Stone's Kiss

by Lisa Blackwood

  Some of the tallest mountain peaks reared up through the clouds. The entire scene reminded her of dark boulders poking up out the foam–dotted crests of rapids. It was as beautiful and breathtaking as anything she might see on earth, but the teal–colored sky was unique to a different land, far from the place she now called home. Yet she knew this place from recent dreams, and a more disturbing memory from long ago, when she was still a child.

  With newfound fear gripping her, she turned away from the view of the valley and stepped between the two great obelisks. A sprawling temple of polished black onyx reared above her head. It sat midway up the western slope of what had once been the proud pinnacle of an expansive range of mountains. To either side, smaller peaks flanked the temple’s mountain, their rounded, stony shoulders showing their age. She remembered the name of this mountain with its crown of vapor: the Dark Mother of the Ridge.

  Tall, elegant columns made of the same dark stone of the obelisk marched up the side of the mountain until they came to the base of the temple where they ended at the feet of a giant statue of a lady poised over an armor–clad warrior, her sword stabbed down into her victim. She suppressed a shiver at the expression of fierce joy on the stone woman’s face and glanced away.

  Steep garnet stairs emerged from the base of the building and cascaded down the side of the mountain like a blood–red waterfall, adding to the soul–chilling feel of the place.

  The heavy black velvet of her skirt brushed the steps as she made the long walk up to the Lady of Battles’ temple. The garnet steps were polished to such a shine that she caught glimpses of her reflection upon the stone’s surface. Had she not witnessed her own face, she might have thought she’s somehow stepped into someone else’s dream, for this vision was too extraordinary for her brain to have borrowed the images from her mundane life.

  She wore a long black–velvet dress, trimmed in burgundy stitching. A black–leather harness hugged her waist and hips. The weight of a sword and scabbard swung against her leg with each step. A breastplate of deep burgundy matched the stitching of her skirt. The strange garb felt both familiar and strange, just like the dream itself.

  This was not the first time she’d visited this place in a dream, and like the other times, her body continued the journey to the temple without her control or consent. Clammy sweat trickled down her back. Lillian was a passenger in her own body, a puppet, nothing more.

  Her feet carried her toward the entrance of the temple, a simple post–and–lintel archway with a maw of darkness at its heart. The last two sets of columns anchored four lengths of thick chain. The chains had been drawn tight and vanished within the temple.

  The soft rustle of fabric on stone and the rattle of chains flowed down the stairs from the temple above her. Lillian wanted to turn and run, but instead her body dropped into a deep bow.

  “MY SPECIAL ONE,” a voice like the wind, eternal and strong, whispered from the darkness beyond the temple’s archway. “WHAT NEWS DO YOU BRING ME?”

  “Great Lady,” the thing controlling Lillian’s body replied, “The gargoyle has awakened from his stone sleep.”

  “AT LAST. I HAD NOT PLANNED TO WAIT THIS LONG. DO NOT MAKE ME WAIT LONGER STILL. BRING HIM SOON, SO I CAN CONTINUE MY WORK.”

  “You will not have long to wait. It is as you thought: he is still loyal to me even though he suspects I carry darkness within. I shall bring him to you when I have made him mine in all ways.”

  “GOOD. CONTINUE TO SERVE ME WELL AND YOU SHALL BE REWARDED.”

  “You are ever gracious. I will not fail you.” Lillian straightened.

  “GO, BEFORE THE GARGOYLE WAKES… .”

  ****

  Lillian awoke with a jolt, the last remnants of a dream scattered even as she tried to grasp them. Heart pounding, she reached for Gregory and found his side of the bed empty. There was something important she needed to remember so she could tell him. But whatever the dream had revealed vanished within seconds, leaving her with a sense of foreboding.

  “A meaningless nightmare,” she mumbled to herself. “You idiot.”

  Of course she’d had a nightmare. No wonder with all that had happened last night. A night of magic and awe turned to one of death and carnage. Gregory could have died. Her mind shied away from the memory of the battle. She wasn’t ready to face that yet.

  It was for the best the gargoyle was gone, since her rational mind had slipped into gear at some point during the night. She tossed the covers back and headed into the bathroom to dress. While she pulled on clothing, she went over the events after the battle and concluded she must have been high on magic when she’d invited Gregory to share a shower with her, and later, when she’d whispered she’d loved him. Crazy–ass thing to say. She didn’t know who or what she was beyond what others had told her. Before she took up the responsibility of a lasting relationship, she needed to know who she was, what she wanted, and what she would become.

  A nightmare was the least of her worries.

  Once she had dressed, she emerged from her room into the hall, and froze in place. A group of five slender, pale–skinned men with very pointed ears acknowledged her presence with deep bows while she stood thunderstruck. The alert intensity of their gazes and the fluid way they moved remained her of martial artists. If that hadn’t been enough for Lillian to guess their natural occupation, their weapon belts and tunics with the emblem of a silver stag adorning the heavy forest–green silk would have been enough to scream “soldier.”

  She wanted to call them elves, but racked her brain for memories of the Hunt. Ah, her grandmother had called them sidhe. After one more lingering glance at their ethnic garb she mumbled a hasty hello before hurrying on down the hall. Soft footsteps followed in her wake.

  If she was not mistaken, Gregory had enlisted some new guard dogs. As if the unicorn wasn’t bad enough. When she found her gargoyle, she would enlighten him about certain niceties, like discussing his plans with her before implementing them without her knowledge.

  She increased her pace and was about to glance behind to see if the sidhe were still following when Kayla opened the door of the guest room. Her eyes widened when they met Lillian’s. In a half–unconscious gesture, the other dryad flipped her hair over her shoulder as she scanned the area directly behind and to either side of Lillian.

  “Your effort is wasted. Gregory isn’t with me.”

  Kayla quickly hid her look of embarrassment and bestowed Lillian with elegant bow instead of her usual snide remark.

  Alrighty then. Lillian must have awoken in an alternate reality if Kayla was willing to show her even a hint of respect. “Care to tell me why you and those men bowed to me.”

  “We all felt the power you and the gargoyle summoned. Rumors are flying like bees in a clover field. Some speculate you and the gargoyle breached the Veil between the Realms and drew on power directly from the Magic Realm.” Kayla raised an eyebrow in question. When Lillian didn’t confirm or deny her statement, she continued. “Regardless of the truth, anyone who requires magic to survive will cluster to the gargoyle with the hope he will allow others to make the journey when he leaves this realm.”

  “Sorry to spoil the anticipation, but they’ll have a long wait ahead of them since I don’t plan on being driven from my home by the Riven.”A tiny hummingbird–like creature whizzed by Lillian’s head as she came around the corner heading for the stairs. “Was that a fairy?”

  “No, it was a hummingbird.”

  Lillian glanced sidelong at Kayla. “What’s a hummingbird doing in the house?”

  “It’s a familiar.”

  “A little small, isn’t it?”

  “The size of the familiar doesn’t matter.”

  Lillian thought about her eight–foot overly familiar gargoyle. “After last night I’m not so sure. Gregory’s better in a fight.”

  “Better at other things, too, I imagine.”

  Lillian scowled in Kayla’s direction. The dryad was already making her way down the st
airs. She moved like she floated. With a snort of disgust Lillian tromped down the stairs in pursuit. By the time she reached the bottom, the frustrating dryad had already disappeared.

  The essence of gargoyle permeated the kitchen like a magical scent. Dark–shadowed forests and rich, damp loam, mixed with the sweet fragrance of sun–warmed meadow grass. She inhaled a deep lungful of the rather pleasant aroma. Her mind flashed back to the night before when they’d kissed … and indulged in other pleasant touches. With a shake of her head, she cleared her mind and told her hormones to behave. There would be none of that going on in her grandmother’s house.

  As if thinking of her grandmother summoned her, Gran materialized at her shoulder.

  “Sweetheart, I’m so glad you’re looking better today. I would have come up to let you know the Council has been arriving all morning, but Gregory said you were still asleep. Do you feel up to meeting the Council?”

  “I’m fine. It was Gregory who took a blade in the back.”

  “I know, but you were so upset. I worry. I think your gargoyle is there if you want to talk to him.” Gran pointed off to one empty corner. “Gregory said to tell you he’s much recovered and slept very well. Who would have thought an old rug would be so comfortable?”

  Lillian blushed and mumbled her thanks. She escaped in the direction of the invisible gargoyle. But when the zing of a mild electrical current flowed over her skin, she skidded to a stop.

  “All is well. That was only my ward.” Gregory’s voice rumbled over her as his breath caressed her ear. Heat swirled through her belly.

  Whoa, she told her hormones, then turned in the direction from which Gregory’s voice had come. He remained invisible to her mild annoyance. “A ward to do what?”

  “To repel the others for now,” he replied. “I don’t know if I can trust the fae Council yet. And while I have an obligation to protect you, if my actions have somehow allowed the Riven to gain a greater foothold here, I may need the Council’s help to send the demons back to the Black Kingdom and seal them there. After today, I’ll know better which Councilors I can trust.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve been nothing but a burden.”

  “Never.” Strong fingers curled around her arm, and a second wave of tingling energy flowed over her skin.

  When she looked to the gargoyle, he was visible but the rest of the room was foggy like an out–of–focus picture. “Are you going to teach me this trick any time soon?”

  He didn’t dignify her question with an answer, but it didn’t bother her as much as it should; she was already distracted by something of greater interest. Her gargoyle was in human form this morning and she wondered if his wounds would show up better on human skin than gargoyle hide. She skimmed her eyes over his bare chest, and then the rest of him, looking for scars or bruises. There weren’t any. And still she stared. It was impossible not to with his lovely body on display.

  Dang, her gargoyle didn’t play fair. “You still haven’t grasped human dress code—as in you should wear clothing in public.”

  One dark eyebrow rose and he smoothed a hand over his beaded loincloth, then adjusted his armbands. “I understand enough about human clothing to doubt its comfort. My attire serves me well.”

  “Ornaments are not clothing.” She shook her head in exasperation, but sobered a moment later. “You’re recovered? Really?”

  “I’m recovered,” he said as he scanned the kitchen behind her.

  When she cleared her throat he looked back at her quizzically.

  “Turn around. I want to check the knife wound.”

  “I’m fine. There is nothing to see.”

  “Not a debate.” In case he pretended he suddenly couldn’t understand English, she grabbed his left shoulder and tugged until he turned. She viewed his back with its smooth, brown skin, perfect except for a shinny vertical line on his right shoulder blade. So close to his spine. She laid a hand on the scar and gently probed the area around it for signs of heat and swelling. It looked to have healed well, but she couldn’t forget it had nearly killed him. The image still haunted her when she closed her eyes.

  Stretching up on her toes, she pressed her lips against the pale mark and circled her arms around his torso. Memories of the previous night returned. Unable to help herself, she slid her fingers up his chest until she found the throb of his powerful heart. Sighing, she rested her head against his back and began counting each beat. This was the sound of life, peace, and home.

  She might have spent half the day listening had his deep rumble of pleasure not startled her into releasing her hold. She stepped back just as he turned to face her, his eyes full of dark heat.

  Apparently she wasn’t the only one remembering last night. She couldn’t maintain his gaze and stared at her hands.

  “Thank you for everything you did last night.” His voice still held a heated quality to it. “I’m glad the Sorceress will one day love her gargoyle again.” A finger under her jaw guided her head up.

  “Shit. I thought you were asleep,” she growled.

  “I can still hear and understand while I’m in a light sleep.”

  “Not fair. You’re like Super Gargoyle. You’re wings are even cape–like.”

  He laughed, the deep tone raising gooseflesh. “And you are a strange little dryad.”

  “Thanks, I love you too.” She hoped gargoyles understood sarcasm.

  “I know.” Gregory shifted back to his true form with a blur of light and shadow, then rested his muzzle on her head.

  So much for sarcasm. Her mind switched to more pressing topics. “Why has the Council come?”

  “They must make a decision.”

  “About?”

  “Us,” he rumbled into her hair.

  “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  ****

  Lillian stood in the meadow’s center, her Redwood towering at her back. She idly petted the soft needles of her hamadryad while she waited. Gran had directed the Council to meet at the center of the maze, saying some of the shier members would feel more at home protected by the maze and sheltered by the trees. More likely Gran chose the spot for the gargoyle’s sake. The shadows could hide him without him having to go invisible and break his promise to Lillian. She never met such a creature of opposites. Fearless and yet shy, soft spoken and brazen. She found his core personality intriguing, and could overlook some of his quirks, such as his aggressive overprotective tendencies. A grin tugged at her lips.

  She and Gregory had arrived early because he wanted to check the wards on the grove, again. While the gargoyle worked his magic, she decided to try her hand at some dryad magic she’d overheard Sable and Kayla discussing.

  With her bare toes digging into damp earth and embraced on either side by low spreading branches of her hamadryad, Lillian closed her eyes and sought the forest lurking beyond the manicured gardens of her grandmother’s home. Magic answered her wish, and the presence of the land touched her mind.

  It was there, waiting to reclaim the cultivated grounds and return them to a natural state. The forest called to her, wanting her to merge with its vast expanses. She focused her mind and, on closer examination, found the spirit of the forest was connected by water, like blood vessels within a body. Creeks meandered into streams, and her mind followed those subsidiaries as they made their way into fens and rivers, then finally to lakes. She flowed south with the water, toward Haliburton Forest. While not tame, that forest lacked the size and wild abandon her heart craved. She sought east and north, to where the smaller tracked of woodland butted against the mighty Algonquin.

  We are here, the trees whispered. Join us. Be one.

  “Lillian, it’s time to come back.”

  The voice intruded upon her link with the land and she tried to push it away.

  “My Sorceress, return to me.”

  A tongue slathered her cheek and Lillian returned to herself with a sputtered exclamation. “Ugh.”

  Gregory was holding her upright—her own
legs felt like rubber. He nuzzled her again, licking at her neck.

  “Gregory have mercy, please.” She pushed at his shoulders, attempting to look serious, but the effect was spoiled when he licked her cheek again. She burst into giggles. She got herself under control a moment later. “Okay, what happened?”

  “You do not have the training you need, that is what happened.” Each word came out clipped.

  Not good. He sounded pissed which meant he was scared.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I overheard Sable and Kayla talking yesterday while I was getting ready for the Hunt. Dryad magic sounded so easy and natural. I’m tired of knowing nothing… .”

  “We will talk of this later.” Gregory’s ears swiveled toward the entrance of the maze. “I hear the others coming. Please, do not call on magic until I have time to teach you some basic rules.”

  Lillian concluded Gregory didn’t lie very well. Yes, the others were coming, but that’s not why he didn’t want to talk about magic. Every time she wanted answers about magic, he evaded her questions. “Okay. I won’t use magic again.”

  She lied better than her gargoyle.

  ****

  From her position under the shade of her Redwood, Lillian surveyed each of the Council members as they emerged from the maze. Two young girls arrived with Gran, one to each side. Gran led them to the picnic tables next to the stream.

  On closer inspection, Lillian realized these were not children, but delicate four–foot–tall women. Each wore a simple, but elegant cream robe tied at the waist with golden rope. The taller of the two had mottled brown–and–white hair, not from age—this was a pattern. The brown–and–white layers ran horizontal. The other women had the same style hair, but tan and brown. They gazed around the meadow, their jewel–bright eyes immediately drawn to the Redwood at meadow’s center. At the sight of the majestic tree, the taller one made a soft cry, and what Lillian had thought were bangs, lifted from her forehead into a short spiky ruff.

  Gran gestured at the food laid out on the tables and then headed in Lillian’s direction.