Sorceress Awakening

by Lisa Blackwood

  “I love you,” she murmured against his shoulder. “Let me have this one perfect moment. After I fall asleep, block my memories.”

  He held her until her breath evened in sleep, then he summoned his magic, placing the wards upon her mind one layer at a time. When he was finished, he reverted to his gargoyle form and buried his muzzle in her hair.

  “I love you too, my Sorceress.” Surely his heart was shattering, it ached so much. The overwhelming need to show her how much he loved her threatened to strip him of his reason, and yet he was afraid.

  His simple words of love didn’t begin to encompass what she meant to him. He couldn’t fool himself anymore. He no longer served the Divine Ones first and then the Sorceress—he served her above all else.

  As a restless sleep came to claim him, the last thing he dwelled on was what to do if he couldn’t find a cure for her. Her death was not an option, not for him. A small selfish part of his soul planted the seeds of a solution.

  Perhaps he could bargain with the Lady of Battles—become one of her army in exchange for Lillian’s freedom. If what Lillian said about the Lady’s army guarding the Veil between the realms was correct, he might be able to become one of them without completely betraying himself, or what it meant to be the Sorceress’s Protector.

  He closed his eyes and rested his head on her breast, listening to the throb of her heart until sleep claimed him at last.

  Chapter 19

  Lillian awoke to find Gregory hogging all of the bed. The damp heat of his breath washed over her shoulder where he’d buried his muzzle in her hair. If she could feel that, she supposed she wasn’t a ghost, so she’d survived whatever he’d done. She felt no different than before; there was no river of memories flowing from the depths of her mind like she’d half expected. All those lives he’d alluded to; why couldn’t she remember her past?

  But with him spooning her, his wings warming her better than an electric blanket, she could forget her worries for now. She listened to the throb of his heart as she lay tucked safely in her nest. With her head resting on his bicep, she had a clear view straight down the length of his arm. Every few seconds, his fist would clench and his talons flex. She raised her head.

  He growled and twitched in his sleep, in the grip of a nightmare. When she turned toward him and rested a hand on his chest, it calmed him, his twitching and struggles lessening.

  “Easy, Gregory,” she soothed. “I’m here. There’s no danger.” Curious, she lowered her shields and reached for him with her mind, and like the few times she’d done it by accident, his mind opened—his thoughts and emotions sweeping into her. After a moment, she sorted through the chaos until she found the source of his nightmare.

  Last night unfolded in his thoughts. His guilt over causing her pain, the triggering of the trap on her soul, the window to another world, his love intertwined with bone-deep desire—his every worry and fear replayed within her mind. And then the horror of hearing her other self say she wanted him to help her die if he couldn’t find a cure.

  “Why, that selfish, sanctimonious bitch.” She stroked Gregory’s mane until he calmed. “How dare she put it all on you? Heal me or kill me. What kind of bullshit is that? My poor gargoyle. No wonder you’re having nightmares. That’s a horrible thing to ask. I’ve heard of multiple personalities, but this is crazy. She even seduced you with my body to get her way,” Lillian grumbled, and then mulled over the situation. She still didn’t have her old memories back, but after what she’d learned from Gregory, she didn’t think she wanted to be that person, anyway.

  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. Damn it 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 up 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 unicorn always on guard—not to mention, she’d probably pass out at the first cut.

  *

  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 down, he extracted himself from the sheets and eased off the bed. He turned his back to her and tidied the sheets.

  “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 night, 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 wal
k 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, but 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 turned to look 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 tree line—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 kilometer 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, but 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 from that 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 experien
ce 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, and then trotted in a half circle around her. “It is of no consequence.”

  “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 through 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 as long as 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.”