The Avatars Series: Books 1-3

by Blackwood, Lisa

  “All the Magic Realm will suffer if the Lady of Battles can now command us.”

  Lillian flashed fang. “So save the Magic Realm and screw all the humans in the Mortal Realm?” she sounded more tired than angry, or perhaps defeated was a better word. He could understand that emotion.

  He shook his head, his own anger and frustration spent. “All the Realms will suffer equally under the Battle Goddess’s rule.”

  “Okay, that’s a trump. You win this round.” Lillian drew in a big breath, her shoulders squaring, and with a little shake, she seemed to rid herself of her weariness. “We’ll just have to defeat her, but first we need to free our allies from the siren. As I see it, I tossed a wrench in her plans. I’m free of her influence and, now, so are you.” She gestured at him. “You’re coherent and capable of logical thought. Which, I might add, you couldn’t have claimed two hours ago.”

  Gregory drew in a deep breath, and let it out again. He couldn’t really counter her argument this time either. He had been, without a doubt, firmly under the siren’s sway.

  Oh, but he knew in his gut Tethys would have been a better choice for the greater good of all. “It shames me I failed you so badly, that you were forced to make such a terrible choice to begin with.”

  Lillian took three swift steps toward him, and then she was hugging him with all the strength in her arms, even her wings came up to encircle him. “Can we stop raking ourselves and each other over the coals for a while?”

  “Yes.” He hugged her back, the act giving him much needed comfort.

  “Promise?”

  “Yes,” he rumbled, “And, Lillian, it is you as you are now, sweet and rash dryad and fierce and equally rash gargoyle, who has captured my heart. You, not the Sorceress of old, which I fell in love with all over again in this life.”

  “I love you, too.” She held him in her fierce grip for a few minutes more. “Would it be naïve of me to hope the villains will take a break for a while, long enough to figure out an action plan?”

  Gregory barely refrained from snorting in humor. Instead, he said, “Tell me more about your family, and everything they said about the collars they gave you.”

  ****

  After questioning Lillian twice, he debated what he’d learned for some minutes. When she talked about her parents, it was with a bitter tone, though it soften when she mentioned the unknown brother.

  Clearly, she had come to the conclusion that her parents had, in the end, purposely betrayed her.

  Gregory was not so sure now. Not after learning more about the collars. From the little he had gathered based on his long experience with magic and his enemy’s tactics, the physical collars were merely designed to carry the true enslavement spell—the ones designed to merge with body and spirit. It was an ingenious way to insure that the victim could not simply cut off or use magic to otherwise remove a physical collar.

  What made Gregory think Lillian’s parents were innocent, was that the collars, at least the physical ones, had disappeared within seconds of attachment. He could only surmise that the solid collars were designed to return the wearer back to the Magic Realm, probably to some dark chamber deep within the Battle Goddess’s temple.

  That he and Lillian were presently still here in the Mortal Realm instead of enjoying the dark twin’s hospitality, might mean that Lillian’s father had tampered with the collars as he’d said, changing the spells woven into them, thereby preventing Lillian and himself from falling victim to the Lady of Battles—at least not this day.

  Of course, they still had the secondary spell burned into their skin like a brand. But that in itself didn’t prove malicious intent on the part of Lillian’s father. In fact, the spell was very similar to the type of magic his adversary had used to graft the demon seed onto Lillian’s soul.

  And he had very nearly missed that spell’s existence until it was too late. The other gargoyle could have overlooked a well-hidden secondary spell.

  However, he wasn’t telling Lillian any of his theories yet. She’d already been hurt enough, he wouldn’t intentionally give her false hope, only to cause her more pain later.

  In the end, the only way to learn the newcomers’ intentions was to confront them and use magic to learn if they spoke the truth.

  His plan had only one glaring problem.

  He couldn’t call on his magic. It was walled off, out of reach for now. He had a sneaking suspicion only Lillian’s command could now unlock that power.

  They hadn’t tested that theory yet. Gregory was reluctant to try, fearing any order might open up a mind-link between them, which, with his thoughts so focused on her parents, could only give away more about his theories than he wanted to risk at the moment.

  And that, as Lillian would say, was a catch 22.

  His eyes narrowed in displeasure.

  He hated human sayings. They were more contagious than common ailments.

  Looking over at Lillian where she sat on a fallen log, he wondered if they dared risk finding out what the ward spell would and wouldn’t allow them to get away with.

  One of the first things he found was that the spells wouldn’t let them travel more than twenty feet apart, which suited Gregory fine.

  Lillian wouldn’t be able to get into trouble without him knowing about it, and the forced proximity might allow him to find out just what Lillian was keeping from him.

  She was still visibly upset by today’s events. Her tale had been fairly detailed, except for a few parts, like the times when she’d almost fallen prey to the siren’s song and later when the collars activated.

  By all accounts, Lillian’s distress was justified but he still couldn’t shake the feeling something was off.

  What wasn’t ‘off’ about this situation? With a mental shake, he gave a great huffing cough.

  Regrettably, that action graced him with a big whiff of his own scent.

  Mercy, that stink certainly didn’t mellow with age. Even with the mud now mostly dry, it was still breathtakingly terrible.

  The sound of distant hoof beats reached Gregory’s ears and they swung around to the south, tracking the sound as it grew closer.

  “Now what?” Lillian asked, echoing his own silent thought.

  Honestly, Gregory didn’t know.

  Though by the sound, the hoof beats came from two different equines. His pooka and unicorn allies seemed always capable of finding him, even when he didn’t particularly want to be found.

  This time, he couldn’t assume they were coming to his aid.

  Chapter Thirty

  From his hiding spot in the deepest shadows underneath the boughs of a young fir where even the light of the full moon couldn’t touch, Gregory watched and waited. No more than ten feet from the same treeline, his other half sat in a patch of moonlight, intentionally badly hidden in the waist high grasses.

  It was Lillian’s idea to act as bait.

  He hated it, but agreed only because it was the best way to observe the two equines and judge whether they were presently still his allies in truth.

  Besides, he mentally reassured himself, I’m close enough to protect Lillian.

  Even without using his Avatar magic, which he feared to use until he learned more about the tattoo around his neck, he was still more than capable of taking out both the unicorn and the pooka should that be required.

  He sincerely hoped it didn’t come to that.

  A glimmer of silver between the trees quickly resolved itself into the unicorn. He galloped into the meadow and stopped when he spotted Lillian.

  He approached her with a nicker, and craned his neck to sniff at her. “You’re not actually trying to hide, are you?”

  “Yes,” Lillian said and Gregory watched as she slapped playfully at the unicorn’s muzzle.

  “It’s good to see you. I’m surprised you escaped Gregory at all if that’s your best attempt at hiding,” the unicorn said with an accompanying bob of his head.

  “She’s not hiding, you twit,” said
another mind voice that was familiar with its liberal dose of disdain. “She’s playing decoy to Gregory’s hunter.”

  A black pony emerged from the shadows. He looked directly at Gregory and said. “At least that’s a better attempt at hiding.”

  Lillian stood up, her expression losing its earlier joy. “I’m glad you weren’t captured by the siren, but what became of my grandmother?”

  It was the pooka who answered. “Gran is safe. She stayed behind so we could reach you faster.”

  The tension in Lillian’s shoulders and wings visibly eased.

  Gregory emerged from the shadows and joined Lillian. “It’s good to see you’re both free of the siren. Maybe now we can do something to teach her to be choosier about whose territory she invades. Usurpers can find themselves lacking in trustworthy friends.”

  The pooka suddenly froze in place, his eye showing white for a few seconds in surprise, but then he stretched forward to nose at Gregory’s neck. “Ah. It seems you have escaped the siren’s power merely to be caught by an even more powerful third party.” The pony tilted an ear forward and back in question. “How did such a thing come to pass?”

  Gregory remained silent, not in the mood to give answers to the pooka’s surly tone.

  Lillian stood, brushing off bits of grass “I was foolish enough to trust my parents.”

  “Ah. They showed their true colours. How disappointing. I rather liked them.”

  That caught Gregory’s attention enough to draw him in. “We never did find the time to have that particular conversation as I recall.”

  “Yes, I was there when Gran first stumbled upon them in Lillian’s grove while you both were still deep in your healing sleep. That time I only witnessed them aiding both of you by sharing their power. They seemed genuinely concerned.” The pooka gave a mild shake of his head, his equivalent of a shrug. “I suppose the concern could be real but they still might serve the Lady of Battles.”

  Gregory hadn’t expected the pooka’s words to be reassuring, and they weren’t. However, he had hoped for something more substantial.

  Eyes narrowing, he accepted that he’d just have to hunt down what he needed to know himself.

  “We have some hunting to do,” Gregory said, including the other three. His instincts cried for him to find some safe place to hide Lillian until he ascertained the nature of the threat, but the brand on his neck would not allow that, so she came with him.

  He dropped to all fours and raised his nose to the breeze, seeking the trail her parents had taken.

  Lillian dropped down next to him and gently bumped his shoulder. “We hunt.”

  “We hunt,” both the unicorn and pooka echoed.

  Gregory snorted. It hadn’t been what he’d meant but the Wild Hunt would ride this night after all. What remained to be seen was if Lillian’s parents would join the Hunt or become its prey. Whatever the outcome, Gregory would make certain this Hunt left many victims in its wake.

  Tethys, too, would have that same choice, and then the Riven would feel the cold, passionless wrath of the Wild Hunt.

  Gregory bolted into motion, Lillian at his side, with the pooka and unicorn two strides behind them. This Hunt lacked the starting dance, the howl of the dire wolves, the call of hunting horns, and the baying of the Fae hounds, but in its oldest form, the Wild Hunt did not need those things. It only needed blood and sacrifice at its final destination.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  They ran through the night-shadowed forest, twisting, leaping over, or darting around anything in their path. Sometimes the pooka or unicorn would pull ahead. Gregory seemed content to allow them the honor for a short time before he would surge ahead once more.

  Lillian stayed with him, determined to be as his shadow. Even if the brand around their throats hadn’t forced them to stay close, she would have anyway.

  As the night grew longer and the scent of their prey steadily stronger, she noticed something else of interest.

  She’d already run far this night and should have been tired, but each step came as easily as the first, some unseen power buoying her up.

  And she wasn’t alone. Both Gregory and the two equines seemed to feel it as well. Magic swirled around them at the edge of her vision, sparks and whorls like tiny incandescent snowflakes formed in the air, only to break away and drift behind.

  Lillian chanced a glance back, curious to see what became of the magic they summoned from the Magic Realm even without the aid of the great circle dances. It was as she thought. Wherever the tiny sparks landed, they nourished and renewed the land.

  Even while in gargoyle form, her dryad blood sensed the land and trees growing stronger. With a smile, she bound a stride ahead and stole the lead from Gregory for a whole ten seconds.

  She was just easing back to run alongside him again when three shadows began to pace them. Turning her head, she studied the massive wolves as they communicated silently with Gregory.

  She’d never forgotten the dire wolves she’d seen in her first Hunt, but she hadn’t seen any since she woke from her hamadryad’s healing. Gran had said they were in mourning, and once that was over they would start the selection of new leaders.

  Lillian wondered if their arrival meant the dire wolves had new alphas. She and Gregory could sorely use the help in the coming fight.

  “The dire wolf packs are still far to the north,” Gregory explained, crushing that small hope, “but these three and others along the way were sent to howl back the news of what they learned. Apparently, other Clan members sent word of our awakening to the packs, and later a second message about our preparations to fight the Lady of Battles.”

  A nod to each was the extent of her greeting, for even as those three aligned their magic to the Hunt’s, more of the Clan joined them. These were the ones who had no reason to be near enough to the spa to hear Tethys’s song and so had avoided capture. Two blazing white elks, a male with a massive rack and a yearling female, galloped at the tips of the dire wolves’ tails.

  She flashed to another time when a similar white buck had attempted to carry her to safety only to be brought down by the attacking Riven, his beautiful coat awash in crimson blood. Yes, the Riven had much to answer for, and she planned to make them pay it in their own blood.

  A family of foxes burst from a thicket and flanked Gregory on his other side. Farther along the path a bull moose awaited them. Perched upon his back, like she was born there, sat the banshee.

  Lillian flicked a questioning ear at the banshee, for last she’d seen that Fae had been earlier in the day while they finished details for the masquerade. She’d just assumed the banshee was captured along with the rest of the Fae helping at the spa.

  The banshee guided her moose closer to Lillian, and then smiled down at her from her higher perch. “Be at ease, young gargoyle. A siren, no matter how powerful, isn’t able to out sing a banshee’s keening. When I saw how many she was able to enslave, I fled into the forest and joined with the other free ranging Clan. We will fight at your side. First the Riven, then the siren, and finally even the humans if they leave us no choice.”

  Lillian nodded her head in thanks, not daring to get into an argument about the humans again.

  Other Clan joined the Hunt, sliding out of the deeper shadows of the forest. Several sidhe joined them, riding either deer, elk, or moose. By a quick count, Lillian estimated that there were close to two dozen hunting hounds running silent at their hooves. Next to them, three massive bear-like creatures loped along, their giant strides easily keeping the pace. There was even a black hunting cat ghosting at the edges of the Hunt.

  The Wild Hunt, which started four strong, had grown to over sixty in number by the time they reached the location where close to twenty-five Riven battled two gargoyles and one dryad. As the Hunt swept down upon the rear most Riven, Lillian realized they had to leap over many already killed.

  With a small part of her mind not already engaged in battle, she noted how deadly her family was. Even her
baby brother was lethal, she admitted as he dispatched a Riven with a decapitating stab of his tail to his opponent’s neck. Her father moved with a brutal efficiency, but Lillian spotted wounds. None of them were without injury, mostly claw and bite marks.

  Gregory surged ahead, making for the left flank of the Riven horde. Lillian followed with the rest of the Hunt howling at her heels.

  It wasn’t like the movies, no glorious clash of steel on steel. There was only the nauseating sounds of tearing flesh, popping cartilage and the dull thump of dead meat hitting the ground. The Riven did not use conventional weapons. They themselves were the weapons. Their fangs and claws venomous with evil corruption, their blood a burning poison.

  But worst of all was the smell, she’d never forget the charnel house smell of a Riven body torn open. The stench threatened to steal the breath from her lungs.

  She fought as they did, with tooth and claw and blade tipped tail. One Riven she tore nearly in two, baring it’s spine to the moonlight. Her powerful jaws promptly gifted a second Riven with a severed neck.

  Spitting tainted blood, she scrubbed at her mouth and briefly worried how harmful it might be to her gargoyle body. The Riven didn’t give her long to worry as two more attacked at once. Gregory, gripping his own opponents in each hand, tail-speared one of hers before she was forced to fight two at a time.

  All around was death and the wails of the wounded. The Riven only hissed and snarled in rage as they died. She knew the monsters still must feel some pain for injuries did slow them down.

  She hated the monsters’ otherwise stoic silence, for it meant each of the grunts, yelps, and cut off screams belonged to one of her people.