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 out searching for 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 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. He’d probably 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 awoke. 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 issued 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 rafters 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 match its own.
It shivered in her hand. Its agreement, assured. There was no doubt in her mind.
Chapter 20
The pooka’s speed blurred the forest into vague shadows all around Lillian. While he galloped full out, he slowed enough so that sharp turns and twists in the trail didn’t throw her. She was lucky. Had he been less mindful of his rider, her meager skills probably would have failed her. Her grand plan of self-sacrifice would have ended then and there.
“This is far enough,” she shouted over the whistle of the wind in her ears and the thunder of his hooves.
“As you command, lady.”
When the pooka slowed, she unwound her hands from his mane. He eased into a trot, picking his way through the forest. Birds chirped, hopping through the canopy high above. A squirrel perched on a branch overhanging the trail, its tail wagging in aggravation. The peace of the forest did not sooth her. She tried to relax by drawing in deep breaths. She managed to unclench her fisted hands, but no command from her mind could loosen the tense muscles along her shoulders and lower back.
A weight at her side reminded her of her decision. The demon blade bore more than a physical weight—something dragged on her soul. Even sheathed, she could still feel its pull, its will working away at her mental shield. She knew how to fix that. Memories from another time were resurfacing with each use of magic.
Drawing the blade, she held it at eye level a moment, turning it this way and that, looking for the runes her memories said would be on such a blade. Oh, yes, there. Close to the hilt, two finely etched symbols. Only two.
Death. Thief.
Simple. Effective. All the demon blade needed. It had no other purpose, only to bring death by stealing life energy.
Until now.
She lowered the blade and brought its tip down against her other palm. A quick, short pull and blood gushed up to stain the blade. A brief sting, a cold drawing sensation and the demon blade began to feed. She let the blade drink her power for a few seconds more.
“Enough.” Her thought rang with power. The demon spirit in the blade stilled and listened to her. Its uncertainty and curiosity came across the blood link. While she had its attention, she touched a thumb to the first rune.
Thief. Steal life.
The word rang with power. She touched the second rune.
Bring death.
A third rune of power burned itself into the demon blade.
And serve only me.
The dagger bucked in her hand, fighting the command, but it was no match for her power. It calmed, then turned its attention to her. Waiting. Wanting to hunt and kill.
“Soon.” She promised. “But first, tell me where your brothers wait.”
It did not tell her in words or show her images as she had hoped, but it did answer her, linking with another of its kind somewhere to the north and west of her position. Like she did when she wanted to know where her gargoyle was, its magic tugged at her mind, urging her in that direction.
She glanced at the pooka. He’d remained still throughout the whole ritual with the blade, but now he rolled a white-ringed yellow eye back at her, his skin shuddering like it was fly season.
She grinned at the pooka. “Shall we make like thieves and steal our enemies’ lives, and bring them death?”
“Yes.”
*
They rode in silence as they headed in the direction the demon blade urged. No more birds sang or flew between the trees, nor were there any squirrels or chipmunks or other creatures of the forest. They sensed what she did. The stink of evil hit Lillian’s senses, thickening as they rode nearer. She liked the scent no better than the wildlife did.
Had she a choice, she’d have fled the area, too.
“We’re almost there,” she told the pooka.
“Good. If that wretched vampire stench gets any worse, I will let you walk the rest of the way, great lady.”
Did all the beasties have overly sensitive noses? She grinned. At least it made her like the pooka a little bit more than she had before.
Thinking of sensitive creatures summoned an image of her gargoyle, and her smile faltered. He hadn’t yet found out about her plan. Her throat constricted at the thought of his panic when he did, and then later for the guilt he’d experience. He would see it as his failure. The thought of his
grief was nearly enough to make her turn back. Almost, but not quite. She wouldn’t let any more innocents die because of her. And, as big, scary and ancient as he was, her gargoyle was an innocent. She would not let him become a victim. If the Lady of Battles got her hands on him, she would do all in her considerable power to make him into her creature.
A change in the pooka’s gait drew Lillian’s attention from her thoughts. They had reached their destination. The forest opened up into a small clearing, created when one old tree had collapsed and taken down another of its neighbors. Standing in the center of the meadow, five men awaited the pooka’s approach.
To call them men was perhaps inaccurate. A faint power, laced with the scent of vampire, wafted off the nearest one. He turned his head in her direction, but made no other move, his stillness unnatural. The pooka hadn’t tried to hide his approach, so she wasn’t expecting to sneak up on them, but these five looked like they knew she was coming.
“Mistress,” the blade whispered in her mind. “They knew I was tracking them.”
“You told them I was coming?”
“Yes, so that we might begin the hunt.”
“You have done well.”
It was probably best she not surprise them, as she doubted they took being surprised at all well. She wasn’t ready to die yet, not until their masters were in range.
The pooka halted a few feet away from the closest vampire, but he jerked his head back toward the forest and snorted. A dire wolf padded out of the trees, his pace slowed by the added weight of a rider. The newcomer was another pale-skinned fae. This one was short and boyish looking, but the glint in his eyes told Lillian this was no child. Evil emanated the strongest from him. A true demon, her power told her. A lesser version of what slept within her soul.
“You’ve made this far easier than I ever hoped,” the demon boy said in sweet tones. “I assume you’ve come in trade for the male?”
“My brother lives?”
“Yes.”
She’d been certain he was, but hearing he still lived unlocked something in her heart. She could do this. “If you free my brother unharmed, I will come with you willingly. No tricks.”
“Very well.”
“Where is my brother?”
“He is elsewhere. We’ll take you to him and then you can watch as he escapes.”
“Agreed.”
“Then come.” He gestured at the center of the little circle where they stood.
She nodded and dismounted. The pooka followed her as closely as her gargoyle would have. But she didn’t feel safe.
“My friend will carry my brother to safety.” By the sound of the pooka’s tail slapping his rump, he wasn’t happy with her volunteering his services, but he didn’t disagree either, so she had his agreement.
The four older-looking men took a few steps apart, making room for the pooka inside their circle. The demon boy stayed close to Lillian. When she and the pooka were in the exact middle, the four strangers each drew a demon blade from their belts and held them aloft. When the first started to chant, Lillian cringed. Her skin crawled with the power rising up from the ground. Dark and twisted, it swirled around her and the pooka until she wanted to gag. She tried to block out the chanting as it rose and fell, making her ears ache with the strain to understand what they said. The chanting increased, peaking like a wave’s crest, and then the men plunged their daggers into the ground. The world went black.
*
Gregory patrolled the battlefield and dispatched anything that still moved and reeked of evil. He snarled at a broken vampire as it tried to crawl away into the shadows to hide and heal. Never again. With a thought, his magic surged up and burned the creature to ash. He whirled away and moved to the next. He was dispatching another vampire when Vivian called out to him and gestured behind him. He turned in the direction Lillian’s grandmother pointed. Sable and the unicorn raced toward him.
If they were here instead of guarding Lillian …
He froze, his earlier joy at dispatching evil gone.
The thoughts of his lady were still in his mind. She worried over a steaming cup of tea while she paced the kitchen, awaiting his return. Had he been thinking clearly, he’d have realized the cup of tea would have long gone cold. But he hadn’t been blessed with clear thinking since he’d first scented his lady.
She had lied to him. Lied to protect him. He shook his head, his mane flying out around him as horror and rage broke something within him. It was too much to contain; it would tear his soul apart. He roared his anguish.
The fae and dire wolves froze in place. Some sent anxious looks in his direction. Vivian said nothing, just stared at him with a look of shock and horror. She didn’t need to say anything. Her expression said it all: she had just lost two grandchildren to the Riven instead of one. He reached out to her mind and her despair hit him, slamming into him with a force as great as his rage.
“When you find the demons, kill them all,” she whispered, “let none of them escape.” Her voice broke. “So shall it be.”
“So shall it be,” he echoed in his thoughts.
He tensed his hindquarters, bunching the muscles, and sprang into motion. When he was running at top speed and the trees were shadows and the ground a blur, he unfolded his wings and leapt. His wings slapped the air, lifting him further from the ground with each down sweep.
By the time he found Lillian, it would be too late. Far, far too late. He had failed her, again. There would only be blood, vengeance, and death when he reached the end of his flight.
Chapter 21
Blackness.
Like a wet and moonless night, darkness encompassed Lillian’s entire world. A wrenching sense of dislocation. Endless falling through nothing. A void. No sense of direction. No soothing forest. Not even ground to stand upon.
Sound returned in waves, fading then strengthening. The pooka’s snorted challenge. Her own breathing came, raspy and panicked.
Between one blink and the next, the sun warmed her skin again.
Lillian lay upon damp ground, the sky overhead a clear blue with the occasional fluffy cloud. To judge by the color of the sky, she was still on earth. She sat up and glanced around. The trees were of a familiar type but instinct said she was elsewhere, Gregory a long way off.
Thinking of him allowed Gregory into her mind. “Lillian! Don’t do this. Use your power and fight them. Escape.”
“I’m sorry, Gregory. I’m remembering. This is the only way to stop the demons and kill the darkness within me. The Lady of Battles does not share. When the Riven use their death magic to steal my power, the Lady will destroy them as I die.”
“Please don’t do this. I’ll find another way.”
She dragged in a steadying breath, nearly a sob. “Oh, Gregory. I can’t be the Lady’s slave, and I won’t let her use me to enslave you. This is the only way.”
“I just need a little more time.”
“Only the Divine Ones can help me now. Goodbye, my love.” Lillian closed her mind to Gregory and he was gone. It was the hardest thing she’d ever done. He didn’t, couldn’t understand. Not yet. Perhaps one day he’d forgive her.
She forced thoughts of Gregory from her mind and looked around.
Wherever she was, she was in another small clearing with no obvious path or game trail leading in or out. A small stream was the only landmark. It cut through the glade before disappearing into the shadowy tree line at the north end of the glade. The demon boy was walking away from her, toward the stream.
“We have traveled far.” The pooka sounded fearful.
It couldn’t be a good sign if one of the monsters was afraid.
Secretly, she was relieved they had relocated. It would take Gregory longer to hunt her down. And she needed as much time as possible.
“This way.” The demon boy gestured toward a stream at the far end of the clearing. Lillian obeyed and the pooka paced her, his ears pinned and his head high. He shied when they approached the stream.
>
The stream seemed normal enough upon first glance, until she noticed the yellowing grass along the bank and the wilted marsh marigolds, which looked like they were turning to slime. She felt it then, the weight of mortality. Death in its purest essence flowed along with the waters of the stream. The sickly sweet odor of disease wafted from the slow moving water. Other signs of stress marked the route the stream took. The brown of dead grass flanked the stream in wide swaths. Along the northern edge of the glade, the evergreens were blackened, their needles dropping when the breeze plucked them from their branches. It was an eerie sight. Like all the color had leeched out of the world.
“What could do this?” she asked the pooka.
“You ask me? I haven’t been to the Magic Realm in many, many centuries. Perhaps you should ask that question of yourself. It is a working of great magic. Close kin of yours, maybe?”
“Thanks for the help.”
“Always.”
“You’re an ass.”
The demon boy led them deeper into the woods. More dead trees to her left outlined the meandering path the stream cut through the forest. After walking for another ten minutes, she spotted a cabin through the trees. Dire wolves stood as silent sentinels among the trees.
Four of the dark-furred wolves ghosted out of the underbrush to flank her and the pooka as they made their way to the cabin. One dire wolf paced so close his fur brushed her arm, but he seemed unaware of his surroundings. She glanced sideways at him, studying his milky eyes. If she’d had more time, she would have tried to free him from the demon’s influence. Now all there’d be time for was a swift death. She hoped.
When they reached the cabin, half the guards remained outside with the pooka, but the others followed Lillian within. Inside, the main room was covered in thick carpeting. Two bent-willow chairs and a sofa with a crocheted throw sat in front of a vast mantle. A fire burned in the fireplace, chasing away the chill of spring dampness. It was a lovely cabin, and for a moment she grieved for the ones who had lived here. Surely they were dead. But they would be avenged as soon as her brother and the pooka were safely away.
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