Stone's Kiss

by Lisa Blackwood

Apparently, she was evil.

  She expected to feel something. Great sorrow, fear, mind–numbing shock. Something. Anything. But there was nothing, not unless being monumentally pissed off at her “older self” counted. Then slowly a greater concern crept into her consciousness. What if that wasn’t her old self at all? What if it was the demon soul testing Gregory’s resolve? Lillian remembered Gregory’s final thoughts before he drifted off to sleep. If it had been the demon soul in control last night, it had almost found a way to sway the gargoyle to the Lady of Battles’ cause. It made sense. The demon obviously wasn’t strong enough to take on Gregory in a fair fight yet, so it demanded he kill his beloved Sorceress, the one thing that would off balance him more than anything else.

  Faced with that impossible choice, becoming one of the Lady’s army and guarding the Veil between the realms might not look so bad from Gregory’s point of view. It would be one way to serve without completely betraying his oath to protect his Sorceress. Once the demon had sewn that bit of discord, it had crawled back into Lillian’s soul like a djinn returning to its bottle where it waited for the next chance to betray its master. Damnit all to hell. Her theory was utterly, horribly plausible—she just didn’t have a scrap of evidence to prove it.

  It didn’t really matter if it was the demon or Lillian’s older self, the problem was still the same. Sooner or later something was going to take her over.

  “Fine. I’m evil. I’ll deal with this, somehow. You won’t have to,” she told the sleeping gargoyle. Leaning forward, she kissed him on the forehead between his horns.

  Then, deciding she’d better get out of bed before he figured out she’d learned some important details he’d planned to keep from her, she scooted out of bed. A shower and proper clothes were the first order of business, followed by coffee. Maybe by then she’d have come up with a plan so Gregory wouldn’t have to make choices that would destroy him.

  Hell, a chainsaw to her tree might solve everyone’s problems, but she doubted she’d be able to accomplish it with the gargoyle and the crazy unicorn always on guard—not to mention, she’d probably pass out at the first cut. Great start to solving a giant problem.

  ****

  The bathroom door’s hinges creaked as she opened it. Lillian winced at the jarring sound. Gregory bolted upright on the bed. His surprise and confusion evident by his peaked ears and flared nostrils while he took in his surroundings. Calming, he extracted himself from the sheets and eased off the bed. He turned his back to her and tidied the bed.

  “Morning,” she said. Her greeting sounded more cheerful than she’d intended. Odd that Gregory seemed not to notice her forced note.

  He returned her greeting after a short pause. Brushing her damp hair out of her face, she narrowed her eyes. If she hadn’t known what had transpired last might, she would have just thought he was still half asleep. But she knew better. Gregory couldn’t tell a lie to save his life. With his back to her, she couldn’t read what was written on his face, but if she could see, she thought she’d see shame and embarrassment.

  She cleared her throat and prepared to lie. “Since I’m still alive, I assume everything went well.”

  “Yes, you passed the test to everyone’s satisfaction.” The gargoyle returned her lie.

  “Then I think I’ll go hunt up some breakfast for us.” She smiled, a stiff–muscled expression, just in case he happened to look her way. “I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready.”

  He nodded and vanished into the bathroom. As far as she could tell, he still hadn’t detected her lie. The truth must be so much worse than she thought if he was so distracted he didn’t catch the lie in her voice.

  She fled, leaving behind the gargoyle and the room full of deceit.

  Downstairs, the living room was empty, but murmuring voices drew her toward the back of the house. When she reached the kitchen, Gran and the pooka stood close together, deep in conversation.

  Gran looked up. Her expression flashed from worry back to her usual jovial look so fast Lillian nearly missed the slight change.

  “I saved you some muffins and there’s fresh coffee,” Gran said as she gestured absently at the kitchen counter.

  While Lillian mechanically took a bite out of a muffin, the pooka edged closer to her. His equine eyes, while not friendly, were less hostile than she remembered. Had she been better at reading body language, she’d have said the pooka wanted something.

  “Come walk with me. There’s something I want to tell you,” Gran said, interrupting Lillian’s thoughts about what a pooka might want from her.

  Lillian allowed herself to be herded out the sliding door and onto the back porch. A warm breeze beckoned her to walk the maze. She needed to know if Gran would lie to her. “What is it? Did I fail the test? Are the others going to try to harm me?”

  Gran’s eyes widened, surprise warring with displeasure. “No one will harm you, and while some of them are not satisfied with all they learned, we all agree we have more immediate concerns.”

  “So there is something amiss with me.”

  “Not to cause you more worry, but do you think you’d still be here if you harbored evil within you? I’m sure the gargoyle would kill you himself if he thought you evil. The Clan is more concerned by the vast amount of power at your command, and your lack of training to control it. “

  “Then I’ll be careful not to draw on power when Gregory can’t help me control it.” Lillian’s stomach soured at Gran’s lies. Her family knew what the gargoyle had tried to hide. She wanted to crawl away somewhere deep and dark.

  “While you and Gregory rested, the rest of us have been finalizing our plans. If the Riven want a fight, we’ll give them one. The dire wolves think they’ve found one of the daytime lairs of the Riven. We’ll take some of the Pack and check it out. I want you to stay here. There’s enough wards on this land to protect you and the other dryads while we’re away.”

  Lillian nodded. “What about Gregory?”

  “If he can bring himself to leave your side, I imagine he’d like another chance to take out some vampires.”

  “It sounds too dangerous. I …” I should be the one to go since I’m already evil. But Lillian held her silence, unable to voice her concerns without revealing she knew more than she was supposed to. “I don’t want him or any of you to go.

  Perhaps understanding the root of Lillian’s fear, Gran sobered. “Don’t worry honey, we’re all aware of those wretched daggers, and we won’t let them in past our guard. We’re better prepared now; they’ll find we’re not so easy to defeat this time.”

  Gran’s words didn’t sooth the tension in Lillian’s shoulders where fear had lodged along her spine. Sweat dampened her palms. She rubbed them along her jeans. Her fingers felt stiff. After a moment, she’d started rubbing the base of each nail and realized they were actually itchy and aching, like she’d grabbed a fistful of poison ivy—or like the time Gregory had been injured, just before she’d blacked out.

  Gran continued to speak, but Lillian no longer heard. Something rose within her: an alarm flaring within her mind. Lillian opened her mouth, about to say she didn’t want them to go without her when the ground shook. Nearby birds erupted into flight.

  An inhuman scream split the air, high, eerie. Fast on its heels the low rumbling growl of a dire wolf joined it. The growl, too, was cut short, ending in a yelp. Like a river in a flash flood, a wave of power broke across Lillian’s skin. She grasped at the magic but it slithered between her fingers and raced away. A familiar scent lingered.

  “What was that?” Lillian jerked her head in the direction the commotion emanated, then back at her grandmother.

  “Jason.” Gran cried, her eyes narrowed, her features stilling. “That was a witch’s staff being shattered. The Riven have Jason.”

  Such cold rage looked foreign on her grandmother’s face. Before Lillian had a chance to react, Gran was pushing her in the direction of the house.

  “Go,” Gran ordered. “It’s
a raid. They’re attacking the wards. Get to the house and tell the others. I’m not letting them take any more of my family.”

  A protest died on Lillian’s lips. Gran was already running toward the unseen danger, unarmed. Every cell in Lillian’s body screamed to follow her grandmother, to challenge whatever had invaded her home and taken her brother, but reason prevailed. She’d need a weapon first.

  She turned toward the house just as an immense black shadow skidded to a stop at her side. Gregory was on all fours, Gran’s quarterstaff clutched in his jaws. He spat it out so he could speak.

  “Get on my back; I’ll take you to the house. My wards there will assure your safety. Once you’re safe, I’ll return for Vivian.”

  “No! Go help my grandmother. I’m fine.”

  “I can’t leave you. And I won’t take you into battle with me.” He butted her in the stomach, like he could physically herd her to safety.

  Lillian gasped and stumbled a few steps before she caught her balance. “I’ll go to the house, but you need to help Gran rescue Jason. She said the Riven were attacking the wards. If they breach the defenses, I’ll be in greater danger.” While she held Gregory’s gaze in a battle of wills, three dire wolves, each carrying a sidhe on their backs, ghosted past. “If you go help Gran and the others, you’ll be protecting me too. I’ll follow your progress through our link. Please Gregory.”

  More cries echoed across the meadow, now accented by the ring of metal on metal.

  Gregory snarled, and pushed her toward the house once more, then he picked up the staff and bolted off in the direction Gran had run. He spread his wings as he ran; each of his bounding strides covered a vast amount of ground. Within moments, he’d overtaken the dire wolves and vanished into the distant treeline—one shadow among many.

  Lillian turned and ran back to the house. She hadn’t said she’d stay there. Besides, she needed a weapon and a way to track the Riven. Somewhere hidden in the house was the perfect tool for the job. She just had to find it and coerce it into serving her.

  ****

  The gardens outside the house were silent, the emptiness a strange contrast to the death–cries and blood–scent of battle she experienced through Gregory’s senses, where he battled over a mile distant. Lillian slowed to a walk, and with some regret shut down the flow of sensations coming from her gargoyle, but kept a light touch on their link in case he was injured.

  She glanced around the gardens again, this time searching with something other than her eyes. Magic stirred, flowing out from her, seeking dangers. She sensed nothing between her and the house. Within her home, she detected a spark of magic. Another dryad? Probably, judging by the forest–scented magic. There was another source of power coming toward her.

  She cocked her head as her ears strained. The drumming of hooves grew louder a few seconds before a black horse emerged from around the magnolia on the east corner of the house. Even over the distance, the pooka’s bright–yellow eyes caught her attention.

  Unafraid, she held her ground as he skidded to a halt in front of her. Of all the Clan, she’d not expected to find the pooka still here. She would have pegged him as a lover of death and chaos, battle and bloodshed his sweetest joys. But then again, perhaps it somehow made sense he’d be the one to stay behind. He wanted to return to the world of magic with a desperation the other fae lacked. And since she was the pooka’s ticket home, Gregory probably didn’t have to coerce him into the role of a bodyguard. Very well. She had a use for him too. Actually … he’d fit her plan nicely. She didn’t want to risk an innocent.

  “Well?” she asked, even though she could feel what was going on from the gargoyle’s thoughts. The battle was joined—he and Gran had caught up to the rearguard of the enemies. They fought back to back—holding their own, but were unable to break through the guard and go after Jason’s captors. Anger and frustration fueled Gran’s magic and she dealt blow after blow with her quarterstaff. Gregory was ruthless. Decapitating and gutting and maiming with each strike of his claws. But for every enemy they took down, more came out of the forest to continue the battle. The Riven were like the Hydra: take one head and two more came out of nowhere ready to bite.

  Pooka raised his head and lipped at the breeze. “They fight well. I would bring your grandmother with me into the Magic Realm if she would come. There she could realize her full power—and a full long life. Not like these short quarter–lives the Coven experience here.”

  “Now is hardly the time to think of that.”

  “What else would you talk about while we await this battle’s outcome?”

  “How about why we’re standing here talking instead of doing something about the enemies invading our land? You must hate having to stay behind.”

  The pooka shook his head and snorted, then trotted in a half circle around her. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Gregory commanded you to stay with me and now you can’t enjoy a ‘bit of fun.’ ”

  “The gargoyle didn’t trust the single–horned fool to protect you.”

  Lillian nearly grinned at the rivalry between the pooka and unicorn.

  He bobbed his head, ears swinging back. “The dryads are good at misleading and confusing a trail in the forest, but they are no warriors. So I stayed to protect you—from nothing. I sense no evil nearby.”

  Lillian nodded agreement, though his statement wasn’t entirely true. She sensed a great darkness very near, rearing up within her own soul now that Gregory was in danger again. Perhaps a darkness greater even than the Riven. “I don’t plan on sitting and doing nothing. Can I count on you to aid me with a little task?”

  His ears swiveled forward.

  “As a reward, I will take you though the Veil.” She called her magic and reached out, running a hand along his neck. His skin shuddered at her touch, but he leaned into her caress, butting his muzzle into her stomach. He tilted his head to the side as one yellow eye rolled to study her.

  “To which land?”

  She sighed—smart pooka. “Do you really care if it gets you away from this place?”

  His tail slapped his rump and he pawed at the ground. “No,” he said at last.

  “Then serve me well, because I am a Power and those under me shall be rewarded.”

  He bobbed his head once more and fell in line beside her when she resumed her walk to the house. There was one other thing she still needed.

  ****

  Lillian was closing the patio door when Kayla hurried into the kitchen.

  “You’re here? Sable and the unicorn are searching of you. How did they miss you?” Kayla asked.

  Lillian kept her expression remote, and hopefully a little worry colored the look. “I must have missed them.” She covered her thoughts in layers of shields to prevent the dryad from detecting the lie. Lillian had seen the other two, but had used her magic to hide from the unicorn. It worked far better than she’d expected. Unfortunately, the unicorn had bolted in the direction of the fighting and the gargoyle. He’d probable thought she’d gone to join the battle. Now she only had as long as it took the unicorn to reach Gregory to accomplish her plan. Oh well, she didn’t need long.

  She’d been able to keep her true thoughts from Gregory by giving him random images of her wandering through the house, pacing and worrying with the other dryads while they awaited news. It had worked so far, but now she’d have to work fast to stay ahead of the gargoyle. If he caught her before she completed her plan, he’d get hurt.

  She didn’t want to see him or anyone else get hurt because of her. Everything was her fault. But she was about to make it right.

  Lillian speared Kayla with a dark look. “Where’s the demon blade? What did they do with it?”

  The other dryad stopped wringing her hands and clasped them in front of her waist.

  “Tell me.” Lillian laced her words with magic.

  “They took it to the attic.”

  Ah, her grandfather’s chest.

  Lillian smiled and
thanked Kayla, then reached into her mind and stole the memory of their conversation. The other dryad whimpered and slumped into a nearby chair. Lillian left Kayla behind with a muttered apology. It was better the other dryad didn’t know more about her plan. The fewer clues for Gregory to go on, the longer it would take him to realize what she was up to. She hoped. Or he might bludgeon on her mental shields until he found out. Either way would slow him a little.

  Lillian continued until she came to the attic’s stairs. The air at the top was thick with dust and hot from the afternoon sun beating on the south side of the roof. She navigated the clutter on the floor, and followed the fresh tracks in the dust. Far back in the east corner of the big attic, she found the old cedar chest. Worn and discolored with time, it didn’t look like much, but it was solid. Its metal hinges and lock glistened with fresh oil. She ran a finger along the domed lid, sensing her gargoyle’s magic. The sturdy padlock would slow most mundane modes of entrance. But the faint blue shimmer that flared when she touched it was the chest’s primary means of protection.

  An ancient memory flared to life. She closed her eyes and reached inward. Power welled up from within. It overflowed her body and spilled out onto the chest. Directing the magic was easier than she thought. When she judged she’d poured enough onto the lid, she imagined it digging in—digging deep, past the shimmer of blue warding, into the grain of the cedar.

  Opening her eyes she looked down upon the chest and curled her fingers into a claw. Her hand still hovering above the chest, she made an upwards jerking motion. The lid issues a deep groan of strained wood as it gave way. Three chunks of old cedar planking flew out and away from her to slam into the rafts and bare walls. Silence returned after the echoes died away. Leaning forward, she glanced into the shadowed bottom of the trunk. The demon blade glittered dully.

  She snatched up the dagger. Its hilt was chilled and the blade vibrated in her hand. It projected its eagerness to draw on blood and death.

  “You will serve me,” she told it with a single–mindedness to matched its own.

  It shivered in her hand. Its agreement, assured. There was no doubt in her mind.