again. “That was stupid, so stupid. But it felt natural, so right. Forgive me. I’ll always listen in the future.”

  Gregory snorted with humor. “You’re forgiven. Thought I doubt you’ll obey that last oath. You’ve never been very good at listening.”

  She didn’t rise to his baiting. Her thoughts were too guilt ridden, and he worried for her. If he released the block he’d put on her memories, all the knowledge and skills she’d learned in her past lives would return, and she could wield her magic safely. But the memory of what the Lady of Battles had done would return as well. Gregory couldn’t risk it. He wanted his Sorceress restored in a way that ate at his resolve, but it would have to wait for now. The healing of her hamadryad hadn’t confirmed anything. While he hadn’t detected any evil taint on her magic, she’d acted in a dangerous manner and that was something the Sorceress would never do. But Lillian had no memories of being the Sorceress; instead, she’d reacted like a child with a new toy. Her loss of control could have been an accident due to inexperience. Or it could have been the Lady of Battles’ influence.

  There was only one way to know for sure. Once Lillian trusted him absolutely, he would risk the deep merging that would allow him to learn what had been done to her. By the grace of the Divine Ones, he would be able to reverse the damage and go home.

  Lillian tugged on his hand. “If we’re done here, I’d like to go help Gran with dinner.”

  “Go. I’ll be along after I’ve had a word with the unicorn. I’m appointing him the guardian of the grove. I’ll only be a few moments.”

  “Okay.” Lillian whispered like she barely heeded his words.

  After she had gone, he sat, troubled by his thoughts. The unicorn stood next to him, his horn glistening in the late day sun.

  Chapter Ten

  After an awkward dinner, where Gregory was the only participant with an appetite, Lillian hung back to question her grandmother.

  “So?” Lillian asked, as she deposited another pile of plates on the counter.

  Gran looked up from loading the dishwasher and gave her a questioning look.

  “No one has told me where we’re going tonight. By the way everyone bolted after supper to go get ready, I assume this isn’t the usual trip to the neighbors for coffee and cards.”

  “No, not exactly,” Gran said. A smile crossed her lips and faded a moment later. “The magical community has many different celebrations. While most are private and solitary, upon rare occasions we come together to reaffirm the bonds of kinship and to strike fear into the hearts of our enemies. Tonight is the Wild Hunt. Even the threat of attack shall not stop the Hunt, for without the Hunt all magic will wither and die.”

  “I’ve heard the legends.” Lillian tucked a few strains of hair behind her ear, then smoothed it in place. It was a telltale nervous gesture she’d been trying to ditch for years. Oh,
well. She didn’t care if Gran knew she was edgy tonight. “The Hunt, isn’t it supposed to be dangerous? And by that I mean evil. I thought people were the chosen prey.”

  Gran released a long drawn–out sigh. “In this age, the Hunt is no more evil than one of those swords hanging over the mantle. It’s a tool. One we use to raise and gather magic so we may survive. A tool can be used for good or evil. That depends on the heart of the wielder.” Gran resumed loading the dishwasher. “And yes, in centuries past, the Hunt was dangerous. It was used to hunt down sacrifices or to kill oathbreakers. Some of our rulers had an unnatural streak of cruelty deep in their hearts. During those earlier times, humans with the misfortune to run into the Wild Hunt didn’t survive to report the encounter. Later, when we were ruled by more just rulers, we would take the human’s memories but leave them alive. Upon occasion, a fae would find a mortal interesting and return with the human.”

  “You mean abduct the poor person, right?”

  Gran cleared her throat. “Yes.”

  “And you want me to go with you on this Wild Hunt?”

  “Lillian, I don’t want to put you in undue danger, but the Hunt is needed for everyone’s survival. I won’t leave you behind after what happened yesterday. Just stay close to me this evening and all will be well. I’m more concerned about how your gargoyle will react to the rest of the Clan and the Coven. Now you should go get ready. The dryads have constructed something for you to wear.” Gran patted Lillian’s shoulder, and then walked away.

  ****

  With her wet hair wrapped in a towel, Lillian sat on the bed and fiddled with the belt of her terry robe which covered the new forest–green lace bra and thong. Her eyebrow had wedged itself in her hairline awhile ago. There wasn’t much else she could say or do except wait for the other three women to finish with the gown. Hopefully she liked it better than her new undies. She had never before seen a garment made from moss, fluffy Maidenhair ferns, and large sweeping fans of Bracket ferns. The gown’s individual parts were held together by a fine webbing of magic. There was a first time for everything. Of late, she was witnessing new “firsts” every other hour.

  The headboard creaked as the bed shifted under her. Her brows scrunched together. Unless there had been a minor earthquake, the room held one occupant too many.

  “Out,” Lillian ordered.

  The three dryads paused in their work and looked up at her like she’d sprouted horns. Well, horns were part of the problem. Twisting to look behind, she scanned the empty bed and frowned. “Nice try, but I’m not indulging you in a free peepshow. Out now, or I’ll braid some pretty flowers into your mane.”

  A snort and more shaking of the bed marked Gregory’s position. Unfortunately it came too late. A warm damp tongue washed across her face. A moment later the invisible gargoyle jumped down, landing with a thump. He materialized next to where the dryads worked. Butting his noise into the pile of greenery, he pushed their hands away from their work and sniffed every petal and leaf. Presumably happy with his findings, he padded from the room, the tip of his tail flicking gently. The dryads watched him go. The youngest released a sigh, her expression bordering on enraptured.

  Oh please. Lillian rolled her eyes. She was still wiping gargoyle kisses off her cheek when the others brought the dress over to her. The skirt, woven of moss so soft and refined it looked like lace, fell to the floor in graceful folds. Over the green lace was a sheer skirt of interwoven ferns. When they gestured for her to try it on, she eyed it with suspicion. Magic gave the greenery a lushness the natural plants lacked and the entire gown gleamed with a faint shimmer as if silver dusted the fabric. With a sigh, Lillian shimmied into the hip–hugging skirt and marveled at the silky comfort. Slits ran up both sides for ease of movement.

  A form–fitting green blouse made from the tiny leaves of meadow rue and the flowing Bracket fern blended with the moss lace, creating the prettiest gown she’d ever seen. It might be beautiful, but it didn’t seem practical.

  “If I remember correctly, this didn’t work out so well for Cinderella.”

  The dryads blinked at her.

  Lillian sighed. “Magic made this. If I’m left with only my undies at midnight, I’m not going to be happy.”

  “But Gregory might,” Kayla said with a smirk.

  Lillian flashed the other woman a twist of the lips, more fang than smile. But she let the dryads fix her hair with cream ribbons and white flowers. Around Lillian’s neck Sable fastened a necklace of silver and what looked like tiny drops of dew. Matching earrings completed the look.

  “You are a striking creature,” Sable said, circling Lillian to better view her work. “No wonder the gargoyle hovers near you like a lost lover.”

  Lillian decided to let the silence speak for her. It was better than trying to come up with a reply to that loaded comment.

  Sable smoothed her fingers along Lillian’s hair, and tucked the last stubborn strands in place. “Thank you for allowing us to attire you in our way. There are so few of us left, we must preserve as many rituals as we can.”

  “Sure,” Lillian mumbled, her thoughts elsewhere. At first, the gargoyle hadn’t done anything to make her think his emotions went beyond the relationship of long–standing ward and protector. She laughed at her own reasoning—a day and a half wasn’t anywhere near enough time to become acquainted with another person’s dreams and longings. But even then, she’d swear she’d detected a recent change in the gargoyle. There was now something in his manner toward her: a gentleness which was sometimes accompanied by a lingering touch that hinted at a deep unacknowledged yearning. What would she do if there was truth to Sable’s comment and Gregory did see her as more than his ward?

  A new thought saved her from having to answer that question.

  Maybe he’d always had those emotions, and it was her outlook which had changed. That was her most disturbing thought yet. She poked at her own emotions, examining them. Yes, if she was truthful with herself, her view of him had changed the moment she’d seen him walk down the stairs, his bare human feet making no noise. From the first moment he’d awoke from the stone sleep, she’d cared for him. He was a part of her, embedded in her soul, but she’d seen him as a male, not a man. She’d been blind, but she couldn’t fool herself anymore.

  Not that it mattered. She’d never get the truth out of him. Any attempt to get answers led to more evasions. If she wanted to know his emotions, she’d first have to find a way to loosen his jaws.

  Right.

  A rock was as talkative.

  ****

  The others had left her to prepare themselves. While Lillian waited, she gazed out the window, straining to see the darker silhouette of her tree against the black sky. Ah, there it was: a towering shadow, surveying her domain. Close to forty feet in twelve years, even for a Redwood that was fast. Unnatural. She should have known something was not right. But she had grown with it and the tree didn’t seem supernatural to her. It was simply a part of her life, like the statue of the gargoyle. Whether she liked it or not, she was a dryad, and didn’t have the first idea how to be one.

  One problem at a time. She went through her mental checklist again.

  Survive the Wild Hunt.

  Don’t do anything foolish.

  Pretend it wasn’t jealousy which tightened her stomach when one of the other dryads fawned over the gargoyle.

  Simple.

  Right.

  With a rattle and a slight creak of hinges, the door eased open. She knew the intruder. She was attuned to him, linked by some strange magic she didn’t understand and didn’t want to question. He walked up behind her, his bare feet silent. She turned to face him. He stood so close the corner of her shawl slapped his arm. Her human–formed gargoyle had dispensed with his invisibility magic and revealed all his fierce beauty. Even though he wasn’t in his gargoyle form, he was still taller than her, and she had to crane her head. Unblinking dark eyes returned her gaze. The gargoyle bowed his head and inhaled a deep br
eath, his eyelashes dark against his skin.

  A wave of self–consciousness tightened her stomach and dampened her palms. She smoothed a hand over her hips as she checked for bulges or wrinkles in the strange fabric. There were none. The dress fit perfectly.

  With his head down, she hadn’t realized he’d opened his eyes. He shifted positions to better take her in with one look which raked the length of her body. If he’d been much of a talker, she’d have called him speechless, but his silences were normal. She’d come to recognize nuances in the silence, like it was another form of communication to him. One he was fluent in, and she was still learning.

  “Beautiful.” He whispered the one word like it hurt him to speak. Then he spun away, gone in the next heartbeat.

  She could feel him retreat, heading down the stairs to the main floor. When she turned her focus inward, she could see through his eyes as he headed out to where the vehicles waited. His one word still hung in the air, and a strange heat swelled under her heart. He thought she was beautiful. The other dryads were far more elegant, but he thought her beautiful. She smiled and hugged her shawl closer as she left the room to follow in his footsteps.

  ****

  The road divided two worlds. On one side of the winding gravel road, a deep wooded ravine waited calm and mysterious, and on the other, the metal ribs of a derelict sawmill jutted up into the star–speckled night sky. The moon illuminated the land around the mill. The area had gone wild again, forest creeping back in, ready to reclaim the land. The contrast was eerie, like the surreal footage of a post–apocalyptic world. She shivered, cold down to her core. Instinctively, Lillian looked in the review mirror, hoping to catch a glimpse of the gargoyle riding in the truck bed.

  Her eyes found no sign of him, but she could feel him in her mind, his legs braced to hold him in place and his wings cupped to catch the wind. He loved the speed, and the cold air. Lillian’s lips turned up at the gargoyle’s joy.

  Lillian heard the heavy pulse of drumming before Gran turned into an overgrown driveway. The chain–link gate was thrown wide, tilting off to one side, partially unhinged where rust had eaten its way through the metal. Other cars were already parked and more arrived from other directions as she took in the scene.