Sorceress Awakening

by Lisa Blackwood

“Such disrespect.” Gregory chuckled. It was the first sign of humor she’d seen from him all evening. When he had himself under control, he continued. “While our duties to the Divine Ones are many and varied, they have only honored us with their greatest gift three times in this present era: once each for the Shieldbearer, the Lord of the Underworld, and the Lady of Battles.”

  “I’m sorry Gregory. I’m not angry with you, and I promise I’ll try to accept the whole Avatar thing. What you need is your Sorceress of old.” Leaning forward, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him closer so she could rest her cheek against his chest. She needed him to know she wasn’t scared of him. “And now, for the first time, I’ve been born in the form of a dryad. That makes it a little more difficult for you, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, but I don’t care. I will fulfill my duty to the Divine Ones.”

  “Got any idea what that is?”

  “Hunt down evil.”

  “And?”

  “Destroy it.”

  “You’ve certainly got a one-track mind. I mean, do you have any specifics?”

  “No.” He exhaled, then leaned in to sniff at her hair. “But I’ve found evil here, so I’m in the right place, for now. Once we’ve defeated these Riven, we can return home and learn what the Lady of Battles has been up to. Even imprisoned she’s been busy.” He settled upon the bed next to her.

  After a few moments, his muzzle dipped close to her neck. Before she could say anything, his warm tongue brushed under her ear. He pushed her robe off her shoulder as he nuzzled her, his eyes half closed.

  She wasn’t certain if he was aware of his actions. A warm weight bumped her hip and settled in her lap—his tail, the tip flicking gently. She brushed her fingers along the bladelike end. He allowed a few caresses and then his tail shifted out of her grasp and wound its way around her waist. She frowned. Touching had already gotten them into trouble more than once this night.

  Forbidden, forbidden, forbidden she chanted to herself, then said aloud, “Okay, so we’re a little weak in the plan department, but for what it’s worth, I’ve got your back. And now that I know the rules, I think I can play along. Kill the bad guys, preserve the Light, no contact bed sports, return home, and do nasty things to this Lady of Battles. Got it.”

  The bed shook under her and she glanced at Gregory. He was shaking with silent laughter. “Yes, my Sorceress, those would be the rules.”

  A yawn stretched her jaw until it cracked, and she blushed and apologized. “It’s been a long day. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go to bed now.”

  He nodded and unwound his tail from her waist. She immediately missed the warmth. The other side of the bed dipped under his weight as he crawled in. Lillian watched his progress with an arched eyebrow.

  “Ah … with me being a dryad and all, aren’t you tempting fate a little?”

  “Perhaps,” he rumbled, on the edge of sleep. “But I crave contact or at least closeness after being locked in stone for so long. Besides, how does a person react when they are denied what they want most?”

  “Oh, they crave it all the more … so you’re saying this and stuff like the shower and the kiss before the Wild Hunt, it’s okay?”

  “Yes. As long as we don’t take it too far.” His voice held an edge of sadness, and he glanced off into the distance with an unfocused look.

  After she turned off the bedside lamp and tossed her robe over the back of a chair, she mulled over the sadness in his tone. Of course, he was probably remembering an earlier time when his Sorceress loved him and knew enough not to tempt him. Her poor, conflicted gargoyle. She really was going to do better.

  The cool sheets caressed her legs and she burrowed deep into her pillows with a contented sigh. Even though her eyelids were heavy, she blinked them open. Gravity wanted to pull her toward the depression where Gregory’s weight made the bed sag. She let it. When she was snug against his side, she reached out and touched his face. Cupping his cheek, she whispered in his ear, “I’m sure your Sorceress loved you as much as you loved her.” She placed a chaste kiss on his forehead, between the deadly horns.

  “Yes, she did.” The essence of tears echoed in his voice.

  Lillian snuggled into him and combed her fingers through his mane. She kept up the motion until his breathing evened in sleep. “Rest well, my gargoyle. I’m sure she’ll love you again like that one day.” She curled her body against his, hoping the contact would sooth away any nightmares. “I think she already does.”

  Chapter 15

  She stood in the shadow of twin obelisks, their massive girth nearly twice the dimensions of an ancient oak tree’s base. The pillars of polished onyx framed a view of open sky. Below, a narrow valley stretched down and away from her. Starting about a third of the way down the mountain’s east side, greenery softened the stark slopes and increased in lushness near the bottom. Several hundred feet below, a wide river cut a twisting path through the valley floor.

  Some of the tallest mountain peaks reared up through the clouds. The entire scene reminded her of dark boulders poking up out of 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 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. 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’d 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.

  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 awakes… .”

  *

  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 that she 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 reminded 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 an elegant bow.

  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 stairs. 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 of Gregory’s voice. To her mild annoyance, he remained invisible. “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 Magic Realm 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 that virile 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 c
lothing 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 shiny 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.”