Sorceress Rising (A Gargoyle and Sorceress Tale Book 2) (5 page)

From her
position under a giant grandfather of a sycamore, Lillian watched Gregory pace
out an invisible circle, an area roughly the size of his outstretched wings.
Periodically, he glanced up from his study of the ground and eyed the
surrounding trees with a simmering intensity. After two more circles of the
area, he returned to Lillian’s side.

“This location
will do. Here the land’s magic is stronger than anywhere else we’re likely to
find within three day’s flight.”

“Whoa! The use
of ‘we’ and ‘flight’ together in the same sentence is strictly prohibited.”

His head cocked
to the side. “You have always loved flying with me. I will help you overcome
your irrational fear.”

To cover up the
rush of terror his words inspired, she tossed her hands up in surrender and
then turned and stomped back to the shelter of the sycamore. The gooseflesh
standing at attention all along her arms testified to the fact she wasn’t fond
of riding gargoyle-back. Not to mention her hardy dislike of anything that
combined speed and heights. The mere thought of flying while perched
precariously upon Gregory’s back was the culmination of some unholy nightmare,
only one she hoped to postpone indefinitely. “Good thing this spot will work,
because there’s no way you can just go for a ‘little three day flight’ without
finding yourself on the nightly news or the permanent guest in some
super-secret government institution.”

Gregory turned
his back on her and mantled his wings. Less than ten seconds later she felt him
call magic. Whirls and eddies of cool air swirled around her ankles, raising
more gooseflesh along her legs to match what was already gracing her arms. She
held her position with her denim-covered butt firmly parked against the tree’s
trunk. If Gregory was going to cavalierly dismiss her concerns, she’d show him
she could be just as stubborn.

It didn’t matter
what he was doing.

She wasn’t
curious in the least.

Not one bit.

A deep rumbling
laugh filled the night. “You’re a terrible liar, beloved. However, you are more
than welcome to watch, pretend extreme indifference, or take a nap if you wish,
but just stay close.” Gregory gave her one of his wicked, toothy gargoyle grins
over his shoulder before he turned his attention back to his spell.

Lillian pursed
her lips.

He was correct
on all counts.

Damn.

But she wasn’t
about to take a nap on his command like some naughty child.

She pushed off
from the tree and walked around Gregory until she could peer around his half
mantled wings.

He’d burned a
magic symbol into the very air—she couldn’t think what else to call the
glowing, tightly knotted flecks of light hanging suspended at about waist
height. A second was forming next to the first. On the original’s opposite
side, a soft glow soon formed into a third pale green symbol, this one shot
through with silver spots of brighter intensity.

Gregory shifted
from his hunched position to stand upright, his wings stretching farther until
they were fully extended.

Anticipating his
next move, Lillian ducked under the outer edge of his wing and sank down into a
cross legged position. Safely out of the way, she leaned back against his legs
and watched him work.

As she half
expected, he pushed the glowing symbols with a gentle sweep of one broad wing.
The misty lights flashed brighter as they floated away from each other with
increasing speed.

Wanting an
explanation, she craned her neck to look up at Gregory. He stood with his head
bowed, eyes closed, expression relaxed. His arms rested at his sides, and his
tail laid curled around his ankles, the picture of peaceful contentment.

Why shouldn’t
her gargoyle be happy? He was working powerful magic from the Spirit Realm,
doing what he was designed to do. She swallowed back her questions to simply
allow him this moment.

Only his wings
held any tension as they fanned the air slowly, stirring up a slight breeze as
he called more magic and shaped it into more of the fire-bright symbols. After
each was made, they hovered in a group a few feet away. When he had another
half dozen of them, he fanned his wings with more power and sent the new spells
out into the surrounding forest in pursuit of the first round.

She leaned back
against his shins and closed her eyes, wanting to feel the magic he worked, to
understand its makeup and purpose. Touching him, she felt the leashed power at
his command, his ironclad discipline and infinite patience. He continued to work
his spell, but acknowledged her presence in his mind with a flick of warmth and
humor.

A solid weight
landed in her lap. She gasped as her eyes snapped open and riveted on the
object in question. Recognition came a moment later. She chuckled in relief and
patted his tail companionably. Then jerked her hands away with a startled
exclamation. His normally warm skin was cold, so chilled she’d thought her
fingers frostbitten. She blew on the tips to warm them even as her thoughts
sought out her gargoyle’s.

The answer to
her unasked question came to her in a flood of emotions and sensations—in tune
with her own, and yet not hers—for these were Gregory’s, and her perception
changed to his view point.

Invigorating
magic swept from the Spirit Realm, filling the forest around him with its
bounty. Its pureness and strength unmatched by anything found in either Mortal
or Magic Realms. It tasted of comfort and home—of the infinite.

And, yet, it
was unnaturally cold, not compatible with any living body, even one as adaptable
as his own.

But there was
a pleasant warmth near at hand. His thoughts turned in another direction. His
beloved. His lady. Even though she was trapped in a mortal form weaker than his
own, he still took comfort in her living warmth against his legs. They had had
so few opportunities to merge in this way, their two separate consciousnesses
together in one body. It was not the same as existing as one being in the
Spirit Realm, but here, clothed in mortal flesh, it was as close as they could
come. And how he had missed this intimacy.

Her presence
also grounded him and reminded him of his purpose, which he’d nearly forgotten
with the first flush of power from the Spirit Realm, and its seductive soul
call. A distraction of such magnitude could have had dire consequences if the
magic had slipped his control.

With regret
he turned his attention away from his other half, for grounding and locking the
magic into a stable defensive spell was of the utmost importance. Stray magic
of the strength he was summoning could do extreme damage in the Mortal Realm. A
silent thread of understanding reverberated between them. And then with a
silent apology to Lillian, he turned his attention back to the task at hand,
and continued weaving the spell. “Beloved, I must finish what I’ve started. You
may stay and watch or return to your own body when you wish.”

Lillian gave the
equivalent of a mental nod.
“I will return to my own body and be another set
of eyes to guard us while you work.”

With Gregory’s
consciousness tied up with the complexities of the spell craft, Lillian found
her own mind still lodged firmly in his body. Her perception shifted again, her
field of vision skewed strangely. This time, she was looking down upon herself,
where she slumped against Gregory’s legs, her body still and seemingly
unconscious.

Surprise,
bordering on sickening panic, kicked her heart into gear.

Moments later
her brain caught up with her panicked instincts. Her body wasn’t dead. She
could still see her chest rising and falling in a slow, deep rhythm. And this
strange mind link with her gargoyle, while intense, wasn’t a first. She’d
merged with Gregory like this once before. This time was just a little deeper,
and he seemed to be leaving her in control of his body. It was a great act of trust.
One she didn’t want him to regret.

Last time, no
harm had befallen her physical body. There was no reason this time would be any
different. She’d merely have to figure out how to get back to her own body
without his help. Closing her eyes, in part to help her concentrate, but also
to block out the strange orientation of Gregory’s gargoyle vision, she drew in
a steadying breath.

She focused on
calming her abnormal heartbeat—make that Gregory’s abnormal heartbeat. When
she’d persuaded it into a more normal rhythm, she turned her attention toward
disengaging her mind from Gregory’s body.

With another
deep breath, she opened her eyes and looked up. Seeing through Gregory’s eyes
wasn’t quite so odd the second time. He merely saw in greater detail and a more
panoramic manner, a gift of his large and slightly side-set eyes.

A bit of
movement to her left had her glancing over her shoulder. She tracked an owl
making its not so silent way through the forest. The slight change in stance
shifted her weight in ways she hadn’t expected. The small move almost pulled
her over backwards, and she realized belatedly just how much mass was contained
in Gregory’s wings.

Some less than
elegant arm windmilling saved her from a nasty fall. Balance restored, she
glanced back down at her own body where it was slumping to the side, but still
in contact with Gregory’s left leg.

It reminded her
of the last time they’d been merged like this, the link had been severed when
the physical connection was broken. Reaching down, she gave her shoulder a
gentle shove.

And with a
slight feeling of vertigo, which made her stomach lurch, she was suddenly back
in her own body. Otherwise it was a physically easy transition, though there
was a growing pang of loss. It was as Gregory had once said. One soul now in
two bodies left a definite feeling of incompleteness.

Lillian shivered
from both physical and emotional cold.

She was still
recovering when the excited baying of a hound reached her ears.

Lillian lunged
to her feet. A wave of dizziness struck her hard, sending her stumbling
sideways until she slammed into a tree trunk. She shook her head and blinked
rapidly until her vision cleared. More barking pierced the air, closer this
time. Too close.

When she could
trust her legs to keep her upright, she returned to Gregory’s side. She ran a
gentle hand down his dark mane.

“Gregory, I
think those are sniffer dogs. We’re about to get uniformed visitors.” Lillian
forced herself to take one step away, not liking how she was about to leave him
at what could be a very vulnerable time, but seeing no other choice. “Stay,
take the time you need to finish the spell. I’ll delay our company.”

Magic brushed
against her skin and in the touch she felt Gregory, his thoughts sharp with
alertness, but not undo concern.
“Be careful, my love. I scent no evil in
the humans coming near, but I sense they are well schooled in the weapons of
this world and smell of anticipation and a touch of fear. Never a good
combination.”

“Guess I better
be careful not to surprise them then.”

After one last
glance in Gregory’s direction, she started back the way they had come. The dogs
were closer now, the tone of their cries fiercer. In the distance lights
flickered through the dense undergrowth. Lillian began to run, wanting as much
distance between the newcomers and her gargoyle as possible.

As her long-legged
strides closed the distance, Lillian realized she had reacted with her usual
rashness and absolutely no plan. Out this deep in the forest, with darkness
falling, she needed an ironclad explanation, and she imagined anything as
mundane as a simple walk would be sure to flag whatever investigator would be
accompanying the dogs. No one was stupid enough to wander the forest at night,
at least not without good reason, a strong flashlight, and a backpack—or a
campsite nearby.

“I have none of
the above. And no wits to save myself, either,” Lillian muttered to herself in
disgust.

“No great
lady, you may not have yet gained wisdom in this life. But that is why you have
allies.”
A dower voice invaded her thoughts. And
accompanying it, the pooka trotted out of the darkness between two trees.
“You
have two groups of humans converging on your location.”

“Which one of
the Fates did I piss off to warrant so many?”

The pooka
snorted as he came alongside her shoulder. A sunny yellow halter encircled the
pony’s head, the color a near match for his bright yellow otherworldly
eyes—though there was nothing sunny in his expression. A lead was clicked to
the halter. The pooka held the excess clamped firmly in his teeth. With a shake
of his head, he tossed the lead at her.
“Take it. And try to look like you
know how to lead a horse. When the humans arrive you will say a predator
spooked your horses and you followed our trail into the forest.”

“Would a horse
bolt into a dark forest where who knows what predator could be waiting in the
shadows for its next snack?”

The pooka
chuckled. “No, but when they find us and assume their dogs have been trailing
me and the One-Horned Fool over all this distance, they will be so disgusted
with themselves and the dogs, they will call off the hunt.”

Being within
touching distance of the pooka was not always the best place to be, but once
again she found herself grateful to the evil-tempered beast. Following his instructions,
she took the lead he offered and looped it around her hand, then glanced in the
direction of the lights.

“What part of
‘look like you know what you’re doing’ didn’t you understand? Don’t loop it
around your hand—do you want me to drag you around? And stand on my left.”

Lillian juggled
the lead rope, and then situated herself at the pooka’s shoulder, still
fighting to untangle the rope.

“Left! My
other left. Hurry!”

Lillian grumbled
and switched sides. She didn’t have long to wait. Two excited dogs, their
handlers only a few feet behind them, burst from between the trees. Retina-searing
light flashed directly into her face, blinding her for several vital seconds.
She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the bright light.

One of the dogs,
a wiry haired terrier and the smaller of the two, jerked away from its handler
and streaked pass both Lillian and the pooka with barely a glance. Nose to the
ground, it leaped over an old rotted stump and vanished down the path leading
toward Gregory. The last Lillian saw was its short tail wagging hard enough to
snap off.

Its handler
cursed, flexed his fingers like he was checking to see if they were all
accounted for, righted his jacket, and then glared at Lillian as he stomped
past like it was all her fault.

“Gregory,”
Lillian reached for his thoughts,
“there’s a small dog coming up
your trail, and his handler will be not long behind him. Watch yourself.”

A mental chuckle
was his only reply. Lillian didn’t have time to interpret his mood, the other
dog was alternately sniffing, barking, and lunging at the pooka in a way that
had Lillian worrying for its little doggie life.

For his part,
the pooka was playing the role of spooked pony too well. He bolted in a half
circle, dragging Lillian along for the trip. He slammed his shoulder into a
large, bearded man with a really big gun pointed at the ground. His fatigues
registered on her senses a moment later. Next to the soldier, the surprised dog
handler fell backwards with an astonished expression. Lillian spotted RCMP on
the shoulder patch of his dark jacket. The pooka spun around, pinned his ears,
lowered his head, and kicked out at the next closest human.

With a yell, the
man dodged to the side. He stumbled into the man next to him before finally
coming to a painful-looking stop by slamming into a conveniently located tree.
While the newcomers fell like dominos, she felt the itch of the pooka’s magic,
confirming the source behind all the chaos.

Swearing,
Lillian turned to the pooka in time to see him strike the police dog. The blow
glanced off the dog’s flank, leaving a mark in the fur and probably a nice
bruise come morning, but it wasn’t a killing strike, which told Lillian the
pooka was playing nice. The dog rolled away with a yelp but circled around,
coming at the pooka from a different direction. The pony swung his neck to face
the still barking dog. A wash of the Fae’s power slid along Lillian’s skin,
then on past her, to where the dog continued his mad barking.

Lillian knew the
exact moment the pooka’s magic impacted the dog. It jerked its head to the
side, tucked its tail so far between its back legs it was a wonder she didn’t
see the tip between the front two, and loosed a mournful whimper before belly
crawling back to its handler where he was picking himself up off the ground.

The pooka
snorted, shook his mane out and then trotted back over to Lillian’s side,
entirely too pleased with himself. Belatedly, Lillian’s shocked mind realized
several sets of eyes, both human and canine, were focused on her.

“I’m so sorry!”
She rushed the words together as she pulled the pooka over to a tree where she
proceeded to tie him up. He snorted with displeasure, but she didn’t care and
tightened the knot.

“You should
have used a quick release knot.”

“Shut up!
You’ve done enough damage. I’ll be lucky not to get charged for assaulting a
police officer with the stunt you just pulled.”
Lillian ignored the pooka’s angry snort and faced the humans. Her cheeks burned
with heat, and her body was bathed in nervous sweat. She would have preferred
to face one of the Riven—at least they would not make her fill out paperwork.

“Hi,” Lillian
ventured into the silence. “Sorry about the fuss. Your dogs frightened my pony.
He’s worked up over getting loose and losing his way in the forest. He can be a
touch reactive on a good day. Is everyone okay?”

Grumbles and
cursing echoed in the forest. A gruff cough was quickly followed by a clipped,
“Miss, this is a quarantined area. You don’t have authorization to be here.”

Lillian glanced
at the speaker. It was the big guy with the beard, the one the pooka had
slammed with a shoulder, and the human didn’t look happy.

“Oh! Sorry,” she
didn’t have to fake the nervous, fearful squeak in her voice. It quivered quite
naturally all on its own. “As I said, something spooked my horses and they both
bolted into the forest. I’ve been trailing them for the last four hours. I just
found one—well actually he found me. But the grey is still missing. I was about
to go back and get my brother, some flashlights, snacks, and a couple bottles
of water before resuming the search.”

“You’ll have to
come back with us, ma’am. I’ll radio about the other missing horse.” The
soldier didn’t break eye contact as he pulled a radio from one of many pockets,
and raised it closer to his face. “You can stand down. The dogs were tracking a
horse. We found the owner and one of the animals.” The soldier continued to
give a description of Lillian’s appearance, including her hair color, height,
weight, and clothing.

His fine
attention to details registered on Lillian’s mind and worry flashed to life. He
had no reason to relate her description with such detail. It occurred to her
they might be looking for someone fitting her description. And if they were
interested in someone fitting her description, then they must know something
more than Gran had suspected. And it didn’t bode well for either Clan or Coven.

“You’re Vivian’s
granddaughter, aren’t you?

“Yes, may I ask
how you know that?”

He smiled, but
it wasn’t the type to put one at ease. “She has pictures of you and your
brother on her mantle. When I was there, I noticed them. I never forget a
face.”

“Oh,” Lillian
laughed, but didn’t relax. “Gran always plasters our pictures on just about
every surface she can find. It’s embarrassing.”

“Must be
difficult to find the real estate with that extensive sword collection she has
on her walls.”

Lillian
swallowed the next bit of fluff she’d been about to spout and frowned as she
juggled several possible responses. “Some of those have been with the family
for generations—Gran didn’t start the collection. She is more a curator of
sorts.”

“I thought she
said you and your fiancé were still up in Kirkland Lake for the rest of the
summer?”

Lillian’s mind
scrambled to keep up with the soldier’s rapid change in topics. Trying to
follow his logic was as dizzying as trying to track a chipmunk jacked up on an
energy drink. His rapid change in topics must be some method to catch her in a
lie, and if it was, she was already a suspect. Damn and double damn. It was
just her luck. Of all the soldiers she could have run into in a forest, it
looked like she’d tripped over a military interrogator. Ah, her usual luck.
“Yes, we were there looking into some property. Gran wants to expand the family
business, possibly opening a chain of resorts. Anyways, our plans changed when
we heard about the rumors. We just had to come back and see what all the media
frenzy was about. Now I’m wishing I hadn’t, you know, not with all the talk of
monsters and aliens. Can you believe people?”

With another
gruff chuckle, the bearded man glanced over Lillian’s shoulder, out beyond the
dark trees. “I never believe people.”

“Ah,” Lillian
floundered for some response.

The soldier
snapped his intense gaze back to her as quickly as he’d taken it off. “Have you
seen monsters in the forest, Lillian?”

His question
caught her so off guard, she had to snap her jaws closed, and could only stand
there and look upon him with utter disbelief.

“Monsters?” She
cleared her throat. “I’ve seen the news and heard all the rumors—terrorists,
cults, monsters, and aliens. I have to say I’m on the side of those who believe
it was some kind of twisted cult, or an elaborate hoax gone wrong.”

“The way those
bodies were torn apart and scattered around the forest was no hoax.”

Lillian’s
stomach dropped and a cold wave of fear slid across her skin, followed by a
swift blanket of gooseflesh.

“We need to
get out of here.”
The pooka’s voice in her mind was
calm, though he had started to jerk on his lead rope, likely as fearful of a
trap as she herself was.
“These humans know more than the other Fae
believed. The soldier wouldn’t otherwise mention any details about an ongoing
investigation. He’s fishing. We need to retreat and regroup before your
gargoyle comes crashing through the forest to rescue you. I can’t stress how
unfortunate such an event would be.”

Lillian
swallowed as she met the soldier’s gaze. “You mean it wasn’t a cult
murder-suicide like the media believes?” She cast a nervous glance over her
shoulder purely for show. “Are you saying there is something or someone hunting
in the forest—and it killed those people?”

“The
investigation is ongoing—we’re still analyzing evidence.”

“Is that code to
say you’re hunting for some kind of urban legend like the rumors suggest? Sir…”
Lillian gave his fatigues a once over, looking for a name or something with his
rank, but realized she still would not have known what the bars and badges met
anyways.